The Phoenix race had always been rare.
Their numbers dwindled with each passing century. With the lowest fertility rate among all creatures and a unique constitution that made them desirable prey, they were hunted by every other race for their own gain.
In ancient times, the phoenixes lived under the protection of the elves. But that sanctuary, too, crumbled with time. As dragons and other powerful beings roamed the skies, even the deepest forests no longer felt safe.
One by one, the phoenixes vanished.
No longer moving in flocks, no longer building nests—each of them became a wanderer. They stayed in no place for long and never trusted the world enough to return.
The woman Luna called 'Grandma' was one of the last remaining phoenixes.
That's why, the moment her grandma had come near the coffin that day, she had sensed something—a familiar presence—hidden within.
Because she was one of them.