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"Sounds like an insult to me." Lith mumbled under his breath.
"It's easy for you to tell me to be patient, Rena." Tista replied. "Awakened heal on their own in hours even from crippling wounds. Heck, even a fake mage by now would have regrown an entire leg with a spell. How can a few feathers take so long?"
"I don't know." Rena shook her head. "But I also know that worrying so much would do you no good."
"It's not just the feathers." Tista folded her wings into her back, incapable of looking at them any longer. "I feel like something precious has been taken away from me. Like I'm missing a piece of my soul and the phantom pain is driving me crazy.
"How did you treat your wing injuries, lil bro?"
"I never sustained injuries to my feathered wings." Lith replied. "In my Wyrmling form, I only had membranous wings. The feathers appeared at the deep violet core but by then I was already 20 meters (66') tall and weighed tons.
"Ripping even one of my feathers off required skill and strength above that of a monster. What I can tell you, is that back when I went completely bald at the academy, it took me a whole night's rest to get new hair after it had been burned to the root.
"Maybe it's the same for you."
"Maybe." Tista sighed. "Or maybe your Dragon blood helped you to hide your feathers until you were strong enough to protect them."
The dinner was joyful since the kids were happy to have their aunts back and wanted to hear everything about their travels. Tista did her best to smile a lot and don't worry about her wings, but her hands unconsciously moved to her back often.
When the following morning her condition showed no improvement, she started to get desperate.
"I've waited long enough! You do what you want, I'm calling Grandma." All the members of the Verhen family had Salaark on the speed dial and the Overlord answered immediately.
Even through the hologram, Salaark could feel Tista's anguish and desperation thanks to her Blood Imprint bloodline ability.
Once the Red Demon was done telling Salaark everything, the Guardian had already crossed the dimensional Gate from her palace to the mansion.
"You did the right thing calling me, Featherling." Salaark said. "You are not like your brother. My blood runs thicker into your veins and for a Phoenix, the plumes on her wings aren't just a decoration.
"They are our bond with the sky and the means through which even our newborns can conjure Origin Flames. Without them, we are crippled."
"Are you telling me that my condition is permanent?" Tista turned pale in shock.
"Don't be silly! Of course it's treatable. Growing new feathers is something that every Phoenix teaches their hatchlings before letting them fly for the first time. I didn't tell you about it because I thought you wouldn't need it.
"Turns out I was wrong." Salaark shrugged. "Happens even to Guardians."
"What would have happened if it was me instead of Tista and one or more of my Void Sigils was damaged?" Lith asked.
"Once second." Salaark used her breathing technique, Mother Sun, to scan Lith's feathers from top to bottom. "You would be in Tista's same condition and the soul stored within would be lost."
"Can't my Demons just pick another?" Lith felt his throat tighten.
"Can't we please fix my real injuries before worrying about Lith's hypothetical wounds?" Tista felt her patience run thin.
Knowing that she could heal only made her want to feel whole again more.
"I'm sorry, Featherling you are right." Salaark caressed her head. "It's incredibly simple. Turn into your Red Demon form."
Tista did as bidden and shapeshifted into her hybrid body. The transformation caused her so much pain that it made her want to cry. As a Red Demon, she felt the flow of her mana being interrupted whenever it reached the bald spots of her wings.
Everything felt wrong with her. Her scales looked duller than usual and even the beat of her heart sounded off. It was like her body wasn't her own anymore and she was now inhabiting a stranger's.
"Now, take a deep breath, just like you would to conjure your Origin Flames, but instead of breathing them out of your mouth like a Dragon, move them to your wings like a Phoenix." Salaark said.
Tista followed her instructions, but aside from her remaining feathers being set ablaze and the bald spot burning like an open wound nothing happened.
"You are almost there. The final step is to listen to the beat of your heart and let your inner fire dance to its rhythm. A Dragon's fire is born from his lungs whereas his heart is where his mana accumulates.
"For a Phoenix, instead, our fire is born from our heart which embodies our feelings and passions. Your feathers are an extension of your inmost self and to make them grow back you just have to restore the connection."
Tista closed her eyes and focused on her breathing, excluding every other noise until the only things she could hear were the air going in and out of her nose and the steady thumping of her heart.
'Now what?' After a few seconds, not only had nothing happened yet, but her mind was being filled with too many worries and random thoughts to feel the void in her mind. 'What am I doing wrong? Grandma said this was supposed to be easy!'
Tista took a deep breath to cool down and then changed her mind.
'Gods if I'm stupid. This is something Phoenixes learn as babies and what a baby would do in my place after getting hurt is throw a tantrum. I don't need to calm down. I'm not a damn Dragon, I'm a Phoenix and I need to rage!'
Tista let her pain and worry flow along with her flames as her heartbeat accelerated. She embraced the fury from her wounded wings and the resentment she felt for the trolls who had violated her body with their fanged hands.
Tista screamed in frustration, reliving those painful moments in her head and wishing to go back in time to give her enemies the painful death they deserved. As she stopped fighting her emotions, the Origin Flames moved from her wings to the rest of her body.
The Red Demon was now a burning pyre yet not a spark blacked the floor nor did she produce heat. Lith and her family were just a few steps away but they had no problem breathing, the air still fresh.
The fire that Tista was producing wasn't a weapon but a physical manifestation of her true self. It danced with the rhythm of her heart accelerating whenever rage or sadness shook her and slowing down only when she needed to catch her breath.
Tista noticed that there was still no trace of her missing feathers but now she didn't care. She could now feel the void in the bald spots through the flow of her flames and all she had to do was fill it.
The Red Demon took another breath, sending a burst of Origin Flames through her bloodstream right at the injured areas of her wings.
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