The volcano finally grew quiet. From above, the phoenix watched the cooling fields which had dripped down over the side, which had run all others out of the vicinity.

Now that the volcano had stopped speaking, the area was silent. No one else but the phoenix for miles. From the highest point, the phoenix glided down to the once lava, now obsidian, grounds. The bird raked talons across, creating marks within the forming stone. Flapping wings once more to gain height, the phoenix repeated the process.

For days, until anyone returned, all that was left to this place was the newly formed rock and the shapes which a playful avian decided to carve from it.

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