Chapter 19 Afterthought
I moved instinctively, slipping into the Dragontail Atrium to grab the protection heirloom I’d forgotten, careful not to draw attention.
Then I went straight to the baths, where I scrubbed off smoke and soot until the water ran clear, staying beneath the steady rush for hours, grounding myself after everything I had seen and felt.
I had been brave and foolish, brilliant, and reckless, all at once.
Anxiety and pride tangled within me as I closed my eyes and let the water stream over my head.
I trembled at how my controlled flames had reacted to my fear.
Then the realization settled heavily in my chest: I could have died if not by the dragon’s claws, then by my own hands.
Worse, I had tried negotiating with parasites who wanted neither resolution nor peace. They thrived only on force, if you could even call them people, so deep was their hatred. My own naiveness made my stomach twist.
I forced myself to open my eyes and pushed away the lingering smell of fire and ash.
I thought of the only person who would understand me fully—Shakari.
She would condemn my foolishness without mercy, yes, but still hold me.
She would help me move past it when the weight of it all threatened to crush me.
As the sun set, I went to the sky terrace. Shakari hadn’t returned yet. The training mats were empty as upper-level students trickled in from beyond the Veil. Relief washed over me seeing Professor Hog was gone and I had no need to explain why I’d missed class.
When I entered, Shakari was speaking with Rowan and Tran, and as I approached, she spotted me immediately and cut off whatever conversation they were having.
“Where have you been?” she demanded, taking a step toward me.
“We had to lie for you, say you were sick and you know how that goes in our legion,” Tran added, raising a brow.
“It was even more obvious with all the upper-level students being called beyond the Veil,” Rowan said.
I stayed silent, unmoving, and whatever my expression was must have given me away, because Tran squinted. “You look like you’ve seen a dragon. What’s wrong with you?”
“I… I did something foolish,” I admitted, walking to the guardrail to stare at the sea and the Veil on the horizon, my friends following to my side.
“I jumped through the portal Lorik Draventh opened when the upper-level students were being sent to the tower beyond the Veil,” I whispered, keeping my voice low so the few students behind us couldn’t hear.
“You what?” Shakari yelled, and I quickly grabbed the fabric of her uniform to force her to lower her voice.
“So I wasn’t wrong, you really did see a dragon,” Tran chuckled.
“Read the room, brother. read the room,” Rowan muttered, elbowing him in the ribs hard enough to draw a low gasp from Tran.
I told them everything. My recklessness of jumping through Lorik’s portal, and being trapped on the other side. The wildweaver waited as if for me. He mind-bent Rory without a touch. I felt the terror of losing control as the bridge burned beneath me.
Finally, I told them about Lorik’s fury and his lecture on control. I shared the uneasy agreement we’d reached, not to protect me, but themselves. It was a fragile, dangerous alliance.
The twins’ red-haired faces were paler than usual, and Shakari’s expression hovered somewhere between fear and anger, impossible to read.
“I’m telling you, but you can’t tell anyone,” I said at last. “The whole island would lose its mind. I just needed to talk to someone.”
Shakari pulled me into a hug and murmured, “You are completely insane. What were you thinking?”
“I wasn’t,” I admitted quietly, shame settling deep in my chest. “Lorik was completely right about the lecture he gave me. I could have died, either the dragon could have killed me, or I could have killed myself with the fire.”
“That’s a lot of could haves, Thea,” Rowan said gently. “Nothing actually happened. You don’t even have a scratch, maybe thanks to that Moonveil of yours. Let this make you want to train harder, control your magic better, so next time you can go back and deal with those parasites.”
I forced a smile. Reason told me Rowan was right, but I still focused on my stubbornness and impulsiveness. They had nearly gotten me killed. My mind clung to that truth. Emotionally, I needed time to accept any comfort.
“No jokes this time. We won’t say a word,” Tran added. “And you probably need rest. You look exhausted.”
I stopped myself from rolling my eyes at him because he was probably right.
Though I knew I was tired. I was emotionally drained in a way that sank deep into my bones.
I couldn't sleep. Anxiety clung to me, making rest impossible. I knew that if I closed my eyes, the dragon’s deep green gaze would haunt me.
Instead, I said, “I’ll stay here a little longer.
Please tell Soehl for me, so she doesn’t worry. ”
“You want me to stay?” Shakari asked quietly.
“I’m fine. I need some time,” I replied. I turned my gaze back toward the horizon, where the sun had already slipped away. Only pale yellow and fading orange dissolved into the dark of night.
They hugged me then left, just as I’d asked. As we talked, the terrace emptied. Quiet wrapped around me. Exactly what I needed.
I stood a long time, staring west toward the island’s edge where the Veil swallowed all.
Not even towers were visible. Rionis remained calm, untouched, just miles from a fallen tower no one here would ever know of.
The clarity hit me: we lived in isolation, in a bubble, while parasites prowled our borders.
Our greatest advantage was my mother’s foresight.
I drew a deep breath, forcing thoughts beyond the Veil away, when the first scent.
Honey, then lavender reached me. I exhaled slowly.
I didn’t turn; I didn’t need to. Lorik Draventh was behind me.
He didn’t speak or move closer, letting the silence stretch between us, deliberate and heavy as if he were deciding whether to enter my space at all.
The sea murmured. The wind brushed the stone. He stayed silent. My pulse thudded louder in my ears as I waited for the clash he brought. I tilted my head slightly. I did not face him, but I made sure he knew I was aware and that I was not running.
“I’m not in the mood to fight right now, Lorik,” I said at last, my voice steady despite the tension coiling beneath it as I kept my gaze fixed on the distant sea.
For another breath, he still didn’t answer.
Then he stepped up beside me at the guardrail, close enough that his presence changed the air itself.
“I didn’t come to fight. I was hard on you today, and you’re even harder on yourself right now. Why add more fuel to the fire?” he said quietly.
Another silence settled. Normally, I’d fill it with words, but not tonight.
“You’re awfully quiet for someone who loves to speak,” he added, a faint smirk I could see from the corner of my eye, though I didn’t move a muscle.
“You weren’t too hard. I deserved it,” I said, swallowing my pride. “Today was draining.”
“I know,” Lorik replied. I could feel his gaze on me, steady and unyielding, even as I refused to return it. “We lost one tower. There were no casualties. I’ll consider that a win.”
My gaze snapped to him.
“You were right,” I said. “I lost control. I was reckless. It was impulsive to jump without any training. I could have killed us. I tried to negotiate with a wildweaver. How na?ve I was.”
His silver gaze held mine without blinking.
“You’re not na?ve,” he said evenly. “You’re a dreamer, and there’s nothing wrong with that.
You want change without bloodshed, without more death.
But the wildweavers are beyond diplomacy.
Their souls are tarnished by hate and greed, and the only way to stop them is through force.
You defeat them by fighting them. By killing them. ”
I swallowed hard at his words. Maybe I was a dreamer. Foolish enough to believe diplomacy could end a war. Maybe brute force truly was the only language the parasites understood. I turned my gaze back to the sky, no longer looking at anything in particular.
“And fighting is something I don’t master either,” I added quietly. “So, what does that make me? A princess who can’t use strategy or logic. Can’t wield magic for combat to win a war?”
“It makes you a princess who needs combat training,” he said simply.
Silence stretched between us again. The earlier anger that Lorik had shown, so out of character for someone usually controlled, now felt replaced by something steadier. I realized the mood had shifted, and without looking at him, I asked:
“Why are you here, Lorik?”
“I’m your counselor. It’s my duty to check on you,” he replied, though something in his tone told me that wasn’t the whole answer.
“And here I was thinking you came to apologize for losing your temper with me,” I said, letting out a low, humorless, and sarcastic laugh.
“I think even you know you deserved that,” Lorik responded with an edge of humor I couldn’t respond to.
I didn’t laugh. I didn’t know how to. So, with the flattest, most serious tone I had left, I said: “The island looks peaceful. People go on with their lives while a tower collapses across the Veil. They don’t know what happens out there.
They don’t understand the threats. I didn’t either until I saw it with my own eyes.
This isn’t a game. Wildweavers are powerful.
Dragons are strong. And there was so much hate in that wildweaver, so much superiority.
They despise us, they want our island, and they’ll never stop. ”
“All of that is true,” he said, pausing for a moment, “but you can’t live in fear and anxiety. It will destroy you. A day like today can break you, and you can’t let it because there will be more. This may become your life if you choose Dragontail.”
“I don’t know if I’ll ever truly get to choose what I want,” I said, the edge of sadness in my voice sharp enough that even Lorik could hear it.