As Wynde looked upon the mighty bones of the fallen dragons, he often wondered what death was. Why it was. He would ponder why those from beyond were so often seen and spoken with by the denizens of this plane. "Death would not be the end", he would speculate. He realized that death was but another stage of life and that life was endless. It had been proven to him time and again as he journeyed through this world that he had been bourn unto not so very long ago. And now, he himself had stared death in the eye, that cruel, cold, unfeeling eye that freezes both children and warlords without discretion. Her icy grasp had taken him to the depths... Yet he had returned. Now, he sought to know why.

In the distance, a lonely bird appeared. As it neared Wynde, fires broke out under its wings. As she descended, the fires grew greater, engulfing the bird. So beautiful was her cry, that relieving tears flooded from the nearby youth's sparkling eyes as he watched her take her final perch. The flames shown bright against the dark bones upon which they stood. And when they were gone, the young bird rose from her ashes and within minutes, was flying again.

So is the fate of the phoenix.