The tent they had once called home during their ancient trials surrounded them once more, the familiar scent of old parchment and burning incense filling the space.
Confusion settled in as they sat up, exchanging wary glances.
"Did we dream everything?" Athena whispered, her fingers brushing against the mark on her wrist. The warmth of the phoenix pulsed beneath her touch, as real as it had been in the palace.
"No," Mors said, standing. His dragon, curled at the foot of the tent, let out a slow breath, its golden eyes watching him with knowing intelligence.
"Everything happened. We are no longer trapped in the ancient realm, but…" He turned to Athena, his gaze thoughtful. "It seems we were never meant to leave without them."
Athena looked at her phoenix, feeling the steady beat of its heart against her own.
It was strange, this sense of completeness, as if something that had been missing for lifetimes had finally been restored.
