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The morning light over the Rune Coven was pale and soft, like a dream barely awakened. Mist clung to the mountainsides, curling around the ancient spires of the Coven's sanctum — towers of white stone laced with glowing runes that pulsed faintly in the cool air. The night's frost still kissed the ground, but there was a quiet hum beneath it all, a rhythm that felt alive. It wasn't just nature's whisper — it was magic.
Hazel wrapped her silvery-blue cloak tighter around her shoulders as she followed Alyssa through the cobbled path. The faint crunch of her boots mingled with the sound of flowing water from a nearby stream. Everything about the Rune Coven felt sacred — serene yet humming with invisible energy. It wasn't like Hades' Citadel, where power roared and coiled like a beast. Here, it breathed — soft, alive, ancient.
They walked in silence for a while, the cold air painting faint pink on Hazel's cheeks. Alyssa's blacked hair shimmered faintly under the pale sun, her robes of white and gold billowing like mist. Her eyes glowed faintly, as if they reflected the magic around them. She looked otherworldly, almost divine, yet there was a human fatigue beneath her calm — the toll of the destruction the storm had left behind.
As they reached the heart of the Coven, Hazel slowed, her breath catching in awe.
Before them stood a tree — immense and luminous, its willow branches cascading like threads of light. It wasn't touched by snow or frost like the rest of the landscape; instead, it glowed faintly, each leaf shimmering like molten emerald. Beneath it, the air was warm, fragrant with something ancient and sacred. The mist parted gently around it, as though unwilling to intrude.
"The heart of the Rune Coven," Alyssa said softly, her voice carrying both reverence and sorrow. "The Willow of Origin."
Hazel took a slow step forward, her silver hair glinting against the golden glow. "It's… beautiful," she whispered, eyes wide. The warmth was gentle against her skin, soothing in a way that tugged at something deep inside her chest. "How… how is it possible? Everything else here is mostly covered in frost."
Alyssa smiled faintly, hands clasped before her. "Because it's alive in ways you and I can't fully understand. The tree is a living fragment of the oldest power — one that predates even the first rulers of the underworld."
Hazel tilted her head slightly, curiosity shimmering in her silver eyes. "What do you mean?"
"The legend," Alyssa began, her voice carrying the rhythm of an old tale, "says that a thousand years ago, after the War of the Realms, the Phoenix — the true Phoenix — came here to rest. It was wounded from battle, its flames nearly extinguished. It landed in this valley, right where this tree now stands."
Hazel's lips parted slightly, her heartbeat quickening. Alyssa continued, her eyes distant, lost in the memory of stories passed down for centuries.
"The Phoenix burned for seven days and seven nights. When it finally rested, it left behind a piece of its essence — a spark that soaked into the roots of the earth. And from that spark, this willow was born. Its roots drank the flame, its leaves absorbed the light, and its soul began to breathe magic. Over time, the valley became sacred ground."
Hazel stepped closer, fingers brushing the tree's smooth bark. It was warm — not just physically, but emotionally, as though the tree recognized her touch. She closed her eyes and exhaled softly, feeling a pulse echo faintly under her palm — a heartbeat that wasn't her own, it felt so familiar.
"So the tree…" she murmured, "...has the Phoenix's essence in it?"
Alyssa nodded. "Yes. And it has grown ever since, feeding off the Phoenix's eternal flame. Its energy became the source of life and magic here. When the first witches arrived — they were just humans then, castaways, refugees who had been banished for what they didn't understand — this tree heard them. It pitied them. And it gave them magic."
Hazel's eyes widened. "It… gave it to them?"
"In a way," Alyssa said, her tone softening with warmth. "The essence of the Phoenix inside this tree is one of rebirth. It senses pain, hopelessness, loss — and turns it into power. That's how the first witches were born. The tree became their guardian, their sanctuary. It's the reason we exist."
Hazel looked up at the sweeping branches above, glowing faintly with threads of gold. "That's… incredible," she whispered, genuine awe in her voice. "It feels… alive. Like it's watching us."
Alyssa smiled knowingly. "It probably is."
The two women stood in silence, the soft hum of the tree surrounding them. Birds — small, pale blue with tails like fire sparks — fluttered among the branches, singing in a language that felt older than time. Hazel watched them, a soft smile touching her lips. For a fleeting moment, she felt peace.
But it didn't last.
When Alyssa spoke again, her voice carried a quiet weight. "The Phoenix disappeared not long after," she said. "It was said to have fulfilled its purpose and vanished without a trace. Some say it was destroyed. Others… believe it will return when the world begins to lose balance again."
Hazel turned toward her, curiosity flickering with unease. "Return? To do what?"
Alyssa's eyes met hers. "To restore balance."
The words echoed in Hazel's mind like a distant toll. "Restore balance," she repeated softly, the phrase feeling oddly familiar — like something she'd heard before, long ago.
Alyssa nodded slowly. "The Phoenix was a weapon of the Celestials. It was neither angel nor demon. It existed between realms, its only purpose being to enforce balance where chaos grew too strong. When the darkness of the underworld spilled too far into the world of light, the Phoenix burned it clean."
Hazel frowned, her heartbeat beginning to race. "So… it killed?"
"Thousands," Alyssa said softly. "Demons, mortals, even gods. It didn't distinguish right from wrong. It didn't feel love or hate — only duty. That was what made it… pure."
Hazel's throat tightened. "Then… it wasn't good?"
Alyssa shook her head. "It wasn't good or evil. The Phoenix was balance itself. Order and destruction, creation and death — all in one. The Celestials created it to correct what the living couldn't."
"And Hades?" Hazel asked, her voice almost a whisper. "Where does he fit in all this?"
Alyssa hesitated. Her serene expression faltered for the first time, replaced with something unreadable. "Hades," she said at last, "was destined to destroy the Phoenix."
Hazel froze, her heart skipping a beat. She blinked, confusion flashing across her face. "Destined… to destroy it?"
"Yes." Alyssa's tone was gentle but firm. "Every prophecy, every trace of ancient record points to it. Light cannot exist without darkness, Hazel. And darkness cannot exist without light. But when light grows too bright — when the Phoenix burns too hot — it must be put down. And the only being who can stand against it… is Hades."
The silence that followed was heavy.
Hazel's fingers, still pressed to the tree, trembled slightly. Her lips parted, but no words came out. It felt as though the earth had shifted beneath her feet. "So… he's meant to… annihilate it."
Alyssa nodded slowly. "Yes."
A soft wind rustled through the willow branches, scattering golden leaves that drifted around them like tiny flames. One landed gently on Hazel's hand. She stared at it, heart hammering. It shimmered faintly, almost alive. For a split second, she thought she saw the faint outline of wings reflected in it — wings of fire.
Her pulse quickened. The warmth she'd felt moments ago turned sharp, burning faintly against her skin.
Alyssa glanced at her, noticing her distant stare. "Hazel? Are you all right?"
Hazel blinked and dropped the leaf, forcing a small smile. "Y-yeah," she said softly. "Just… it's a lot to take in."
Alyssa gave a sympathetic nod. "I know. But you should rest your heart. Prophecies don't always unfold as written. Sometimes, love rewrites fate."
Hazel smiled weakly, though her chest tightened painfully. Love rewrites fate. The words sounded comforting, but something deep within her stirred — an instinct that whispered otherwise.
Because if the Phoenix was destined to burn everything to ash…
And Hades was destined to destroy it…
They sat together under the tree for a while longer, Alyssa humming softly as she traced patterns in the earth, the runes glowing faintly under her touch. Hazel leaned back against the trunk, eyes lifting to the golden canopy above. For a moment, she swore she could hear something — faint, distant — like a heartbeat echoing through the air. It wasn't the tree. It was something older. Something inside her.
Her vision blurred slightly, just for a second — and she saw it.
Flames.
A shadowed battlefield.
A scream that tore through eternity.
And Hades — his eyes wild with rage and sorrow — reaching for her through the inferno.
Hazel gasped, clutching her chest, and the vision shattered. The world returned — soft light, Alyssa's voice, the warmth of the willow. But her heart was pounding as if she'd run miles.
"Hazel?" Alyssa's brow furrowed in concern. "You're pale."
"I'm fine," Hazel said quickly, forcing a faint smile. "Just… dizzy."
Alyssa studied her for a long moment, but didn't press. She rose, brushing dust from her robes. "Come," she said gently. "Let's get you something warm to drink."
Hazel nodded, still shaken. As she turned to leave, she looked back one last time at the glowing tree. Its branches swayed softly in the wind, the light flickering like embers.
And in that flicker, she thought — for just a breath — that the flames looked like wings.