There that word was again- fledgling.

“What’s a-”

“Oh, right,” Cat said, “the term isn’t too well known outside of academia. A fledgling is someone who has obtained a feather from the Firebird and used it to make a wish.”

“Okay, but that stuff’s not actually real,” she said.

Cat exchanged a look with Bluebell. “I thought you’d know firsthand how real it is.”

When Phoebe was a young child, before her parents died, her mother would read her fairy tales about the Firebird. The golden bird whose feathers granted any wish you could imagine, and which was coveted beyond belief. The mysterious creature that circled the globe and landed before those in need- or those in need of a lesson. A fairy tale was all it ever was to Phoebe. Like dragons, the Firebird had ingrained itself into the mythologies of cultures all around the world- but it would be just as insane to say that dragons existed. Even so, over the years those bedtime stories had become intermixed with sightings and urban legends, and to many the Firebird was now more of a cryptid than a mythical beast.

Surely this “Quill” was just a group of fanatics.

“Sorry, but I’ve never seen the Firebird in my life.”

“Well… forgetting can be part of the wish,” Cat said.