Chapter 07: Dreams Can Come True

Despite the late hour, the church bells had chimed well past midnight when they returned , Arthur couldn't find sleep. Lying in his bed, he stared at the exposed beam ceiling, his mind still buzzing with Kaer's revelations. The old tanner's words echoed in his head like a haunting refrain:

- "Somewhere, in a remote corner of our world, perhaps a phoenix egg awaits the moment of its awakening..."

He finally got up and took the stone from his pouch with almost ritual gestures. In the darkness of his room, it seemed to pulse with a life of its own, its golden surface catching and reflecting the faint moonlight filtering through the small window.

Arthur remembered Master Orel's test and, driven by irrepressible curiosity, he gently tapped the surface with his nail. The same crystalline sound rose, but this time, it seemed different to him. Richer, more complex, as if something inside was responding to his call.

- "Are you really what I think you are?" he murmured to the stone. "Are you, as Kaer says, a phoenix egg?"

He brought it close to his face, scrutinizing the dark veins that ran beneath its polished surface. In the dim light, these patterns seemed to move, forming designs that vaguely evoked flames, spread wings, shapes that didn't belong to the ordinary world.

- "My imagination is probably playing tricks on me, just like when I look at clouds and think they're dragons waging a celestial war. However, this time, I like this vision."

A slow smile spread across Arthur's lips as his imagination ran wild. He saw himself riding a majestic phoenix above the clouds, its scarlet and golden feathers sparkling in the sunlight. He imagined flying over Aethermoor, free as air, discovering distant lands and unknown wonders. Perhaps he could even trace his mysterious mother, finally pierce the secret of his origins...

But suddenly, his reverie stopped short. A practical and troubling question had just emerged in his mind: what exactly did a phoenix look like? He had heard the descriptions in Kaer's tales, of course - fire birds with brilliant plumage, larger than eagles - but he had never seen a precise representation. The illuminations in the church books only showed stylized, unrealistic creatures.

- "I'll have to ask Kaer to draw one for me," he thought with excitement. "He must know what they really look like."

But this thought brought another, much darker one. Arthur thought back to the dead elf courier in the forest, to that gracile body frozen by death, to the mysterious circumstances of its discovery. Anguish began to gnaw at his enthusiasm like acid eats metal.

What if the elves were looking for their missing messenger? What if they traced his trail to the clearing, discovered his body and realized the stone had disappeared? They would certainly think Arthur had killed the courier to steal his precious burden. The elves were renowned for their implacable justice, they wouldn't hesitate to raze all of BrownStone to recover their property.

A drop of cold sweat slowly ran down Arthur's back. In his excitement, he had completely forgotten the terrifying implications of his discovery. Aunt Isabella, Mordred, all the innocent villagers... they would all be in danger because of him.

Guilt overwhelmed him suddenly. How could he have been so selfish? How could he have thought only of his own dreams of adventure while ignoring the risks he was exposing those he loved to?

- "I'll go put this stone back where it was first thing tomorrow!" he declared aloud, his resolution firm despite the painful pang he felt in his heart.

He looked at the stone for a long time and a sad smile stretched his lips.

- "You and I, we won't have our evening conversations anymore," he murmured with deep melancholy. "It was beautiful while it lasted, but I can't put my family in danger for my childhood dreams."

He burst into a bitter little laugh, realizing he was still talking to an inanimate object.

- "I'm definitely going completely mad. Soon I'll be expecting answers!"

Arthur carefully put the stone away in his pouch, blew out his candle and slipped under his rough wool covers. Despite his resolution, sleep was long in coming. His mind continued to wander between regrets and apprehensions, imagining in turn the wonders he was abandoning and the catastrophes he was perhaps avoiding.

When he finally fell asleep, his dreams were filled with fire birds and elves with ice-colored eyes.

He was startled awake by a sound he couldn't identify. His heart was pounding, and his senses were on maximum alert. He remained motionless in his bed, ear straining, scrutinizing the darkness of his room. Was it a rat in the walls? A wild cat on the roof? Or worse... furtive footsteps in the courtyard?

Minutes passed in oppressive silence. Arthur mentally counted to one hundred, then to two hundred, but no sound came to disturb the nocturnal quiet. Only the familiar sounds of night reached his ears: the distant call of an owl, the rustling of wind in the leaves, the occasional creaking of the roof beams.

- "I'm dreaming," he finally concluded. "My nerves are playing tricks on me because of this elf business."

He turned on his side and closed his eyes, trying to find sleep again. His breathing gradually became deeper, more regular, and he slowly sank into a soothing torpor.

But later - it was impossible to say how much time had passed - another sound brutally pulled him from sleep. This time, he was certain he hadn't been dreaming. It was a delicate, almost melodious sound that resembled...

- "A chirping?"

Arthur sat up with a start, all his senses alert. The sound didn't repeat, but he was certain he had heard it. A soft, almost timid chirping, like that of a chick.

He reached toward the bedside table and grabbed his hunting knife, a solid blade that Gareth had given him. Weapon in hand, he silently rose from his bed, his bare feet making no sound on the wooden floor.

The moon was high in the night sky, casting its silver light through the small window of his room. In this ghostly clarity, shadows seemed to dance and come alive, transforming familiar objects into threatening shapes.

Arthur methodically scrutinized every corner of the room, searching for the source of the mysterious sound. His dresser, his chair, the chest where he stored his clothes... everything seemed normal.

That's when his gaze was drawn to something unusual. A soft golden glow filtered from under his bed, so faint he had almost missed it. But now that he had seen it, it seemed to pulse gently, like the beating of a luminous heart.

- "The stone!"

Arthur felt his mouth go dry. The stone was in his pouch, under his bed. And now, it was glowing brighter than ever. Something was happening, something extraordinary and terrifying at the same time.

His free hand began to tremble slightly as he knelt beside his bed. He no longer dared to breathe, as if the slightest sound might shatter this moment suspended between dream and reality.

Slowly, very slowly, he bent his head toward the dark space under the bed. His knife was brandished before him, ready to strike, but deep down, he knew no blade could help him against what might await him.

He took a deep breath, gathering all his courage, then quickly lowered his head to look under his bed.

What he saw took his breath away.

There, in the middle of the debris of what had been his leather pouch, now reduced to charred tatters - stood the most extraordinary creature Arthur had ever seen.

It was a chick, no bigger than an ordinary chick, but of breathtaking beauty. Its downy plumage was a deep scarlet red, streaked with golden veins that seemed to pulse with their own light. Small flames danced around it without consuming it, creating an aura of living fire that emanated no destructive heat.

But what struck Arthur most were the creature's eyes. Two orbs of luminous orange, of troubling intelligence, that fixed on him with manifest curiosity. The chick tilted its little head to one side, at exactly the same angle as Arthur, as if it were imitating him or trying to understand him.

- "Peep?" the creature said softly, and the sound was exactly what Arthur had heard a few minutes earlier.

Arthur remained frozen, unable to move, unable to think, unable even to breathe. Before him stood a baby phoenix - there could be no doubt. The legendary creature from Kaer's tales, the fire bird of ancient prophecies, had just hatched in his room, under his bed, in the heart of the night.

The chick still looked at him, its orange eyes expressing innocent curiosity. It took a small step toward Arthur, then stopped, seeming to wait for a reaction.

- "By all the gods..." Arthur murmured in a strangled voice.

At the sound of his voice, the phoenix raised its little head and emitted a new chirp, even more melodious than the previous one. The flames surrounding it shimmered more brightly, as if they were reacting to their bearer's emotions.

Arthur suddenly realized he was still holding his knife raised, and the weapon suddenly seemed absurdly inappropriate. He slowly placed it on the ground, without taking his eyes off the miraculous creature.

- "Hello there," he whispered, not knowing what else to say.

The phoenix tilted its head again, and Arthur would have sworn he saw an amused gleam in its bright eyes. Then, with the casualness of an ordinary chick, the creature began exploring its immediate environment, pecking at the debris of the charred pouch with childlike curiosity.

Arthur remained kneeling beside his bed, watching this incredible spectacle. His mind desperately tried to assimilate what had just occurred. The egg had hatched. A real phoenix - a real living phoenix ! was now in his room.

All his resolutions from the night before evaporated at once. How could he abandon this extraordinary creature? How could he put back a living chick where he had found an egg?

- "Peep peep?" the phoenix said again, raising toward him a questioning look.