Eerie’s response is a complex series of sounds that seem to paint pictures in the air. The young rider frowns, clearly struggling with the translation.
“Seventeen? No, seventy... he’s trying to show me numbers but we don’t have enough shared vocabulary for this.”
I turn to Cai, studying the careful neutrality of his expression. He’s learned to hide his thoughts well, but I can read the uncertainty in the set of his shoulders. “Do you have the authority to order such a coordinated effort?”
Cai’s frown deepens, and I see echoes of the young man who once made impossible choices for love. The weight of leadership doesn’t sit easily on him, especially when it requires asking others to risk everything.
“I’m working on it. I’ve only just won back the trust of my people after...” He trails off, but I know what he’s not saying. After choosing love over duty. After letting the world face the fey invasion rather than sacrifice his beloved. After proving that sometimes personal happiness matters more than prophecy.
His gaze shifts to Kirby, and the look that passes between them is so intimate I feel like an intruder witnessing it. There’s an entire conversation in that glance, years of understanding and acceptance and absolute devotion. Kirby’s hand finds Cai’s, their fingers intertwining with the easy comfort of long partnership. Even now, when discussing matters of such grave importance, they strengthen each other.
The prophecy rings in my memory, clear as the day I first heard it spoken. Kill the red-haired mage for the power to seal all portals forever. Stop the fey invasion before it begins. Save Earth through death. The prophecy thatcould have prevented everything, if only Cai had been willing to sacrifice the man he loved.
Cai looks at Kirby with such soft devotion that it makes my chest ache. There’s no remorse in his expression, no shadow of what-if or if-only. Just pure, uncomplicated love.
“I don’t regret a thing.”
The words are quiet, but they carry the weight of absolute certainty. This man would let worlds burn before harming the person he loves. There’s something both beautiful and terrifying about that level of devotion.
I find myself staring at them, trying to understand what that kind of love must feel like. To be so cherished that someone would sacrifice everything, face any consequence, choose you over duty and honour and the fate of worlds. What would it be like to inspire that kind of devotion? To matter so much to another person that their entire moral universe reorganises itself around your wellbeing?
My gaze drifts to Jack almost without conscious thought. He’s listening intently to the translation, his brow furrowed as he tries to follow the complex magical theory. There’s something endearing about his concentration, the way he leans forward slightly when trying to understand something new. The morning light from the high windows catches the gold in his hair, and I remember the way he held me when I confessed about the poisoning. The fury in his voice when he learned about the wedding morrow healers. The promises he made with such fierce conviction.
I’ll keep you safe. Whatever it takes, wherever we have to go. I’ll protect you.
The words echo in my memory with crystal clarity. He’d said them like an oath, like a sacred vow that nothing could break. And in that moment, with my secrets spilled between us and my worst fears laid bare, I’d almost believed him.
Oh sweet goddess, do I want to believe those words. Want to trust that this gentle, honest man could truly choose me over everything else. The wanting is so intense it’s almost frightening, like standing at the edge of a precipice and fighting the urge to jump. What would happen if I let myself fall? What would happen if I trusted completely, loved without reservation, allowed myself to believe I could matter to someone?
The young rider’s frustrated sigh draws my attention back to the conversation. “This isn’t working. We haven’t worked out enough shared words to explain complex magic theory properly. Eerie wants to take to the sky to show you rather than tell you.”
Harlen’s grin is immediate and infectious. “Zh and I can take you up. Been too long since we had passengers.”
“I am honoured by the offer to ride a dragon,” I say formally, allowing courtly training to shape my words, “but there is no need.”
Without further preamble, I let the shift take me. The familiar sensation of bones reshaping, magic flowing through every cell as I trade my humanoid form for something altogether more practical. The transformation is always strange, like stepping out of clothes that never quite fit properly and into something that feels like home. My perspective shifts, colours becoming richer and more nuanced, my vision sharpening to see details that my humanoid eyes would miss.
When the transformation completes, I perch on the stone table as a raven, wings spread for balance. My talons find purchase on the ancient stone, and I can feel the vibrations of everyone’s heartbeats through the rock.
Jack’s sharp intake of breath makes me preen slightly. When I look at him with my corvid vision, his expression is pure wonder. Impressed and awestruck and something else that sends warmth through my feathered chest. He’s looking at me like I’m something magnificent rather than something to be feared, and the admiration in his eyes is intoxicating.
I’ve shifted forms countless times, for convenience and necessity. But I’ve never had someone look at my raven shape with such genuine delight. I assumed humans would find the transformation unsettling, a reminder of how alien I really am. Jack just looks fascinated.
The relief is overwhelming. I realise now that my abrupt willingness to shift form in front of everyone was not as blase as I would like to think. My feelings for Jack were making me uncomfortable, so as usual I sought self-sabotage, latching on to an act to push him away.
I should have known that Jack is far too solid to push anywhere.
Harlen claps Jack on the back with enough force to make him stagger. “You wanna come? Taking to the skies will be the best way to see the anchor points properly.”
Jack blushes, that endearing flush that spreads up his neck and makes him look younger. “Ah, no reason for me to come, really. I don’t have a drop of magic.”
Harlen’s grin widens until it threatens to split his face. “Fun is a good enough reason!”
I tilt my raven head, studying Jack’s expression. There’s longing there, carefully hidden but visible to someone who’s learning to read him. He wants to go. Wants the adventure, the chance to fly on a dragon’s back, the opportunity to be part of something magical and impossible.
But he’s holding back. Probably convinced he’d be in the way, that his lack of magic makes him a burden rather than a welcome companion.
I hop closer to him on the table, fixing him with one dark eye. If I were in my humanoid form, I’d take his hand and tell him that he belongs wherever I am. That his presence makes everything better, magic or no magic.
