THIRTY-ONE
LETTING GO
We press onward, even when exhaustion weighs upon us, when grief has hollowed us out and we feel there is nothing left to give.
We endure for them. For the generations yet to come.
For our families, our lovers, our friends.
These bonds are stronger than any magics.
Indeed, I wonder if they are not the truest magics of all, the spark from which every other wonder is kindled.
—VALEN’S JOURNAL
AMARA
We rest for an hour, sharing a light lunch Valen packed while the world around us settles into the quiet rhythm of the afternoon.
“This is nothing compared to Water Clan cooking,” Valen says after handing me a slice of fresh bread and a wedge of sharp cheese. “Our meals were rarely hurried.”
“Oh?” I smile. “I somehow can’t picture you spending hours in a kitchen.”
His laugh is warm. “I wasn’t the one cooking. I was usually the apprentice sent to chop vegetables or haul water.” He shakes his head. “The healers believed food should nourish both body and spirit. Meals were part of the healing process.”
“They trained everyone?”
“Not everyone.” He tears off another piece of bread. “Those with an affinity for healing learned to quiet the mind before they ever laid hands on another person. A restless healer is a dangerous one.”
I glance at him over my lunch. “Quieting the mind sounds more difficult than healing.”
“It often is.”
He smiles, his expression carrying the kind of wisdom earned through years rather than learned from books.
I study him for a moment.
“Valen,” I ask, tilting my head, “have you ever been in love?”
My mentor smiles to himself, his gaze dropping to the ground. For a few moments, he says nothing. When he looks back up, old memories flicker in his eyes.
“Yes,” he says thoughtfully. “Once.”
“Really?”
“Can’t an archivist and mage also be in love?”
“That’s not what I meant,” I say quickly. “It’s just . . . you’ve never said anything. Ever.”
“It was a long time ago. Now my duty is to you, Thane, and the realm.”
My heart tightens at the thought. Valen puts love second to duty, just as Thane once did.
Instead of dwelling on it, another question comes to mind.
“Was she from the Water Clan?”
Valen’s brows lift. “What makes you say that?”
“You speak about your time there more than any of the other clans.”
A knowing smile touches his lips. “You are observant. Yes, she is Water Clan and still lives there. But what happened between us is a story for another time.”
Our conversation gives way to companionable silence. I lean against Calryx while Valen watches the rolling hills beyond the training field.
His stories have painted a picture of winding rivers, mist rising from quiet lakes, and villages built to move with the water instead of against it. I can almost picture Sevrin.
Taila and Darius grew up there.
My thoughts drift to Fenric and Nessa in Caelir, the Air Clan capital.
I wonder how all of them are doing. How their training is going. Whether any of them have been called by a dragon.
I know they all hoped to be.
My chest tightens with the familiar ache of missing them. I make a promise to write to them this evening and tell them everything that has happened since arriving in Volcaris. Only a week has passed and yet it feels like months.
That’s when Rian steps onto the training field. He lifts a hand to shield his eyes from the sun, his gaze finding me easily. Valen and I stand to greet him.
A warm smile spreads across his face. “Looking good, Spiritborn.”
“Hi, Rian!” I call, pushing my braid over one shoulder. “What are you doing out here?”
He grins.
“Thane asked me to train you today. He’s still tied up with the council.”
My expression falters.
“Today? Really?”
The dismay slips into my voice before I can stop it. Valen insisted on training to channel because of how close I was to burn out last night, but I thought for sure all other training would be put on hold.
“The attack was just last night, Rian. People died. The healing wing is nearly full. Part of the castle is still smoldering.”
I gesture toward the fortress behind us.
“And we’re just . . . back to training?”
Calryx huffs behind me, her tail swishing with visible irritation. Shared discontent fills the space between us.
Valen exhales, the sound heavy. “The Shadow Forces won’t wait for us to grieve. And they won’t stop just because we’re rebuilding the castle.”
Rian’s gaze lingers on me. The smile fades from his lips, but not from his eyes.
His eyes remain soft as he says, “I know it feels fast. It is. But you saw what they did. The Shadow Forces breached the castle, Amara. That’s not just an attack. It’s a message.”
He lets that hang in the air for a beat before adding, more gently, “We don’t have the luxury of slowing down. Not anymore.”
My heart sinks.
It never stops. Not even for a day.
No pause to tend the wounded properly. No space to sit beside the grieving or honor those who were lost. No time to hold the hands of the families left behind. The friends still waiting for someone who won’t come home.
We survive.
Then we train to survive the next thing.
Valen steps closer, his voice low. “There will be a memorial. The council is discussing it now.”
He pauses, eyes steady on mine.
“I should be in that room. But after last night, after how close you came, I told Thane this matters more. We need to keep working. You need to practice channeling without burning out, especially under different conditions of stress. Today, you have guidance. You have support. The world will not always be so kind. You have to learn how to manage it amid the chaos of battle. Because more of it is coming, my dear girl.”
My mentor glances toward the edge of the training field, then back to me.
“The memorial will be held in several days. You’ll have that space to mourn. We all will. But today, we keep moving forward.”
I nod, swallowing the tightness in my throat. There’s no use fighting the pace of this world. So I turn to Rian, forcing steadiness into my voice.
“All right. What are we working on today?”
Rian claps a hand on my shoulder, his grin returning. “Close combat. Short blades. Nothing like a little blood and sweat to clear the mind.”
I huff a laugh, more breath than sound. “Easy for you to say. You actually know what you’re doing.”
He winks. “That’s what I’m here for.”
He steps back, unslinging a pair of short blades from the sheath across his back. With a quick flick, he tosses one to me. The weight settles into my palm with a satisfying thud.
“Let’s see if the Spiritborn can keep her footing when the enemy’s closer than arm’s length.”
I stretch my arms across my chest, one at a time, then settle into a ready stance.
“Let’s find out.”
Valen remains at the edge of the field, silent, leaning on his staff as though he has all the time in the world. But I can feel his eyes tracking every movement.
Calryx, on the other hand, has absolutely no intention of staying quiet.
“Your stance is too narrow,” she chimes in as I circle Rian. “And you’re leading with your dominant side. Predictable.”
I grit my teeth and refocus.
“Don’t grit your teeth. It tenses your whole body. By all the Guardians, have you learned nothing?”
Rian raises an eyebrow, recognizing the twitch in my expression. “Getting helpful advice?”
I roll my eyes. “You could say that.”
He grins. “Tell her she’s welcome to join in if she wants a real challenge.”
Calryx huffs with indignation. “I would not lower myself to sparring with a two-legged creature who sweats.”
After twenty minutes of nonstop commentary about bending my knees, pivoting faster, “that’s not a feint, Amara, that’s a flinch,” I remember something important I learned with Thane this morning.
With a flick of focus, I draw a wall of air around my mind.
The bond remains intact, a slight buzzing beneath the surface, but Calryx’s running commentary fades as the shield settles into place. Unlike the bond with Thane, a dragon’s voice is not a constant presence. It only exists when they choose to reach.
Blessed silence.
Across the field, Calryx jolts in offense. She lets out a long, disgruntled growl and slams her tail against the ground with a satisfying thud.
She narrows her eyes at me, as if a dragon can squint, but doesn’t say a word.
It’s glorious.
With Calryx’s voice muted, the world sharpens.
The wind cools my skin. My grip steadies. I finally stop reacting to Rian and start anticipating him.
Rian feints left, but I don’t bite. I pivot, blade raised, and catch his strike with a satisfying clang. The vibration travels up my arm, but I hold firm, the past few months of training finally locking into place.
His eyes light up with approval. “There she is.”
I press forward, but without the recklessness and urgency that once defined my sparring. I let instinct and training take the lead, and when the opening comes, I take it.
Our blades lock.
This time, I don’t falter.
From the sideline, Valen lifts his chin. Still silent. Still watching.
And though Calryx knows I am intentionally ignoring her by keeping the wall of air around my mind, I can feel her pride through the bond. Muted but undeniable. Like a dragon nodding once from a great height.
I duck beneath Rian’s blade, sweep his legs, and pivot with just enough space to avoid the counterstrike.
My breath is controlled now. Muscles warm, no longer trembling.
The rhythm is mine.
Rian grins, impressed, as he gets up. “Didn’t know you had that move in you.”
“Neither did I,” I reply, lungs burning, but in a good way. Clean. Earned.
He comes at me again.
But I’m faster.
I twist below his guard and land a light tap against his ribs with the flat of my blade.
“Point to the Spiritborn,” he mutters, stepping back, his chest rising and falling with laughter.
I allow myself a half-second of satisfaction.
Then I feel it.
Him.
The bond flares quietly.
My eyes cut to the edge of the courtyard beyond the training field and find him.
Thane.
Standing with his arms crossed, watching. I can’t make out his expression from here, but I don’t need to. I feel it.
The pride.