Fuck, I’ve tried to keep my distance.
I’ve told myself it’s in her best interest—that she’s already carrying more than anyone ever should, and the last thing she needs isme.
That I should draw a line and hold it.
For her. For the realm.
For everything I can’t say.
Because there are things she doesn’t know—things I’ve buried so deep I barely let myself look at them. Truths that would changeeverythingif they came to light.
So I held back.
Until I couldn’t.
Because no matter how many steps I take away from her, I still end up here. Drawn in. Undone by something I was never supposed to want.
I keep telling myself to stay away. But that voice gets quieter every day.
He leans in. Says something I can’t hear.
And then—hekissesher. Just the cheek. Quick, but confident. Like she’s already his.
My jaw tightens. Fingers flex on the reins. I don’t move. Don’t speak. But a heat blazes in my chest like wildfire.
Amara turns slightly and sees me.
I hold her gaze. That’s all I give her.
All Icangive her.
Because if I go to her now, I don’t trust myself to keep it light. And this day can’t be about me.
It’s about her. Her dragon. What comes next.
Lyra leans in to whisper something. Amara doesn’t laugh this time. Just presses her lips together and shakes her head.
Good. Let her feel it.
Because I amnotamused.
VELKAR’S DESCENT
EIGHTEEN
We do not command dragons, just as we do not command the elemental magics. We listen. And in that listening lies our greatest strength—an understanding born not of dominance, but of harmony. The more we listen, the more we discover the path forward is not one of force, but of trust. And in that trust, we rise.
—VALEN’S JOURNAL
AMARA
The morning stretches wide before us, the mountains unfolding like ancient sentinels, their jagged peaks dusted with the faint remnants of snow. The air is crisp from the altitude, rich with the scent of earth and pine.
We move at a steady pace, the horses picking their way over uneven terrain, their hooves muffled by dirt and loose gravel. We’ve been riding for hours. No one talks. The weight of what’s coming rides the silence between us.
The terrain shifts as we climb, the green of the valley fading into rockier ground, patches of wild mountain heather clinging to cracks in the stone. The trees grow sparser, twisted by the wind, their branches stretching like bony fingers against the sky.
Velkar’s Descent is a place of legend.
