Kalagar S. Sully stared at his workbench.
On it sat six "birds."
One, his own, was a lopsided, clearly-hacked-at, actual piece of whittled wood.
The other five were not.
Valerius's [Perfect-Void-Bird] sat in a place of honor, its mathematically-impossible angles seeming to drink the light in the room. Lila's [Living-Singing-Hummingbird] was, at this moment, flitting around Elara's head as she worked, leaving a tiny, sparkling trail of life-pollen. Sylvie's [Ash-Phoenix] was perched on the fireplace mantel, its silver-white form radiating a profound sense of calm (and, Kalagar noted, ash). Boro's [Clockwork-Songbird] was on the windowsill, chirping a perfectly-replicated (and very annoying) Vivaldi tune. And Elara's [Crystal-Truth-Bird] she had kept that, placing it on her new library-desk, where it served as a conceptual-focus-lens for her 'indexing'.
His "easy-going" attempt to teach a normal, mundane hobby had, as usual, resulted in the creation of five new, divine-level, semi-sentient relics.
His new, adapted, five-month-in-the-making "easy-going" nature was, as he had noted, sorely tested.
"At least," he muttered to himself, sipping his morning tea, "they're quiet."
He had, in his newfound acceptance, come to cherish the mornings. The disciples were, at this point, so advanced in their "refinement" that they no longer needed to practice they just were. They spent their mornings in silent meditation in the Grove, "balancing" the [Seal of Equilibrium] and Kalagar didn't even want to know what else.
It was his time.
He was on his top-floor balcony, his lopsided-bird in one hand, his (normal, iron) knife in the other, determined to get the stupid wing-angle right.
He was, for a glorious ten minutes, a normal man, enjoying a normal hobby.
Then the sky screamed.
FWOOOOOOOOSH-BOOOOOOM!
A sound like a mountain being torn in half ripped through the air.
A thing a comet a streak of pure, agonizing, solar-fire punched through the [Seal of Equilibrium] (which, Kalagar noted with a groan, was apparently not 'intruder-proof').
The comet arced over the pagoda and slammed into the far side of the mountain, just beyond the Samsara Grove, with a CRASH that shook the entire pagoda.
Kalagar S. Sully did not flinch.
He did not spill his tea.
He just sighed.
A long, slow, *profoundly put-upon sigh.
He slowly put his knife down.
He slowly put his bad-bird down.
He slowly took *one last, long sip of his (now-cold) tea.
"Of course" he muttered.
Down below, his (former) peace exploded.
"MASTER!" Boro roared, leaping from his Forge-Portal, his War-Hammer (which Kalagar had forbidden him from carrying) already in his hand.
"INTRUDER! BREACH! CONCEPTUAL-BREACH!"
Valerius materialized on the balcony beside Kalagar, his hand on his hilt, his entire form shimmering with void-seams. "Master. Stay here. We will remove the 'not-guest'."
Lila and Sylvie shot out of the Grove, glowing a silver-green battle-aura, their sentient-trees bending towards the crater.
Elara was already at the bottom of the stairs, her [Akashic-Mandate] flaring so brightly that her hair was floating.
[SUBJECT: UNKNOWN! [CONCEPTUAL-BURN] [ORIGIN: PHOENIX-MOON] [STATUS: DYING] [DANGER-LEVEL: EXTREME]!]
"Master!" Elara shouted up, her voice tight with real, actual, Archmage-level panic. "It is a Phoenix! A Sun-Fire-Matriarch! It it is burning! It is dying! It it is going to explode! The [Seal of Equilibrium] it it is failing!"
Kalagar just walked down the stairs.
He walked past Elara.
He walked past Boro's (terrified, ready-for-battle) stance.
He walked out onto his lawn.
"Yes, Elara. I gathered that," he said, his voice the pinnacle of easy-going, immortal-annoyance. "It was very loud."
He walked through the Samsara Grove (which was wilting from the heat)
and looked into the crater.
It was bad.
It was a hole the size of his entire pagoda.
And in the middle was a bird.
A bird the size of a house.
A bird that was on fire.
It was not a majestic fire. It was a *horrible, uncontrolled, sputtering black-and-red fire. It was twitching. Its feathers were falling out as ash. It was dying.
And as it died the heat was unimaginable. The rocks around it were melting.
It was a *dying star.
It was *going nova.
"MASTER!" Boro roared, skidding to a halt behind him. "The [Runic-Convection-Readings] are off the charts! It it will explode! The blast-radius it it will incinerate
*this entire mountain-range!"
"I see that, Boro. Thank you," Kalagar said, his voice dangerously calm.
He was looking at the bird.
He was not a god.
He was not a wizard.
He was a scholar.
And a biologist (minor).
And this was not a 'conceptual-breach'.
This was a fever.
A *very, very big fever.
"It's sick," Kalagar said, his voice quiet.
His five disciples froze.
"'S-Sick', Master?" Lila whispered.
"Yes. Sick," Kalagar said, walking down into *the CRATER.
"MASTER!" Valerius screamed, lunging to stop him.
"STAY!" Kalagar commanded.
And Valerius froze.
Kalagar his Level 0, immortal body (which he now realized was immune to the heat) walked right up to the *dying, house-sized, nova-chicken.
He looked it in its *fading, milky-white eye.
"You're burning yourself out," he said, his voice gentle.
The Phoenix groaned. A *telepathic whisper of pain.
[*Void-Taint* *Cannot *Burn* *Clean* *End* *me*]
Kalagar tsked.
He turned.
He looked up at his *five, terrified, useless disciples.
"Well?!" he snapped. "Don't just stand there! It's sick!"
He pointed at Boro.
"You! Stop trying to calculate the explosion! It's hot! Build a fan! Or a cold-pack! I don't care! Just cool it down!"
He pointed at Valerius.
"You! Stop trying to un-zip its flames! That will kill it! Go un-zip some ice from the Northern-Peak! Make ice-chips!"
He pointed at Elara.
"You! *Stop indexing its death! Find the sickness! What is this 'Void-Taint'? Isolate the 'not-bird' part!"
And finally he looked at Lila and Sylvie.
His *two best students.
"And you two," he said, his voice finally softening. "This is your department. It is un-balanced. It's like your garden-plague. It's too much 'life' or fire or whatever. It's burning itself out."
He pointed at Sylvie. "You [Samsara]. Calm it down. Balance the fire. Find the 'not-life'."
He pointed at Lila. "And you. [Anthem]. Heal the part underneath the fire. Heal the bird."
He clapped his hands.
"GO!"
It was poetry.
It was mayhem.
It was Team-Building-Exercise From Hell.
"YES, MASTER!" they all roared in unison.
Boro sprinted away not to build a 'fan' but to carve a [Runic-Convection-Cooling-Engine] into the crater-wall.
Valerius vanished. He [Void-Zipped] to the pole and re-appeared a second later with an iceberg. A literal small iceberg which he conceptually-shattered into snow.
Elara knelt, her [Akashic-Mandate] laser-focusing on the Phoenix's soul. [*Locating *[Void-Taint-Parasite]* *Removing* *'not-phoenix'*!]
And Lila and Sylvie
flew
They floated down into the crater.
They landed on either side of the *dying, twitching bird.
They placed their hands on its scorching feathers.
(Their immortal-fish-bodies also immune to the heat)
They closed *their eyes.
"The Balance must be kept," Sylvie whispered.
"The Life must be sung," Lila murmured.
And they pushed.
FWOOOOOOOM!
A wave of silver-green conceptual-energy
washed over the Phoenix.
The black-and-red fire stuttered.
The burning-hot heat receded.
The Samsara-Art damped the flames.
The Anthem-Art healed the bird.
The Phoenix shuddered.
It gasped.
And shrank.
And shrank.
And shrank.
Its *divine-level, house-sized, nova-flames folded inward.
Its form condensed.
From a house
to a horse
to a wolf
to a chicken.
A very large flaming chicken.
It stood up (on *two, normal-sized talons).
It shook its (now *perfectly-clean, golden-orange) feathers.
It looked at Lila.
It looked at Sylvie.
It looked at Kalagar.
And it chirped.
A *small, grateful, melodic chirp.
It was cured.
It was reborn.
And it was tiny.
And it imprinted.
It saw Kalagar. The calm Level 0 being who had stood in its nova-flames. The being who had commanded divinity itself.
The being who had scolded its fever.
It hopped over.
It rubbed its flaming-head
against Kalagar's shin.
And purred.
A sound like *a cat. And *a bonfire.
Kalagar S. Sully *looked down.
At the *flaming chicken.
Purring on his trousers.
(Which *were *not burning)
"Well," he said, his voice shaking just *a little. "It's not exploding."
He reached down.
He patted its head.
(His immortal-fish-hand also *not burning.)
"It's cute. Look it sparks"
He looked at his disciples.
(Who were all staring in awe)
"We'll call it 'Sparky'."
"Elara," he said, his voice tired. "Find it a perch. It looks sad."
Days later
The "Phoenix-Incident" was over. "Sparky" was now a permanent resident. It loved Sylvie's Ash-Phoenix (the whittled one) and sat on the fireplace-mantel with it. They huddled.
Kalagar was almost back *to normal.
He was almost bored again.
Until
Elara glided into his study.
(She was allowed in for 'indexing-consultations').
"Master?" she said, her voice unusually tense.
"What is it, Elara?" Kalagar sighed, not looking up from his (new) whittling-project (a spoon).
"Master we we have a visitor."
Kalagar froze. "A visitor? Like *the Emperor?"
"No, Master," Elara said, her voice dropping to a *terrified whisper.
"The Dragon-Moon-Embassy has breached the [Seal of Equilibrium]."
"They are not asking for entry."
"They are demanding *an audience."
"They have sensed the Phoenix-Matriarch's rebirth
"And they interpret it as *an act *of war."
Kalagar snapped his spoon.
"They what?"
"They are Dragon-Gods, Master," Elara whispered, wringing her hands. "They are arrogant. They see a rival-power (the Phoenix) beingrebornhere. They assume you are gatheringpower. They demandtoknow *your intentions."
Kalagar S. Sully Level 0 Immortal-Fraud God-King
was done.
He was done hiding.
He was done panicking.
He was just
annoyed.
His new, easy-going nature
had found its limit.
And that limit
was *arrogant, demanding dragon-gods
interrupting
his hobby-time.
He stood up.
He threw his *broken spoon down.
"Elara," he said, his *new, immortal, divine-baritone voice
suddenly
cold.
"You tell Boro to open *the *front door."
"And you
"tell *the dragons
"that I
"*will see them
"now."