The jungle had grown quieter since Mala's awakening, but it wasn't a silence born of fear. It was more like a respectful pause, a collective recognition of something ancient that had returned. Her flame had subtly changed the rhythm of the island. Birds flew in wider arcs, giving her space. The wind seemed to bend differently when she took flight. Even the box, which had always pulsed with its own beat, now pulsed with a rhythm that seemed slower, deeper, as if it were listening.
But Mala was still small. Still just a chick in a world full of monsters. And the reality of her newfound power was that it was fragile, and it was tied to something else entirely.
That morning, Tala sat beneath the flame tree, its gnarled branches reaching out like the limbs of an old friend. Mala was perched on his forearm, a tiny, vibrant thing. Her feathers shimmered faintly, and every so often, a single ember would fall away, a point of light that landed on his skin and didn't burn. She chirped once, a soft, musical sound, and the small flame Tala had shaped in his palm flickered in response.
He frowned, testing the connection. He shaped a gust of wind, and Mala's tiny wings flared wide, her body glowing brighter for a moment. He shaped a small chunk of stone, and her light dimmed. When he tried to form a sphere of water, she recoiled slightly, her feathers bunching together in what looked like an instinctive defense.
"You're not just reacting," Tala murmured to her. "You're syncing."
Asa stepped from the shadows behind him, his arms folded across his chest. "She isn't syncing," he said, his voice flat with certainty. "She's scaling."
Tala turned, a question on his face. "Scaling?"
Asa nodded. "Her power rises and falls with yours. She is a phoenix, yes, but her flame is still young. Her strength is tied directly to your Primal Core. As you grow, she grows."
Tala looked down at Mala, a new feeling of responsibility settling over him. "So she's limited because I'm limited."
"Exactly," Asa said. "She's not weak. She's simply waiting."
Later that day, Kofi joined Tala for sparring in the stone ring. Their movements were sharp and fluid, a dance of complementary opposites. Fire and water. Gust and stone. Tala and Kofi moved in perfect synergy, but Mala hovered nearby, a constant presence. Her wings glowed faintly as she followed Tala's movements.
When Tala shaped a flame arc, Mala flared brighter, her light mirroring his power. When Kofi launched a water burst, her glow dimmed again. Asa watched from a distance, his eyes narrowed, a different kind of calculation in them now. "She's not just a companion," he murmured to himself. "She's a mirror and a promise."
That evening, after their training was done, Tala sat alone by the stream, the night air cool on his skin. Mala was curled beside him, a small, warm ball of light and potential. He spoke to her softly, his voice barely a whisper against the gentle sounds of the jungle.
"You're more than they see," he said.
She chirped once, a quiet, knowing sound, her eyes glowing faintly in the dim light.
"You're a phoenix, but you're still a chick," he continued, the words feeling true. "And I'm still becoming."
He looked up at the stars, a vast, swirling canvas of light that seemed to stretch on forever.
"I'll grow," he promised the universe. "And you will grow with me."
She didn't answer. She didn't need to. Her flame pulsed once, soft and steady, a silent promise waiting to be fulfilled.