NO FIRE, NO PHOENIX

There is no rebirth without destruction, no rising without the fall. A woman moves through the remains, unbound, vulnerable, becoming. Light and shadow blur, figures drift between worlds, the echoes of fire still breathing in the earth. Charred trees stretch like specters, walls crumble, the past lingers in dust and ember. A white horse appears, a ghost or a guide, its presence as fleeting as the wind. No fire, no phoenix. From ruin, something new begins.