The Last Feather of Vithariel

The Last Feather of Vithariel

They said the gods once sang from the mountain peaks, and the birds carried their songs across the wind.

But that was before the Silence.

Before the wind turned still, the skies turned gray, and the gods, it seemed, forgot the world.

In the village of Eirinth Hollow, no child was born under a star for twenty years. The rivers had run dry. The holy trees bore no fruit. And from the northern skies came the Black Phoenix—a creature said to be born from grief and fed on silence.

It burned three cities in one day. It did not speak, only screamed, and its fire was colder than ice.

No blade could pierce its hide. No spell could reach it. The Phoenix was not just death—it was forgetting. When it passed, whole towns vanished from memory. Maps redrew themselves. Names crumbled from books.

People began to pray not for salvation, but to be remembered.

And yet, in that hollow forgotten village, there was a girl who did not forget.

The Girl Who Listened

Her name was Kaela. She had no mother, no father. Only a small songbird who sat on her windowsill each morning and chirped three strange notes before the sun.

Others ignored the bird. But Kaela listened.

“Are you a memory?” she whispered once.

The bird cocked its head and fluttered to her shoulder. That night, Kaela dreamed of a silver feather, floating above a burning sea. In the dream, she reached for it, and it burned her fingers—but did not destroy them.

When she woke, her palm held a single, glowing feather.

And the bird was gone.

The Old Temple and the Broken Sky

She went to the ruins atop Hollow Hill—once the Temple of Vithariel, god of memory and song. Its pillars were cracked. Its altar buried in vines. No one prayed there anymore.

Kaela stood beneath the ancient arch and held up the feather. It shimmered, and the wind stirred for the first time in months.

“If there is still a god,” she whispered, “then let me carry your voice.”

The sky cracked with thunder—not loud, but deep, like the sound of stone weeping. And from that weeping came light.

When Fire and Memory Met

The Black Phoenix came again, drawn by the stirring wind. It screamed its silent scream, and the trees blackened in its wake.

But this time, it found a girl standing on the ruined altar, a feather in her hand and fire in her eyes.

The Phoenix descended.

It opened its beak—but instead of silence, it heard… song.

Kaela sang.

Not a hymn. Not a battle cry. Just three simple notes.

The same notes the bird had sung each morning.

The Phoenix stopped.

The world paused.

And the wind, for the first time in an age, began to sing again.

The Phoenix trembled. It let out a final cry—and from its wings fell ash, not fire.

And a second feather.

Black as sorrow, but glinting with stars.

A New Memory

Kaela never returned to Eirinth Hollow.

But years later, children were born under stars once more. The rivers sang. The trees bloomed silver. And the wind carried a tune no one could quite remember—but everyone knew.

And high above the mountains, where no fire dares climb, two feathers crossed in the sky like twin moons.