Chapter 18
EIGHTEEN
AERO
The sunset bled into twilight as they ate.
Cassia had found the chocolate—her face lighting up in a way that made his dragon purr with satisfaction—and was working through her third piece while they watched the storm system strengthen. The clouds had darkened from gold to purple to deep bruised gray, lightning flickering in their depths.
“Tell me about the surge research,” she said around a bite of chocolate. “The real stuff. Not the official council reports.”
Aero reached for the wine—he’d poured two glasses, but only she was drinking—and considered the question. The official reports were sanitized, diplomatic, designed to inform without alarming. The real research was messier. More uncertain.
“The surge is accelerating,” he said finally. “Eighteen months ago, when I started documenting it, we were seeing one or two successful mate bonds per community per year. Now it’s three or four. Sometimes more.”
“Haven Shores has had three in the past year alone.”
“Haven Shores is an outlier.” He reached for a piece of bread, more for something to do with his hands than from hunger. “Your ward system is unique—four species contributing to a unified defense matrix. The magical infrastructure creates resonance patterns I haven’t seen anywhere else.”
“Resonance patterns.” She raised an eyebrow. “That’s a fancy way of saying you don’t know what’s happening.”
“It’s a precise way of saying the phenomenon exceeds current theoretical frameworks.” His lip twitched—almost a smile. “But, yes. Essentially.”
“The great dragon elder, admitting ignorance.” She clutched her chest in mock shock. “Should I check for signs of possession?”
“I’m not ignorant. I’m insufficiently informed. There’s a difference.”
“Is there?”
“Ignorance implies lack of effort. Insufficient information implies the data simply doesn’t exist yet.
” He set down the bread. “I’ve spent centuries studying magical phenomena.
I’ve never encountered anything quite like the surge.
It doesn’t follow any established pattern.
It doesn’t respond to any known catalyst. It’s just…
happening. Getting stronger. Changing things. ”
“Changing people,” she corrected quietly.
“Yes.” He met her gaze. “Changing people.”
The silence stretched between them. Charged. Heavy with things neither was saying.
“My magic’s been spiraling since it started,” Cassia said finally.
Her voice had dropped, lost its teasing edge.
“I used to have control. Not perfect, but functional. I could work weather without causing collateral damage. I could feel a storm coming without accidentally summoning one.” She looked down at her hands, fingers curled around the wine glass.
“Now I wake up to thunderstorms I don’t remember calling.
I sneeze, and the wind changes direction.
I get angry and—” She gestured at the darkening sky.
“You think you’re causing the anomalies.”
“I think I’m making them worse.” She drained the rest of her wine in one long swallow.
“The fishermen blame me. The Elder Council gives me concerned looks. Even my friends—they love me, but I can see them flinch when the weather shifts unexpectedly. Everyone’s waiting for me to finally lose it completely and level the town. ”
“You won’t.”
“You can’t know that.”
“I can.” He shifted closer before he could stop himself, drawn by something stronger than reason. “I’ve studied magical instability across dozens of species for longer than most civilizations have existed. Your power isn’t unstable, Cassia. It’s unanchored.”
She looked up sharply at the use of her name. He hadn’t meant to say it—had been so careful to maintain formal distance—but it was out now, hanging in the air between them.
“Unanchored,” she repeated.
“Your magic is powerful. More powerful than you’ve been trained to handle.
The surge amplified what was already there, and now there’s simply too much energy for you to contain on your own.
” He leaned forward, trying to make her understand.
“You don’t need to suppress it. You need to ground it.
Find a focus. Something or someone that can help channel the excess. ”
“Like what?”
Like me, his dragon growled.
The word pressed against his teeth, demanding release. He swallowed it back with effort that made his jaw ache.
“We’ll figure it out,” he said instead. “That’s part of what this research is for. Understanding the surge’s effects on practitioners. Finding ways to stabilize the amplification.”
Her expression flickered—disappointment, maybe, or resignation—before smoothing into something neutral. “Right. The research.”
She turned back to the storm.
Aero sat beside her in silence, hating himself for the lie. For the distance. For centuries of learned avoidance that made honesty feel impossible.
His dragon raged beneath his skin, demanding he close the gap between them. Demanding he tell her what she was to him—what she could be, if he wasn’t such a coward.
He didn’t move.