The rippling pond suddenly fell still.
The air turned damp and cold, the kind that crawled down her spine and made her heartbeat sound too loud in her own ears. Even Glimora stopped breathing, tail curling around Isabella’s arm like a scared ribbon.
The sound of the waterfall dulled, like soone had turned down the world’s volu, leaving only the faint drip of water and Isabella’s sharp inhale.
Her eyes darted to Bubu, whose face had dimd again into its hovering cube form. "...Okay," she whispered, "don’t tell that was a false alarm."
Bubu’s eyes flickered, running faint calculations in the air. "Negative. There’s movent beneath the surface."
"Movent," Isabella repeated dryly. "Fantastic. Maybe it’s another snake. Maybe I’ll just faint now."
But then she saw it—sothing shifting in the water. The faint outline of a body, glowing faintly under the blue.
"Oh." She blinked. "It’s him."
"Correct," Bubu said.
"The phoenix man."
"Correct."
"Oh my god," she whispered, eyes widening, "he’s actually alive."
Cautiously, she got up, brushing her palms against her thighs. Glimora squeaked softly and waddled behind her, stubby legs pattering against the stone. The air had changed—denser sohow, charged, like the mountain itself was holding its breath.
Even the tiny glowing creatures that lived in the cave had frozen mid-flight. Their wings trembled in the light, eyes darting toward the pond like they were waiting for sothing.
Isabella crouched near the edge, her reflection shimring beside his motionless form. He looked eerily peaceful—too peaceful for soone who was supposed to be dead.
He floated beneath the surface, hair fanned out in molten gold strands that caught the faint glow of the pond. His chest rose, faintly.
There was a faint shimr around him, like golden ash drifting through water. His chest bore faint lines—scars or runes, she couldn’t tell—and a pendant rested against his throat, cracked right through the center. The air slled faintly of smoke, as if his magic hadn’t died out with him.
"He’s breathing," she muttered.
"Correct," Bubu said again.
She rolled her eyes. "You can switch it up sotis, you know. Try ’yep,’ or ’uh-huh.’"
The system blinked. "Affirmative."
"That’s worse."
She leaned closer, squinting. "Okay, yeah. He’s kind of good-looking. Very tragic, hero-who-fell-from-grace kind of good-looking. But I’m done admiring n. From today henceforth, I am emotionally unavailable to all species with abs. Every ti I look at one, disaster follows," she muttered. "First Kian he rejected , then Cyrus marked with out my permission and Zyran keeps trying to drive to madness, and now this one’s pretending to drown just to ruin my peace. I swear, n are allergic to letting rest."
Glimora made a little chirp that sounded suspiciously like a laugh.
"Oh, don’t you start," Isabella said, flicking water at her. "You weren’t there for the emotional damage, alright?"
The little creature puffed her cheeks, unimpressed.
"Still," Isabella murmured, tilting her head, "he’s been lying there for hours. Shouldn’t he—"
"Perhaps he’s in hibernation," Bubu suggested.
"Like a snake?"
"Like a phoenix."
"Oh." Isabella blinked. "Right. Mythical bird. My bad."
She stared so more. Nothing. Not a twitch.
"This is boring," she said finally.
Glimora nodded solemnly, tail flicking.
"I thought he was going to do sothing dramatic—rise from the water, eyes blazing, wings unfurling—sothing worthy of my stress levels. But no. He’s just... floating."
"Perhaps patience—"
"Bubu, if you say ’is a virtue,’ I will throw you in that pond."
"I was going to say ’is overrated.’"
She paused, blinked, and smirked. "Good answer."
They sat there for a while, just watching. The pond shimred softly, its glow reflecting across the cave walls like faint stars. The little bioluminescent creatures began to return to their routines—buzzing softly, weaving lazy patterns in the air, no longer afraid.
"Maybe he’s just ditating," Isabella said eventually. "Maybe this is, like, his thing. So kind of phoenix yoga."
Bubu gave her a long look. "Your imagination is concerning."
"Thank you. It keeps alive."
"You’ve nearly died five tis in three days."
"Exactly. I said barely alive."
"You poke him," she whispered to Glimora.
The little creature squeaked, shaking her head violently.
"Fine, coward."
"You could use your fan," Bubu suggested.
"No! What if it activates sothing? Last ti I fanned sothing, it exploded!"
"That was soup."
"Exactly."
She poked at the water with one finger, creating a small ripple. "Hey, fire boy. You planning to wake up soon or what?"
Nothing.
She sighed. "If I sit here any longer, my legs are going to sleep before he does."
Another ripple. Just the water responding to her touch. Or maybe not.
Still nothing.
"Alright, that’s it," she muttered. "I’m poking him."
"Host—"
"Too late."
She reached out and prodded his shoulder through the water. It was firm—warm, actually, not cold like she expected. "Huh," she murmured. "Okay, definitely not dead."
Glimora tilted her head, curious, and mimicked her by poking the surface too.
"You see?" Isabella whispered. "He’s fine. Just—"
The water shifted again.
Her brows furrowed. "Wait—did you see that?"
Bubu didn’t reply. Its eyes flared slightly brighter.
"Bubu?"
"Host," the system said slowly, "step back."
"Why?"
"He’s—"
The man shot up from the water with a gasp, eyes snapping open, golden fire blazing where his pupils should have been.
"GET AWAY FROM !" he shouted, voice raw and thunderous, wings—actual golden wings—flaring before vanishing again into smoke.
The echo of his shout bounced around the cave, colliding with the waterfall until even the glowing bugs scattered. Isabella’s heart hamred like it was trying to escape her ribs. She could feel water droplets on her face—not sure if they were his or hers.
Isabella scread, stumbling back so fast she fell on her ass. Glimora screeched too, diving into Isabella’s lap like a furry missile.
The two of them froze.
He froze too.
They just stared at each other.
Wide eyes. Heavy breaths.
A dripping phoenix man half-subrged in glowing water.
A ssy-haired, pregnant, very done-with-life woman clutching a trembling Glimora.
Silence.
Utter, awkward silence.
And that’s where it hung—
the first eting between two people who had absolutely no idea what the hell to do next.
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