Weightless on the Wind

Chapter 29.

The great oak doors of the Archives creaked faintly as Aeliana stepped through them, arms wrapped around the satchel at her side. The scent of parchment, waxed wood, and a hint of something older filled the air — a blend she'd come to associate with knowledge and secrets.

She hadn't even made it five steps in before she heard familiar voices.

"I'm telling you, the cart's a punishment," Violet was muttering. "It squeaks on purpose."

Aeliana turned her head.

Sure enough, Violet Sorrengail stood near the front desk, half-leaning against the handle of a large wooden cart stacked with books, her braid pulled over one shoulder. Liam was beside her, arms crossed, eyes crinkled in amusement.

Violet looked over first. "Oh—Aeliana."

Liam turned as well. "What are you doing here?"

Aeliana blinked at the sudden attention, then tilted her head with a faint smirk. "I could ask the same of you."

Violet rolled her eyes and tapped the cart. "Archive duty. And since Xaden thinks I need a babysitter, Liam is also here."

"Bodyguard," Liam corrected, his tone dry. "There's a difference."

"Barely," Violet muttered under her breath.

Aeliana raised an eyebrow, clearly amused.

Liam's gaze sharpened as he took in her presence — the slightly damp hair at her temples, the faint shadows under her eyes. "And you?"

"Just here to pick up a book."

Before he could ask more, a quiet shuffle of footsteps approached from behind the counter.

Jesinia appeared, arms full of several thick volumes. She wore a soft linen tunic and ink-stained gloves, her brown hairbraided neatly back. Her expression brightened when she saw Aeliana, and she signed quickly as she reached the cart, placing the books on top.

I found them she signed.

Aeliana's brows lifted in surprise. Already?

Jesinia nodded Wait here, I'll go get them.

With that, she disappeared into the deeper stacks — the place only scribes were allowed to roam.

When Aeliana turned back, Liam was watching her with raised brows.

"What?" she asked.

"Didn't think you'd be hitting the books this early," he said, his voice teasing but warm.

"Didn't think you'd be pushing carts for the quadrant's most famous scribes," she shot back.

Violet snorted.

Liam leaned slightly against the desk. "So how are you faring? After yesterday."

She hesitated. The sting of Varrin's public reprimand was still fresh, if only because her shoulder still throbbed from the hit she'd taken right before it.

"This morning wasn't great," she admitted.

"More drills with Varrin. He announced four extra training sessions per week for the squad.

And Kaori gave me exercises I have no idea how to improve at. "

Liam's mouth tugged to the side — not quite a smile, not quite sympathy. "I can help."

She blinked. "You sure?"

Violet looked up from adjusting one of the books on the cart. "I'll be with Imogen all afternoon. I think I'll be adequately protected."

Liam gave a slow nod.

Aeliana hesitated a beat longer, then nodded too. "Alright. I'd appreciate it."

Just as the words left her mouth, soft footsteps padded back across the tiled floor.

Jesinia returned, arms cradling a small stack of books. She moved with quiet efficiency, pausing in front of the desk before carefully placing the volumes down one by one. Her eyes flicked up to Aeliana, and she offered a small smile.

Here they are, she signed, then tilted her head, fingers already moving again. This one is an old transcription of Aretian myth and dragon lore. It has the most references to less-know breeds. The others cover lesser magic, mostly first-year level theory and basic application.

Aeliana stepped closer, her gaze dropping to the top volume. Its cover was worn with age, the lettering faded but elegant. Her fingers brushed the edge.

Thank you she signed.

Jesinia nodded, pleased.

Then Aeliana hesitated, glancing at Violet and Liam. They were already gathering themselves — Violet stacking the last of her books into the cart, Liam giving Aeliana a quick nod.

"I'll find you after lunch?" he offered.

"I'll be in the sparring hall," she replied.

"Of course you will." He grinned, then turned to follow Violet as she steered the creaky cart toward the far hallway.

Jesinia watched them go for a moment, then turned back to Aeliana. You still want to learn about the Valaari?

Aeliana hesitated—then nodded once.

Jesinia didn't press. She never did.

Instead, Aeliana glanced around—more out of habit than necessity—then leaned in slightly and signed, slower this time: Can you also find a book on Tyrrish knots?

Jesinia blinked, clearly not expecting that. Her brows lifted just a fraction.

Tyrrish knots? she repeated, the sign a touch more curious than concerned.

Aeliana nodded.

Jesinia studied her for a second longer, head tilting. Why?

Aeliana gave a small shrug, easy, almost careless. Something to do. Pass the time.

Jesinia's mouth pressed into a thin line—not disapproving, just... puzzled. That wasn't the kind of subject people picked up out of boredom.

Still, she nodded slowly. I can look, she signed. Might take a few days.

"That's fine," Aeliana said softly.

Jesinia reached for a scrap of parchment, scribbling a date before sliding it across the counter. Come back then.

Aeliana took it, tucking it between the pages of one of her books. Thanks.

Jesinia gave a brief nod and pulled her ledger back toward her, though her attention lingered a moment longer than before.

Aeliana gathered the books against her chest and turned toward the door, slipping back out into the day.

The heavy oak doors creaked shut behind her, muting the soft sounds of the Archives. Aeliana squinted as sunlight spilled across the stone steps, warming the chill that clung to the interior halls. The books in her satchel shifted with her movement, their weight a comforting presence at her side.

She exhaled slowly, letting the warmth settle on her skin, when a familiar voice brushed across the edge of her mind — dry and amused.

You spend an awful lot of time buried in parchment for someone who insists they're not a scholar.

Aeliana snorted under her breath. Good morning to you too.

Morning, Virvolior repeated, his tone faintly mocking, like he was tasting the word. Is that what it is? I can never tell when I'm not in the air. Everything smells like ink and limestone where you are.

She adjusted the strap of her satchel. Yes, well, some of us have to study if we want to catch up.

A pause stretched between them. Then, quieter: You're trying to understand what I am.

Aeliana froze halfway down the steps, one hand resting lightly on the carved stone railing. Is that a problem?

No. His voice wasn't sharp — more like... thoughtful. But answers like that don't tend to be found on shelves.

They might point me in the right direction, better than flailing in the dark.

Flailing suits you, he said dryly. You're surprisingly graceful when you fall.

She huffed a laugh. Charming as always.

I try.

She resumed walking, passing under the shadow of a colonnade. A group of first-years darted past her on the path, too focused on their own chatter to notice her.

Virvolior's presence didn't fade as it often did when others came near. He lingered — not pressing, just... there.

Will you come after lunch? he asked after a moment.

Aeliana didn't need clarification. With Liam? Yes.

I'll be waiting. A pause. Don't be late. I've been bored all morning, and it's made me think.

She grinned. That sounds dangerous.

For someone, he said, faintly ominous. Not for you. Not yet.

She shook her head fondly and adjusted the strap of her satchel again, the books bumping softly against her hip. See you soon, then.

Virvolior's reply was a soft hum of approval in her mind — distant but steady, like the beat of wings high above, circling... waiting.

~

The padded resistance band strained under the slow, controlled pull of Aeliana's right arm. Sweat dotted her brow as she exhaled through the movement, her shoulder burning with effort — the good kind of ache, the kind Elira had promised would rebuild the strength that had been lost.

She shifted to the next stretch in the circuit, curling her palm toward her chest with the band looped around a pillar of the training room wall. The rhythm was meditative. Controlled. This, she could do. This, she could build back

Her mind wandered as she repeated the movement. Kaori's voice still echoed in her head from the morning before: "You're forcing control. It needs to be instinct." And Varrin's, sharper still: "You forget everything the moment you step off my mats."

She grit her teeth and pulled the band back a final time.

The door creaked open behind her.

She didn't turn right away — just grabbed her towel and mopped the back of her neck, expecting a fellow cadet or maybe even one of her squadmates straggling in for solo drills.

Instead, a familiar voice called, "Aeliana?"

She turned.

Liam Mairi stood in the doorway, blond hair still slightly damp from a recent flight, a casual grin tugging at his mouth. He was flanked by Violet Sorrengail — dragging a book-laden satchel behind her — and Imogen, who leaned against the doorframe like she owned the building.

Aeliana's eyes flicked to Imogen for a second too long.

Imogen's gaze was unreadable. Not hostile. Not warm. Just... watching.

Aeliana gave a slow nod, unsure what to make of it.

"You ready?" Liam asked, already stepping into the room and walking toward her.

Aeliana grabbed her jacket off the nearby bench and pulled it on. "Yeah. Let's go."

Violet gave her a quick nod as she passed, and Imogen's gaze lingered a second longer before she followed the other woman out, boots echoing in the hallway.

Aeliana exhaled and glanced at Liam.

He raised a brow. "You okay?"

She nodded tightly. "I will be."

The two of them crossed the courtyard in silence, stepping out through the south gate and past the sloping tree line that bordered the training fields.

The sun was still high overhead, the late autumn air sharp with a hint of winter.

The wind teased her braid loose as they climbed toward the northern cliffs.

A familiar shape glinted ahead — blinding white against the deep blue of the sky.

Virvolior.

He was perched with regal stillness at the far edge of the auxiliary flight cliff, his wings tucked neatly along his back, eyes tracking them even as they approached. He looked carved from cloudlight and starlight — otherworldly, ancient.

But he wasn't alone.

Deigh stood nearby — Liam's red Daggertail — tail curled around his feet like a waiting cat, wings partially extended in the sun.

Aeliana frowned slightly. I thought it was just us.

I invited him, Virvolior said in her mind, calm and unapologetic. You'll learn faster if you see what it's supposed to look like.

Aeliana blinked. You're... playing teacher now?

Would you prefer the shouting squadleader? Or the cryptic professor who assigns impossible drills and watches you flail?

She rolled her eyes, but her lips twitched with reluctant amusement.

Then she glanced at Liam.

He wasn't moving.

His gaze was locked on Virvolior — not just watching, but staring, like he was trying to reconcile what stood before him with something from memory.

His brows furrowed, the corner of his mouth parting slightly. "Wait..."

He took a slow step forward, head tilting the slightest bit as sunlight caught the shimmer of Virvolior's coat — that unearthly white-gold sheen that almost blurred the edges of his form.

"I've seen that in a textbook," Liam muttered. "No—Kaori. That lesson, before Threshing." His voice had dropped, almost to a whisper. "The myth of the Valaari."

Aeliana gave a slow nod, her expression unreadable.

Liam's eyes widened. "You bonded a Valaari."

It wasn't a question.

A breath escaped him — somewhere between awe and disbelief. "Holy shit."

Language, Virvolior said dryly in Aeliana's mind. Then louder, as if Liam could somehow hear him: Is he going to stand there gawking, or are we going to begin?

Aeliana's lips twitched again. "He says we should get on with it."

Liam blinked, then let out a short laugh — the kind that carried both nerves and wonder. "Right. Of course he does."

He turned toward Deigh, giving his own dragon a quick gesture.

"Okay," he said, voice a little steadier now. "Let's see what Kaori gave you."

Aeliana glanced up at the wide stretch of sky beyond the cliff's edge. The breeze stirred loose strands of hair around her face.

"He said: 'Hover holds, shallow spirals, diving pulls. Learn your dragon's movement pattern — and learn how to move with it.'"

Liam nodded. "Alright. Let's do it. Start with a hover."

Virvolior lowered his wing, and Aeliana climbed up the familiar ridged side of his shoulder with practiced caution. The harness clicked into place, snug beneath her ribs. As soon as she gave the nod, Virvolior launched into the sky.

The air tore past her face in a rush of wind and exhilaration.

But this time, it wasn't uncontrolled.

She remembered Kaori's instructions — knees braced tighter against the saddle brace, lean with the wingbeat, keep your center of gravity neutral.

Liam and Deigh soared up beside them with terrifying ease. Where Virvolior was smooth and near-silent in the air, Deigh's wings snapped loudly against the sky, like a storm approaching.

You're leaning too far forward, Virvolior said, not unkindly. Trust me. I will catch you if you fall.

"Comforting," she muttered, adjusting her seat and posture.

"Loosen your shoulders," Liam called from Deigh's back. "You're trying to control every move. Let him lead."

She tried.

The hover hold wavered — the first few seconds were a bit jerky — but Virvolior adjusted seamlessly beneath her, catching her overcorrections like it was nothing.

They practiced the maneuver three times, Liam giving steady instructions from beside her.

By the time she moved into a shallow spiral — the next part of Kaori's assignment — she was already panting, sweat beading at the back of her neck.

Liam flew ahead on Deigh, demonstrating the banking turn, his dragon sweeping outward in a tight arc.

"Let your outside leg take the weight!" he called back.

Aeliana mimicked the move, knees shifting to compensate.

Virvolior twisted like silk through the sky, smooth and powerful. She followed Liam's lead — tighter this time, less overcorrection.

Better, Virvolior said, though I'd prefer it if you didn't grind your heel into my neck when you panic.

That's not panicking, she thought. It's instinct.

It's annoying.

She huffed a breath and leaned into the next turn.

Deigh and Virvolior flew one pass together — two dragons arcing high above the forest — and Aeliana couldn't help but marvel at how different they looked side by side. Fire and frost. Muscle and shadow. A contrast she hadn't known she needed.

They practiced for over an hour.

By the time Liam called the session to an end, Aeliana's muscles ached in places she didn't know could ache. But she'd managed to hold a hover for more than twenty seconds, completed three clean spirals, and — for the first time — didn't feel like she was flailing every time she moved.

As they touched down gently on the edge of the cliff, she slid from Virvolior's back and landed softly on the grass, breath catching in her chest.

Liam dismounted beside her and grinned.

"See?" he said. "Told you I could help."

Aeliana let out a shaky breath, then smiled back. "Okay. That was actually... helpful."

Progress, Virvolior intoned, curling his wings. Imagine that.

The walk back from the cliffs was quiet for a while — the good kind of quiet.

Aeliana walked beside him, a little slower than usual, her shoulders stiff and her braid windswept.

The flight session had clearly wrung her out, but there was something lighter in her expression.

Not smiling exactly — she didn't do that often — but she looked.

.. less guarded. Less like she was bracing for the next hit.

She'd done well.

More than well, honestly.

Liam kept his hands tucked in his jacket pockets, glancing sideways at her every so often. The sun had dipped low enough to cast everything in that dusky, copper light that made the stone glow and the air feel heavier with approaching cold.

"You're quiet," he said eventually, nudging her with his elbow.

Aeliana gave him a sideways look. "I just flew drills with a dragon the size of a cathedral. I'm allowed to be quiet."

He chuckled. "Fair."

They passed the arch leading into the inner courtyard, and Liam saw a few familiar faces gathering by the edge of the mess hall — Ridoc, Sawyer, Nyra, and a couple of second-years from their squad.

Ridoc had a deck of cards in one hand and was already doing that thing where he talked too loud and pretended not to care who heard him.

Liam looked back at Aeliana.

She was watching the ground now, satchel bouncing against her hip with each step.

He cleared his throat. "Hey, uh... my squad's meeting up after dinner. Nothing major. Just cards. Someone found a bottle of contraband elderflower mead, and Ridoc's been insufferable about it ever since."

Aeliana raised a brow. "And this involves me how?"

Liam shrugged, trying for casual. "Thought you might want to join. Relax. Be around people who don't glare at you during every meal."

That earned him a flicker of amusement — fleeting, but it was there.

"I don't know," she said, glancing up at the darkening sky. "Varrin might materialize out of a shadow and drag me to extra drills."

Liam smirked. "I'll protect you."

"From my squadleader?"

"From everyone," he said, tone easy. But he meant it.

A beat passed.

Then Aeliana exhaled, just barely. "Alright. Cards, contraband, and questionable company. How can I resist?"

Liam grinned and bumped his shoulder against hers. "Atta girl."

They turned the final corner toward the barracks, boots crunching lightly over the gravel path. He didn't say it aloud — didn't need to — but something about having her there, willingly, felt like a small win.

For her.

For them.

Maybe even for the world, if it got lucky.

~

Aeliana stood outside Ridoc's door for a full three seconds before knocking.

It was louder inside than she'd expected. Muffled laughter bled through the stone.

She raised her hand — hesitated — then knocked twice.

The door was yanked open almost immediately.

"There she is!" Ridoc grinned, already holding a half-full tin cup in one hand. His hair was a mess, his shirt untucked, and from the look of him, he'd already lost at least one round. "Late, but acceptable."

"I had dinner with my squad," she said flatly, stepping inside.

"Tragic," Ridoc muttered, then raised his voice. "Oi, Liam! She survived."

The room wasn't large, but it had been thoroughly converted for the evening.

Blankets and extra pillows had been thrown across the floor to make a messy sort of circle.

A small stack of chairs had been pushed into the corner, and in the center, a wide blanket served as a makeshift table.

Cards were spread out already, and from the pile of copper pieces and buttons being used as makeshift bets, the stakes were appropriately low.

Liam looked up from where he was sitting cross-legged near the back wall, his mouth twitching into that familiar, boyish grin. "You made it."

She shrugged out of her jacket. "Barely."

"Rough dinner?"

"Let's just say no one laughed." She dropped onto one of the cushions beside the wall and tucked her legs beneath her, the familiar ache of flight and training still lingering in her muscles. "What are we playing?"

"Bastard's Bluff," said Sawyer, passing her a hand of cards. "We've already established Ridoc's terrible at it."

Ridoc held up a finger. "I am strategic. Not terrible."

"You folded on a winning hand," Rhiannon called from her corner. "Twice."

"I was creating a bluff aura!"

Aeliana raised an eyebrow. "Is that an actual strategy or just your excuse for being bad at lying?"

Sawyer snorted. "He doesn't lie. He overcommits."

"I feel attacked," Ridoc muttered, and refilled his cup from a small bottle tucked behind him. "Right. Now that everyone is here—"

A collective groan went up as he attempted a toast, and Rhiannon chucked a pillow at him.

Aeliana couldn't help it — she laughed.

It surprised her, how easily it came. How natural it felt.

They dealt her in for the next round, and the rules were quickly explained between jabs and jokes. It wasn't a complicated game — build your hand, bluff your bets, try not to get called out. A game of faces and instinct, of knowing who would fold and who would raise you just to see you squirm.

And as it turned out, Aeliana was very good at bluffing.

Violet was the first to notice.

"You've got the same expression whether you're holding trash or a winning hand," she said after the fourth round. "That's terrifying."

"Maybe you're just bad at reading people," she offered sweetly.

Ridoc let out a sharp bark of laughter. "Oh, she's staying forever."

By the sixth round, there were arguments, alliances, and blatant attempts at sabotage.

Rhiannon stole a button from Ridoc's bet pile and insisted it had always been hers.

Liam kept nudging the corner of Aeliana's cards with his foot, grinning like a menace when she flicked him in the shin in retaliation.

The fire in the small hearth crackled low, casting everything in flickering amber light. The rune music had shifted into something softer, barely noticeable beneath the rising tide of laughter and good-natured bickering.

It wasn't anything big.

No grand event. No secret plan or dangerous mission.

Just a group of cadets — some tired, some bruised, all a little too young for the things they'd already seen — sitting on a floor and pretending, just for a while, that they were normal.

Aeliana leaned back against the wall, her cards fanned lazily in one hand, and watched the game unfold.

Sawyer elbowed Liam. "You gonna call her bluff, or what?"

Liam eyed Aeliana, then her pile of fake coins, then her face.

She stared right back, expression blank.

He sighed. "Gods, you're terrifying."

"Still calling?"

"...No."

She flipped her hand.

A straight.

Groans erupted around the circle, and Liam leaned back with a low whistle. "I'm starting to see why that dragon of yours picked you."

Aeliana blinked. "Because I can win a card game?"

"Because you don't flinch," Liam said simply. Then he grinned. "And because you're obviously a little bit scary."

Ridoc raised his cup in salute. "To scary girls and their terrifying dragons."

They clinked cups. Laughed.

Ridoc leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. "Speaking of terrifying dragons—what color is he actually?"

Sawyer glanced up from the cards. "Yeah. I mean—we saw him land, but it was dark as hell."

"And fast," Rhiannon added. "I got maybe half a look before I decided I valued my life."

Liam huffed a quiet laugh. "You saw enough."

Ridoc pointed at him. "Not helpful. Was he silver? Pale? I swear he looked like he was glowing."

Aeliana shifted her cards, buying herself a second. "He's... hard to miss."

"That's not an answer," Sawyer said.

Liam leaned forward slightly, voice lower now. "He's white."

That stilled the table for half a beat.

"White?" Ridoc repeated.

"As in white-white?" Rhiannon asked. "Not pale. Not grey. Actually white?"

Liam met her eyes. "Like starfire. Or lightning caught mid-flash."

A quiet whistle slipped from Sawyer. "That's... not normal."

"No," Ridoc said slowly. "No, it's really not."

Aeliana smirked faintly, though her grip on her cards tightened just a fraction. "He's also ancient and smug and thinks I ask too many questions."

"That tracks," Sawyer said.

"He talks like he's been around since the First Six," she added. "And complains when I shift too much in the saddle."

"Of course he does," Ridoc muttered. "Wouldn't want to inconvenience the terrifying sky god you bonded."

Rhiannon studied Aeliana for a moment longer, something sharper behind her curiosity now. "And your squadleader is just... fine with that?"

Aeliana huffed softly. "He's more concerned with me not falling off midair."

"Fair," Sawyer said.

"He says I don't have the fundamentals down yet," she went on. "Which—" she lifted a shoulder "—isn't wrong. I only started training properly last week."

"Varrin's a hardass," Rhiannon muttered.

"He doesn't like when people die under his watch," Aeliana said dryly. "Apparently that reflects badly on squad leadership."

"Good to know," Ridoc said. "I'll try to die on someone else's shift."

That earned a snort from Sawyer.

Then he tilted his head. "Still want to see him up close."

"You will," Aeliana said, a little quieter now. "Once I'm allowed to fly with the squad."

"We'll hold Varrin to it," Rhiannon said.

"Yeah," Sawyer grinned. "Can't be worse than watching Ridoc try to land in crosswinds."

"I nailed that landing," Ridoc protested.

"You rolled into a bush."

"A very strategic bush."

Aeliana laughed again, the sound slipping free before she could stop it. And when the next hand was dealt, her smile lingered—soft and real.

~

Her room was silent, save for the occasional rustle of paper as Aeliana turned another page.

The book Jesinia had lent her — a faded volume on Aretian myths — lay open across her lap, its cracked spine and ink-blotted pages whispering of stories almost too old to be remembered.

She traced a passage absently with her finger, something about moon-bound guardians, about dragons that vanished into mist and shadow and memory.

Her brow furrowed.

No confirmed sightings in centuries.

No living riders known to exist.

She closed the book slowly, the weight of it sinking into her thighs. Her room was dim, lit only by the low-glowing wall lamp and the faint blue hush of moonlight through the windows.

Then she felt it — a familiar ripple across her consciousness.

Come.

The word was soft in her mind, but unmistakable.

She didn't question it.

Within minutes, Aeliana was outside, coat thrown over her flight leathers, boots soft against the stone paths as she followed the quiet tug of Virvolior's call.

The night air bit gently at her skin, wind brushing through the trees as she moved past the edge of the training grounds, toward the far cliffs.

But he didn't lead her toward the main flight field. He didn't even lead her toward the northern peak where they trained.

He pulled her east — toward the jagged ridge beyond the perimeter walls.

It took longer than she expected. The terrain grew rockier, less shaped by cadet footsteps. But her path never wavered — Virvolior's presence guided her like starlight threading between trees.

Eventually, the woods opened.

A narrow path split through a grove of ghost-pale trees, their leaves shimmering silver in the moonlight. And there, on a cliff ledge tucked between two outcroppings of stone, stood three dragons.

Three.

She froze.

Virvolior turned his head toward her first — his white scales glowing almost faintly blue beneath the moon. But next to him—

One dragon stood taller, leaner, with wings longer and more blade-like than his. His horns curled back in symmetrical spirals, like twin crowns of pearl. Along his shoulders, streaks of pale lavender shimmered faintly — like the reflection of moonlight on water.

The other was stockier, broader through the chest and neck. Her scales were matte rather than shining, absorbing moonlight instead of reflecting it. Etched across her wings were faint gold veining patterns — delicate, almost like cracks in porcelain.

Aeliana's breath caught in her throat.

Giollis, Virvolior said simply, inclining his head toward the taller male.

Daennia, he added, gesturing to the broader female.

She took a slow step forward. Then another.

None of them moved.

Daennia's wings shifted, casting long shadows across the clearing. The gold veining shimmered in the light.

You still look the same, she said after a moment, her voice a low, contemplative murmur. Just a little older now.

Aeliana blinked. What?

Giollis tilted his long head. You don't remember?

Her brow furrowed. Remember what?

Neither answered right away.

Then Giollis stepped forward. Slowly. Gently. He lowered his head until his muzzle hovered just inches in front of her.

May I? he asked.

Aeliana hesitated, her breath catching — then nodded.

She lifted her hand, hovering it uncertainly... and then pressed her palm to the ridge just above his eyes.

The world dissolved.

She was small.

So small.

She could feel it in her bones — the ache of growing too fast, of being too hungry, too scared. The wind bit at her cheeks, the snow clinging to her torn clothes. She stumbled through the frost-laced woods, arms scraped, face bruised, something warm and awful pulsing beneath her ribs.

She was dying.

She knew it.

Then — light.

Three soft glows, bobbing through the trees. Not white exactly. Gold. Soft. Gentle.

She followed.

One step.

Then another.

She fell, crawling. The snow soaked through her knees, her hands. But the lights waited. They didn't leave her behind.

They surrounded her.

One pressed close, warmth radiating from a massive scaled flank. Another curved its wing around her broken form, shielding her from the wind. The third let out a low rumble — not threatening, but soothing. Like a lullaby carved from mountains.

And in that moment — she wasn't afraid anymore.

The cold faded.

Everything did.

Aeliana gasped as the memory shattered, ripped back into the present like waking from a plunge into ice water. Her knees nearly buckled, but she caught herself, staggering back a step as her heart pounded.

She looked at them — really looked at them.

"You..." Her voice trembled. "You saved me. That night."

Giollis inclined his head solemnly.

Daennia's eyes softened. We found you where the trees broke. You couldn't even stand.

"Why?" she asked. "Why would you help me? I was no one. I was..." Her voice broke off. "I didn't deserve that."

Virvolior — silent until now — stepped forward. We saw what they did to you.

His voice wasn't pitying.

It was steel.

And we do not leave our own behind.

Aeliana's throat closed.

Giollis added, You followed us. Even when you could barely breathe. That was enough.

Daennia nodded. We made our choice that night. The world just had to catch up.

Aeliana exhaled a long, shaky breath.

Then — slowly — she turned her back to them, something burning beneath her skin.

A moment later, heat seared across her spine. Her body jolted, but she didn't move — didn't scream. It wasn't pain. Not exactly.

It was memory.

It was bond.

It was permanence.

As the heat faded, she dropped to her knees in the snow, breath ragged and uneven.

Three.

She felt it — the thrum of connection, the living cords that tethered her to them like stars in a constellation. Not one. Not two.

Three.

And somehow... she felt whole.

Not stronger. Not braver.

Just complete — like something inside her had always been fractured, unspoken, unacknowledged. Like there had always been missing pieces... and now, finally, they had come home.

The silence in the glade was sacred. Soft. Full.

And Aeliana let herself breathe in it — just breathe — with the knowledge that she no longer had to wonder where she belonged.

She already did.