Chapter 27 Dancing with Fire and Roses
DANCING WITH FIRE AND ROSES
“No woman is truly free if her world is built by those who fear her power.”
—Eyleen ársa
Noel
My heart feels light, and a rare kind of happiness spreads through me.
With the warmth of the flames, the laughter of the vólkins, and the energy of the celebration, I feel like I can breathe again.
The fire’s heat brushes against my skin, while the cool night air caresses my face.
Above, the sky is dark and beautiful, and the young moon shines above us.
My gaze catches on the garlands swaying with the breeze. They remind me of the small trinkets my mother and I used to make, silk fabric tied with red thread, and stuffed with sage roots. She believed sage brought blessings, cleared bad omens, and invited good fortune.
The memory feels like a dream, but seeing these garlands above, I feel the same care here in ávera. The vólkins have poured thought and intention into every detail of this celebration.
It’s primal. And it’s beautiful.
During the feast, I couldn’t help but watch the vólkins eat.
I’d known they consume raw meat, but seeing it firsthand was something else entirely.
They tore into their meals with sharp canines.
Juices spilled across the tables as they devoured their food with a ferocity I’d only read about in books.
It should have made me uncomfortable, but it didn’t.
The meat was clean, no blood or fur left behind.
Though I noticed Theron ate in smaller slices than Kael or the others did. I wonder why.
The little pups were digging into larger chunks, tearing at them from both sides where they lay on the tables.
Theron had explained that vólkins eat at tables to align with human traditions.
Even the fires lighting ávera aren’t for them.
They don’t need them. Everything here has been created for the comfort of their future mates.
That thought stayed with me throughout the feast: how much they’ve adapted, how much they’ve prepared for this moment. For me.
And now, as I dance, I feel Theron’s gaze on me.
It’s as though it anchors me, pulling me to him despite the distance between us.
Across the fire, our eyes meet, and the world seems to fade.
The drums, the voices, the glow of flames—they all blur into the background, leaving only him.
There’s so much I want to ask, so much I don’t understand about this bond that ties us.
The memory of last night is a puzzle piece I can’t fit. But for now, I can be patient.
I can enjoy this celebration.
I focus back on the dance. These vólkins have worked so hard to make this day special for me.
The least I can do is embrace it fully, to honor their efforts.
The female vólkins release their linked paws, their movements becoming freer as they circle the fire.
They lift their arms to the sky, their bodies flowing with the rhythm of the drums.
I mimic their movements, allowing myself to let go, to move without thought or worry. I never thought dancing would make me feel so alive.
The grass is soft beneath my feet, leaves brush against my arms, the trees sway in time with the music, and I feel . . . whole.
Every step feels like a celebration of life itself. And here, under the thin scratch of silver of the young moon, surrounded by the vólkins, I feel like I belong.
Is this what Elder A?na meant?
A shiver runs through me. Body, mind, and soul . . .
Under the crescent’s glow, the Leader shall unite and guide. A voice echoes, calm and beautiful. Her vision will pierce the shadows of doubt, as the spirits foretold. The bond of essence and soul will shape the fate of this world.
The words make me falter. They’re too familiar.
Mother used to say the same thing.
I glance around, expecting Elder A?na to be standing close, but the voice fades as quickly as it came. I keep moving, letting the music guide me.
The fire crackles louder, its flames shifting from orange to a bright blue. The vólkins stop, their chatter replaced with silence as their eyes widen. But I continue to dance like something is pulling me forward. A strange energy flows through me, lights my every step.
Blue roses bloom under my feet, glowing as they spread outward in a trail behind me.
Gasps ripple through the crowd, and the vólkins step back, their whispers blending with the crackling fire.
Elder A?na’s gaze catches mine across the clearing.
There’s pride in her expression, and something about it makes my chest swell.
I like that. Being the source of pride.
The feeling is warm, like I’ve found something I didn’t realize I was missing. The roses feel . . . like home.
But then the warmth fades, my vision blurs, and my legs buckle beneath me.
The last thing I see before everything goes dark is Theron’s face, his eyes wide.
“Theron? Why are you—”