40. Cato
Cato
There’s something bittersweet about leaving the comfort of Maelithryne. After experiencing this world in a series of near-disasters, it makes sense we feel safe here. We’re sleeping in a warm bed, with fresh food and good company. It’s not a surprise we’re comfortable behind these walls.
What surprises me is how quickly it felt like home.
I’d almost forgotten the worlds were still burning outside the gates. I could just sit back in safety and pretend none of it was happening. After a lifetime of wanting to leave, suddenly I desperately want to stay.
Stay hidden and away from danger, stay complacent, as long as it means staying with him.
But time doesn’t wait for my complicated feelings.
We leave at first light, moving through the gates under a steady fall of snow. Our original group has grown, adding Brihn and six of his trusted warriors—mostly Dreven, plus one stony-faced Ramves. The sylvaren carry us steadily, unbothered by the drifting flakes.
I’m not sure exactly who he sweet-talked or what he said, but Aryn convinced someone to allow us to ride Nymir so I’d be more comfortable.
It shouldn’t feel like such a grand gesture, but it does.
Her shoulders roll beneath us as his arms circle my waist and his chest pressed against my back.
His body heat cuts through the biting cold, and his presence steadies me more than I want to admit.
When we reach the narrow stone stairs, I lean back into him harder, fighting the urge to close my eyes.
The dizzying drop of the trail below brings back too many memories I’ve tried to forget.
“It’s alright,” he murmurs against my ear. “They’ve been doing this for a lifetime.”
“If you say so,” I mutter back.
Even after yesterday’s riding lesson, the rolling gait beneath me is foreign and a little terrifying. Sylvaren are bigger than horses and damn near fill the entire path when we move single file, though their strange split hooves seem to grip the terrain without much trouble.
A covered wagon waits for us at the base of the stairs, loaded with furs, clean water, and the rest of our supplies.
Brihn trots over on his mount and assesses the group.
“We’ll rotate time in the wagon. Two of your crew and two of mine can rest while the others ride.
It’ll keep everyone fresh and prevent us from stopping to make camp on the road. ”
“We’ll go first,” Cameron answers immediately.
“We will not,” Ronan cuts in, sounding outraged. “I’m not riding in the wagon like a child who’s grown too tired to play.”
“Suit yourself, big guy,” Cameron says as he slinks over the back and curls into the furs. “Pride gets you nowhere but tired later.”
Brihn chuckles while two of his guards climb in after Cameron, clearly amused by the exchange. “It is your choice,” Brihn says with a respectful nod. “But you will grow tired, eventually.”
Ronan grumbles as Cameron smiles at him from his cozy nest. Stubbornness wins out, and Ronan stays mounted, though he rides close to the wagon. Lillith and Taryn are together on a massive gelding, while the rest of the warriors ride solo and flank the group.
We descend into a deep valley path between jagged mountain peaks.
The scenery is breathtaking in its own harsh way.
Towering stone walls rise on either side, carved by wind and time into sharp ridges and shadowed crevices.
In the distance, the river winds along, cutting through banks of snow and ice.
Brihn rides up beside us. “It’s about time you get to see Elyra properly, and not half-starved while being hunted.”
“Things have changed so much since I was last here,” Aryn says. “The cold has really done a number on this place. It seems like every village we’ve passed has been long abandoned.”
Brihn nods as he glances around at the snow-peaked mountains. “In the south, yes. We had to adapt, and for many, that meant finding new homes.”
“They’ve moved further north?” Aryn asks.
“The cities are thriving. Without the oppression of the prior Vaelor, people have come together in ways our history hasn’t seen in millennia.
Many have flocked closer to the capital, where the weather isn’t as extreme.
There’s growing industry and education… communities learning to bring their skills together.
Elyra fights for the greater good like we’ve never seen in our history. ”
“Like the Drüinae at Maelithryne?” I ask, thinking of the greenhouses.
Brihn nods at me with a pleased smile. “Exactly. Without their help to grow the plants, feeding our people would be nearly impossible. When the Viskari started to build their numbers again, I asked Elowen if she’d feel safer following her family north.
After what happened to them, I’d never ask her to stay, even if I need her. ”
Aryn grins, no doubt remembering our conversation with her. “Let me guess, she said no?”
Brihn lets out a soft chuckle. “Stubborn as they come, that one. She said Maelithryne is her home now, and we are her people. Simple as that.”
“Sometimes it is as simple as that,” Aryn says, giving my middle a gentle squeeze. “The Viskari have grown bolder, then?”
Brihn’s voice turns grim. “Fanatics do what they’ve always done.
They attract those who can’t live by the rules of society.
Most are criminals who’ve either been tossed out of other cities or villages, or they’re on the run for their crimes.
Some are born into it, but most find their way south in search of somewhere they’ll belong. ”
I shrug as I scan the treeline for movement, half-expecting our conversation to summon them. “Why not just imprison them?”
Brihn clicks his tongue. “And be responsible for feeding them? Most cities can’t spare the resources to provide for a mouth that doesn’t contribute, so they throw them out instead.”
“For others to deal with,” I counter.
Brihn’s eyes flare with irritation for a moment before he scoffs and tosses Aryn a sidelong glance. “Loves to argue as much as you do, doesn’t he?”
“More,” Aryn answers with a soft laugh.
Brihn’s annoyance fades when he meets my eyes again.
“The system isn’t perfect. Anyone will admit that.
But it’s worlds better than what we had before, and progress isn’t always linear.
We’re doing the best we can in a world that’s fighting us at every turn.
” He gestures at the empty road. “The only reason the Viskari are so prevalent in the south is because people are spread out. They’re easier targets.
We at Maelithryne consider ourselves the last real line of defense for those who remain. ”
I huff a quiet laugh. “Gotta steal that glory, huh? Must run in the family.”
Brihn fights a smile. “That it must.”
The path narrows as the river cuts closer, forcing Brihn to ride ahead of us.
Along the water’s edge, I catch dark shapes gliding just beneath the surface.
“Draxyss again,” Aryn tells me, resting his chin on my shoulder as he points.
One of them breaks the surface, and I shudder at the memory of how impossibly fast they move.
“They won’t attack unless they have the advantage in numbers. ”
Just as I start to ask if he’s really sure about that, a giant shadow sweeps overhead.
The creature flying above is like nothing I’ve ever seen, with enormous leathery wings, a feathered spine, and four clawed feet dangling beneath it.
It clutches a small animal in its grasp, but pays us no attention.
“I swear to everything that’s holy, if that’s a dragon…”
Aryn snickers as he watches it fly past. “Not quite. It’s a pha’rix. They live in the mountain peaks, in nests the size of houses. They’re beautiful, but they can be territorial.”
“Territorial,” I repeat. “That’s very calming, Aryn. Are we in its territory right now?”
The creature circles overhead before vanishing behind the peaks. “This is likely part of its hunting ground, but it looks like dinner has already been caught.”
“Reassuring,” I mutter, scanning the skies in case it decides we’d make a decent dessert.
Travel goes smoothly for most of the day, though the snow grows heavier as afternoon fades. When we stop for a quick, cold dinner, Brihn motions toward us. “Your turn to ride. Rest while you can.”
Aryn and I climb into the covered wagon and settle beneath the thick furs. I take advantage of the space to stretch out properly. Shadows pass overhead, and I watch as another pha’rix glides by.
“This place is a lot,” I say, almost to myself.
“It is,” Aryn agrees as he twists onto his side to look at me. His hair is tied up today, making the concern on his face more prominent.
“What happens if we actually do it?” I ask.
He wrinkles his nose in that familiar way he does when he’s confused. “Do what?”
“Say we make it to the Vaelor, and somehow convince her that our worlds need to unite. It’s going to start another war.”
He sighs, absently wrapping his tail around my wrist. “It might.”
“It will,” I argue, “and not only does our side have to win, but we have to survive it.”
“Cato—”
“But what if we do?” I press. “What if we actually come out of this unscathed, and the worlds end up joined? What if it works out the way Sovran said it would? We’ve been so busy trying to survive that we haven’t even talked about what it really means.”
“According to Sovran, it means you would share my life,” he says quietly.
“How long do your people even live?”
He hums softly. “In peaceful times, most live well into their eighth or ninth century.”
“Fuck me,” I mutter. “You realize how impossible that sounds to a human, right? We’re lucky to hit sixty anymore.”
“I imagine it’s quite a shock.”
“A shock,” I snort.
He laughs and shoves my shoulder. “Well, what would you call it?”
I pause, taking a second to figure out how to explain it.
“When we first stepped through that portal, it felt like… a dream. Like it wasn’t real, you know?
Like I’d blink and wake up to find the whole thing had only happened in my head.
But then we went to sleep, and I woke up, and the sky was still orange.
I imagine it’ll be something like that. One day I’ll wake up on my three-hundredth birthday, staring in the mirror and wondering why we couldn’t have done this when I was younger and didn’t have any gray hairs yet.
I’ll look outside, the sky will still be orange, and that’s when I’ll know it was all real. ”
Aryn’s eyes search mine for a long moment. When he speaks, his voice is careful. “You want to be here? In Elyra?”
“I…” I trail off, shaking my head. “Maybe?”
“And you want to be… with me?”
“You know I do,” I breathe as he inches closer.
“You want it now,” he counters, “because it’s new and exciting. It’s an adventure, Cato, and you live for adventure. What happens when the worlds are peaceful and all that’s left are quiet nights, books, and routine—the things I love that you find boring? What happens when I’m no longer exciting?”
Despite the heaviness settling between us, I flash him a grin. “You really underestimate my ability to cause chaos, darlin’.”
Aryn laughs, a loud, delighted sound, before closing the distance.
I’m still smiling when he kisses me, then he pushes me back against the furs and coaxes my lips open.
His tongue finds mine, his arms surround me, and for a moment I’m light in a way that doesn’t make sense with everything weighing on us.
My heart is so full of him it almost hurts. “Aryn—”
“Wait until we’re alone,” he pleads between kisses. “Wait until I can give you every piece of me with no interruptions. Can you do that for me?”
The words I want to say are right there on my tongue, desperate to come out, but when one of the guards catcalls, I know he’s right. This isn’t the time or place.
I swallow them back down. “Yeah,” I rasp, clutching the back of his neck and pulling him in for one last, lingering kiss. “Yeah, I can do that.”