The meditation chambers occupied the sanctuary's highest level, where individual spaces had been designed to accommodate different approaches to achieving inner peace. Each chamber was identical in layout—comfortable cushions, soft lighting, and atmospheric enhancement that made mental relaxation feel as achievable as physical comfort.

Getting to the meditation chambers required actually moving, which turned out to be more challenging than expected after professional massage therapy had reduced them to boneless puddles of former adventurers.

"I can't feel my legs," Pyra announced, attempting to stand and discovering that her body had apparently forgotten how joints worked.

"I can feel everything," Cinder replied, moving with the sort of careful precision that came from muscles that had just remembered they were supposed to be soft. "Every single muscle. They're all saying thank you."

"Are we going to talk about what just happened?" Kindle asked, azure flames creating lazy spirals that reflected her completely relaxed state. "Because I made sounds. We all made sounds."

"We're not talking about the sounds," Ember declared firmly, though her own voice carried the dreamy quality that came from professional bodywork. "The sounds stay in the massage chambers."

"What sounds?" Ash asked innocently, though her philosophical composure had been thoroughly compromised by therapeutic intervention. "I was conducting research into the phenomenology of physical pleasure. Very academic."

"Academic," Pyra snorted. "You were purring."

"I do not purr."

"You were definitely purring."

"My face is still red," Kindle observed, catching sight of herself in one of the sanctuary's decorative mirrors. "Do I look as mortified as I feel?"

"We all look thoroughly relaxed," Ember replied diplomatically, though her own cheeks carried a distinctly rosy hue that had nothing to do with the chamber's warm lighting.

"I've achieved a new understanding of physical existence," Ash announced, moving with the sort of dreamy precision that came from having her philosophical tensions literally massaged away. "Also, I made sounds I didn't know I was capable of making."

Each meditation chamber was identical—simple, peaceful spaces with cushions arranged in comfortable configurations, gentle lighting that encouraged relaxation, and instructors who specialized in helping thoroughly relaxed clients transition into mental stillness.

"Welcome," Pyra's instructor said with the serene confidence that came from extensive training in managing post-massage clients. "I'm Luna. We'll be focusing on basic breath awareness and gentle mindfulness techniques. Given your current state of physical relaxation, meditation should feel much more accessible than usual."

The approach was straightforward—comfortable seated position, attention to natural breathing rhythm, and simple techniques for noticing thoughts without being carried away by them. For someone accustomed to constant motion, the combination of physical relaxation and mental stillness felt revolutionary.

"I always thought meditation meant fighting with my brain," Pyra admitted, settling onto cushions with the careful movements of someone who'd just learned their body was capable of complete relaxation. "But right now, my brain doesn't want to fight with anything."

In the chamber next door, Cinder was experiencing the same basic meditation techniques but finding them remarkably easier than expected. Her instructor guided her through simple awareness exercises that normally would have frustrated her tactical mind, but the massage had apparently convinced her nervous system that constant analysis could wait.

"This is strange," she murmured during a pause in the instruction. "I keep expecting my mind to start spinning up threat assessments, but it's just... quiet."

"Physical tension creates mental tension," her instructor replied gently. "Remove one and the other naturally follows."

Ember's session followed the same format—breathing awareness, gentle observation of thoughts, basic mindfulness techniques. But for someone who spent her energy constantly monitoring everyone else's needs, the permission to focus solely on her own breathing felt like a revelation.

Kindle found herself experiencing the same meditation fundamentals with characteristic enthusiasm, but for once her excitement was directed toward the novelty of being completely still.

"I'm enthusiastic about doing nothing," she announced with wonder. "This is the most excited I've ever been about not moving."

Ash, who'd always understood meditation as a philosophical rather than practical exercise, found herself genuinely experiencing the simplicity of breath awareness for the first time without getting distracted by existential contemplation.

"Is this what mindfulness feels like for ordinary people?" she wondered, feeling her mental activity settle into gentle contemplation rather than its usual habit of leaping into esoteric analysis at the first opportunity.

"That depends on your definition of ordinary," her instructor replied.

Each session lasted an hour and concluded with integration time for processing the experience. The chambers were equipped with crystals that amplified inner reflection while filtering out external distractions, creating spaces where mental peace felt as natural as the physical relaxation they'd just experienced.

"I understand what people mean by inner peace," Pyra announced as they gathered in the sanctuary's departure lounge, where herbal teas helped transition from deep relaxation back to normal consciousness. "But I also understand why people become addicted to massage therapy."

"I understand why relaxation is a luxury service," Cinder added, cradling her tea with the reverence usually reserved for expensive tactical equipment. "And why people pay for it regularly instead of just once."

"My instructor said the massage preparation made meditation much more effective," Ash reported with obvious satisfaction. "Apparently, bodywork unlocks mental stillness."

"Mine said I responded well to basic techniques because my mind was finally calm," Kindle added dreamily. "I'm taking that as permission to get massages before every meditation session."

"We can't afford massages before every meditation session," Ember pointed out, though her tone lacked any real conviction.

"We'll make it work," Kindle declared with the confidence of someone who'd just discovered the meaning of physical happiness. "Essential team maintenance."

They emerged from the Celestial Sanctuary moving with fluid grace, talking with dreamy contemplation, and generally radiating physical and mental tranquility that was, for lack of a less theologically dramatic word, utterly divine.

"This is how heroes should walk everywhere," Pyra declared, orange flames writing lazy, looping patterns that reflected her complete physical contentment. "Like we just casually saved the world and deserve to feel really amazing for at least a day."

"The problem with relaxation," Cinder mused, "is that it makes you realize how often you're not relaxed. We could have been doing this every week."

"What's next?" Kindle asked, practically floating on the high of therapeutic bodywork and mindful contemplation.

"Food," Ember decided with the authority of someone who'd just learned that luxury was worth every embarrassing moment. "Professional dining to complement professional relaxation and therapeutic... experiences."

"How much money do we have left?" Ash asked, clearly already prepared to surrender her remaining gold if it meant prolonging their newfound comfort.

"It doesn't matter," Ember replied with a wave of her hand. "As long as our coin pouches still jingle, we're doing luxury dining."

"For team morale," Kindle added, her blue flames lazily accentuating the importance of good food.

"For physical maintenance," Cinder added, her own crimson flames curling pleasantly around her new shoes.

"For science," Ash contributed with a wistful smile. "And existential appreciation for properly seasoned food after physical therapy."

"For the experience," Ember concluded, "and because we deserve nice things after... that."

"We're not talking about the sounds," Pyra reminded them.

"What sounds?" they replied in unison.

Their Guild quarters welcomed them back with the same modest warmth they'd left behind, though everything felt somehow more luxurious after an afternoon of professional pampering. The familiar wooden furniture looked more comfortable, the simple window view seemed more picturesque, and even the standard Guild-issue bedding appeared softer in the golden evening light.

"I'm going to remember this feeling forever," Pyra announced, settling onto her bed with the careful movements of someone whose muscles had just remembered their original purpose. "Pure physical contentment combined with mental peace. This is what happiness feels like."

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"We should write thank-you notes to our massage therapists," Kindle suggested, though she was already horizontal on her own bed, staring at the ceiling with the expression of someone who'd discovered enlightenment. "Personal recommendations. Testimonials about their life-changing techniques."

"We're not writing testimonials about massage therapy," Ember replied, though her protest lacked conviction since she was currently examining the room's simple decor as if seeing it through new eyes. "That would be... professional."

"Everything is professional when you're professional adventurers," Ash observed, settling into her reading chair with a book that had been waiting patiently for her return. "Professional relaxation. Professional dining. Professional appreciation for quality services."

Cinder was methodically unpacking their purchases, arranging the various luxury items they'd acquired with the sort of careful attention usually reserved for tactical equipment. "I can't decide if today was the best use of our mission payment or completely irresponsible financial management."

"Both," they replied in unison, then dissolved into the sort of giggles that came from people who'd recently achieved states of physical bliss previously unknown to their nervous systems.

"Speaking of financial management," Ember said, stretching luxuriously, "we should probably figure out what we're doing for dinner. All that relaxation has made me hungry."

"Professional dining," Pyra agreed. "Something that requires multiple courses and proper wine pairings."

"We don't know anything about wine pairings," Kindle pointed out.

"We'll learn. Educational dining."

The comfortable silence that followed felt different from their usual evening wind-down routine. Where normally they'd be processing the day's adventures or planning tomorrow's activities, tonight they simply existed in shared contentment, each absorbed in the lingering effects of professional relaxation.

"Oh!" Pyra sat up suddenly, her expression shifting from blissful contentment to mild concern. "I should check on the egg. Make sure it didn't get too cold while we were gone."

The egg. In all their luxury-induced euphoria, they'd completely forgotten about Pyra's mysterious mountain acquisition. It had been safely tucked away in her pack for several days now, wrapped in spare clothing and kept warm by proximity to their quarters' heating.

"Right, the potentially magical creature," Ash said, looking up from her book. "How long has it been since you last checked on it?"

"This morning? Maybe yesterday morning." Pyra was already moving toward her pack, which sat in the corner where she'd left it before their sanctuary adventure. "It's been pretty stable. Just warm and... eggy."

"Eggy is not a scientific description," Cinder observed, though her critique lacked its usual edge thanks to therapeutic intervention.

"Warm and ovoid with mysterious internal development," Pyra corrected, kneeling beside her pack. "Better?"

She began rummaging through her belongings with the sort of careful movements that came from handling something potentially fragile. Extra clothes, travel supplies, the wrapped bundle that should contain—

"Um."

The single syllable carried enough alarm to cut through their post-massage bliss like a sword through silk.

"Um what?" Ember asked, though she was already sitting up, staring at Pyra.

"Um..." Pyra lifted a piece of cloth that had clearly been torn rather than unwrapped. "The egg isn't here."

"Define 'isn't here,'" Cinder said, moving to peer over Pyra's shoulder.

"As in, there's no egg in the cloth wrapping. Just..." Pyra held up fragments of what had clearly once been shell. "Eggshell pieces. And this cloth has definitely been chewed."

A moment of profound silence settled over the room as the implications registered.

"It hatched," Kindle said unnecessarily.

"While we were getting massages," Ash added with growing horror.

"And it's somewhere in our room," Ember concluded, already scanning their quarters with the sort of systematic attention usually reserved for tactical reconnaissance.

"Somewhere in our room," Pyra agreed, then called out hopefully, "Here, little... whatever you are! Nice mysterious creature!"

The response came immediately: a sound somewhere between a chirp and a purr, definitely alive, and apparently quite close.

"There!" Kindle pointed toward Ember's bed, where something small and dark had just poked its head out from underneath the blankets.

The something in question was roughly the size of a kitten, covered in scales that shifted between deep red and bright orange depending on the angle of view. It had four legs ending in tiny claws, a long tail that seemed to move independently of conscious thought, and large eyes that reflected light like polished gemstones.

"Oh," Pyra breathed, her voice carrying the sort of wonder usually reserved for natural phenomena. "Oh, you're adorable."

The creature tilted its head at the sound of her voice and made another chirping sound. Then it scampered across the floor with surprising speed, heading directly for Pyra.

"What the heck is it? Ash?" Kindle asked, looking to their resident expert on everything.

"Some kind of... dragon?" Ash ventured uncertainly. "No, wait. I think that's some kind of salamander."

"A salamander? That doesn't look like the ones from Earth," Cinder observed, her eyes narrowing slightly.

"Earth salamanders are mundane. This is an Eldorian salamander."

"You mean the kind that are associated with fire?" Pyra asked, reaching out tentatively to touch the creature's head. It arched into her hand, emitting a combination of trills and purrs that immediately set everyone's maternal instincts on high alert.

"The very kind," Ash replied, leaning forward in her chair to get a better look without interrupting Pyra's interaction. "Their association with fire probably comes from their connection to the classical element. Or the other way around, if you believe the Aristotelian canon. Hard to say which came first—"

"What's the Aristotelian canon again?" Kindle interjected, leaning over the bed to peer closely at the salamander.

"The idea that the world is governed by five elements: earth, water, air, fire, and aether," Ash replied absently. "It's mostly considered obsolete on Earth, but maybe not so much here."

Pyra carefully lifted the salamander onto her lap, keeping a gentle grip on its wriggling form as she examined it more closely. "It's definitely firey."

"It imprinted," Ash said with growing surprise. "Many reptilian species imprint on the first warm-blooded creature they encounter after hatching."

"I'm not warm-blooded," Pyra pointed out, gently stroking the salamander's head with one finger. "I'm flame-powered."

"Close enough, apparently," Cinder replied, watching as the tiny creature began purring with contentment. "Congratulations. You're a mother."

"I'm not ready to be a mother!"

"Too late," Kindle said cheerfully. "Look, it loves you."

Pyra looked down at the salamander, which had curled up in the crook of her arm and was currently regarding her with wide eyes. Its purring increased in volume, sending small shivers of warmth along Pyra's skin.

"This is actually happening," Pyra said faintly. "I have a pet salamander."

"We have a pet salamander," Ember corrected automatically. "We're all in this together."

"What do salamanders eat?" Kindle asked practically.

"Heat," Ash replied, consulting her mental encyclopedia. "Most magical salamanders absorb thermal energy as their primary nutrition source, supplemented by small insects and mineral deposits."

"So it eats fire?" Pyra asked hopefully.

"Probably."

As if summoned by the discussion of its dietary needs, the salamander perked up and looked around the room with obvious interest. Its gaze settled on a candle sitting on their table, and before anyone could react, it had leaped from Pyra's hand, scampered across the floor, and begun climbing the table leg with impressive agility.

"Should we stop it?" Kindle asked.

"Let's see what it does," Ash suggested with scientific curiosity.

What it did was reach the candle, open its mouth to reveal rows of tiny teeth, and proceed to eat the flame like it was consuming a particularly delicious treat. The fire disappeared into its mouth, the salamander made a satisfied chirping sound, and the room's lighting dimmed accordingly.

"Well," Ember said after a moment, "that answers the dietary question."

"I think I love it," Pyra said, watching the salamander as it settled down next to the now-dim candle and began grooming itself with tiny flicks of its tongue.

"Here, little... whatever you are!" she cooed. "Come here. Come on, you precious thing."

The salamander chirped happily and began toddling back toward Pyra, then brightened as it spotted the orange flames dancing around her fingers. Without hesitation, it began nibbling at the fire with obvious pleasure.

"It's eating my flames," Pyra said with wonder. "Like they're candy."

"Adorable," Ember admitted, watching the spectacle. "But what happens when it gets bigger?"

"How much bigger?" Kindle asked.

"Uncertain," Ash replied, studying the creature. "Larger species can grow to several meters in length, but there are also records of salamanders reaching the size of small buildings. It really depends on the breed and environment."

"Several meters of fire-eating reptile," Cinder summarized grimly. "In our Guild quarters."

"We'll figure it out," Pyra said with the sort of confidence that came from having a small creature nibbling adorably on her fingers. "Look how happy it is!"

The salamander looked up, met Pyra's eyes, and let out a contented trill that immediately activated everyone's maternal instincts all over again.

"We're in trouble," Kindle whispered to the others. "Look at that face."

"It's too cute to be dangerous," Ash agreed quietly, her analytical mind apparently no match for the adorableness before her.

"Who's an adorable little fire eater?" Pyra crooned, carefully patting the salamander's head with one hand while letting it snack on her flames with the other. "Who's a cute little salamander? You are, yes you are!"

"What are we going to name it?" Kindle asked.

"Names imply permanent ownership," Ember pointed out, though she was already leaning closer to the salamander. "Maybe we should think about this more carefully."

"Too late for careful thinking," Pyra replied, gently scratching behind the salamander's tiny horns. "We're already emotionally attached."

"Speak for yourself," Cinder said, though she was now sitting beside Pyra on the floor, clearly as enamored as the rest of them. "I'm still... evaluating the situation."

As if sensing the need to win over additional family members, the salamander looked up at Cinder and made an especially adorable chirping sound before breathing out a tiny puff of harmless orange sparks.

"Fine," Cinder admitted with resignation. "It's cute."

"Spark," Ash suggested suddenly. "Its name should be Spark."

They all looked at the salamander, which seemed to approve of the suggestion by breathing out another small puff of sparks and settling more comfortably into Pyra's hand.

"Spark it is," Pyra declared with satisfaction.

"Now what?" Ember asked, surveying their quarters with new eyes. A baby salamander changed everything—their routine, their responsibilities, their living arrangements. "We can't exactly hide a fire-eating reptile indefinitely."

"Why not?" Pyra asked. "Lots of people have pets."

"Lots of people don't live in Guild quarters with regulations about magical creatures," Cinder pointed out.

"We'll figure it out," Kindle said optimistically. "How hard can it be?"

As if responding to the challenge, Spark chose that moment to leap from Pyra's hand, scamper across the room, and begin climbing the wall near the window, stopping just short of reaching Ember's favorite decorative houseplant.

"No, Spark! Bad salamander!" Ember scolded, darting forward to stop the impending destruction. "Stay off my plants!"

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