“My world…” Quinn shakes her head, struggling. “I’ve been a slave all my life. Your gods? They are cruel to us. They use us. The place we live is nothing like this one.”

For a time, the two of you are silent. First light is striking the mountains, working its way over the great iron shards, dripping down into the waiting valleys. The two of you leave the lovely sight and start making your way back to camp.

“Your days are shorter here.”

“Are they?”

Quinn nods. “Your nights, too.”

“We’re a fast-moving people. I guess the world is just trying to keep up.”

She smiles at that. You’re almost back to camp when sunlight spills over the plateau. Bravos is separating his equipment, getting ready for the second births. Beyond him, you see light catch the ashes. The wind whispers of creation. You pause at the edge of camp and watch as the ashes turn and stir, then whip up with devilish force. Quinn watches beside you, fascinated.

You can’t imagine what it’s like to see the magic for the first time. Somewhere along the way, this all became normal to you. It would be nice, you think, to see it again for the first time.

Dark forms rise out of the storms and sunlight fractures against the swirling wind, bright to the point of blinding. Quinn shields her eyes. You do not.

Both phoenixes stagger free, glorious and full-formed.

You’re surprised to see that your horse has a slightly darker coat than it did the day before. Normally, their color doesn’t change unless you drastically alter the alchemy. It’s still silver-maned, but the rest of its coat looks closer to char than the usual cloudy gray. Bravos’s horse stomps and snorts until your phoenix startles. You watch as it trots a safe distance away.

“That’s amazing,” Quinn says.

“It’s my favorite thing in the world.”

Bravos looks over. “What?”

You shake yourself and remember he can’t see Quinn. “Nothing, love.”

He raises an eyebrow before crossing over to his horse. You can hear him whispering the same phrase over and over as you sort through your own supplies. When the creature is finally calm, he hefts up a saddle and sets to work on the girth and then the bridle. You’ve unearthed your own saddle and started walking over as he mounts. Those gorgeous arms flex as he swings gracefully onto the phoenix’s back.

Bravos adjusts his hair before glancing your way. He’s got that determined look that you’re so proud to see. He’s a champion craving victory, and your first step toward that victory couldn’t have been more perfect. Your mother would caution you. It is called the Races for a reason. Champions aren’t crowned at the end of the first day.