33. Aeron
Aeron
The moment my grandfather’s scales clattered against the floor, my legs gave out. Exhaustion washed over me as my form slipped away, my body shifting back into the half-dragon form I usually occupied. Quill held me all the way through it, clinging to my arm like he might lose me at any moment.
“Aeron,” he said, his voice pleading. “Are you okay? The spores haven’t gotten you too have they?”
I stared up at him, the weight of everything pressing down on me like a stone. I couldn’t speak. All I could manage was a small shake of my head as the tears filled my eyes.
Despite all his betrayal, my grandfather was dead. The only family I had was gone. There was nobody left in this world that I could call my own. Nobody except Quill. The grief was almost too much to bear.
Quill’s arms wrapped around me, pulling me against his chest even though I was easily twice his size in this form. He didn’t seem to care about the size difference. He didn’t seem to care about anything except holding me while I fell apart.
“I’ve got you,” he murmured into my hair, his voice hoarse and cracked from where my grandfather’s claws had bruised his throat. “I’ve got you, Aeron. I’m right here.”
I buried my face against his shoulder, and for the first time since this whole nightmare started, I let myself sob.
Great, ugly, heaving sobs that shook my entire body, that made my chest ache worse than any wound Morgana’s magic had inflicted.
Quill just held on, his hands stroking slow circles against my back, murmuring words I couldn’t quite make out over the sound of my own grief.
Around us, the foyer had gone eerily quiet.
The last of the undead had collapsed into ruin, Morgana was destroyed along with the Purity Front witches, and my grandfather’s body was slowly dissolving into a mound of dark soil.
I could hear Wild’s footsteps approaching, slow and careful, like he wasn’t sure if he dared to break the moment.
“Aeron.” His voice was softer than I’d ever heard it, all traces of his usual mockery gone. “I’m sorry. I know he was your family.”
“He was a monster,” I choked out, lifting my head just enough to look at the wreckage of what used to be Thaddeus Pyre. “He killed people. He killed his own council members. He was going to kill me and let Quill take the blame.”
“He was still your grandfather,” Wild said gently. “Grief doesn’t care about all that. Not right away.”
I knew he was right, even though I hated it.
Because underneath all the rage and horror, there was still a small, broken part of me that remembered him teaching me to fly, that remembered him holding me after a nightmare, that remembered him as the only constant in a life that had otherwise been full of loss.
That boy still existed somewhere inside me, and he was devastated.
Quill’s hand found my face, tilting it up so I had no choice but to look at him. His eyes were red-rimmed, his throat mottled with dark bruises already blooming beneath his collar, but he looked at me like I was the only thing that mattered in the whole world.
“You’re not alone,” he said fiercely. “Whatever else happens, whatever we have to figure out from here, you are not alone. I promise you that. You’re my mate and I love more than anything.”
The words settled over me like a balm on a wound too raw to touch, and I found myself nodding against his palm, unable to trust my voice.
I didn’t deserve him. Not after everything, not after failing to protect him, not after being too weak to stop my own grandfather from turning him into a scapegoat for his madness.
But he was here anyway, holding me, loving me.
I clung to that small mercy with everything I had left.
Behind Wild, I heard Elias and Atlas picking their way through the wreckage, their voices low as they surveyed the damage.
Caden had already moved toward the remains of the Purity Front witches Thaddeus had murdered and reanimated, his expression grim as he knelt beside them.
But even from a distance I could see the mushrooms beginning to spring from their ruined flesh.
It wouldn’t be long before they too were nothing but dirt.
“We should get you both somewhere safe,” Elias said, crouching down beside us. His dark eyes flicked over the bruises on Quill’s throat, over the blood still crusted along my foreleg. “You can’t stay here. The Elder Council will want to investigate.”
“We’ll take them to the mansion in the Veil,” Wild offered, running a hand through his red hair. It was mussed from fighting, sticking up at odd angles, and for once he didn’t look like he cared. “It’s the safest place there is.”
I wanted to argue, wanted to say I could handle myself, that I didn’t need to be coddled and hidden away like some fragile thing.
But the truth was, I could barely hold myself upright.
My body ached where my grandfather’s teeth and claws had torn through my scales.
My chest felt hollowed out, scraped raw from grief I hadn’t even had time to fully feel yet.
And Quill, despite his brave front, was swaying slightly on his feet, exhaustion and blood loss catching up to him now that the adrenaline had nowhere left to go.
“Okay,” I said finally, my voice still thick. “Okay. We’ll go.”
Wild nodded, already drawing symbols in the air, murmuring something under his breath. Atlas appeared beside us, crouching down to help both of us to our feet.
“You did good,” he said, holding out a hand. “Both of you. That took guts.”
I didn’t feel like I’d done anything good.
I felt like I’d watched my whole world collapse in the span of a single night, watched everything I thought I understood about my family and my history crumble into something unrecognizable.
But Quill’s arms tightened around me, and I let myself lean into him, knowing that we’d survived this.
That whatever came next, we’d face it together.
“Come on,” Quill murmured against my hair, his voice raw but steady. “Let’s get you somewhere you can rest. We’ll figure out the rest later.”
I nodded and allowed Atlas to pull me to my feet. He wrapped an arm around me, keeping me steady. Quill was on my other side, now supported by Caden who’d come to help.
“I have some healing balms back at the mansion,” Caden said. “I’ll treat you both there before I leave to help the others. It won’t be instantaneous, but you should feel much better by morning.”
“What about the mushrooms?” Quill said, looking up at Caden. “Will they hurt us too?”
Caden shook his head. “That species only grows on decaying corpses. They’re harmless to you and me.” He paused, tilting his head to the side. “How did you come up with that potion, by the way? That was a stroke of genius.”
“I… I got lucky,” Quill replied at last. “I was trying to make poison. I used whatever I could find.”
“Well,” Caden smiled. “Don’t forget what you did. We’ll need to know how to do that if something like this ever happens again.”
Both Quill and I turned to stare at Caden, fear evident in our eyes.
“It won’t,” Caden said quickly. “We’re going to find the necromancy books and destroy them. Don’t worry.” He paused. “But… you know… remember it anyway. Better safe than sorry.”
Wild snorted, breaking the tension with that familiar mischief creeping back into his voice. “Right. Because nothing says don’t worry like remember how to make the poison that kills necromancers just in case.”
“It’s practical,” Caden said, unbothered.
“It’s terrifying,” Wild countered. “Which, coming from me, should tell you something.”
I let out a breath that was almost a laugh, though it came out more like a wheeze against Quill’s shoulder.
The sound seemed to startle something loose in my chest, some small crack of relief amid all the grief.
Quill’s hand found mine, lacing our fingers together as Atlas guided us toward the center of the room past my grandfather’s corpse.
“Don’t look,” Quill said softly, tugging my hand. “Just look ahead. That’s all we can do now.”
I let him lead me toward the teleportation circle Wild was already carving into the air, his green magic casting strange shadows across the ground.
Atlas kept one steadying hand on my back, and Elias stayed behind us, magic still crackling faintly at his fingertips like he wasn’t quite ready to believe the danger had passed.
Wild finished his circle, the green sigils flaring to life beneath all around us, and the world tilted sideways one final time that night.
When it solidified again, we were standing in the familiar entrance hall of the sanctuary, soft magical light spilling down from the chandeliers.
It looked exactly the same as it had just hours ago when we’d left.
But everything had changed. I had changed. The whole world had changed in what felt like an instant.
Elias and Wild stayed in the entrance hall while Caden and Atlas showed us back to our room.
By the time we reached the door, there was already a magical servant standing there with a tray of bandages and balms for Caden to dress our wounds.
It took only ten minutes or so for Caden to do his work before he and Atlas started to leave.
“We’ll come back periodically to check on you,” Atlas said from the door. “Please, use the mansion in any way you see fit. It will take care of you.”
“And when you’re ready,” Caden added. “We’ll go back to the real world. But not until you’re ready.”
With that, they shut the door and left Quill and I sitting in a peaceful quiet that almost felt unnatural after everything that had happened.
For a long moment, neither of us moved. The room around us was warm, softly lit, everything smelling faintly of clean linen and lavender from whatever balm Caden had rubbed into my wounds.
Quill sat on the edge of the massive bed, still in his torn clothes, dried blood flaking at his collar where my grandfather’s claws had left their mark.
I stood near the window, staring out at nothing, my reflection ghosting over the dark frosted glass.
I saw an empty dragon with red-rimmed eyes and hollow cheeks. I barely recognized myself.
“You should sit down,” Quill said quietly. “You’re swaying.”
I hadn’t noticed. My legs felt distant, disconnected from the rest of me, like they belonged to someone else entirely. I crossed the room and sank down beside him, the mattress dipping under my weight, and for a moment we just sat there, shoulder to shoulder, not speaking.
“I keep seeing it,” I finally admitted. “Him. Falling apart like that. I keep thinking if I’d just—if I’d noticed sooner, if I’d asked more questions, maybe—”
“Don’t.” Quill’s hand found mine, threading our fingers together. “Don’t do that to yourself. You didn’t do this. He did. Whatever grief turned him into that person, it wasn’t your responsibility to fix.”
“He raised me,” I said, my voice cracking. “He taught me everything. How to fly, how to control the shift, how to—” I stopped, swallowing hard. “And it was all just... pointless. He was just waiting for the moment he could use me.”
Quill didn’t say anything to that. He just leaned his head against my shoulder, his breathing slow and steady.
“I’m scared,” I admitted after a while. “I’m scared of what comes after. The Elder Council is going to want answers. They’re going to want to know why their leader turned out to be a necromancer who created the Purity Front. And I don’t know what that means for me. For us.”
“We’ll figure it out,” Quill said, lifting his head to look at me. His eyes were tired but fierce. “Together. And I’m not just saying it, Aeron. I mean it. Whatever the Council decides, whatever comes next, you won’t be doing it alone.”
I studied him for a long moment, this witch who’d thrown himself between me and the greatest danger of my life, who’d brewed poison out of mold and dead rats in a basement because he refused to be as helpless as everyone told him he was. He’d saved us both. He’d saved everyone.
“You’re remarkable,” I said, my voice raw. “Do you know that? You destroyed a necromancer and the last of my grandfather’s undead army with mushrooms grown in a forgotten storage room.”
A tired laugh escaped him, surprised out of the exhaustion etched into his face. “I really did do that, didn’t I?”
“You did.” I reached up, brushing my thumb along his jaw, careful of the bruising at his throat. “I love you. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to say it enough. But I do. More than I could ever express.”
His eyes softened, and he leaned into my touch. “I love you too. Even when you’re a giant terrifying lizard covered in someone else’s blood.”
“Charming.”
“I try.” He pressed a soft kiss to my palm, then let his forehead rest against mine. “Come on. Let’s get some sleep. The world can wait until morning. It’ll still be a mess when we’re finally ready to face it. For now, I just want to be here, safe with you.”
I nodded, too tired to argue, and let him pull back the covers of the massive bed.
We settled in together, his smaller frame curling against my side, his head resting on my chest where my heart was still beating a little too fast. I wrapped my arms around him, careful of his wounds, and stared up at the velvet canopy above us, listening to his breathing slowly even out into sleep.
The grief was still there, a stone lodged somewhere behind my ribs that I doubted would ever fully dissolve.
But Quill was there too. Warm and solid and alive against me.
He was proof that even after everything, something good had survived this catastrophe.
I closed my eyes, and for the first time since the nightmare began, I let myself drift toward sleep, holding onto that single certainty like a lifeline.
Whatever came next, we’d face it together.