Floating in the air before the dragons were a dozen tiny, winged creatures, flitting back and forth like sparks caught in a sea breeze. Their bodies shimmered with a bioluminescence—delicate, playful, utterly magical. The dragons tracked their motions with interest, swatting lazily at the air or snorting clouds of smoke when one darted too close to their noses.
“What are those?” I asked, blinking at the strange little things.
Dormeal smiled, the lines around his lavender eyes deepening. “They are called Celari. Faelight spirits. Curious and harmless. Their magic excites draconic senses and soothes the mind. Your dragons are... clearly entertained.”
Kaelith blew a ring of smoke that drifted after one of the Celari like a lazy predator, though I caught the amused flick of her tail as it wrapped around Hein’s.
“I’ve never seen them so content,” Zander murmured beside me, watching Hein nuzzle against Kaelith’s side.
“Good,” Dormeal said simply. “They may stay here. This is sacred ground for them as well.”
He turned and led us down a stone path that veered inland and up a slope toward a large hut woven from silvery reeds and sun-bleached driftwood. Its roof was thatched with broad, shimmering leaves, and runes glowed along the arch of the doorway.
Inside, the air was warm and dry. A fire crackled softly in the center, though no smoke escaped into the room. Beds were arranged in a semi-circle, made of plush woven mats and sea-fern blankets.
Zander looked around. “This is... peaceful.”
I turned to Dormeal. “Are our friends safe down on the beach?”
“They will barely notice you’ve left,” he said. “Time bends in the Fae Sanctuary. Minutes pass like hours beyond the barrier, but here, all is still. All is protected.”
He gave a small bow and stepped outside, the woven door falling quietly shut behind him.
Zander let out a measured breath and collapsed onto one of the beds, dragging a hand down his face.
I wasn’t sure whether sleep would come easily.
But at least, for tonight, we were safe.
We lounged on the thick sea-fern mats, our bodies stretched across the plush, rune-woven bedding. The fire in the center crackled with silver-blue flames, and the soft scent of salt and lavender filled the hut.
“I still don’t understand how this place has remained hidden all this time,” Cordelle said, propping himself on one elbow. “The Blood Fae are right outside.”
“Wards,” Riven muttered. She lay on her back, tossing a small glowing pebble into the air. “And enough fae magic to blind the gods.”
“It’s not just hidden,” Naia added, from her spot near the fire. “It’s preserved. Like it never fell with the rest of the isle.”
There was a knock, soft but deliberate, at the woven door. Dormeal entered, carrying a curved tray made from polished shell. Upon it were shallow bowls filled with something that shimmered like dew-drenched fruit and another platter of thin, warm flatbread wrapped around a steaming, savory filling.
He placed the food gently on the center stones. “Eat. You’ll find it sustaining. Grown and harvested here, infused with sanctuary magic.”
The moment he left, the smell hit—sweet and spiced, with a floral edge.
I tore into the bread first. “Oh gods…”
Zander chuckled, biting into his own. “Okay, I’ll bite.”
The flavors exploded. Honeyed root with firefruit glaze and something akin to peppered meat, but far richer. I didn’t even want to ask what creature it had come from. My body warmed with every bite, not just from the heat, but from some deep, glowing satisfaction that reached the core of me.
The bowl held slices of something translucent and melon-like, but when I popped one in my mouth, it crackled with cold and fizzed like starlight against my tongue.
Riven groaned. “If I die tonight, just know I was happy.”
Zander shifted closer to me, his thigh brushing mine, and my breath caught. The warmth of him wasn’t just physical. I could feel it—his magic pulsing beneath his skin like a second heartbeat.
Stormlight and Dark Fire. Always dancing between us.
“You’re still burning,” I murmured, setting my bowl down.
