Chapter 25
Glade and I soared atop Mir’s back, majestically gliding over villages and plains scattered across the countryside.
The breathtaking view from the dragon never lost its wonder.
Meadows of daffodils and crystal-clear lakes skimmed past my vision as we sped across hundreds of kilometres of land.
While I was excited to visit Cylvaris, part of me longed to explore every nook and cranny of this beautiful planet.
So much of Aurath’s terrain reminded me of Earth, which made me wonder if all habitable planets resembled one another or if it was merely a coincidence that both planets had similar environments.
Yet Ornath’s allure eclipsed Earth’s in one key way: it wasn’t marred by industrialization.
There were towns and cities, yes, but none like those I’d seen on Earth.
There were no towering skyscrapers, no sprawling highways, no crowded airports, or massive cargo ships. Instead, Ornath was a land of rich greenery and thoughtfully crafted settlements.
Not long into our flight, a sudden, ear-splitting roar tore through the sky from the east. Seven midnight-blue dragons, ranging in size from smallest hatchling to massive adult, swept gracefully into view.
Mir lifted her chin toward them, screeching a merry greeting.
The dragons answered in perfect harmony, flapping their wings in unison before disappearing into the clouds.
I let out an exhale of awe. Yet, as their shadows began to dissipate among the fluffy billowing whiteness, a pang of sadness flickered within my heart.
Part of me felt sorry for Mir, alone in the skies with no companion.
But as Glade’s grip tightened tenderly around my waist, I was reminded of how wrong I truly was.
After a few hours, I spotted something unusual: a vast clearing, flattened with concrete, dotted with flying ships of all sizes.
I shouted over the whistling wind rushing past, “What is that?”
Glade shifted his gaze to the plateau on the right side of the plains. “A flight field,” he yelled back into my ear. “Those ships can travel among the cosmos. We don’t use them often, only in emergencies, for battle, or long-distance travel.”
“Have you ever been in one?” I asked.
Though I couldn’t hear it, I felt Glade’s chest vibrating with chuckles. “Are you kidding? I’ve flown one!”
Stunned, I turned to peer at him, his mouth just inches from my face.
“There are flight fields scattered all over Ornath,” he continued. “Piloting was part of my training when I was young. Though, I don’t get to take any ships for a ride very often.”
I turned my chin back toward the flight field, taking in the massive buildings that lined the perimeter. One grey stone structure covered part of the field connected to an awning made of forest-green tarp. The rest of the field, three quarters of it, was open, with crafts exposed to the elements.
“I can’t believe you can fly one of those things.” I sighed, awestruck by the sight of the intergalactic spaceships before me.
“I did have the best education Ornath could offer, remember?” Then his tone dulled just slightly as he added, “Like I said, I don’t get to fly often. Only when my father grants permission.”
“Do you think he’d let you take me?” I wondered aloud.
“Uh, he probably wouldn’t be too thrilled about that,” Glade replied. “But you’re in luck. Jion’s also a pilot—probably a better one than me. I’m sure he’ll take you out sometime, once you’re married. He has clearance to fly whenever he wants.”
The grin faded from Glade’s face, though he tried to mask it. The effort was subtle, but I noticed the slight tension of his jaw, and I knew the words had stung him more than he let on.
I nodded, accepting his answer, and decided not to press further into the matters that clearly troubled him. Instead, I adjusted my focus back to the journey ahead, eager to enjoy the rest of my ride to the city of the Fae.
A swarm of gargantuan mountains rose before us, their peaks seeming to pierce the clouds as we flew toward the largest one at the centre of a dozen.
On its side, an expansive cliffside plateau stretched out, at least a hundred acres wide, home to a small town.
Brown log buildings, cabins, and wooden bridges spanned across streams that wound through the village, leading to several waterfalls cascading over the cliff’s edge into the abyss below.
Remarkably, trees and shrubs clung to the mountainside, thriving in the harsh, frigid air.
My bones trembled as the temperature plummeted.
Mir landed gracefully on the side of the rock, her gigantic form resting in a patch of grass that stretched into a field of wildflowers. The plants crunched beneath her weight as she settled down, stretching out into a prone position to rest after the long journey.
Glade hopped off Mir’s back, extending his hand for me to take and follow him down the side. He showed me how to slide, but despite my best efforts, I slipped straight down Mir’s hide and landed hard on my backside.
Oomph.
Usually, Glade would find my shortcomings hilarious, but this time, he glanced around anxiously, scanning for any potential witnesses. After assuring himself that no one had seen, he helped me to my feet.
My body still shook from the frigidity of the air as I rubbed my bottom. Glade strode over to the pack he’d brought with him and pulled out a thick brown jacket.
“Put it on,” he demanded, nudging me with the jacket’s sleeve.
I hadn’t expected Cylvaris to be freezing, but I should have expected the chill of a mountain. I must have looked like an idiot for not asking Kaiyah to pack me my own coat.
Wrapping my arms around myself in a miserable bear hug, I stuttered, “W-won’t you be cold?”
“Don’t worry about me,” Glade scolded, then draped the coat around my shoulders. He rubbed my biceps with both hands, creating warmth and friction beneath his touch. Instantly, I felt the cold retreat, replaced by a comforting heat.
Spinning to face him, I looked into his eyes with sincere gratitude. “Thank you, Glade. I really appreciate it.”
Glade did not respond as his attention had already shifted back to unloading his things.
Once we had gathered our bags, we made our way down the stone path leading into the dimly lit village.
At the entrance stood an extremely tall man with straight ebony hair and golden-brown skin.
The Fae male’s eyes reminded me of dark-roasted almonds, and his dark green robes billowed to the floor.
What drew my attention was his sharp, pointed ears, unlike any I’d ever seen before.
“Gioran!” Glade pleasantly addressed the mysterious man, grasping his hands in greeting. “It’s so nice to see you. Thank you for welcoming me into your home once again.”
The Fae man, however, didn’t return the enthusiasm. Instead, he peered past the prince’s shoulders, surveying me with an unreadable expression. His eyes lingered, sweeping from my head to my feet, completely ignoring Glade in the process.
Noticing the disregard of his person, Glade pivoted to introduce me. “Uh, this is Jane. Jane, this is Gioran. He’s the High Elder Fae here in Cylvaris.”
Despite Glade’s height of at least six foot two inches, Gioran towered over him, easily reaching seven and a half feet himself.
After what felt like an eternity of being studied like a flea under a microscope, Gioran finally steered his focus to Glade. “I received your letter, Prince Glade. There is much you wish to discuss. Come. Let us meet with the other elders before night falls.”
Gioran pivoted sharply, his movements brisk and deliberate, before striding down the path that led into the heart of the village. His long, purposeful strides set a gruelling pace, and we had to quicken our steps, nearly jogging, to keep up with him.
As we traversed through the town of Cylvaris, the citizens froze in their daily tasks, their stares locking onto us as we passed by. The stillness was unnerving as not a single Fae stirred. It felt as though they were predators, silently sizing up their prey.
The High Elder Fae guided us past the village and up a winding trail of weathered stone steps carved into the hillside.
Near the summit, a domed timber hut came into view, its aged wood blending seamlessly into the mountain wall behind it.
Through the wide, circular, glassless windows, I caught sight of a dozen figures seated around a central fire pit, their faces eerily illuminated by the fluttering blaze.
Without a word, Gioran entered the building, offering no invitation or signal for us to follow.
Yet the expectation was clear. I hesitated, glancing tensely at Glade for reassurance.
He met my gaze and gave a small, steady nod, a silent signal that the Fae could be trusted.
Bolstered by his certainty, I nodded back, and together we stepped into the hut.
Gioran broke the silence with a subtle gesture, beckoning toward two empty seats within the circle.
Without a word, we moved to fill the spaces, settling into our designated spots.
Once we were seated, Gioran strode to the largest chair at the head of the circle, a seat that was unmistakably a leader’s throne.
“We welcome Prince Glade and Jane.” Gioran’s throaty voice rumbled throughout the room.
The gathering of elders repeated his welcome in unison before returning to their mute state.
“Prince Glade, there is information you wish to present to us. Please.” He extended his hand, urging Glade to speak.
Glade swallowed hard, his trepidation clear in the way his eyes searched the room with uncertainty. For the first time, I realized I was witnessing him grapple with anxiety, a rare vulnerability that, strangely, made him feel more human to me than ever before.