My past doesn’t ache any longer. No more tugging. No more whispers. No more fear of repeating it. There is only this. His strength braced around me, my hands in his hair, the way our breathing finds the same rhythm without effort.
When we finally separate, it isn’t because something interrupted us. It’s because we’ve said what needed saying. His eyes search mine, not for doubts but for alignment. I smile, small but real.
“I’m not afraid anymore,” I tell him.
His hand remains at my back.
“Neither am I,” he says.
And for the first time since Tajss tried to burn the sky out of me, I believe the future doesn’t have to be something I survive.
It can be something I step into. With him.
34
TALIA
Korr and I are summoned back to another meeting. This time the children come along with us. Rverre is humming as we follow our escort, which I hope is a good sign. Her connection to this planet is mystical and strange, but wholly undeniable.
When we enter the chamber it feels different. It’s not hostile, but also not welcoming. There’s a measured air, an underlying tension. My shoulders knot in anticipation. We need this to go well. I can’t help but think about all the survivors, human, Zmaj, and Urr’ki, that are counting on us.
The Zmaj do not perch along the walls as they did before. They stand. Wings folded, but not tight. Humans cluster nearer the center than they had yesterday, though they still keep to the shade lines carved by the broken ceiling above. The light slices the space into gold and shadow, and everyone has chosen their position carefully.
Korr stands beside me and that alone draws glances.
Virn steps forward first. Syin remains to his left. Adran stands among the humans, no longer acting as translator but as representative. The separation is deliberate.
“You have given us much to consider,” Virn begins. His voice carries easily through the fractured lobby. “Epis. Structural reinforcement. Fresh blood and an alliance with those who call themselves Urr’ki.”
A murmur moves through the room.
“You ask to bring more into our city,” Syin adds. “More humans. More mouths. More… history.”
He does not say more Urr’ki, but he doesn’t need to.
“We ask to survive,” I say, lifting my chin. “Separately, we will all fade. Together, we might not.”
One of the older Zmaj shifts, tail lashing once against stone.
“Might,” he repeats.
“Yes,” I say. “Nothing on Tajss is guaranteed.”
Virn studies me. “You speak as if this city is already yours.”
“It isn’t,” I answer evenly. “Not mine, but it could be ours.”
Syin’s golden eyes slide to Korr.
“And what of him?”
There it is. The room stills again.
“He claims to be First People,” Syin continues. “Driven beneath the skin of Tajss by our ancestors. Stories of such creatures exist in our oldest records.”
“Monsters,” another Zmaj mutters.
“Child-stealers,” someone else says.
