Chapter 25 New Dawn
New Dawn
When I wake, the first thing I notice is the silence.
No steady breath, no warmth pressed against my back, just the soft drip of water echoing from somewhere deep in the cavern.
I reach out, my fingers instinctively searching for the body that held me through the night, but my hand finds only cold stone.
The blankets are rumpled, leaving only the slight hollow where he lay.
I roll onto my side. Disoriented, I blink up at the dim shaft of morning light filtering through the skylight above.
It scatters across the spring, making the mist shimmer like ghost-light.
The fire has burned down to glowing coals, half-buried in ash.
The scent of him lingers faintly, still soaked into the moss, still braided into the memory of his arms around me.
My chest tightens. He’s gone. And with him, the soft magic of the night begins to unravel like thread in my hands.
Panic coils low in my stomach. What if he left to find the dragon? To command it to burn Solmere to the ground, just to destroy what’s left of Edric or my father? What if last night was just a ruse for his revenge?
I sit up too fast. My breath comes sharp and shallow. What if I was wrong to trust him?
Then I see it. Nestled beside me on the stone, still glistening with morning dew, is a small bouquet. Sunflowers, their golden faces angled toward the light. Lily of the valley, tiny white bells nodding in delicate clusters. And a single blossom of edelweiss, pale and fierce as snow.
And, tucked between the stems, a folded note, sealed with a pressed freesia petal.
I unfold it with trembling fingers.
Fire,
Urgent matters called me back to Noctyras. I couldn’t bring myself to wake you. Brimstone, Ashwing, and the foal are with me. Aetherion is saddled and waiting for you outside the cave. See you soon.
—Keiren
I read it again and again. He didn’t just disappear, after all. He made sure I’d know he hasn’t abandoned me. He left me a message. A steed. A way home. I look down at the flowers, really look, and a memory stirs deep within my mind.
“Everything in a bouquet tells a story,” my mother’s voice echoes, soft and sunlit.
I’m ten again, barefoot in the garden, fingers stained with pollen as I listen to her hum a tune only she seems to know.
She places a lily in my palm. “Hope,” she says, “delicate. Easily lost. But it returns.”
Next, she tucks a sunflower behind my ear. “Sunflowers represent loyalty. They’re a symbol of joy. Of light.”
I ask about the white one with star-shaped petals, and her eyes soften.
“That one’s edelweiss. It means courage—and the kind of love you guard with your life. And this, freesia, is for trust, fragile but brave.”
My throat tightens again, and I press the bouquet to my chest, breathing them in, letting the warmth of it all bloom beneath my ribs.
Then I rise. I stomp out what remains of the fire and gather our things, rolling them back into a large saddlebag.
When I step outside, the mountain air bites at my skin, brisk and bright. But the sight waiting for me in the trees chases the chill away.
Aetherion, tall and proud, dappled light spilling across his flank.
His head lifts when he senses me, his eyes dark and knowing.
He steps toward me without my command, as if summoned by the ache in my chest. I swing into the saddle and gather the bouquet against my side.
The moment we leave the mouth of the cave, he breaks into a steady canter, hooves thudding over stone and root.
As the hours pass, the forest begins to change, softening into amber light, branches stretching like arms to catch the sinking sun. A hush settles over the trees until every hoofbeat feels like a drum counting down toward something I can’t quite name.
Birdsong fades. The air turns still.
I feel it before I see it. A ripple overhead tugs at my chest, dragging my eyes skyward.
There, high above the trees, framed against the bleeding dusk, a shadow cuts across the heavens, all broad wings and silent grace.
The dragon.
He circles once, slow and wide, his body silhouetted against the light, trimmed in gold by the dying sun. No roar. No flame. Just silent power, peering down from above.
Then he vanishes behind the clouds.
But I still feel him. That presence. That tether. Like being watched by something ancient and unknowable, something that sees straight through skin and bone into the soul beneath.
I don’t know if he came to protect me or to see for himself whether I made it back alive, but something inside me aches with a strange yearning. And with a question I don’t know how to ask, not yet.
The castle gates rise into view just as the sun begins to sink toward the western ridge. I don’t even have time to dismount before I hear someone shout, “There she is!”
Mariel bursts through the gate, skirts flying.
“You’re alive,” Cassy cries, right on her heels.
Vivian trails behind them at a calmer pace—but her eyes shine, and there’s a rare softness in her expression.
I swing down from Aetherion’s back and immediately find myself engulfed in arms.
“Don’t ever do that again,” Cassy mumbles into my shoulder.
“We were terrified,” Mariel adds, pulling back to check me over. “Are you hurt?”
I shake my head, overcome. “No, just tired.”
“Two days,” Vivian says softly. “You were gone two days.”
I nod. “I know.”
But before I can say more, Elena’s voice slices through the moment. “You cost me my day.” Her arms are crossed, her eyes scathing.
“Excuse me?”
“The king. He left. He vanished without warning and didn’t return until it was too late. Because of you.”
“So sorry you missed your romantic evening,” I mutter. I’m sure being attacked and getting lost in the woods during a terrible storm was nothing in comparison.
“You think this is funny?” she seethes.
“No,” I say flatly. I want to say it’s pathetic, but I know that will only make matters worse.
Seraphina appears behind her like a storm cloud, cold and silent.
Vivian steps between us, shielding me from the barrage I’m no doubt about to receive from Elena’s closest ally. “Enough. She just got back.”
Elena scoffs but stalks away. Seraphina’s gaze lingers a beat longer, then she follows Elena back inside the castle.
“Come on,” Mariel says. “Let’s get you something to eat.”
“I’m famished,” I admit, “but first I need to check on my mare and her foal.”
“Your mare?” Mariel blinks.
“Foal?” Cassy squeals. “Did you say foal?”
“I’ll explain on the way.”
The four of us lead Aetherion down the winding path to the stables. The guards let us pass without question, their eyes wide as they spot me leading the unmistakable silver stallion.
When we arrive, I lead Aetherion to his empty stall and remove his bridle and saddle. He just bows his head and gently nudges my shoulder before turning to eat the well-deserved pile of hay waiting for him, no doubt left there on the king’s orders.
“There,” I whisper. “Good boy.”
The girls follow me through stables until, finally, I spot Ashwing standing in the straw with her newborn foal curled beside her, fast asleep.
“Oh,” Mariel breathes.
“Oh, stars, he’s adorable!” Cassy squeals.
Vivian inhales sharply. “Is that a Pegasus?”
“It is,” I whisper.
The foal stirs, his tiny white wings fluttering as he wakes.
“I thought they were extinct,” Mariel says. “You only ever hear about them in stories. My uncle used to say they vanished when Abrellia fell.”
“In Korran Vale,” Cassy says, “they say Pegasi are born when a horse drinks from a lightning-struck pool under a full moon.”
“In Eldrien,” Mariel murmurs, “we believe they’re the souls of fallen warriors come back to protect the innocent.”
“Well,” I say, brushing the foal’s neck, “this one was born during a wolf attack.”
“What’s his name?” Cassy asks, eyes wide.
“Moonbeam.”
“Like the flower…” Mariel murmurs. “That’s the perfect name for him.”
“Come on,” I say, “I’m starving. I haven’t eaten in ages.”
When we reach the kitchens, the aroma of fresh bread and roasted garlic wafts out. Food has never smelled so good. A servant offers me a bowl of soup and a fresh roll without even asking, and we settle into a quiet corner with our food, basking in the heat of the nearby ovens.
“So,” Vivian says dryly, “are you going to tell us where you’ve been?”
I take a sip of the salty broth, savoring the flavor of bay and thyme. “There’s not much to say beyond what you’ve probably already figured out. We fought off a pack of wolves, Ashwing gave birth, and we had to take shelter in a cave when the storm hit.”
“We?” Mariel raises a brow, but I say nothing, only busying myself with another long draft of soup.
Cassy giggles. “Did you enjoy your ride with the king?”
I nearly choke.
Mariel smirks. “The stablehands said you rode out on a black stallion—and returned with the king’s horse.”
“So?” I counter, maybe a touch too defensive.
“So,” Vivian says, sipping her tea, “you’re avoiding the question.”
“We’re not stupid. You both disappeared for two days. And you might not have returned together, but he came back this morning looking…”
She tilts her head, smiling. “Happy. Ridiculously so.”
Then her gaze flicks to me. “And you, my dear, are practically glowing.”
“Other than the wolves,” Vivian deadpans, “did anything else happen out there?”
“Perhaps you went tumbling through a meadow?” Cassy adds brightly.
“Cassy!” I scold.
“What?” she asks, wide-eyed. “My friends and I love playing in meadows.”
Her expression is all sweet innocence, completely unaware of the double entendre.
I can’t help it—I laugh. We all do.
“Alright, alright,” I give in. “After the wolves, we had to sleep in a cave. When I awoke, Keir—” I catch myself. “The king was gone. He left a note. And his horse.”
“Just slept, huh?” Mariel echoes.
I lift a brow, and they dissolve into giggles.
“Yes,” I say firmly, leaving no room for interpretation. “Slept. Nothing else.”