A radiance shimmered behind her, the dark vanishing with its approach. As the goddess spun around, the hilt of her whip fell from her hand.

“My daughter,” she whispered, crouching down to sweep her into her arms.

The sunbird was the size of a gourd, with great solemn eyes. Where the phoenix was a rainbow of color, the sunbird was fire incarnate. Three legs were tucked beneath her body, the rich vermilion of a sunset, while her yellow plumage emanated a radiant glow. At her crest, a single feather curled—of deepest crimson edged with gold, as dazzling as the heart of a flame.

Lady Xihe hugged the sunbird tightly, murmuring to her in a language I did not know. Tears streamed down her face, visible only when she looked up. Muffled sobs fell from her in an aching rhythm—even after all these decades, her pain was still raw. The sunbird craned her neck, nuzzling her mother as though used to such violent outbursts.

The lone child in her arms, the vulnerability of the great goddess in her misery … how I ached at the sight. Blood oozed from my wounds, my torn flesh afire—yet it was nothing to their suffering that no magic in the world could heal. Only time might ease it, and even then, immortal memories were eternal.

Without knowing what I was doing, I dropped to my knees on the ground. Straightening my back, I stretched my arms out before me, folding over to press my brow to the floor. Not in some contrived plea for mercy, but because from the bottom of my heart, I regretted her pain—that we were inexorably linked by the death of her children. I did not speak, for no words could capture the enormity of their loss, the grief I felt for them.

A stillness fell over us. Something rustled, the sunbird gliding toward me, sheathing me in its luminous warmth. As her somber gaze met mine, part of me recoiled, fearing an attack—yet the sunbird’s eyes were gentle and knowing, brimming with untold sorrow. Spreading her wings wide, she bowed her head. The crimson feather fell from her crown, its shaft pulsing like liquid flame, an incandescent white. My spirits leapt, though I dared not presume the sunbird’s intent—until her curved claw pushed the feather toward me.

“I … thank you.” Such simple words for this priceless gift, and yet there was nothing more apt. The sunbird’s generosity moved me deeply, and I resolved to be worthy of her gift.

“Its true power lies in its shaft. Plant it at the source of your target’s might. Now, take it. Leave,” Lady Xihe said in a hollow voice. “I will not harm you further, nor will I give you aid. Do not test my mercy again; it died the day I lost my children.”