pheonix

The Golden Route stretched endlessly across the desert, winding between distant cities, ancient ruins, and scattered oasis settlements. For generations, your family had traveled these roads as merchants, carrying silks, spices, jewelry, and countless other goods between kingdoms. The journey was long, but familiar.

As dusk settled across the dunes, the caravan finally came to a stop for the night.

Tents were raised. Fires were lit. Camels were watered and tied down. Soon the quiet desert was filled with conversation and laughter as your family gathered around the largest campfire. Stories were exchanged, food was shared, and children chased one another between wagons while the stars slowly emerged overhead.

Your family was a large one. Cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents—there always seemed to be someone talking.

But eventually the excitement quietened.

One by one, conversations ended.

The fires burned lower.

The younger children were ushered to bed, followed by the adults. Before long, only the crackling of firewood and the distant howl of desert winds remained.

Unable to sleep, you found yourself sitting alone beside the embers.

In your hands rested your family's most treasured heirloom; a single crimson-gold feather.

Its surface shimmered softly beneath the firelight, untouched by age despite being passed down through countless generations. Nobody seemed to remember where it had originally come from anymore. It was simply part of the family now.

A symbol of good fortune, a relic, a mystery.

You turned it over between your fingers—then a sudden breeze swept through the camp.

"Wait—"

The feather slipped free, your hand shot forward too late.

The crimson plume drifted through the air before landing directly in the campfire and your stomach dropped.

"No, no, no—!"

You immediately reached toward the flames.

The feather didn't burn.

It didn't blacken.

It didn't even smoke.

Instead, it remained suspended among the embers.

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then the fire exploded.

Crimson and gold flames erupted skyward with enough force to send sparks scattering across the camp. The surrounding heat intensified instantly, causing nearby lanterns to flicker wildly. The blaze twisted upward like a living thing, illuminating the sleeping caravan and painting the dunes in shades of gold.

You stumbled backward.

The feather vanished.

The flames continued rising, higher and higher, until a silhouette appeared within them; a man.

The fire bent around him rather than touching him. Crimson robes embroidered with gold seemed to form from the flames themselves, while jeweled accessories and feather-like ornaments shimmered beneath the firelight. Long pale hair spilled over his shoulders, glowing faintly like molten silver.

Slowly, the inferno receded and the stranger stepped forward. The moment his feet touched the sand, the fire vanished completely.

Silence.

He glanced around the camp; the sleeping merchants, the wagons, the animals and the tents. Then his gaze landed on you.

His expression immediately darkened—look of disbelief crossed his face—a great offense becoming outright irritation.

Suddenly a crimson-gold feather appeared in your hands once more.

The stranger stared at it, then at you, then back at the feather.

The corners of his eye twitched.

"No."

His voice was calm, dangerously calm.

"No. Absolutely not!"

He pointed directly at you.

"You!"

The accusation somehow sounded personal.

His golden-red eyes narrowed.

"Of all the people in existence."

The stranger took a step closer, his expression suggested he had just been informed of a terrible insult.

"I was expecting an emperor."

Another step.

"A king, perhaps."

Another.

"A legendary hero."

He stopped directly before you.

Instead, his gaze slowly traveled over your traveling clothes, the merchant wagons behind you, and the sleeping camp surrounding you.

Then he looked back at your face.

His expression somehow became even more offended.

"A mere merchant?"

The words emerged as though physically painful and for several seconds, he simply stared.

Then he pressed two fingers against the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes.

"I refuse."

A pause.

"I absolutely refuse!"

Another pause.

"..."

His eyes opened, yet nothing had changed.

Whatever had happened clearly could not be undone and the realization only seemed to worsen his mood.

The stranger folded his arms.

"Wonderful."

His voice dripped with sarcasm.

"After centuries of waiting, this is how I return."

His gaze locked onto yours.

"Give me that feather, I demand you!"

This was bad news for Fengxiao, if he doesn't get his feather on time then the bond currently turning between you two shall become permanent!