Chapter 16
SUMMER SOLSTICE
SIXTEEN
My rough translation from the Old Tongue, of ‘The Dragon’s Call’:
‘Your dragon’s blessing—
a call that stirs in your sleep.
Enveloped in an instant,
a deep and wordless knowing.
Bond-magics reach for your soul.
You fuse in spirit,
inseparable, whole.
The pull is fierce.
It will not be denied.
A trust-fall waits—
the choice not yet claimed.’
—VALEN’S JOURNAL
AMARA
The outpost is alight with celebration. Lanterns of every hue drift above the courtyard, their glow casting flickering patterns on the stone walls.
The scent of herb-roasted meats and honey-spiced fruits drifts through the air, mingling with summer blooms. Music—wild, rhythmic, intoxicating—drums through the evening.
The beat thrums beneath my feet, pulsing through stone and skin.
It’s been a few days since I stood on that tower with Thane. Since his hand held mine in the dark. We have trained together, spoken, like nothing happened.
Tonight is the Summer Solstice—the longest day of the year. The pinnacle of elemental power. A night of revelry, gratitude, surrender to the rhythms of nature. Second only to the Winter Solstice, it is the outpost’s grandest celebration.
“The Solstice marks the balance,” Valen told me earlier in the day. “A turning point. Fire reaches its peak, but from this moment, the days will begin to wane, surrendering back to shadow and cold. It’s a reminder—no Element reigns forever.”
At the outpost, the festival honors fire’s zenith—its power, its warmth, its persistence.
At sundown, Fire Clan riders gather in the main courtyard, their arms raised skyward as they call forth their magics.
Flames dance in their palms, spiraling into brilliant arcs, forming constellations of fire before burning out into embers that rain like falling stars.
But the Summer Solstice does not belong to fire alone. The other elements have their part in the celebration too.
While only the riders can channel and wield the elements fully, everyone at the outpost possesses lesser magics—small gifts of their respective elements, subtle but still tangible in moments like these.
Water Clan riders gather at the reflecting pools beyond the barracks, where moonlight shimmers across the still surface. They weave water into glowing orbs, lifting them skyward before releasing them—droplets cascading like summer rain.
Clan members with lesser magics stand beside them, adding their gifts to the tribute.
Air Clan riders dance along the outpost walls, their movements summoning gusts that scatter petals in spiraling patterns.
With each twirl and leap, the wind carries their laughter into the night.
Those with lesser magics dance among them, adding their joy to the sky.
Earth Clan members spend the day weaving garlands and crowns from vine and bloom, adorning the outpost in symbols of growth and abundance.
At dusk, those who channel press their palms to the earth, coaxing luminescent blooms to unfurl—petals glowing faint as night descends.
Others join them, offering quiet magics to the soil.
Though I can wield all four elements, today I chose the Earth Clan. Lyra and I wove garlands for our hair—petaled crowns for the night’s celebration, when every clan gathers around the bonfire.
I have always loved the Solstice. It’s a moment of pure magics, unity among the elements, a time when the world feels connected, alive, and in harmony.
I stand near one of the long tables, a cool goblet of mead in hand, surrounded by fruit and fresh bread.
Thane is further down the courtyard, standing in the glow of the torches. He’s speaking with Garrick—but even here, in celebration, something distant shadows his face.
The musicians quicken their pace—a bright, bounding rhythm that has my foot tapping before I even realize.
“We should be dancing.”
I turn to find Lyra beside me, a playful smile on her lips.
“I think I’m going to make Garrick dance with me. I better see you out there!”
She gestures toward the dancers spinning around the bonfire.
Without waiting for a response, she saunters off—loops her arm through Garrick’s, and drags him toward the music. “Come on, soldier!”
Garrick lets out a laugh but follows her willingly into the lively throng. I linger at the edges, watching as they spin to the rhythm of the music. The drums pound, fiddles strum, feet stamp, and bodies twirl beneath the lantern-lit sky.
A movement at my side catches my attention. A soldier grasps my hand with a grin.
“Let’s dance,” he says, already tugging me toward the center of the floor.
He has the unmistakable look of the Air Clan—windswept blonde hair, tousled just enough to seem intentional. His eyes are a striking blend of blue and silver, shifting with the flicker of the bonfire, seemingly alight with mischief.
Those eyes catch mine just before he spins me into the rhythm—smooth, effortless—as if we’ve danced this a dozen times before.
“You’re Amara Thalor. The Spiritborn,” he says casually, like he’s commenting on the weather.
“You seem to know me,” I reply, breathless from the spin, “but I don’t know you.”
The soldier pulls me close—warmth and confidence in motion—then spins me away with a grin.
“Kieran Vael,” he announces, releasing my hand and halting the dance just long enough to bow with a flourish worthy of a stage. “At your service.”
I drop into a quick curtsey in response, then straighten, laughing—unable to take any of this formality seriously.
“You’re ridiculous,” I say, still smiling.
Kieran grins wider, clearly pleased. “You’ll find that’s part of my charm.”
Kieran glances around at the other dancers, then leans in slightly, a spark of challenge in his voice.
“I think we make better dance partners than this lot,” he says, eyes gleaming. “What do you say we show them how it’s done?”
I barely have time to protest before we’re spinning—the world a blur of firelight and color, music wrapping around us like wind. I tip my head back, laughing, dancing with Kieran. The warmth and freedom of the night soak through me.
Laughter bubbles up despite myself.
As we twirl again, my gaze drifts beyond the revelers—past torches, past music and movement—to the shadows watching from the edge.
I feel it before I see him—Thane, just beyond the firelight. Eyes locked on me.
He stands alone—half in shadow, half aglow. His expression is unreadable. But his eyes never leave me.
The Summer Solstice pulses with life around us—laughter, music, the thrum of drums echoing in the ground—but all of it fades to a hush in that moment. Even from here, the air tightens—thick with something unspoken.
Something burning beneath the surface.
Kieran’s voice pulls me back to the present, to the rhythm and heat of the dance.
“So,” he says, a grin tugging at his lips, “what do you think? We’re better than them, aren’t we?”
His confidence is infectious, and for a moment, I let it sweep me away—even as Thane’s gaze lingers like a shadow I can’t shake.
After several dances, I’m flushed. The music, the laughter, the press of bodies—suddenly, it’s too much. I murmur something about needing a drink and slip away, weaving through the crowd until the noise softens behind me.
I pour a cup of cool water first, drinking deeply, the crispness soothing my throat. But the tension doesn’t leave.
After a moment’s hesitation, I reach for the wine. I pour a generous serving, watching the deep red liquid swirl in the cup, catching the glint of firelight. Slowly, I bring it to my lips.
I hear his voice before I see him. Low. Smooth. Unmistakable.
“You look nice.”
My pulse stutters before I even turn.
I glance over my shoulder, my breath catching as Thane steps from the shadows. His gaze drags over me, slow and deliberate, lingering just a moment too long.
I glance down, smoothing a hand over the fabric of my dress. Lyra and I went to the village days ago to shop for tonight. The fabric hugs my frame, falling just below the knee—but moves with me, light and unrestrictive.
His words are simple. But his gaze traces the lines of my dress—drinking me in.
Warmth curls through me.
I take a deep sip of wine, the floral notes sliding down my throat. It does little to steady me.
Being this close again—after months of training, of his hands adjusting my stance, pulling me up from the ground, pinning me down.
Each moment comes back in a flood. Charged. Electric. Unfinished.
Thane chuckles, low and warm. “The color suits you,” he says, eyes flicking to the green fabric. “Still keeping ties to Earth Clan?”
Torchlight flickers over him—black leathers fitted like armor. The fire-forged embroidery catches in the glow. He looks gorgeous—powerful, untouchable. My fingers tighten around the cup as his smoke-gray eyes pierce through me.
“Home sweet home,” I reply, taking another sip from my cup. My brow furrows slightly. “You’re still in your leathers? Were you out flying?”
Thane exhales, inclining his head. “Jarek, Rian, and I were on patrol all day. We barely made it back in time for the bonfire.”
I glance toward the darkness beyond the outpost—then back at him. Tension coils in his shoulders, the weight of the day still carved into his jaw.
“How do things look out there?”
Thane rolls his shoulders, as if trying to shake the day from his skin. “Quiet—for now.” His gaze flicks past me toward the firelit celebration then back, more guarded now. “Too quiet. Jarek thinks it’s just the Solstice keeping things still. Rian isn’t so sure.”
He pauses. Then quietly— “I’m not either.”
I take another sip of wine, tilt my head, and smirk. “All that time out there, and you still made it back just in time to brood by the fire? Impressive.”
Thane laughs—rich, unguarded. A rare crack in the armor he wears so well. The sound wraps around me, warm and unexpected, pulling something loose in my chest.