I'm wondering if my family crest, which is a Phoenix surrounded by the flames of resurrection, keeps attracting me to birds, because yet again, I am encountering another bird creature beyond imagination. The Northern Cerberus Griffin and the Pallid Crystal Vulture were both monsters of significant prestige and apparent birdliness. I figured it'd be a while before I interacted with another bird like that.

But, uh, no. Here I am again. Brandishing Scipio against another bird creature. An Owlstrich. Created artificially by a man who dabbled in taboo magic seventy years ago, this creature is a chimera of snakes, an owl, and an ostrich. A pair of mates killed the man and escaped one day, and now they've integrated themselves into various ecosystems with new subspecies popping up every few years. They've become their own monster class in such a short time, which is impressive, honestly.

I once spent a life creating a bestiary of the various monsters across the world, and Owlstriches were some of the more exciting ones to document, mostly because it was interesting to see how such a young species changed so rapidly depending on where you went. Southern species swallow their prey whole, while the Owlstrich species from the East slice their food into thin chunks with their talons and peck at them. The ones nesting at Dulce Ilda don't fly, instead opting for swift kicks coated in flames, and the one in front of me…

Well, it's trying to maul me. These Northern ones are the least refined of the bunch. Despite that reality, Grandfather has tasked me with subjugating one. It should be noted that the word “subjugation” here is actually moreso a request to calm down this thing. For, I am not in the wild right now. I'm in Billiam’s backyard.

Apparently, Billiam said something wrong to the Owlstrich in front of me through his connected magical conversation with it, and now the thing has been in a temper all day. Grandfather knows he's too rough around the edges to subdue it gently, and Billiam would lose his head in seconds. That leaves me as the little baby bear, the middle ground, since apparently I'm “just right” for the job. I should've worn my bearskin cloak to match my role, but I guess that's still tucked away at the Duke's estate anyways.

First contact will be attempted through dialogue. Frankly, I'm not sure how I should communicate with a bird of all things, but I guess I'll have to try, since Billiam has already connected us with his magic. It's just me and the Owlstrich though. It wouldn't stop screeching when Billiam or Grandfather tried to stay connected, so this is a solo gig.

[Now the daft wench daressss to pry into my headsssspace..?]

What the heck is that dialect? It has a low gravelly voice that holds the “s” sounds like a cartoon snake would. That actually has some basis? Or is it just a stray variable of the tropes in the hodgepodge of novels that make up this world? The voice and articulation of its words make it seem like an elder of its kind. I guess I'll respond properly before it gets too aggressive. Somehow, the idea of talking with a creature through magic is already providing me with the verbage I would usually have in my other lives. Perhaps my long time of silence is powering up my motivation to speak through the magic right now.

[This daft wench wishes to engage in conversation with you, Owlstrich.]

[Again with that abhorrent name for my kind! You humans sssshould watch your tongue before I decide to erase my mercy and remove your headsssss…]

[Then what should I call you?]

[A human sssshouldn’t call me anything, but I am known as Bright Beak among my peersssss… And we call ourselves the Greater Avianssss…]

This thing clearly has a high and mighty view of itself. Were all Owlstriches - ah pardon me - were all “Greater Avians” supposed to be like this? Billiam's got more than just this one Owlstrich roaming around his large ranch of various animals and domesticated monsters, but they seem relatively amicable. Perhaps this one is just an oldie who is reminiscent of a different time.

[Bright Beak, do you realize the situation you are in?]

I could visualize its eyes begin to squint, despite my blindness.

[Are you the one who should be sssssaying that…? I could have killed you many timesssss by now…]

[Bright Beak, I want you to consider a few things. Your fellow… Greater Avians are nesting here, and seemingly have been for years, under the protection of the man who spoke with you earlier. I don't know what that man said, nor do I care, but the fact is that you're the only one of your flock that has remained aggressive. And you're alone. You have no mate, do you? I will listen to the reason why.]

The more I sense this thing’s mana, and the more I hear it speak, the more I can confidently state that this guy's an old one. His mate is probably deceased. If I can get him to talk more about anything, that gives me more opportunities to end this through our conversation alone.

[You insssssult my very existence, and now you expect to hear anything more from me?! Those foolsssss don't know what they're doing! They drivel on about affection from the human as they lose their edge, unready for their fates! We are ssssupposed to be apex hunters!]

He's screeching along with his yelling at me through the magic. The screeches have enough force behind it to where my hair is whipping all over the place, but I stay firmly planted in my position.

[And yet you have not killed the man despite your grievances.]

[Because my mate killed herself for that human!! Ssssshe jumped right in front of my talonssss as I was about to ssssscratch his eyes out! I know each and every idiot here would do the sssssame thing… and if I did manage to get him, my death would be next…]

[And now you're left alone no matter what you do because of that.]

[...]

[If you were unable to see the truth of how your mate lived, and you still fail to see how your flock lives even now, then the fault lies with you.]

I don't have sympathy to spare for this thing. And something tells me sympathy would only anger it more.

[...If you only came to ridicule me, wench, then I'd rather engage in combat. Ssssspeaking as we are now will only waste time… You've had your weapon at the ready this whole conversation.]

[You may think of me as daft, but I know quite well the habits of your kind. You would retract your neck only to extend it at a second's notice for a preemptive strike. There's no reason that I shouldn't remain alert in this situation.]

[...Have you fought a Greater Avian before, wench?]

[I have, multiple times. In all sorts of places. Even Avians greater than you know.]

[You are but a child, yet I cannot find anything but the truth in your wordsssss….]

Truth Sight. A magic that Owlstriches can possess. I must be an anomaly to this thing if that's what it's using right now. Though this does present me with an idea. I may be able to use this thing to my advantage.

[There is no need for combat, Bright Beak. You are aging, and I am in no mood to battle. Instead I will offer you an alternative. You dislike this life, but I will bring you out of it… if you abide by my rules.]

[You aim to place me from one cage to another? There may be truth to your battle experience, but it seems you sssstill have the mind of a child, wench. For what reason would I leave my flock, idiotsssss that they be?]

[You would not remain stationary. I plan to escape from my own… “flock”, you could say. They, too, have locked me down in a drab life of repetition and rampant protection. If you exercise some patience, I will take you with me to new places, with new prey. If you are my transport, then I shall be your liberator.]

[...And how exactly do you plan to accomplisssssh that?]

[Being a human child has its benefits, Bright Beak. All I need to do is ask, and you will be mine. Though I will warn you. The journey will be continuous and during our time together, I will be mute. The only reason I speak to you now is because of the man’s magic. Even with my people, I am unable to utter a word.]

Well, technically I can. But not really. Mental limitations are powerful sometimes.

[Do not consider me incompetent, wench, I am sure to understand your intentionssss whether you ssssspeak them to me or not. You doubt my intelligence far too much.]

[I take it you intend to follow me then?]

[...If only for the chance to kill you later, then yesssss…]

I can already tell Bright Beak doesn't truly mean that.

It's two days later, and Grandfather and I are riding on the back of Bright Beak towards the Duke's estate. Things have sped up considerably, in both a physical and preparational sense.

For one, we are quite literally moving fast. As fast as a cheetah, mounted on Bright Beak’s back as he dashes through the woodlands around us. Owlstriches can tuck in their long, snakeskin necks and rotate their heads 360 degrees multiple times over, which gives them powerful flexibility and a great frame of view for running at fast speeds. Bright Beak has his wings tucked in and his head low to allow for the slipstream of momentum to push us ever faster. Even with the weight of Grandfather and I, he shows no signs of faltering. I've nabbed myself a handy transport indeed.

As for how we reached this point, things were simple. Billiam was so impressed I was able to tame Bright Beak that he gladly gave him to me, and Grandfather was in a similar boat. In fact, the issues of communication between the bird and I have already been resolved. Grandfather used some of the crystals I collected from the Pallid Crystal Vulture to craft me a pair of simple stud earrings that simulates Billiam's magic. In that same sense, Bright Beak also has an anklet with a matching crystal. Billiam had to pour his magic into them for 4 hours, and for that, I am grateful. Naturally, Grandfather has given himself an earring too, so we can easily communicate if needed.

Us three are now returning to the estate since my “punishment” is now over. With Bright Beak already knowing about my detailed plans to escape, I feel confident about doing it tonight. However, Grandfather wants to speak to my father about me, but that risks what I have in mind, so I'll need to talk to him now and get him on my side.

This will prove vital.

[Grandfather, before we reach my father, I would like to confide in you about something.]

“Goodness Aella, when did you get so formal, gyahaha!! You can speak to me about whatever you want, whenever you want, don't be so tight-lipped..”

[...I want to leave my father's estate and travel with Bright Beak.]

“...Hmmm you want to travel do you? That boy's gonna blow himself up over something like that. He’d never, uh, your father I mean, he'd never agree to something like that.”

[I am aware, which is why I plan to escape tonight.]

“Oho? Are you sure you want to be telling me that, Aella? Nothing's stopping me from telling him.”

[I'm letting you know now precisely because I don't want you to let him know.]

“You know your father keeps a hold of you because he wants to protect you right? He's doing it a bit of the wrong way admittedly, but he's genuinely trying to help you.”

[...I know. But Grandfather, whether you tell him or not, I am still leaving.]

“...Fine, you're still my sweet little granddaughter after all. I'm not saying anything to him, don't worry. That boy needs to figure out his own problems anyways. And he'll get a taste of his own medicine, gyahaha!!”

[...Did my father do something similar to you when he was young?]

“By the spirits, he arguably did something worse! He went on a year long journey by himself after purposely separating himself from me in Alzblaim! All to attack a foreign noble house! For a year I thought he was gone, and when I found him it was with bad news. I'd argue leaving just to travel is much more sensible. You've already shown you can handle yourself. I have no worries, even if Leander does. Uh, that's your father's name, by the way, Aella. Don't call him that though.”

[I am aware, Grandfather.]

“Right, you're a smart child, aren't you?”

A selfish child is probably a better description of me, but I won't argue with Grandfather about that now.

Three hours later, I stand before my father once more. Bright Beak dropped us off a fair distance from the estate to remain hidden for my escape.

“Aella, you've returned. Did you reconsider your actions after spending time with your grandfather?”

I blink. He sighs.

“What… What are you holding, Aella? A cane?”

“Leander, boy, we need to talk. Aella's tired from our journey back, so let her rest for the night, alright? We need to speak about a few things.”

“...You can head to your room then, Aella. I'll see you in the morning.”

Unfortunately for you father, this will be the last time we meet. I've got some preparation to do.

First, the Library. I'm stealing a few books from here, but I don't particularly care about that, because I'm the only one who uses it anyways. I'm taking everything related to Mister Mourngrown's studies, the books I used to practice my reading, and a few other supplementary theses that I think will help me develop my mana apparitions. They aren't written by Mister Mourngrown, but I'm betting that they'll help me regardless. That all goes into a small stack wrapped up by some of my mana threads. A bit weighty, but easily carried. I make sure to grab some writing supplies and four empty books as well. I'll use two of these to keep track of information, in case I need to log stuff down, and I'll use the other two to develop some new bestiaries for this life. Meeting Bright Beak reignited that spark within me. I'm not sure if they'll be more focused on certain species or just generally random, but honing my writing and art, even with my visual limitation, could help develop some skills I might need. I'll be coming back to the Library later, so I leave my preparations here so I can just grab them on the way out.

Next, I sneak into the storage and grab my bearskin cloak. This is the mark of my first notable kill. I'm not going to leave it rotting away here with my father. I make sure to snatch a bag of gold coins and a spare Wilstrom Plate. Wilstrom Plates are small metallic cards that, when shown in the right places, can allow access into any city within the country. Even commoners can get them, but they're expensive. Wilstrom, the man they are named after, manages trade routes under the king, and coined the idea to help merchants in their businesses. It was successful and spread throughout the country in just a decade. Good job, Wilstrom.

Food and water I'll be procuring in the wild. No need to burden myself with any more luggage than I need. That just leaves clothes. I only take one pair of shoes, since I doubt I'd wear them anyways, and pack seven shirts and seven pants. These will likely get ruined in time, but they are only serving me as temporary clothing, since the likelihood is I'll be living in the wild again. I'm really only packing these because I need to make a stop before embracing nature once more. Even with a Wilstrom Plate, if I look more feral than I already am, then I will be denied entry.

I don't sleep. I simply pretend to slumber, and ignore when my father peeks into my room. I would say that my habitual cuddling of Scipio is also an act… but it isn't.

An hour past midnight, I emerge from my room, fully dressed and ready to leave. My only threat at this time is Sebas or Winfred. One of them may be working late into the night, and I know full well that Sebas is terrified of me. That leaves Winfred. I attune my hearing with my mana, and am able to figure out that both Winfred and the Duke are discussing some matters in one of the estate’s offices. I make sure to tune into their conversation just in case.

“My father continues to irk me even when he's stepped away from his proper title. Every time I talk with him he finds some fault within me.”

“Leander, I sincerely doubt that whatever he spoke to you about was of that great of a consequence.”

“No, Winfred, he was right in what he said. He talked about Aella, and Loukas, and damn him, he even mentioned Kyria.”

“Kyria? Why her?”

“He told me to learn from her about how to take care of the children, but my father must be getting senile in his age, because I find that impossible to do when she's long gone.”

“Leander, I think Gerald’s intention there was to have you look at what she did when she was still here. Perhaps you can communicate with Loukas and learn more about Kyria’s methods that way.”

“I suppose you're right. And I know my father isn't in the wrong or anything either, I just find my incompetence frustrating.”

“Trust me, I know, Your Grace.”

“You've switched back to being formal again, Winfred.”

“Because I suspect you're about to order me to do something. More tea, right?”

“I'm surprised you don't have some sort of mental magic with how well you know me, Winfred.”

“Who knows, maybe I do?”

Alright, that's enough eavesdropping. It seems Grandfather tried to give my father some advice involving raising children. A bit odd, considering he knows I'm leaving tonight, but if it keeps my father occupied, I won't complain.

My brother’s mother, Kyria, was mentioned as well. I've never met the woman, she's unfortunately deceased every time I wake up in a cycle. In that sense, my brother and I have both lost our mothers. Mine died in childbirth, apparently, so even if there was an attachment that this body could have possibly held for her, it didn't even have a chance to get formed in the first place.

That aside, I'm able to quickly find my way to the Library. I'm thankful for Scipio’s assistance in speeding me up. As I stuff everything into a traveling bag, I inadvertently wonder about the people here. My father, Winona, Wimberley, Sebas, Winfred, and all the staff. I'll cause them all some trouble with my departure, but it's for the best. Even if it's mostly for my own sake, I'd rather do this earlier than deal with more nonsense later.

If this were any other estate, I might be a bit puzzled on how to escape without notice, but there's an easy way out here. The library holds a secret escape route underneath one of the bookshelves. I'm the only one who knows of it. Well, my brother knows of it too, but he's not here right now.

It travels under the estate and ends a few miles away. I've told Bright Beak to wait for my whistle signal around that area so that I can make a smooth escape without leaving any traces of my mana. Of course, I make sure the bookshelf I moved is back in place before I start to dash through the straight path out.

More than a few spiderwebs attack my face during the process. I think I might've eaten a spider or two while I was running, but it's not the worst thing I've consumed. The crunch was actually just the tiniest bit of appetizing. The dull slaps of my feet on the stone ground echo down the long hall towards my freedom.

I emerge from below a rock into the brisk night and dust myself off briefly. Spiderwebs still decorate my hair and face, but at this point I'll have to wash it off at a later time.

I whistle into the surrounding woods. It's four notes, and it only takes 2 minutes for Bright Beak to arrive.

[About time, wench.]

[I'm surprised you didn't abandon me, Bright Beak. You had every opportunity to do so.]

[I ssssstick to my word, even if you humanssssss don't…]

[I think you'll find that I'm unlike other humans. But we can discuss that later. Look at what I'm carrying. Is this manageable enough for you to carry while saddled, or should we drag it?]

[You doubt my ssssstrength wench, this poses no problem.]

[Good.]

[Where to?]

[Hitherbliss, I have some business to finish there. I'll guide us well enough, just follow the moss lines on the ground for now.]

[The names of human sssssettlements are peculiar…]

[I could say the same about your speech patterns, those “s” sounds are becoming annoying.]

[It issss a force of habit, wench. The elders of my flock insisted we hissssss rather than screech. It was drilled into me for yearsssss.]

So it's just a mental thing then? It is good to know other Owlstriches are not as odd as this one.

[We'll have to break that habit, Bright Beak. I'll even reward you with good food if you cooperate.]

[I am not your pet, you fiend.]

[That matters not, I will be directing you towards your tastiest meals yet. You'll end up listening regardless, whether you realize it or not.]

He had no answer for that. And frankly, I'm glad he didn't. I don't feel like arguing any further with him right now. Eventually, Bright Beak will either run away or attack me, I'm sure. But that's fine. I'll take care of the situations as they come.

My focus now lies in my plans for the days ahead. I can't stay in the area for too long, because my father's influence will have me found near immediately. I suspect he'll check the forest and mountains I lived in, Hitherbliss, Grandfather's house, and perhaps Billiam’s place.

There's only one feasible way I can escape his search, and that's through the man who can trick even my father. Alarick Dustfield. His distortion magic seems on such a powerful level that I could use it to my advantage. It's a gamble, but I believe I have a way to bribe Alarick into hiding me for a little bit within his distortion. It would be even better if I could have him tag along with me to the country’s border. As I am now I can't cross it myself, and I don't want to risk making myself known by seeking the help of certain people. Unfortunately, Alarick is my best bet. Fortunately, he's a drunkard and somehow was on my side before. There's a chance, so I just need to tip him over.

As the night wind rushes through my hair, I take a swig of the water flask I have packed. It's cold, and that coolness spreads from my throat to the rest of my body in a smooth chill. It's refreshing, but I still taste bitterness.

The bitter flavor isn't from the flask or the spiders, it's all mental. Leaving the estate like this doesn't sit well with a buried part of my consciousness. In recent lives, when I've made strong choices like this, that bitterness always creeps back up. It goes away after a few days, but it's never pleasant. 

Bright Beak and I, we've both left our nests now. Oddly similar we are in that regard. An Owlstrich and the daughter of the Phoenix crest, we both have stopped roosting long ago and now take flight. Though the difference lies in our ends. I have a simmering worry that the flight we take now will only leave me with broken wings at the end. Again. Which is why I'll nest somewhere permanent as soon as possible. I'll fall asleep once again, and hopefully, this time, I won't hatch from another egg at the same shivering start.

…I take another sip of the water. The bitterness remains.