Burning. Scorching. Scalding. All words that were once a mystery to Ardith. Phoenix didn't burn, fire couldn't harm them. Nor did they scorch in the sun's ray or scald even in hottest liquid temperatures. They were immune to heat, leaving them strangers to the pain brought by such things. Or at least that's what Ardith was taught. However, with each release of aggression, her skin bubbled, red/blackened and blistered just like those who met her fire. It seemed that power came at a price.

Nonetheless, pain had to be the last of Ardith's worries. She blew her secret in front of Trick and Dyson-the blood king who wrote away her powers and the wolf who hated her. There was no doubt either of them would think twice about handing her over now. Ardith fucked up, and it hadn't even been a day. "Okay, okay, you can handle this Ardith. The fight's not over yet. You just have to leave town and head as south as possible." Ardith murmured.

After mouthing off to Dyson like some badass, she somehow managed to walk out of the Dal calm and cool…only to run the minute the door shut. Surprisingly neither Dyson nor Trick went after her, but Ardith figured they were too shocked to move. Not that she could blame them, Ardith didn't even know it was possible to unseal her aggression. As far as she knew, once her mother signed their aggression over that was it, phoenixes were powerless.

Pushing off the wall she leaned against, Ardith forced herself to move. Weakness was another feeling once a stranger. While phoenixes weren't invincible, their fast healing factor kept them going. Sure, after too much usage they began to feel depleted, but that was rare. In all her life, Ardith could name only three times when she ever felt weak-two of which came from the renewal of her aggression. Whereas the one other time came from the hands of her "master."

"You unleashed your aggression." A deep voice stated, breaking Ardith from her stupor.

A smirk made its way to her lips. "Took you long enough to find me. Must be losing your touch, Dyson-or should I say smell?"

With a grunt, Ardith turned facing the blue-eyed shifter. He stood in a pose Ardith knew all too well. She had seen it multiple times during their crusades together…it was his hunting pose. The pose predators made right before they snatched up their prey. "What can I say? Trick slowed me down, said to bring you back to the Dal. Otherwise I would've sent you straight to the Ash by now." Dyson shrugged. "So how are we going to do this, Ardith? The easy way or the hard way?"

Ardith's smirk widened. She could feel the aggression within her flare up like a bad itch. It was a long since missed feeling. One desperately asking to be released. Back during the Great War, Ardith sparred constantly with others, and when she wasn't sparring, she fought. Of course, it had been centuries since then. However, seeing how in tune Ardith still was with her fire, the phoenix only imagined her combat skills were also intact. Taking a stance, Ardith stared into the eyes of her mate.
"You and I both know, I never choose the easy way out."

"Fine with me." Dyson replied, leaping at the phoenix arms swinging. She dodged him easily, merely smirking at him. The wolf shifter barely had time to brace himself as her leg came flying against his chest. He fell back with a thud, the wind thoroughly knocked out of him. In all honesty, Dyson forgot just how good of a fighter Ardith was. Like most phoenixes, she was light on her feet, making her able to dodge attacks with ease. Unlike most phoenixes though, Ardith's fighting style was confrontational. She wasted no time in landing hits on her opponents, no matter what damages she might receive. Dyson used to chastise her all the time for being reckless. Just because she could heal better/faster than any fae, didn't make her immortal.

Dyson jumped back to his feet narrowly missing the heel aimed at his lungs. He sidestepped allowing himself to catch Ardith off guard, while landing a punch. The phoenix let out a small grunt, but returned the favor ten-fold by twisting his arm and knocking him into a wall. "I don't want to hurt you, Dyson." Ardith said, tightening her hold on him. "I really don't…but I cannot go back to him. So, you'll just at to kill me."

"Him?" Dyson questioned.

"I can't." She sounded tired suddenly-weak even. "I can't-"

The grip around on his arm weakened, allowing him to easily break free. Dyson turned, pushing back against her. Ardith stumbled barely managing to catch herself from falling. No longer did she reminded him of the strong warrior that fought in the Great War, or the childish woman who followed him around Europe. No…Ardith reminded him of death itself. Dark circles surrounded her silver eyes, olive colored now a sickly pallid color, the scent of blood and burning skin filled his nose. Something was wrong, seriously wrong. "Ardith…" Dyson started, stepping towards her.

He barely had time to react as Ardith stumbled to the ground. His arms wrapped around the girl, barely catching her in time. She was light like feather, another phoenix trait. Dyson watched in horror as her trembling fingers worked to unravel the dark red cloth wounded tightly on her arms. Once again, the scent of blood and burnt skin invaded his nostrils, only this time Dyson knew its source. Slowly he reached over to where Ardith's hand struggled to undo the wrapping, and with a slight tugged undid them all, only to reveal a grisly sight…burns unlike Dyson ever saw before littered her arms. Some of them still bubbled and blistered as if a flame were directly on them.

Fear and confusion filled him as he looked over at the now unconscious phoenix. "What the hell did you do, Ardith?"