I hate public speaking. Always have. Give me a tactical problem to solve, a battle to fight, a crisis to navigate—fine. But standing in front of hundreds of people, being asked to inspire them with words?
Terrifying.
Through the bond, Zara sends me warmth. Confidence. The absolute certainty that I can do this. That we can do this.
I step forward, and she steps with me. Not following. Not leading. Beside me. Equal. Partner.
“Six months ago,” I begin, “I was drowning. Not in water—in grief. My sister died because our isolation prevented her from getting the medical treatment she needed. I was angry. Bitter. Convinced that opening up to surface-dwellers would only bring more pain.”
My eyes find Caspian in the crowd. He’s under guard but present, allowed to witness this moment as part of his sentence. His expression is complicated—regret, pride, sorrow all mixed together. We meet his gaze, and I nod slightly. Acknowledgment. Forgiveness. Recognition that his path and mine weren’t as different as I’d like to believe.
“Then Zara crashed into my life,” I continue. “Literally. I pulled her from the river, and the bond ignited. I could have let her drown. Should have, according to everything I’d been taught. But I didn’t. I chose to save her. And that choice saved me.”
ZARA
I take over, voice steady despite the emotions churning in my chest. “I came to the delta to prove I was more than my brother’s shadow. More than the ‘safe’ diplomat who never took risks. I wanted to negotiate peace with the Deep Runners, show everyone I was capable of handling difficult assignments.”
A few chuckles from the Storm Eagle contingent. Kael looks like he’s trying not to smile.
“I didn’t expect to fall in love,” I admit. “Didn’t expect to transform. Didn’t expect to have to merge my consciousness with another person to save thousands of lives. But when faced with those choices, I chose love. Chose change. Chose to become something new rather than stay safely what I was.”
I look at Torin. Find him looking back. The bond between us hums with shared affection, shared purpose.
“We’re not here to tell you integration is easy,” I say to the crowd. “It’s not. It’s hard. Terrifying. Requires sacrificing pieces of who you were to become who you need to be. But it’s also the only path forward. The only way any of us survive.”
TORIN
“The Deep Runners are officially joining the Integration Alliance,” I announce. “On our terms. As equals. With our identity intact. We’re not becoming surface-dwellers. We’re becoming partners. Allies. Part of something larger while remaining who we are.”
The High Elder raises her hands, and the water in the plaza responds. It rises in columns, forming intricate patterns, displaying hydrokinetic mastery that makes even the Alliance representatives gasp. Above, Storm Eagles answer with aerial displays, lightning dancing between their wingtips in controlled arcs.
Sky and water. Separate but coordinated. Different but cooperative.
The crowd erupts in applause—some enthusiastic, some reluctant, all acknowledging that this moment marks the end of isolation and the beginning of something unprecedented.
Speeches continue. Formal pledges are made. Treaties are signed. But Zara and I slip away during the celebrations that follow, needing a moment alone before the night swallows us back into our roles as symbols and ambassadors.
ZARA
We find a quiet alcove near the edge of the Citadel—a small platform that juts out over the subterranean lake, hidden from the main plaza by carefully placed rock formations. The water below glows with bioluminescence. Above, the opening to the surface shows stars beginning to emerge as day fades to evening.
Torin sits at the platform’s edge, legs dangling over the water. I settle beside him, leaning against his shoulder. Through the bond, I feel his exhaustion. Feel his relief that the ceremony is over. Feel his pride in what we’ve accomplished.
“Six months,” I murmur. “Feels like six years.”
“Or six days.” His arm wraps around my waist. “Time’s weird now. Everything that happened feels both immediate and ancient.”
He’s right. The Oubliette feels like it happened yesterday and a lifetime ago simultaneously. The merger is fresh in my memory but distant enough that I can almost convince myself it was a dream. Almost.
“Do you regret it?” I ask quietly. “Bonding with me? Becoming this?” I gesture at his scales, still marked with goldenlightning veins. At my wings, still storm-gray with iridescent blue.
TORIN
“Never.” The answer is immediate. Absolute. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me. This—” I touch the golden veins running through my scales. “—is proof I chose love over fear. Chose evolution over stagnation. Chose you.”
Through the bond, I feel her relief. She tries to hide it, but I know her too well now. Know she worries about the cost of what we’ve become. About whether I resent the transformation. About whether I wish I was still just a Deep Runner instead of something unprecedented.
“I love you,” I tell her. “I love who you are. I love who we’ve become. I love the future we’re building. I wouldn’t change any of it.”
