Chapter 70 – Azaria
AZARIA
Korr disappeared into the back, and I turned to Kalias, who sat patiently, sipping his ginger ale.
“You’ve been quiet,” I said.
“It was not my place to intervene. You needed this conversation more than you needed me weighing in.”
“You can ask questions if there’s anything you wish to know.”
“Dain filled me in on the most important pieces. I do not wish to drag up any more unpleasant memories.”
I nodded, grateful. Then something occurred to me. “So, your clan lives in the northeast. From what you said before, you have many kinds of shifters.”
“Yes,” Kalias said. “Wolves have two clans—the Silverbloods and the Darkbloods. There are felines, deer, reptiles, bears—the ones you have probably heard of. But we have some rarer ones too.”
“Rarer?” I leaned forward, curious. “Can you tell me about them?”
“We have siren shifters that dwell on the western coast. They are unique because when they shift into their siren form, their bodies expand. Some sirens grow up to ten paces long. Their alpha is even larger. They command water.” He paused, considering.
“They do not have an animal form like I do, so they do not have two separate souls living inside. They keep their minds after they shift. They are also immune to vampire magic, thanks to their siren song.”
I blinked. “Wait, vampires? Vampires exist?”
“They do. They live on their own continent, away from Aelvaaran, keeping mostly to themselves.” He took a sip of ginger ale.
“You also have ghost leopards in the northern mountains. They are unique due to their Veil magic. They can cross the physical space between the layers of reality. But their numbers have decreased. My father believes vampires have something to do with it.”
I tried to wrap my head around that. Vampires. Ghost leopards. Veil magic. The world was so much larger than I’d ever imagined.
“Then we have phoenix shifters,” Kalias continued.
My breath caught. “Phoenix? As in a fire-breathing bird?”
“Yes, a fire-breathing bird. Phoenixes are unique because they do not follow bloodlines. If a child is born from two distinct shifter bloodlines, there is a high chance the child will be a phoenix. They live on the south coast, in the warmest parts of Aelvaaran.”
Something stirred in my chest—something I couldn’t name. Warmth. Recognition. Something I’d always craved without knowing why.
“That’s incredible,” I said softly. “I’d love to see Aelvaaran someday. It sounds alive.”
Kalias smiled. “It is. And you would be welcome there.”
Before I could respond, Korr returned with two steaming bowls of stew. The smell alone set my stomach growling.
“Eat, both of you,” he ordered, sliding the bowls in front of us.
“Thanks, Korr. Add it to my tab.”
“Will you actually pay this time?” he asked dryly.
“If I’m in the mood,” I answered, flashing a small grin. Korr scoffed and retreated to the back.
We ate in comfortable silence. The stew was rich, heavy with root vegetables and thick chunks of meat. I didn’t realize how hungry I was until the first bite hit my tongue.
After a while, I set my spoon down. The question had been sitting on my tongue for too long. “Can I ask about your mother? You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”
“It is all right. My mother died when I was young. She became ill a few years before her death. My father tried to find healers to help her. He even traveled here—back when it was still Virethia—to search for one. He could not find it. The sickness claimed her.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Do not be. I made peace with it long ago. My father blamed himself for a long time after. He respected her, cherished her, and was fond of her, but I always had a feeling she was not the one his heart was truly seeking.”
As he spoke, his hand drifted to his chest—an unconscious gesture, fingers brushing something beneath the collar of his tunic. The movement drew my eye, and I caught the glint of a braided leather cord disappearing under the fabric.
“Is that—“ I started, then stopped. I recognized it. When I’d collected his confiscated belongings from the Wind sentries, I’d held every item in my hands before returning them. Most had been weapons, clothing, and supplies. But one thing had stood apart.
“Your necklace,” I said. “The one they took from you.”
Kalias paused, then drew it out.
The pendant hung from a cord of dark braided leather, worn smooth with age.
It was shaped like a fang, tapering to a wicked point, carved from something ancient and unfamiliar.
The surface was rough and weathered, marked by years of wear and etched with runes I didn’t recognise.
They stretched across the pendant in thin, deliberate strokes, symbols older than any language I’d ever studied.
But the detail that caught my breath was the crack.
A fracture ran through the centre of it, jagged and deep, splitting the pendant from cap to tip.
Faint lines spread from it like veins beneath the surface, as though something hidden deep inside was pressing steadily outward.
It looked as though it should have shattered long ago. Instead, it held. Barely. Beautifully.
“My father gave it to me before I left Aelvaaran,” Kalias said, turning it between his fingers.
“It belonged to his father before him, and his father’s father before that.
The stone comes from the heart of the Silverpeak—the mountain at the center of our territory.
The runes are old wolf script. Protection. Loyalty. Return.”
“And the crack?”
“It has always been cracked. My father says the stone fractured the night his mate—my mother—died. He believes part of his grief lives inside it.” His thumb traced the silver vein, slow and reverent.
“I asked him once why he did not mend it. He said some broken things hold more truth than whole ones.”
I stared at the pendant, chest tight. Cracked, but holding. Light bleeding through the fractures. Something luminous trapped inside, pressing outward. It felt like looking in a mirror.
“It’s beautiful,” I said quietly.
Kalias tucked it back beneath his tunic, palm pressing flat over it for a moment. “It is the most precious thing I own.”
“How so?”
“Because of what it carries. Not just the stone, or the runes, but what my father entrusted to it.” He was quiet for a moment.
“Some years later, after my mother’s death, he traveled again on diplomatic business with the earth mages across the familiar lands.
He met someone while traveling. A woman.
He was supposed to be back within months.
Instead, he returned after three years. He was glad to be home with his people, but he was broken to have left her behind. ”
“She couldn’t come with him?” I asked, genuinely heartbroken for his father.
“No. She had important commitments. And my father was forced to return by the other shifters and the council of elders. Long years later, he told me a conflict broke out that swallowed most of the continent. He never learned if she survived.”
A soft ache opened in my chest. I didn’t know what to say—only that it felt too close, too familiar, in ways I couldn’t explain.
“He never stopped thinking about her,” Kalias finished quietly.
“Thank you for telling me,” I said. “Your father sounds like an honorable male.”
“He is. I am grateful to have him as my sire.” There was a genuine fondness in his voice. I studied him for a moment: he missed his father, missed his people. As much as I valued his company, I couldn’t shake the feeling that he didn’t truly belong here.
“We’ll find the person your father spoke of. We’ll figure it out, Kalias, so you can return to him.”
He looked at me, something bright and earnest in his eyes. “Thank you, Azaria. That means a great deal to me.”
We finished our stew in companionable silence. When the bowls were empty, Kalias glanced at me. “They will be worried about you,” he said.
“I know.” I hesitated, then met his eyes. “Could you go back and let Dain know where I am?”
“Of course.”
“Thank you.”
He stood, then fixed me with a searching look. “What will you do next?”
I took a breath, steadying myself. “Go back to my house, wait for Quin to arrive, and have a little chat.”
My stomach twisted, but I ignored it. A real conversation this time. No more hiding.