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ℝ𝕚𝕕𝕖 𝔻𝕠𝕨𝕟 [Becboc║Ryees]

 
Rising from the carcass, Gaelyn took a seat on the log lethargically and accepted the flat stone with a quiet, gracious nod. Sweet and savory was a good way to start a day, and for a few minutes of quiet peace, he was able to slip the events of the previous days out of his memory and exist in a moment that did not try to kill him. He found his mind wandering to Ivy, instead, and kept those thoughts private for the moment. The act of pushing those ideas behind his own personal veil recalled to mind the training exercise that was ahead of them that day.

Gaelyn had already seen more than Ivy likely suspected, when he had raked the intruder out of her head the first time. No doubt this exercise would reveal another layer to him, and some part of him, he realized, wanted that. He was beginning to grow curious what made her tick. The cold, snotty bitch that he had thought he knew at the Academy had long been replaced by a much more complex, nuanced human, whose tough outer shell was paper-thin and inflated by the heat thrown off by the roiling sea of emotions bubbling underneath. What first had presented as coldness was a defense; what had presented as irritable was sensitivity. Gaelyn had a better picture now, of what her life had looked like before she came to the Academy. And he could see why she would.

"Aye..." he answered her back. "It's about time we did, I think." He shucked the last mushroom off the stick and tossed it back into the fire, dusting his hands off and turning to face her. Waiting for her to set her plate aside, he regarded her seriously. "You don't have to tell me what it is, but do you have your focus picked out?"

“Mmh,” she replied through her final mouthful, before shuffling her plate off onto the tree trunk. “I do, but I’ll keep it to myself for now. Give you more incentive to try and figure it out.” She rose her eyebrows in Gaelyn’s direction, but there was an underlying twitchiness about her as she turned slightly to face him. “So… where do you wanna do this?”

Crouching before her, he spread his hands. "Right here," he said simply. "I've heard of entire battlegrounds in the minds at a dinner party, wars fought with every combatant in their beds. Unlike physical combat, mental combat can happen anywhere, any time."

“I guess that much, I should already know,” Ivy said quietly, taking a deep breath and then meeting Gaelyn’s gaze. She searched him for a moment before she spoke again. “Alright. I’m ready. Though if you’re thinking about starting an actual war in my head, I should warn you that now might not be the best time. Just sayin’.”

Gaelyn held her gaze for a moment longer than necessary. Then he reached out, not with his hands, but with the practiced sweep of his thoughts, a pressure that didn’t press on her skin but moved like heat rising off stone. It was subtle at first, no shout of power, no crackling aura, just a tension in the air like the hush before lightning splits a mountaintop.

“Alright,” he said quietly. “Don’t brace everything at once. Just focus on the surface. Keep your mind clear, steady. Hold your anchor, and keep that memory in front.” A breath, and then, “I’m coming in.”

The world didn’t change all at once. The fire still crackled, the dirt still pressed under his legs. But his awareness dipped below, like slipping a hand beneath the surface of still water, and Ivy was there, not just as a presence across from him, but as a constellation of thought and reaction. Her surface was drawn up, cautious but tentative. A first attempt. She was holding something close, just under the surface. A memory or image wrapped around her like a scarf, something warm and protective.

He didn’t try to guess. He wasn’t there yet. Instead, he gathered his will, not brute force, but focused pressure, and reached toward her with the gentlest application of power. A probing brush, like a fingertip testing glass for cracks. Ivy’s outer layer held. For a moment, it held.

Then he gave a simple push, and something shifted. She faltered. Just a flicker of uncertainty, the thought behind the anchor wobbling like a coin spun too slow. And in that slip, he was through. He didn’t push far. The second layer rippled into view, unbidden, as he crossed the threshold: the smell of chalk dust. Cool stone beneath bare feet. Rows of empty chairs. Ivy’s sanctuary, cracked open just wide enough to show a glimpse of it abandoned. A classroom, quiet and still and hollowed by grief. He guess that this was most likely not the anchor she’d chosen.

Gaelyn stopped short. The breach was enough. He pulled back like a hand from a hot stove, withdrawing with more care than force, sealing the layer behind him as he returned to himself. Reality reasserted itself in slow gradients. Birds chirped in the trees. Kisa shifted slightly by the fire. The warmth of sun against his neck became distinct again from the mental warmth of Ivy’s thoughts. Gaelyn opened his eyes.

“You lost your grip,” he said, not unkindly. “Not on the barrier, but on the memory holding it up.” His voice was calm, neutral, a soldier giving field notes. But there was a faint crease between his brows. “I didn’t go deep. Just far enough to see you let it slip.” He didn’t describe what he saw. She’d know. And if she didn’t… well, they’d talk about it in time.

He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “Try again. Stronger this time. Wrap it tighter. I’m going to press a little harder.”​
 
As soon as she felt Gaelyn, like a gentle breeze sweeping across her surface, she tensed both mentally and physically. The sensation was nothing like that of the attack but it was the first time that her mind had been touched since then and everything still felt rather… sensitive.

His steady voice however, and the gentleness of his encouragement was what eventually coaxed her into settling, slowly but surely, as she closed her eyes and tried to relax her shoulders… and finally brought her anchor into her mind.

The archives were cool and dark, made of the comfort of shadows and ancient stories long since forgotten. Ivy had always held a fascination for books and their tales, whether it was born of escapism or simple curiosity, a need to know more of the world, both past and present. At first she had escaped to her father's library, to sit and ready companionably with him, side by side, and even in solitude once he had left her. It became a hiding place from disappointment, from her mother, and she supposed she had never truly lost the need for that comfort, even at school.

In the physical world Ivy inhaled deeply, but in her mind she could scent dust and musty pages. She could hear the echoes of her footsteps, from feet planted firmly upon the stone ground beneath, and the odd thump of a book someone retrieved from a shelf too high for them.

She felt… at home. Like she belonged.

Until a pulse rippled the candelabras above her head. The tremor was small at first, like a barely registered earthquake and Ivy held fast, turning to a bookcase beside her and looking for something to focus on, a title she could bury her nose in and use to strengthen the walls of her protection.

But then came the next, harder this time, enough to flicker the candles and dislodge dust from the ceiling. Ivy's heart began to pound as cracks from the impact began in the walls that encased the books, slow at first, like lines of burning lava trickling down the edges of ridged volcano.

It didn't take long however, flr them to reach the top of the room, for them to crack open like one might peel away the layers of a fruit; Ivy couldn't defend herself against this, not when she felt fear and panic and deja vu begin to flood her mind.

Someone was here. She was not alone. She was supposed to be alone in the empty classroom, the one with the chalkboard and too many chairs. Too many chairs for just she and him, a space designed for learning, for lectures and intelligence that he had gifted her with so readily. This was her safe space, this the one part of her that remained untouched by anyone but him… until now.

Everything began to fall away before Ivy had a chance to react, like a gift being gently prized from her gripping hands. She surfaced like she was slipping through troubled waters, feeling first the warmth from the morning sun, hearing next the swish of leaves, seeing Kisa's familiar, shimmering scales…

As soon as she realised where she was and what had happened, Ivy was stumbling from the trunk like a cat who'd just felt the first signs of rain. She didn't hear Gaelyn's words, didn't want to as she rounded on him, fury glimmering in her eyes and flushing her cheeks, her plate from earlier sliding to the ground with an unceremonious clatter.

"What… the hell was that?!" She demanded of him, her breaths coming too quickly. "We didn't agree to go that deep, I didn't give you permission to see—"

Ivy's voice wobbled and for a moment, her mask of attitude slipped just a little to reveal the hurt, the fear fuelling her words before she forced it back into place.

"You went too far, Gaelyn. That place, it's not…" She shook her head, "Just stay out of it, okay? It's off limits. Even to you."
 
 
Gaelyn didn't flinch. He stayed where he was, seated, elbows resting loosely on his knees, the ash-washed remains of their breakfast cooling between them. Ivy's voice hit like a gust—raw, sharp, full of hurt and accusation—and for one quiet second, he let it echo. Not because he agreed, but because she needed to say it. Then, calmly, he answered her. "No."

He didn't raise his voice and eh didn't harden it. Hust offered the single syllable like a stone dropped in water, disrupting her fury without fighting it. "You were fine," he added. "You lost control for three seconds, and now you're angry because I saw something you weren't ready to show. That's the point of this."

Gaelyn rose with the slow steadiness of someone whose mind was already one step ahead of his body. He didn't come closer, didn't crowd her, but his presence, upright and centered, cast a longer shadow now in the light of the rising sun. "I'm not trying to root around in your past. It doesn't matter what I saw., it matters that I got in." He took one step back, not away from her, but into position. One boot scuffed across dirt and moss as he turned to face her fully. "You want to be ready next time? Then take a breath. And try again."

There was no space for argument in the words, only a moment's worth of mercy, maybe two, to let her recenter. Then, without fanfare or warning, Gaelyn punched back in.

And with no subtlety this time, no brushing wind or coaxing tide. The mental strike came sharp and narrow, like a thrown lance of pressure that hit the outer edge of her mind with a crack of pure intent. It was the exact shape of the attack that had almost claimed her above the tree line, a mirroring echo crafted not to harm but to force recognition. There was no anger behind it, no punishment. Just training. Real training.

The physical world shimmered around them again, trees smearing at the edges of vision like wet paint, colors bleeding as the world gave way to the borderlands of the mind. Gaelyn stood still in the clearing, his face unreadable, but his focus was absolute. This time, the attack didn't test the perimeter. It struck at it, and kept pressing.

The impact came like a pressure drop. Air thinned. Time warped. The mental landscape was forming again—or trying to—but the directness of the incursion made it harder to shape. If Ivy summoned her archives again, the stone might tremble beneath her feet. If she pulled up a shield, it would be tested the instant it rose. And behind the pressure, faint but real, was the sense of Gaelyn. His awareness, cool and focused, holding fast behind the spear of willpower.

The message wasn't subtle.

This is how they come for you.
So show me how you stop them.​
​
​
 
There was something incredibly infuriating about Gaelyn's calm in the face of her storm and Ivy could only stare at him, as if waiting for him to clap back. Instead, he gave her a simple, one word answer that boiled her blood more than anything else could have.

"No?" She repeated the word quietly and then added, in a tone that barely contained her outrage. "What do you mean… No?"

Watching when he rose, she felt her hands ball into her fists at her sides, her frustration ebbing and flowing with the weight of the breaths that flexed through her chest too quickly. Gaelyn was speaking sense, deep down a part of her knew that, but on the surface? Ivy was rattled; rattled by what he had seen, the part of her that no one saw. She wasn't ready, didn't know if she would ever be, not now, not ever.

Before she had a chance to protest again however, Gaelyn was upon her for a second time.

He only gave her a few seconds notice to find her feet, leaving her scrambling around in a panic that only increased in intensity when she felt it; the lash across her mind, the sensation of the physical world rippling, the intrusion. It was no way near what their enemy had inflicted upon her of course, but it was enough to simulate the gut wrenching, throat closing fear of knowing that someone was attempting to pry open her most vulnerable self.

Though knowing this time that someone was Gaelyn, was at least enough for her to rally herself, until Ivy's panic finally gave way to an emotion she was much, much more familiar with.

Fury, red hot and relentless began to pour through her as she once more planted her feet on the stone of the archives floor that she summoned beneath her, face on the outside and inside world set with grim determination. Tremors were already rumbling along the ceiling and Ivy imagined iron walls shooting up around the stone, reinforcing them until the amount of dust particles dislodged from the flickering lights were lessened.

It gave her time. A moment to breathe - but the pressure didn't let up. She could feel Gaelyn hovering behind her defences, prowling and looking for a way in, with only herself stood between him and the entry that he sought.

That was where she slipped again. Ivy could see the classroom, the chairs, the chalkboards, she could feel the door cracking open bit by bit as her panic started to rise; but then just as the opening became wide enough for someone to slip through? Just as she turned to see his silhouette against the light shining from inside?

Her internal world detonated.

What could only be described as an explosion of shadow and force contracted for a second and then another, before it pushed out with the kind of devastating blow that in the real world she envisioned flattening buildings. Ivy had planted a bomb in the middle of her mind and her own rage had been enough to trigger it. She gritted her teeth through the groan of effort that it took to push them both back out until finally, finally, the world became physical again and she stumbled backwards into it, branches and leaves snapping once more underfoot.

She and Gaelyn remained, facing one another like they had been when this had started, but Ivy did not look jubilant, or even smug in the aftermath of what could be considered an achievement. Instead she looked… cold, closed off, her chest rising and falling too quickly, her lips curling back so that she could growl the warning that left her lips before she even had a chance to breathe.

"I said…" She tried through her thinning pants. "Stay the fuck out of my head, Gaelyn."

And then before he could answer her she turned on her heel and began towards the trees, with no purpose or direction other than a need for space; her own message just as clear as his had been.

We’re done here.​
 
 
The forest held its breath after she left him. Gaelyn remained where she had stood, the branches still swaying from the echo of her departure. Her words, sharp and final, lingered in the air like the smoke curling off their morning fire. He didn't move at first. There was a time when he might've gone after her, might've tried to soothe things with some misplaced apology or tactical retreat, but that time had passed the moment she pushed him out on her own.

She hadn't failed. Not really. He sat with that a while, both to mull it over and give her the space she demanded. And when she returned, whenever it was—hours or minutes, with no words between them—he didn't mention what had happened. He simply nodded to her when she crossed back into the edge of camp and let the silence wrap them both like bark around a branch. That was enough, for now.


They left before the next dawn.

Kisa, having finished off what was left of her kill and burned the rest, padded silently behind them as they broke camp. The morning air tasted like flint and fog, cooler this far south, the ground growing firmer beneath their boots as the last fringes of the inner forest gave way to harder earth. She was quiet, but alert. Gaelyn noted her gaze sweep the sky more often now.

They avoided roads. Even if the Mirror wasn't still hunting for Lohia Kaarm survivors, Riders on dragonback were hard to miss. They only took to the skies when they could fly low over the tops of a patch of forest, more a long jump than a proper flight.

By the time Deyrnas Bend appeared in the valley below, the sun had risen enough to paint its upper tiers gold. The city's steep terraces stepped like great stone shelves down toward the edge of the strait. From above, its shape resembled a clamshell cracked open against the sea. Towering white walls wrapped around it like the edge of a cupped hand, tiered, defensive, and old. Two watchtowers framed a narrow port gate at the bottom level, near the docks. A fortified bridge crossed the river mouth to a low island, where smoke curled from a signal post and fishing lines glittered in the current.

Kisa hovered in wide circles before she descended toward the outer ring, choosing a rocky landing just outside the main gate. Her shimmer began even before her claws touched stone, the same ethereal ripple that passed over her form when she ǝƃɐ ɹǝɥ pǝssǝɹƃǝɹ shrunk her size down again. By the time she finished, she was small enough to perch on Gaelyn's shoulder again, though she settled instead against his back, tail curling loosely around the strap of his pack. He murmured something comforting to her, voice low, and then gestured toward the gate.

They entered as three: one man, one woman, and a glimmering serpent no larger than a hound. The guards at the first checkpoint didn't stop them. There was no need; one look was enough to know what they were. Their clothes were travel-worn but military-cut; their posture still bore the instinctive lines of formation training; and the dragon, no matter how small, was unmistakable.

But this time the stares weren't admiring. Eyes followed them, but not with reverence. Not with the usual awe-struck whispers or excited shouts of children calling out, "Rider!" from behind market stalls. These eyes narrowed, pulled back. Measured. Not all of them, not yet. But enough to set Gaelyn's teeth on edge. A fishmonger's hand slowed as it laid silverfin on crushed ice. A woman clutching herbs to her chest stepped sideways out of the lane as they passed. A boy who'd been throwing rocks at the edge of a fountain stopped mid-arc and didn't finish the toss. His father's hand came down on his shoulder before he could say anything.

Gaelyn noticed quietly, but smoothed his face to serenity. Kisa curled a little tighter against his shoulder, her nostrils flaring.

Even Ivy, he imagined, could feel it, how the air shifted when they walked by. Riders weren't a promise anymore. They were a question, a warning. The kind of omen that made dogs bark at dusk and locked doors creak open on moonless nights.

Gaelyn led them briskly down the switchback streets carved into the slope of Deyrnas Bend, looking for somewhere to rest, somewhere to eat, somewhere to disappear for a while without being seen. But they had been seen, and the whispers were already starting.

The inn was a modest place nestled halfway up the third tier, its stone façade shaded by the overhang of the terrace above. A faded sign hung crooked from an iron hook, reading "The Bronze Quay," painted over a profile of the strait below. Windchimes made from seashells rattled against one another in the salt breeze. It looked… safe. Ordinary. A place that might once have welcomed students from the Academy on their summer circuit hikes, or Riders on patrol rotation.

Kisa stayed coiled tight around Gaelyn's back as they stepped inside. The interior smelled of boiled grain and fish broth. That was not ideal, but it was warm inside. The hearth was lit, and a few patrons occupied the front tables, older men hunched over cards and a woman with a toddler in her lap. One or two sets of eyes flicked up when the door opened. One or two lingered.

The portly man behind the bar was cleaning a clay cup with a rag that had seen better days. He was middle-aged, with sun-reddened skin and a ring of dark beard clinging stubbornly to his jaw. He looked up when they entered, and something in his posture shifted. Not sharply, like the others, just a small stillness. Then he set the cup down and came around the side, wiping his hands on his apron. "Afternoon," he said. "You two looking for a room?"

Gaelyn nodded once. "If you've got one."

The man exhaled. It was not a sigh, more like a brace. His eyes drifted toward Kisa, then back to the two of them, and there was something there that wasn't fear. Not disgust, either. Sadness, maybe. He rubbed the back of his neck. "You're from the school, then." It wasn't a question.

Neither of them answered.

"I'd offer you one, if I could," he went on quietly. "I think the whole thing's a bunch o; malarkey, what people are saying. Spoke with a courier from Arborough myself. Said they were good folk, students and staff, nothing more. That silver one that came through, the girl Rider, she pulled a dozen kids out of a burning barn."

Gaelyn's eyes tightened at the corners. That would've been Tessa.

The man gestured loosely to the room, his voice still low. "Doesn't matter. You understand. People are scared. They think the school's got a mark on it now. That anyone who made it out… carries it with them." He raised a hand defensively and hurried on. "You don't, I'm sure of that. But I can't afford to make my regulars think otherwise. Not in times like these. I'm sorry." He was already reaching behind the bar, pulling out a wrapped spear of bread and two small parcels of dried fish. He offered them both with an apologetic tilt of his chin. "This at least. For the road."

Gaelyn didn't move for a moment. Then he nodded again, slower this time, and reached to take it. "You didn't have to."

"No," the innkeeper agreed. "But I'll sleep better knowing I did."

The windchimes clattered again behind them as they stepped back out into the street.​
 
Even when Ivy finally returned to camp, she didn't speak - didn't for the rest of the night as she curled up under the stars and let her mind rest.

She was quiet the next morning and during the journey, offering not much more than mumbled agreements. It was clear that she was upset about what had happened, that she needed time to process it - time that they didn't have. She also knew that what Gaelyn had been trying to do came from a good place but she was embarrassed, felt perhaps a little wounded, and such emotions never made for a pleasant mood from an overly sensitive individual.

Flying again, at least, helped to blow away some of her lingering bitterness, as the wind whipped at her hair, her skin, the distance between her body and the earth below allowing some perspective. If another attack came? She was at least somewhat equipped to deal with it now - granted, she possibly wasn't powerful enough to fully defend against the Mirror who likely held much more practice at psychic warfare if yesterday was anything to go by, but she could at least try. She could, at the very least, prevent herself from opening the gods damned gate and welcoming their enemy in.


The city of Deyrnas Bend was certainly a sight to behold as Kisa began their descent to land upon the outer ring of the cliff side settlement. Their dragon resorting back into her smaller size was still as baffling as ever but felt more... normal these days, more familiar and so they set off towards the city without stopping to comment, two riders and their dragon who carried a perhaps naive hope that their reception might be similar to what they had received in Arborough.

It didn't take long for them to realise that this was not the case.

Ivy was maybe the first one to notice, given her sensitivity to such things. This was not the first time she had been whispered about while she walked by, not the first time she had been shunned by people who were supposed to be her peers, and while she had become adept at holding her chin high and ignoring underhand words and opinions, she had to admit that this? This caught her offguard. Riders were usually respected, even trainee riders given what they would grow up to be. Yet here? In the winding, cobbled streets of the sea-side city that smelled of salt and shells, here residents backed out of their path, watching them not with awe but with... fear.

In spite of herself, Ivy nudged a little closer into Gaelyn's side. She knew that he saw it too, in the way that he stiffened and in the way that Kisa's nostrils flared. Suddenly, they were on high alert - not from their enemy, but the very people they were trained to protect.

The inn was a welcome sight when they found it, so they could catch a break from the eyes that followed them. There were less people inside and it wasn't as bright; more akin to Ivy's shadows, which is what she needed right now. They felt like home, like something she could depend on when in reality, their home didn't exist anymore and neither did everything that it had once stood for. The shadows she could hide in if push came to shove; they offered her a comfort like little else did.

The innkeeper at least, greeted them pleasantly... though it soon became clear that he would do no more than that for them. No more than that and a few slices of bread and pieces of salted fish.

For the most part, she let Gaelyn do the talking but the more the conversation continued the more she could feel her emotions beginning to churn like the tempest they were, simmering just beneath her surface. Her fists began to curl at her sides and perhaps there was a little bit of fallout from the day before still left within her, as well as a festering despair for how quickly people seemed prepared to turn their backs on them. They were branded as a danger because of who followed them, but that wasn't their fault.

"This at least. For the road."
"You didn't have to."
"No. But I'll sleep better knowing I did."
​
Ivy however, was now well beyond being polite as she all but exploded into the silence that followed, as if she couldn't believe that this was how they were leaving things - "You'll sleep better, but what about us? Where are we supposed to go if every inn in the city takes the same position as you?"

The innkeeper winced but folded his arms. "I'm sorry," he tried, but Ivy shook her head.

"Sorry isn't going to keep us safe tonight, is it? But at least you'll have one more room spare I suppose, should anyone less dangerous happen upon your establishment." For a moment she waited, as if expecting the inkeeper to change his mind but when he said nothing she scoffed and turned on her heel letting her words linger before heading straight for the door. The fresh sea air did little to grant her any relief though as panic began to set in, panic and a churning nausea at what they were facing, what they could come to face anywhere.

"I... I can't believe this," she eventually sputtered once Gaelyn and Kisa joined her. "H-He said it himself, one of us pulled children from a burning building and yet... we're outcasts now? What do they expect us to do? Disappear into the forest and wait for the threat to pick us off one by one?"

People were beginning to watch Ivy as they walked past but she didn't care, not now she knew that they would watch anyway because of the clothes she wore on their back. Instinctively, her hand went to the school's insignia that she still bore on her chest, rubbing the embroidered badge as though it had become a physical weight, an ailment or a pain. Her amber eyes turned towards the sparkling ocean that they could just about make out at the end of the winding, cobbled street before she took a deep breath in an attempt to centre herself again, to stop all that was clawing at her mind. When she spoke again her voice was softer and her hurt at what she was about to say so incredibly palpable.

"Maybe... finding somewhere that will sell us some... different clothes is what we should try next."
 
The embroidery under her fingertips felt rougher than she remembered.

Gaelyn didn’t answer right away. He simply looked at her, the ocean reflected in his eyes and the wind tugging loose strands of her hair across her cheeks. Then, gently, he reached out and curled his fingers beneath hers where they pressed against the badge. He didn’t pull her hand away. He just stilled it.

“You’re not wrong,” he said quietly, just for her. “But there’s still pride in where we came from. Even if the world’s trying to make us forget it.”

He let her go and turned toward Kisa, who had been waiting with an eerie kind of stillness. She had grown since their exit, silently protesting the world telling her to not take up space. Her tail swayed once, slow and pendulous, but she made no move to shift again. The way people parted from them, the way doors quietly locked when they passed, made it clear they wouldn’t be welcome anywhere inside the city walls.

That was when Gaelyn felt the flicker of pressure behind his temples, light, urgent, and unmistakably familiar. Tessa.

The contact was brittle. Far enough that it blurred around the edges, like a voice shouting across water in fog. But it still came through.

“I’m running out of places to take them. The twins from Sherlin’s class were turned away from the gates at Vaeler’s Rest. Refugees are being blamed for drawing attention. Two inns were burned in the last three days. They’re scared, Gael. Of us. Of what we might bring. I’m doing what I can. But it’s getting bad.”

The connection crackled and dimmed like a dying ember.

Gaelyn exhaled slowly through his nose, grounding himself again in the moment. Kisa was already nudging her nose toward the road that wound out of town... the only direction left to go. He turned back to Ivy. “I got a message from Tessa,” he said, voice low. “It’s not just here. Arborough wasn’t the end of it. She’s trying, but things are starting to fall apart.”

He didn’t sugarcoat it, but he offered something else in its place. “For now, it’s just the three of us. You, me, and Kisa.” Then something softened at the corner of his mouth, almost a smile. “And I’m glad you’re here, Ivy. Even if you’re mad at me. Wouldn’t want to do this with anyone else.”

He didn’t wait for a reply. Instead, he shifted his pack higher, nodded to the dragon beside them, and started toward the road leading out of Deyrnas Bend. He didn’t look back, but his pace was slow enough for her to catch up.

They would find a place. They had to. And until then, they would keep moving. Together.
 
As always, Gaelyn seemed to know exactly what to do to quieten her raging mind. The touch was simple but it captured her attention and when she looked up into his softness, her flames flickered from grief and fury to something steadier. It might have worried her, had she not been so grateful for it… and for him.

She watched him go to Kisa in the wake of his words that rang true, and she had been about to move when she felt it, like a ripple at the edges of her consciousness. Ivy panicked at first but it was… different to an attack. More gentle, more muted. She watched Gaelyn for a moment with furrowed brows but then he explained.

The ripple had been Tessa.

"Is… Is she okay?" Ivy asked the question with sincerity but Gaelyn's response was not what she expected. It was just the three of them in this now, a fact that brought with it not fear, but instead there was comfort. Gratitude.

And Ivy couldn't help but smile a little herself, the expression soft and far too unfamiliar on her features these days.

"I reckon another day and I might consider forgiveness… especially if you keep looking at me like that."

The last part was uttered mostly to herself, but Ivy's glimmer of a smile remained even when Gaelyn turned to walk away. She didn't need to forgive him, not really - there was nothing to forgive and they both knew it, which is why she began after him and Kisa almost straight away. Ivy reached his side with a few quicker footsteps and there was no hesitation when she found his hand, and linked their fingers together. She didn't look up at him as she did, but simply squeezed gently to convey the necessary message.

She was sorry. And she wouldn't want to do it with anyone else either.

It was Ivy's turn now to lead Gaelyn and their dragon through the city, towards what started to feel like a more undesirable side of it. It wasn't like she knew where she was going, it was her first time here after all but the signs that their direction was correct were there - streets became darker, dirtier, with the clothing of residents beginning to look more worn and tattered. The smells were less pleasant and the sounds of the ocean did little to mask the cries of those who could not afford the city's affluence.

This decision was a purposeful one, and one that Ivy did not take lightly. But as they eventually came to another inn, The Sloshed Bucket that held a slumped stranger against its front wall, Ivy stopped them in front of it.

"I know how it looks," she exhaled. "But something like this… could be our only option, Gaelyn. If things really are that bad."
 
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  • The interior of The Sloshed Bucket was dim and hazy with old pipe smoke, though no one seemed to be smoking now. The place had the color of old tea-stains and sweat with wooden beams sagging under their own memory, plaster walls rubbed raw in patches, and furniture that looked like it had survived more brawls than meals. A fiddler sawed away lazily in the corner, stringing out something mournful, and the fire near the bar was just hot enough to sting the eyes if you stood too close.

    A few locals looked up when Gaelyn and Ivy entered, just long enough to size them up, but no one stopped talking, no one moved for a weapon, and no one asked about the dragon, who had retaken her place as the wreath around Ivy's neck. That alone made the place feel safer than anywhere they'd been in days.

    Gaelyn stepped forward, giving Ivy's hand a squeeze before letting go—not because he wanted distance, but because he wanted both hands free. He passed the eyes at the bar, the grizzled man behind it cleaning mugs that didn't look like they'd ever been clean to start with. "Room?" Gaelyn asked.

    "Two crowns," the barkeep grunted, not even looking up. "Don't bleed on the floor."

    Gaelyn passed over the coin. "No promises."

    A smile ghosted across the barkeep's mouth like a shipwreck resurfacing, then vanishing again. "Upstairs. Left door. Don't wake the twins, they'll knife you."

    "Understood."

    They moved past the bar, through the tavern floor. Ivy stayed close, and Gaelyn kept his shoulders loose, his footfalls measured. He was tired, gods knew, but habit had its own muscle memory.

    Someone watched them. Not all the patrons, but one, a man in the corner with a faded green cloak and too many rings, nursing something in a carved bone cup. His eyes were half-lidded, unreadable. Gaelyn clocked him, nodded once, then moved on. Only once they were behind the door of their cramped little room—just a cot, a basin, and a single warped window looking out toward the alley—did he let himself lean back and exhale.

    "They don't care who we are," he said quietly. "Might be the safest place we've found yet."

    The room was musty and cramped, but it was theirs for now, and that counted for something. Kisa had curled herself along the side wall, long body coiled with one paw draped over her snout, feigning sleep. Ivy lingered near the basin, washing travel from her hands in silence, and Gaelyn didn't press her. He only murmured that he'd go back down to fetch them water, maybe food, before slipping out and easing the door shut behind him.

    The tavern was no quieter than before, but the fiddle had stopped. Gaelyn made his way back to the bar, weaving past slouched shoulders and hunched forms. The air smelled of stale smoke, old grease, and something sour beneath it all. No one stopped him, though a few glanced over their mugs.

    "Two waters," Gaelyn said when the barkeep turned his way again. "And anything hot that goes up to the room."

    The barkeep grunted and reached for the tankards, wiping the rims out with a different rag than before. "Not a wine man?"

    "Not tonight."

    "Suit yourself."

    As the man moved to fetch food, a low voice stirred to Gaelyn's left. "That beast yours?"

    Gaelyn turned just enough to clock the speaker, a man with wiry arms, eyes too sharp for the state of his clothes. He was seated at the edge of the bar with a cracked pipe resting in one hand, unused. "Which beast?" Gaelyn asked.

    The man grinned, showing a chipped tooth. "The one you left in your room."

    Gaelyn met his gaze. "She's mine."

    "Thought dragons were banned in city limits. New rule since last week."

    "She's not full-grown," Gaelyn said mildly. "No flight, either. Would've had to slither up the cliffs, tail over snout."

    The man squinted, unsure if he was being mocked, but said nothing more. The barkeep returned with a small tray bearing two thick-crusted hand pies, an apple cut in halves, and a few dried dates folded in paper. He also set down two clay flagons, sloshing faintly. Gaelyn gave a short nod of thanks, passed over a copper for the effort, and turned without ceremony. He took a casual gulp from one of the waters as he walked, letting the heat of the bar slide off his shoulders behind him. The water tasted slightly mineral-heavy, but not unexpected for a place this old. Still, he rolled it over his tongue again as he reached the top step.

    He opened the room door, and Kisa's head snapped up immediately.

    She rose from her coil with fluid grace, nostrils flaring, eyes locked not on Gaelyn but on the flagon in his hand. Her scales bristled in small, shifting patterns of warning, just enough to raise the short hairs along the back of Gaelyn's neck. "What is it?" he asked, more to her than to Ivy, pausing with the tray in his hands. Kisa moved forward slowly. She sniffed again, a low, discordant hum that vibrated in her throat, not far from a growl.

    White dragons weren't known for brute strength or power, but Kisa's breed had its own arsenal, one that made her more than a match for subtler dangers. The same scales that let her vanish against the sky also repelled nearly every known toxin, from ingested poisons to skin-borne agents, her hide functioning like a living lotus leaf. And if anything did breach the surface, her blood was rich with natural antivenoms that rendered most substances inert before they could take hold. Her kind were born with instinctual knowledge of poisons in all shapes and origins, so when she flared to attention now, it wasn't fear, but certainty. Something was wrong.

    Gaelyn's fingers tightened on the handle of the flagon, but already he felt it like pressure blooming behind the eyes. It was not pain exactly, but a soft fog creeping down the walls of his mind. "I think…" His words wavered faintly. "I think someone—"

    A knock came at the door.    ​
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  • It was a relief at least, when the door to their room closed behind them.

    Ivy headed straight for the sink, as if the grey bowl could wash the grime she could feel lingering around the inn from her skin. She hummed in agreement to Gaelyn's observation because it was exactly why she had led them to somewhere like this in the first place.

    There were worst people that lingered in the shadows of cities than riders from Lohia Kaarm, even with the new brand that they wore.

    She didn't protest when Gaelyn offered to go downstairs and fetch them some much needed food and water, although she had to admit that she didn't like the idea of them separating much, even though it was necessary. They had the bond at least, that remained on high alert, should anything untoward happen. To either of them.

    By the time that he returned to her, Ivy was collapsed in a heap atop the bed, staring vacantly at the ceiling. As soon as she heard the door however, she jerked upwards instinctively, was about to open her mouth to speak but before she could… Kisa began to ripple.

    Ivy's brow furrowed as she looked from their dragon to Gaelyn, her eyes scouring every inch of him for signs of injury. It was when he eventually spoke however, that she finally noticed it. The paling of his skin, the wavering in his words and... the sway of his body. The fading of his presence within her mind, like he was wrapped in something that she couldn't infiltrate.

    That, paired with Kisa's reaction, told Ivy all she needed to know but it did not grant her a reprieve to act on it before a knock came at the door.

    "Shit. Shit, shit."

    Ivy leapt like a cat from the bed and was by Gaelyn's side in seconds.

    "Who is it?" She called out, while she took the tray from his hands, placed it down on the floor and then draped his arm across her shoulders so she could help him to the bed before he fell face first into the wooden planks beneath their feet.

    "Just someone who wants to talk."

    "Kisa," Ivy hissed. "Stay with him."

    "We don't open the door to strangers."

    Ivy was already moving to the wall beside the entrance to their room, feet featherlight, muscles tense, hand lingering of the daggers that she had conjured within the pouch at her hip.

    "Pity." The voice on the other side was gruff, and Ivy could make out the shuffling of not one... but two bodies.

    "Then I suppose we'll just have to break it down instead."

    The next sound that came was not a knock but a slam, like someone hauling their body at wood. It was a surprise the door didn't come straight off of its hinges as Ivy winced and dropped into a crouch, already summoning shadows from every corner of the room, her index finger whipping with blue light. If whoever this was, was using physical strength to get into the room they were likely not the enemy that sought them. A different kind, granted, but she could deal with two who were not magic wielders.

    Coming here had been a mistake. It had felt like their only option but she had endangered them, all of them...

    Another slam hit and this time the door groaned. Once more, Ivy predicted, one more and then—

    When a body finally came stumbling through, the door flying wide, Ivy's shadows moved quicker than lightning. They formed a round, mirror like space at the entrance to the room, that the first brute didn't stand a chance against. He propelled himself with the force of meeting a surface, only to run further than he intended… straight into the void that awaited his presence. He fell, a scream echoing in his wake, into nothing, a space that nobody else could see, causing the man behind him to stagger backwards so as not to meet the same fate.

    "What… What the fuck did you just do?" He growled, as Ivy stood behind the portal, knife now in hand, chest rising and falling steadily. Daring. Threatening.

    "Why don't you take a few steps forwards and find out for yourself? Or better yet, tell me what you did to him!"    ​

    Ivy pointed towards Gaelyn, but the stranger didn't answer and instead spat onto the floor beside him.

    "I'm 'ere for that beast o'yours. Hand it over, 'else someone's gonna get hurt."
    ​

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  • Gaelyn did the best he could to keep his head upright to mostly no avail. Taking Ivy's help to the bed saved him a broken nose, but it was all he could do to pull himself up with one arm over the back of the rickety headboard to keep himself upright. His hands were too shaky to trace runes and his legs felt like jelly, and the cotton behind his eyes was threatening to burst out through his ears. His body was near-useless, but he had other resources.

    He dove away from the nausea and the dizziness, free-falling out of his body and into his self. Gaelyn searched for the reins of the bond and found them, lingering in the void. He rode that down, then up, searching for the senses of another. Kisa's mind opened to him before he even reached her boundary, and their minds connected.

    You ate poison.
    I didn't think it would be so bad. Didn't think they'd try to kill us.
    Our pride falls. Fight. Now. Life is fighting.
    I didn't want it to come to this.
    Fight.
    ...Fight.

    "...it over, 'else someone's gonna get hurt."

    Fight. ˙ʎpoq ʇlnpɐ ɹǝɥ uᴉ ǝpᴉs ɹǝɥʇo ǝɥʇ ʇno ǝɯɐɔ puɐ ǝɯᴉʇ ɟo ɔᴉɹqɐɟ ǝɥʇ ɥƃnoɹɥʇ pɹɐʍɹoɟ pǝddᴉls ǝɥs 'ɹǝʇɐl ʇuǝɯoɯ ǝɹɐq ɐ puɐ 'ɹǝɥ punoɹɐ pǝʇɐnʇɔnlɟ ǝɯᴉ┴ ˙ƃuᴉʇɹoʇuoɔ ʎpoq ɹǝɥ 'pǝɹɐlɟ ǝunɹ s,ɐsᴉʞ Kisa's form shimmered in that eye-bending way, and as she uncurled like a whipcrack and flew through the air, her body doubled, then tripled in size. By the time she impacted the chest of the brute in the hallway, she was fifteen meters long and round in the chest as a bear, grown to her full size.

    The startled grunt turned into panicked, choking shouts as the pair crashed against the opposite wall. Kisa snarled and barked and snapped, jaws and claws aiming for soft, but seemingly non-lethal points as her body undulated wildly, also doing its part to thump against the man's back and bounce him face-first off the floorboards. As he tried to crawl away, her jaws locked with purpose down around his calf, and she dragged him backwards in twisting, jerking yanks. Out of the hallway she pulled him, back into the room. Her body coiled like a spring and flexed, and she heaved him up and over her head, bodily tossing him into the hole through which his comrade had disappeared a minute before.

    The threat was dispatched, but she took no time to gloat or celebrate. Instead, she snaked over to the bed, putting her front legs up on it and crawling behind, then around Gaelyn, cradling him in her coil. She flicked the end of her tail up and around to float in front of his face, then stretched her snout out as she flared her scales. The tip of her tail winced as she plucked a small tail scale from her skin, a drop of blood finding its way onto the not-so-crisp white sheets as she nosed her snout into Gaelyn's hand, placing the scale there.

    Take. Eat. The words were less sound, more feeling, whispered through the bond in the half-broken dragon tongue that tried to emulate common speak.

    Gaelyn, having made his way back to his body, stared down at the scale in his palm like he was puzzling out how to go about consuming a life scorpion. Kisa huffed, and pushed her snout under his hand, shoving it up to his face. Finally acquiescing, Gaelyn slipped the scale between his lips.

    The moment the blood hit his tongue, his nerves tingled like he had struck a funny bone in his chest, shoulders, knees, and head all at once. Chewing the scale was tough and leathery, but the smaller, delicate tail scales were manageable, if not palatable. Piece by piece, though, he choked the scale down. And piece by piece, he could feel those chemicals enter his body, rushing through his nerves like ink spreading over wet parchment. To say he felt immediately better was too tall a tale, but his hand, lowering from his face, moved much more smoothly than it had on its way up.

    Kisa uncurled herself from around him and trundled back towards the door. Her nose poked out into the hallway to find the expected waiting eyes peering out from several doors down the way. She took no offense to those, but instead took offense to the other two men waiting on the stairs, carrying the hooked knives made to stick into dragon scales common among dragon poachers. She snarled and roared, the corners of her mouth clicking and sparking, and those men turned and bolted back down the stairs, nearly tripping over themselves in their attempts to flee.

    Dust hung heavy in the air, kicked up from the dingy room, mixing with the coppery tang of blood and the sour, acrid trace of whatever had been in Gaelyn's drink. The doorway was a wreck, splintered, half-hinged, with a few scattered boards forming an abstract trail to the void where two men had vanished and the third's blood painted a thick smear across the threshold. Bits of broken wood were embedded in the floor, and the air still echoed faintly with the ghost of Kisa's roar.

    Gaelyn stayed in the bed, half-seated, half-sprawled, breathing deeper now, though still pale. His shirt was soaked at the collar from sweat. He stared down at his hand like it didn't quite belong to him, then slowly flexed his fingers. "…Well," he muttered, voice dry and barely above a whisper. "I don't think we're getting a mint on the pillow."

    His gaze flicked over the ruined doorway, then to Kisa, still full-sized, still standing guard. The bulk of her frame made the room feel like a cave, protective and heavy. She hadn't moved since sending the men running, save for a small twitch of her tail that hadn't stopped flicking.

    He licked the inside of his teeth. Metallic. Not ideal. "Remind me," he said hoarsely, shifting to glance at Ivy with one eye, "not to let you pick the next inn." He laughed to himself, then winced slightly as he sat up straighter. "Or maybe just sleep in a ditch next time. Less dramatic lighting, but fewer attempted murders." His tone was too light to be real humor, but it was something, a signal that he was lucid again, aware. Still recovering, still poisoned, but not in immediate danger. He took another breath, this one steadier, and leaned his head back against the cracked headboard and closed his eyes for a moment. "We need to be out of here by morning. Earlier, if we're feeling ambitious."    ​
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  • While Kisa transformed, Ivy was too preoccupied with the second threat at the door, so she didn't see the new vastness of their dragon until she cracked through the air and launched herself through the air, quicker than a lightning bolt. Her rider watched in something close to disbelief, worry and pride, blazing eyes following every movement for any signs that Kisa was in trouble. She needn't have worried of course, but in her own mind their dragon was still a baby… and that was somewhat still true in reality as well.

    The dragon made short work of the squawking man who had only prepared for a hatchling and once he too was flying into Ivy's void, the small brunette flashed her wrist and closed the portal, not giving a moment to think about where those two bodies had actually gone. Instead she remained, breathing heavily and watching Kisa curl around Gaelyn who was still slumped on the bed, a fog still shrouding their connection.

    It surprised her a little, to watch the two of them communicate in a way that she wasn't accustomed too, but she didn't interrupt and instead simply observed the scale that was offered with a near immediate understanding of why, awe and also relief.

    The moment that consumption allowed the power in Kisa's scales to counteract whatever Gaelyn had been poisoned with, the clouds around him seemed to shift and so did Kisa, as if content that her job was now complete. That's where Ivy finally took up the baton, rushing over to Gaelyn's side while Kisa saw off any lingering threat. Not a day went by where she didn't feel grateful for their dragon, but during times like this? Ivy could barely contain it to the thumping organ in her chest. She knew that Kisa felt it, knew that words weren't necessary, but she sent the feeling to her anyway before refocusing herself on the task at hand.

    Ivy herself had been too fuelled by adrenaline to realise that her hands were shaking and that her heart leapt with the kind of fear she had not felt since she and Gaelyn had been separated during the attack on their school. Her fingers moved swiftly across his chin, his cheeks, his forehead, feeling his temperature and examining his eyes, even as he spoke words that she knew were his attempt to lighten the mood. She was having none of it though; not until she could see as well as feel that he was no longer in danger.

    "Remind me, not to let you pick the next inn."​

    "God, Gaelyn, I'm so… I'm so sorry. This was a stupid idea, I should have known better. I-If anything happened to you because of me..." Ivy shook her head through a shudder, taking a moment to brush some of his clammy dark hair away from his shining skin.

    "Or maybe just sleep in a ditch next time. Less dramatic lighting, but fewer attempted murders."​

    At that though, she couldn't help but let out an unexpected, strangled sounding laugh.

    "A ditch sounds like paradise compared to this right now."

    The humour lingered though didn't quite land as she continued to fuss, her attention remaining on the task at hand until she seemed to be struck by an idea, which forced her to move again from the bed with all of the chaotic energy of cat caught in a rain storm. She stopped to rip off a piece of material from one of the bedsheets before heading over to the sink, where she dampened it with cool water and then returned so that she could begin dabbing the cool material across the sides of Gaelyn's neck, in an attempt to soothe what was left of his fever. Kisa had mended the damage that could have been done, but Ivy could at least help by making him comfortable during the process.

    "If they so much as think about charging for damages…" She muttered under her breath and then proceeded to shake her head again at Gaelyn's following suggestion.

    "We need to be out of here by morning. Earlier, if we're feeling ambitious."​

    "Let's just… focus on getting you back on your feet first. We can leave as soon as we're ready but for now you need to rest. Let Kisa and I keep watch."


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  • Gaelyn watched her through half-lidded eyes, his breath still shallow but steady now, steadier than it had been. The damp cloth against his neck drew a small sigh from him, not of relief exactly, but the kind of acknowledgment you give when someone’s doing something kind and unnecessary and doing it anyway.

    “I’m poisoned, not dying,” he muttered, voice rough. “Even if I was, this much fussing would’ve cured it twice.”

    He let the silence hang for a few moments after that. Not because he had nothing to say—his thoughts were thick and circling, drawn inward to the firelit shape of her moving around him—but because everything important needed to be said slowly and carefully, like setting stones in a river.

    “That’s twice now she’s saved my hide,” he murmured, tilting his chin toward the space where Kisa now coiled sentinel beside the door. “I think I owe her a deer. Or three.”

    His eyes flicked back to Ivy, tired, but sharp. “You too,” he added. “Owe you, I mean.” His pause was filled with the kind of fidgeting that looked like searching for words. “Not for the poison, that part’s on me. But for… this.” His hand twitched, gesturing vaguely at the care, the cool cloth, the presence of her. “All of this.”

    He swallowed, wincing slightly at the motion, then reached out with his good hand, slow, but sure, and brushed his knuckles lightly against her wrist where it hovered at the edge of the bed. “Will you stay?” he asked. “Just until I’m out.” The ask was simple, but there was weight to it. Not desperation, but something more grounded. He wanted her close not out of fear, but because she was his anchor in this storm. The same way she always had been, even before either of them had noticed. “I’ll sleep better knowing I’m not alone in here,” he added, dry as ever. “And someone’s gotta stop me if I start trying to pick the next inn.”    ​
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  • The more that Gaelyn spoke, or rather slurred a little, the more Ivy seemed to relax. Kisa remained on alert by their now bashed in door and there was no further noise or commotion from the corridor outside. And not only that, but Ivy could feel Gaelyn again, in her mind, her thoughts. He was hazy at best, but he was present – she hadn't realised that missing him would make her panic like it had, which was perhaps reason to panic in itself, but later… she could consider that and everything that it meant, later.

    Right now, her priority remained beside her on the bed, muttering about how her fussing was too much and something else ridiculous about how he owed her and their dragon, as if he hadn't saved her ass on multiple occasions before – not that either of them needed to keep count.

    "Yeah well, just so you know, I'd rather not take payment in deer, if it's all the same to you." Ivy's lips quirked a little before her features softened again. "You don't owe me anything, idiot."

    She continued to dab at his brow gently, but her movement ceased when she felt the faint brush of knuckles against her wrist and heard the words that followed. Earnest, vulnerable. Ivy hadn't been expecting them, nor had she been expecting the warmth that bloomed in her chest upon hearing them, the light flush of her cheeks at hearing that Gaelyn wanted her here, beside him while he slept - that she was a comfort, which was not something Ivy was sure she had ever been considered as before.

    "I'm not going anywhere," she eventually murmured softly, and then before she could think better of it, she leaned in to brush her nose into Gaelyn's hair, her lips grazing his temple. "I'll be right here. Though I'd rather you pick the next inn than me."

    The rider smiled slightly and hesitated for only a moment before she removed the damp cloth, pushing it onto the bedside table next to her so that she could raise her arm and carefully encourage Gaelyn to lay against her. She positioned him so that his head was just below hers, her elbow draped over his shoulder, hand tangling into his dark locks, her chin resting atop his head. It was as though she wanted to show him as well as tell him, that she wanted to stay too.

    "Is… this okay?" She asked in not much above a whisper. "You're comfortable?"


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  • He kissed her. Not because it was planned or because it was clever. Just because he was tired, and she was warm, and for once, neither of them was running.

    The room still smelled like cracked wood and smoke, like the echo of blood and lightning hadn't quite faded yet. Gaelyn lay tucked against her shoulder, her arm wrapped around him like a the sling of a promise. The cool cloth she'd used on his neck had long since been abandoned to the nightstand, but the ghost of it lingered in her touch. She ran her fingers through his hair with absent care, like the act wasn't extraordinary, like holding him was the most natural thing in the world.

    He wasn't used to being tended like this. The poison's sting still curled behind his eyes, but it was dulled now, quieted by the thrum of her pulse and the soft drag of her thumb across his temple. "You don't want the deer?" he murmured, voice low and crooked with sleep. "Bit ungrateful. I fought gravity for it."

    She huffed a breath of laughter into his hair, but didn't answer. That warmth in her chest, the one he kept stirring up lately, flared again. Maybe she couldn't name it yet. But it was there and the burning was steady like a hearth light.

    When she'd asked "Is this okay? "he'd wanted to say something charming, something that would make her roll her eyes, maybe smile in that crooked way she did when she wasn't quite sure if he was joking. But all that came out was, "Yeah... you're warm. I think I might actually sleep." And that should've been the end of it. That should've been enough to drift off right there, tucked under the weight of her arm and the soft rasp of her shirt against his cheek. But something in him stayed awake, aware.

    Of her. Of how close they were. Of the fact that she hadn't flinched.

    He shifted slightly, just enough to brush his nose against the hollow of her collarbone. The move was tentative, almost drowsy, but it made her breath catch, and he felt it, subtle as a thread pulled taut. "I keep waiting for the world to catch fire again," he said, words so quiet they barely left his lips. "But right now… it doesn't feel like it will."

    His hand found hers. Their fingers laced without thinking.

    He kissed her. Not because the moment asked for it. Not because she expected it.

    Just because he meant it.
    ​
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  • There had been a moment, when Gaelyn had nosed against her collarbone, that Ivy had considered pulling away. Not because she disliked the contact - quite the opposite in fact. She remained because she believed that she could indulge herself in what she wanted without any repercussions the following morning. Gaelyn was not himself right now and when he was he would not remember.

    Or at least, that's what Ivy told herself as she held his hand and kissed him back.

    She liked it when Gaelyn kissed her, liked that he wanted to and expected nothing more from it. It was nice to feel wanted and safe, two feelings that Ivy did not find and had not found to come hand in hand very often.

    So, she remained, stroking her fingers through his hair, her cheek pressed into the top of his head once he had settled.

    "I keep waiting for the world to catch fire again. But right now… it doesn't feel like it will."​

    "No," she eventually breathed in agreement, letting her eyes flutter closed on an exhaled breath of what might have been contentment.

    "It doesn't."


    It was clear to either of them who fell asleep first, but it was Ivy who was the first to wake just as dawn was beginning to split the sky. She started slightly, disorientated while her eyes tried to adjust. There was still a warm weight against her chest and when she glanced over at the door, heart thundering, she noted Kisa's large body slumped on the ground in the entry to their room; their dragon was snoozing with one eye open, no doubt, and it allowed Ivy a moment to come to properly as she sank back into the duvet.

    Gaelyn remained steadily asleep, his breaths deep, even and Ivy couldn't help the way that her lips brushed the top of his head in a parting gesture fuelled by what could only be described as longing, just before she gently shuffled him from her shoulder and back down onto the pillow.

    Her neck was stiff from sleeping upright and as she swung her legs over the side of the bed, she reached up a hand to rub at her aching muscles. The inn was silent other than the steady dripping of water from somewhere invisible, and Ivy knew that now was the time for them to make their escape, while the city still slept and eyes remained closed.

    She slipped from the bed, sending a silent greeting to Kisa through the bond who huffed once through her nostrils - an about time if ever there was one.

    Ivy smirked just a little while gathering together their things and then finally, once she knew she could let him rest no longer, she sat on the edge of the mattress again and reached out to gently shake Gaelyn's shoulder. Perhaps in another life she might have nuzzled him awake from the crook of his neck, might have splattered kisses all over his face until he had no choice but to open his eyes - but this wasn't the night before anymore, and Ivy? A small part of Ivy hoped he would not remember how they had slept, how they had kissed... and why.

    It was just… easier that way.

    "Wakey wakey lazy bones," she murmured, trying to ignore the clench in her chest at the sight of his sleep mussed hair that she wasn't sure she would ever get used to.

    "Hey, morning. How are you feeling? There's some water on the side of you need it."


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  • Gaelyn's eyes opened slowly, the world swimming into focus like surfacing from deep water. The ache behind his temples had dulled to a manageable throb, and when he flexed his fingers, they responded without the shaky uncertainty of the night before. The taste of metal still clung to his tongue, but it was fading.

    "Better," he said, voice rough with sleep. He pushed himself up on one elbow, accepting the water she offered and draining half the cup in slow, measured sips. "Much better. Kisa's scales are—"

    The words died as pressure bloomed at the edge of his consciousness. Not the sharp, violent intrusion they'd faced before, but something subtler. A probing sweep, methodical and patient, like fingers testing the surface of still water. Distant, but growing stronger.

    "We need to go." He was already moving, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "Now."

    Ivy felt it too—he could see it in the way her shoulders tensed, her eyes sharpening to that familiar alertness. They moved with practiced efficiency, gathering their few belongings in silence. Kisa was already shrinking by the time they reached the doorway, her form rippling down to traveling size as she coiled around Ivy's shoulders.

    They slipped from the inn through a side door that opened onto an alley thick with morning fog. The city was still sleeping, but not for long. Behind them, Gaelyn could feel that distant presence growing stronger, more focused. Searching.


    Two weeks.

    Two weeks of never staying anywhere longer than a single night. Two weeks of suspicious stares and closed doors, of innkeepers who wouldn't meet their eyes and merchants who suddenly found their shelves empty when Riders approached. The few who showed kindness did so quietly, pressing food into their hands while glancing nervously over their shoulders.

    In Millhaven, they'd lasted three days before a crowd gathered outside their boarding house, voices rising in angry murmurs about "bad luck" and "bringing trouble." They'd left through the back garden before dawn.

    At Crow's Rest, the tavern keeper had been sympathetic until his other patrons started drinking heavily and talking loudly about what ought to be done with "Academy remnants." They'd slipped away during the dinner rush.

    In Fernbridge, they'd made it exactly six hours before that familiar pressure swept through Gaelyn's mind like a searchlight. They'd been on Kisa's back and airborne before the psychic probe could lock onto their location.

    Always moving. Always watching the horizon. Always one step ahead of something that never seemed to tire, never seemed to give up the hunt.

    The road had become their only constant—dusty paths that wound between settlements, game trails that cut through forests, sheep tracks that climbed over hills where the wind carried no whispers of their passing. They slept rough more often than not, taking shelter under bridge arches when it rained, sharing watch duties when the darkness felt too heavy with unseen eyes.

    Ivy had grown quieter as the days passed, but it wasn't the brittle silence of anger. It was something more focused, more determined. She moved through their makeshift camps with efficient care, rationing their supplies, mending tears in their clothes with neat, precise stitches. She watched the roads behind them while Gaelyn watched the skies ahead. They had settled into a rhythm born of necessity, each knowing their role without words.


    The campsite sat in a clearing ringed by old oaks, their branches forming a natural canopy that would hide the light of a fire from any eyes scanning the forest from above. A stream babbled twenty paces to the east, and a game trail ran north-south through the trees, close enough for fresh water and a quick escape route, far enough from any settlement that they might go unnoticed for a few days.

    If they were lucky.

    Gaelyn dropped his pack beside the fire pit they'd dug three nights ago, the circle of stones now blackened with use. This was the longest they'd stayed anywhere since leaving Deyrnas Bend, and it felt almost luxurious by comparison. There were no walls pressing in around them. No neighbors to grow suspicious. No doors that might be barred against them come morning.

    Kisa uncoiled from around his shoulders and stretched, her scales catching the late afternoon light as she padded over to the fire pit. She settled beside it with a contented rumble, then opened her mouth and breathed a careful stream of flame into the waiting tinder. The dry wood caught immediately, crackling to life with warm, dancing light.

    "Home sweet home," Gaelyn murmured, settling onto the fallen log that served as their bench. The word felt strange in his mouth, home. This circle of stones and ash, this temporary shelter in the wilderness, was the closest thing to permanence they'd known in weeks.

    He glanced over at Ivy as she arranged their bedrolls on the far side of the fire, her movements automatic with practice. In the flickering light, with the shadows of leaves dancing across her face, she looked almost peaceful. Almost like the girl who'd once hidden in archives and classrooms, before the world had demanded she become something harder.

    "Think we can risk staying another night?" he asked, though they both knew the answer. They always stayed until they couldn't anymore. Until the probes grew too close, or the dreams grew too vivid, or Kisa's scales began to bristle with warning.

    Until the road called them back to its endless, necessary motion.
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  • They were never left alone for very long, rarely a few hours without someone probing, searching, looking, talking, cowering.

    Over the next two weeks, Ivy began to forget what normal life had once felt like. They had no choice but to become the outcasts, the shunned that they had been made to be. Wherever they went they were recognised, wherever they went, the same reactions ensued. The majority fearful, the few kind. And that was before they considered that not only were they in a precarious situation physically, but mentally too. The psychic pulses were growing more frequent, stronger, urgent. They had to hide themselves in every way that they possibly could, to stop from drawing unwanted attention.

    It was exhausting. And disheartening.

    Ivy longed for the days when they could take to the skies, when they could fly for a few hours and she could focus only upon the wind in her hair and the coldness against her cheeks, Kisa's scales against her thighs and Gaelyn's chest at her back. Her companions were her safe space, her sanctuary; they allowed her to focus, allowed for survival to become not much more than muscle memory.

    Their new camp was one of those rare spaces that came to feel like home quickly, even though Ivy knew better than to grow attached. Gaelyn echoed the sentiment, and she cracked the smallest of smiles as she set out their bedrolls, just like she did every night. In reality, they had no home anymore, at least physically speaking. She didn't dare yet voice that her home lately had taken on a much, much deeper meaning, had attached itself not to something but someone.

    Once their sleeping space was arranged, Ivy straightened, dusting the dirt from her knees.

    "Mhm. One more night." She sauntered over to where Gaelyn sat on the bench beside Kisa's newly lit fire and plopped herself down beside him with a huff. For a small while she didn't say anything as she watched the crackling flames, the dancing light.

    "Though we should probably try to find somewhere with a bath for our next stop. I think you kinda need one." The smirk that she cast Gaelyn's way was nothing short of cheeky, as she bumped her shoulder against his, considered dropping her head down onto it in the immediate aftermath but then quickly thought better of it.

    Every night they had slept she had tried to do so away from Gaelyn, had tried to maintain some physical distance between them. Watch duty made that easier at least, aside from when Kisa volunteered to give them a break, and Ivy purposefully slept with her back to him, so as not to get drawn in by that dark hair all ruffled from sleep.

    With a yawn however, she shook off those thoughts and did so quickly. "Do you want to get first rest? I'm good here for a while."



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  • Gaelyn barked out a laugh, the sound startling a few birds from the canopy above. "Harsh. but fair," he conceded, running a hand through hair that had indeed seen better days. "Though I'd argue we're both operating at about the same level of... rustic charm these days."

    The firelight played across her face as she watched the flames, and for a moment, something in her expression softened. He caught the way she'd almost leaned into him, then pulled back, and felt that familiar pang of understanding mixed with disappointment. Two weeks of careful distances, of her sleeping with her back turned, of moments like this where she reached toward him and then remembered why she shouldn't. He didn't blame her for it. That night at the inn felt like it belonged to different people, people who had the luxury of intimacy, of letting their guards down. Out here, with hunters on their trail and nowhere safe to land, maybe keeping walls up was the smarter choice.

    Even if it made his chest ache sometimes.

    "You sure?" he asked, noting the shadows under her eyes, the way exhaustion clung to her shoulders despite her offer to take first watch. "You look tired."

    When she insisted she was fine—that automatic, practiced response she'd perfected over the past fortnight—he didn't push. Instead, he squeezed her shoulder briefly, a gesture so natural he didn't think about it until after his hand had already moved. The contact was warm, solid, and over too quickly. "Wake me in four hours," he said, rising from the log. "Earlier if anything feels off."

    He banked the fire down to a steady glow and settled into his bedroll on the far side of their camp, close enough to respond to trouble but far enough to give Ivy the space she seemed to need. Kisa had curled herself into a loose ring around the perimeter, her scales catching the dying light like scattered coins. Even at rest, she kept one eye cracked open, watching the darkness beyond their circle of warmth.

    Sleep came easier than it had in days, aided by the relative security of their hidden clearing and the gentle sounds of Ivy moving quietly around the camp; the soft whisper of her boots on fallen leaves, the occasional crackle as she fed small branches to the fire, the reassuring presence of someone he trusted watching over them all.


    Hours passed in dreamless peace, but peace in their world had become a fragile thing.

    Three miles to the south, Kaelen Thorne crouched beside his Brown Metallic dragon and studied the faint glow filtering through the treeline. Brontos raised his massive head, nostrils flaring as he tested the night air. The dragon was large enough that his bronze-scaled bulk could have crushed them if he rolled over, his metallic heritage providing armor that had shrugged off branches and rough terrain during their long pursuit.

    "Still there," Kaelen murmured, voice barely carrying over the night sounds of the forest. "Three scents. Two human, one dragon."

    His companion, Vessa, slipped through the undergrowth with practiced silence. Her Matte Black dragon, Nyx, moved beside her like a piece of living shadow, the sound-dampening properties of her scales making even her breath whisper-quiet. Notably smaller than Brontos, she was just big enough to ride and built for stalking rather than brute force, and her natural camouflage rendered her nearly invisible in the darkness.

    "The tracking particles are still strong," Vessa reported, touching a small vial at her belt that glowed with faint phosphorescence. The metallic dust from Brontos's breath weapon had marked their quarry days ago in Deyrnas Bend, invisible to normal sight but clear as torchlight to those who knew how to look. They'd been following the trio since that first psychic sweep had sent them bolting from the city like startled rabbits. The probe had revealed more than its caster realized—not just that there were survivors worth hunting, but exactly which ones were important enough to flee the moment they felt unfriendly attention.

    Kaelen checked the position of the moon. Deep into the night watch, when exhaustion made even trained soldiers sloppy. He could make out a figure by the fire, hunched forward in the telltale posture of someone fighting sleep after hours of vigilance. "Remember," he whispered to Vessa, "the dragon's the priority. Live capture brings triple bounty if it's bonded. The riders..." He shrugged. "Dead or alive makes no difference to our purse."

    They began their final approach, moving with the careful patience of predators who knew their prey had nowhere left to run.
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  • It was much easier to shrug off her exhaustion than it was to admit that she was struggling, which was perhaps Ivy's first and most impactful mistake. They were taught as students, to recognise the signs, to ask for help wherever it was needed; there was no shame in doing so. If anything, asking for help showed strength, resilience.

    Yet Ivy had spent her life receiving conflicting messages. At school, asking for help was encouraged, but at home? At home, independence was respected above almost all else. Admitting you needed someone else was a weakness, no matter the capacity in which one asked for them. Wasn't that why she had kept to herself at school? Wasn't that why she still couldn't fully open up to Gaelyn, even when he squeezed her shoulder for some form of contact, or she caught him watching her with that expression on his face?

    Perhaps this wasn't that deep, perhaps what was about to happen was just simply a mistake - either way though, her choice held the same consequences.

    For a time, Ivy tried to potter around to distract herself from the scratching of her eyes, the yawns that just kept coming. When she eventually settled down by the fire, simply because her body had started to protest further movement, she glanced across to Gaelyn and considered waking him, until she saw how peaceful he looked fast out on his bedroll.

    No, she had offered this and so she would wait. She would wait her turn and keep them all safe in the mean time.

    Needless to say, Ivy did not wake up again until it was much, much too late. She hadn't even been truly aware that she was falling asleep; one minute she was up, staring at the fire and the next? Her body had slumped, her eyes had closed and darkness had settled within her mind.

    Kaelen and Vessa did not strike straight away - they were smarter than that. They waited... and waited... and waited. They waited for Ivy to begin sinking into the depths of her dreams, until they were sure that they could approach without any interruption. Vessa's Black certainly helped with that, as the lithe shadow stalked through the trees without a sound, while the Brown remained behind, until it was his turn.

    The hunters had a plan and they would not, and could not fail.

    Nyx was the first to strike.

    She crept as close to Kisa as she was able and then she moved, like death given legs, teeth snapping, straight for her white throat. A lash of mental pain jolted Ivy awake again, heart pounding, hands shaking as she looked straight towards her dragon who was flailing against the jaws of another. Nyx had coiled her body around Kisa in an attempt to stop her from moving and her teeth that clamped into her scales meant that she couldn't do so without rupturing her skin.

    "KISA!" Ivy was on her feet, just as the growl of Brontos reverberated through the trees, his giant form slowly thudding towards the camp. His shadow cast across the ground of the opening, enough to give Ivy pause to look over to where Gaelyn... still lay... still asleep, despite the commotion.

    Something wasn't right, something... and that's when she felt it. Like a knife cutting along her thoughts, probing, searching for a point of weakness. This attack was not just physical. Gaelyn was not awake because he needed to remain within. Whoever the dragons were bonded to, were attacking and holding down his Self, and they were trying to do the same to Ivy. They had struck while Gaelyn was dreaming, vulnerable and she...

    Another strike saw Ivy scream, once more clutching at her head in pain. The ground met her knees quickly as she doubled over, trying to breath, trying to scramble for what she and Gaelyn had been practicing, trying to find her Archives. Yet her fear was getting the better of her, especially when her chest ached at hearing Kisa keen in pain, at knowing that their dragon couldn't move, at knowing that she was scared.

    But Ivy couldn't help her like this, couldn't help her alone. Not without their third.

    She knew what she had to do; it was simply about finding the strength to do it.

    Panting through gritted teeth in an attempt to find her thoughts, in an attempt to gather her strength, Ivy inhaled deeply took one hand away from her head, slowly, followed by the other. There was a moment of peace, and then a second, before brick by brick she began to build, as walls of cement and stone started to form around her mind, followed by towering bookcases shooting into the sky, disturbing the scent of wood, paper and dust.

    "I'm coming baby girl," she whispered, as she finally began to sink into where she would meet either her end, or a victory.

    "I'm coming."

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  • The first thing Gaelyn felt was wrong was the quality of his sleep. He'd been drifting in that peaceful space between waking and true rest when the texture of his dreams shifted, growing heavy and viscous like honey poured over broken glass. The clearing around their campfire began to blur at the edges, reality bending in ways that made his sleeping mind recoil.

    This isn't right.

    He tried to surface, to claw his way back to consciousness, but something pressed down on him like a weight made of shadows. The dream-clearing twisted, warping into something that felt both familiar and alien. The fire still crackled, but its light cast no warmth. Ivy still sat watch, but her face was wrong, shifting between expressions he'd never seen her wear.

    Then Kaelen stepped from between the trees.

    In the dream, the hunter looked exactly as he did in life—weathered leather armor, calculating eyes, the bearing of someone who killed for coin and called it honest work. But here, in this space between sleeping and waking, he moved with the fluid certainty of someone who owned the battlefield.

    "Academy training," Kaelen said, his voice echoing strangely in the ethereal space. "Always so rigid. So predictable."

    Gaelyn felt himself standing, though he couldn't remember rising. In dreams, movement followed intent rather than muscle and bone. His hand reached for a sword that wasn't quite his sword, in a clearing that wasn't quite their clearing. "What do you want?"

    "The dragon. The girl too, if she's useful. You?" Kaelen's smile was sharp as winter wind. "You're just an obstacle."

    The attack came not as a blow but as a concept made manifest, a spear of pure aggression that punched toward Gaelyn's chest. He twisted away, but in the dream logic of mental combat, dodging wasn't about moving your body. It was about refusing to accept the reality of the strike, about imposing your will against another's.

    They fought through landscapes that shifted like quicksand. One moment they were in the forest clearing, the next they stood on the ramparts of Lohia Kaarm as it burned. Kaelen's strikes came as fragments of nightmare—the sensation of falling, the certainty of failure, the cold touch of a blade that existed only in the space between thoughts.

    Gaelyn fought back with memories forged into weapons. The weight of his sword in his first real duel. The satisfaction of a perfectly executed maneuver. The unshakeable knowledge that he would protect what mattered to him, no matter the cost.

    But Kaelen was experienced in this kind of warfare. Each of Gaelyn's attacks was turned aside, redirected, transformed into doubt. The hunter pressed his advantage, driving Gaelyn deeper into the maze of his own sleeping mind.

    You're not strong enough. You never were. That's why your school fell. That's why everyone died. That's why you'll fail again.

    The words hit like physical blows, and Gaelyn felt himself faltering. The dream-clearing began to collapse around him, walls of fire rising to trap him in a cage of his own failures.

    Then, through the bond that connected all three of them, came a voice like broken glass and desperate hope.

    Gaelyn.

    Kisa. But not as he'd ever heard her before. The usual warmth of her mental touch was shot through with pain and terror.

    Hurt. Trapped.

    Images flooded through their connection: Nyx's black coils wrapped around her smaller frame, teeth sunk deep into her neck, just behind her skull where the scales were thinnest. The taste of her own blood. The crushing pressure that made each breath a struggle.

    Can't... breathe.

    And underneath it all, a plea that cut deeper than any blade: Help.

    Something shifted in Gaelyn's mind. Not the academic control he'd learned at the Academy, not the measured responses of a trained Rider. This was older, colder, a thing of ice and calculation that had always lived in the spaces between his thoughts, carefully hidden away where Ivy couldn't see it and be afraid.

    The walls of fire that Kaelen had built around him? Gaelyn didn't fight them. He ignored them. In the space of a heartbeat, he stepped through nightmare made manifest as if it were morning mist.

    Kaelen's eyes widened in the dream-space. "What—"

    Gaelyn's hand closed around the hunter's throat. Not dream-violence, but something far more clinical. He reached into the man's mind with surgical precision and began to dismantle.

    Memory first. Kaelen's childhood in the northern provinces, hunting rabbits with his father—gone. His first kill, his first coin, the slow progression from desperate necessity to comfortable cruelty—erased. The network of contacts who fed him information, the safe houses where he stored his earnings, the location of his hidden caches—deleted with methodical efficiency.

    Then personality. The cruel satisfaction he took in cornering prey. His ability to form emotional connections. His capacity for empathy, already vestigial, snuffed out entirely. Layer by layer, Gaelyn peeled away everything that made Kaelen who he was, leaving only the basic functions needed to keep breathing.

    "Please—" Kaelen tried to speak, but the words came out hollow. There was nothing left behind his eyes to give them meaning.

    "You came after what's mine," Gaelyn said quietly, his voice carrying the weight of absolute certainty. "This is what happens."

    He released his grip and stepped back. In the dream-space, Kaelen's body crumpled like a puppet with cut strings. His mind—what remained of it—would continue to function just enough to keep his heart beating and his lungs working. But everything else, everything that had once been a person, was gone.

    Gaelyn woke.

    His eyes snapped open to chaos. Kisa's mental keening filled his awareness as she struggled against Nyx's strangling grip. Ivy was on her knees by the fire, hands pressed to her head as she fought her own psychic battle. And there, Vessa, moving through the shadows with a blade drawn, stalking toward Ivy's unprotected back.

    Gaelyn's hand moved to the metal plate sewn into his glove. His finger traced a rune so quickly it was barely visible, three intersecting lines that formed the symbol for "Direction." Not the guidance of travelers or the pointing of compasses, but the giving of direction, command made manifest.

    He aimed the thought at Nyx like an arrow: Release. Now.

    The black dragon's jaws opened involuntarily, her own will overridden by the compulsion woven into the rune. Kisa slipped free with a sound like silk tearing, her white scales providing just enough lubrication to escape the loosened grip.

    And then Kisa activated her own rune. Time... stuttered.

    For one impossible moment, reality bent around her like water around a stone. Her form rippled, wavered, and suddenly she was more—not just larger, but older, deeper, touched by centuries that hadn't happened yet. Her scales darkened to the deep pearl-white of ancient snow, and when she opened her mouth, words in a language older than the Academy spilled into their minds.

    Kharis vel'athen. Morvani sepul.

    You dare touch what is mine. Know despair.

    The Deep White that Kisa had become—could become, might one day become—reached out with claws like ivory daggers and seized Nyx by the throat. The black dragon, formidable in her own right, looked like a hatchling in that terrible grip. The crunch of vertebrae snapping echoed through the clearing.

    Then time reasserted itself, and Kisa was small again, standing over Nyx's still form with blood on her scales and exhaustion in every line of her body.

    Gaelyn was already moving. Vessa spun toward him, but she was thinking like someone who hunted civilians, not soldiers. Her blade came up in a guard that might have stopped a desperate academy student. It did nothing against the cold efficiency that had taken hold of Gaelyn's mind.

    His sword punched down through her collar, angled to slip between the plates of her leather armor. He felt the blade catch bone, then slide through to find the soft vital spaces beneath. When he ripped it free, tearing sideways through her torso, Vessa was already dead. She just hadn't finished falling yet.

    The clearing fell silent except for the crackle of their fire and the ragged sound of their breathing. Across the camp, Kaelen's body sat slumped against a tree, chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. His eyes stared at nothing. They would always stare at nothing now.

    Brontos, the great brown dragon, gave one mournful bellow for his fallen rider and melted back into the forest. Smart enough to know when a fight was lost.

    Gaelyn wiped his blade clean and sheathed it, then moved to where Ivy knelt by the fire. The cold thing that had taken hold of him during the fight was already fading, settling back into the quiet spaces where he kept it hidden.

    "You all right?" he asked, his voice carefully controlled.

    But he couldn't quite hide what she'd have seen in his eyes if she looked up. The clinical brutality. The complete absence of hesitation or regret.The part of himself he'd never wanted her to know existed.    ​
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  • The archives were strong and stable around her; familiar, comforting.

    It wasn't long though, before the cracks began to show. Ivy had failed her bonded; she had fallen asleep and allowed the enemy to infiltrate their camp. Kisa was hurt, scared. It didn't take a genius to work out her weak points and exploit them while in the real world her body sat open, vulnerable. Exposed.

    The tremors began and Ivy stood, breathing hard, trying to focus. But how could she when all she had ever cared about remained in danger because of her? She needed to fight this enemy force, wanted to kill them for what they had done.

    Anger. Fear.

    An explosion, on the south side wall.

    A presence. Danger.

    Ivy closed her eyes, summoning her rune within her mind's eye.

    Darkness. Shadow.

    Inky black began to pour between the books, the pages, the shelves. The lights were snuffed out by its growing void, one by one as the archives disappeared from sight. An extra layer. The enemy was blind.

    That didn't stop the attempts from trying to land though.

    Silence fell, nothing other than Ivy's rapid breaths dusting the space, thin, waiting. She couldn't push the threat out if she didn't know where it was, but at least right now she was… somewhat protected.

    The first dagger when it came, whistled forwards, a blade made of regret, anger. She had left Gaelyn and Kisa unprotected. This was her fault.

    Ivy sidestepped. It was an accident. She was tired, exhausted after all they'd been through.

    Two more came and Ivy ducked and swung right. Doubt. Fear.

    Whoever this was, was trying, probing, but Ivy had become a dance of shadows; there and yet not, just like Gaelyn had taught her. She was fluid motion, she was an impossible target. They might have broken through her walls but they would not catch her. She needed to fight back at some point. Ivy knew that but right now she also needed to breathe into her space, to ground herself so that she could find her own weapons and push the intruder from her mind.

    More daggers flew, one after another. By the fifth, Ivy was ready with her own. She caught the direction of the next blade and spun to fling her own from whence it came. The dagger disappeared and no sound followed, so Ivy tried again and again and—

    Her fingers and senses twitched, but what came next was simply… an emptiness. The presence trying to get in just… stopped. Stopped trying and Ivy's mind like someone had pulled the plug on their life and let them drain into nothingness. This was not a death of the Self, but one of the body.

    Ivy burst back into the present with a gasp of breath, eyes wild and searching. They found Kisa first, stood bloody and staring… but alive. The slumped figure of a stranger in front of one of the trees came next and then… blood. A corpse. She took in the scene inch by inch, her brow furrowed, her hands trembling… and then she heard his voice. Like a shining light through her darkness.

    "You all right?"​

    Ivy blinked up at Gaelyn, relief and guilt flooding through her combined. But as she forced herself into a staggering stand she noticed that despite him being here, alive, next to her, his eyes looked… different. Distant. Cold. Strange. His voice had been clipped, controlled. Like he was holding something back.

    "I-I'm fine, I…"

    Ivy stuttered but that look in Gaelyn's, whatever it was, was not enough to stop her. She did not cower and she did not flinch, or even question it. She simply surged forwards, clasping her hands around Gaelyn's face and searching each feature one by one as if checking for signs of hurt, as if she needed to feel him. Her own eyes were already bubbling with tears but she managed to hold them in, keep them back. Whatever this was, whatever she was looking at didn't seem to phase her in the slightest. No, Ivy was simply desperately frightened for him, not of him; never that.

    "You're okay?" The words came out breathless, panicked, before she moved her hands down to cup both side of Gaelyn's neck. When Ivy spoke again her words were more pointed this time, as if demanding an answer and both willing it to be true at the same time.

    "You're okay?"

    Falling apart could wait a moment; this came first. He came first.

    Always.

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  • The moment stretched between them like a held breath. Ivy's hands cupped his face, her amber eyes searching his features with desperate intensity, but Gaelyn couldn't quite reach her yet. Something cold and clinical still moved behind his thoughts, cataloguing threats, calculating angles of attack, noting that Brontos had fled but might return with reinforcements.

    He tried to push it down, to find his way back to the warmth he usually carried, but the process felt like swimming up through dark water. Her voice reached him as if from a great distance, even though she stood close enough that her breath warmed his cheek.

    "You're okay?"

    He wanted to answer, wanted to give her the reassurance she needed, but the words wouldn't come. Part of him was still in that dream-space where he'd methodically erased Kaelen's mind, still feeling the satisfaction of watching Vessa's blade fail against a man designed for war rather than hunting. The cold efficiency of it lingered like frost on metal.

    Ivy's thumbs brushed across his cheekbones, and he could see the tears she was holding back, the way her breath came too quick and shallow. She was falling apart and trying not to show it, putting his wellbeing before her own breakdown. Just like she always did.

    Come back, he told himself. She needs you to come back.

    The silence stretched longer than it should have, longer than was comfortable or normal. Her hands trembled slightly against his face, and he could feel her starting to worry that whatever had happened in his mind had damaged something essential. That maybe he wasn't as okay as she needed him to be.

    Then something in him finally snapped into place, like a dislocated joint finding its socket again.

    He kissed her. Hard and sudden and more than a little desperate, his hands coming up to tangle in her hair. There was still an edge to it, still some of that cold precision bleeding through, but underneath was relief and need and the overwhelming certainty that she was alive, that they were both alive, that somehow they'd survived another attempt to tear them apart.

    When he pulled back, his eyes had finally softened, though something still moved in their depths like shadows beneath ice. "I'm okay," he said, voice rough but finally, genuinely present.

    He wanted to say more, wanted to explain what had happened, wanted to apologize for the way he'd looked at her, wanted to promise that the thing she'd glimpsed wasn't all of who he was. But the words wouldn't come yet, still locked behind walls he'd spent years building. Instead, he turned toward Kisa.

    The dragon stood near the edge of their camp, scales still gleaming with what should have been blood from Nyx's bite. But as Gaelyn approached, his steps slowed. The wounds weren't healing—they were gone. Not scabbed over, not even scarred. The scales were pristine, unmarked, as if Nyx's teeth had never found purchase there at all.

    "Kisa?" he said softly, reaching out to touch her neck where the wounds should have been.

    She turned her head toward him, and for just a moment he saw something ancient looking back at him through her eyes. Something that had seen centuries pass like seasons, that remembered things that hadn't happened yet, that held knowledge from eras that has both not yet happened and we're still yet to come.

    Then his gaze dropped to the ground beside her, and he went very still.

    Carved into the dirt at her feet, traced with the precision of a master craftsman despite the chaos that had just passed, was her personal rune. "Passage." The symbol seemed to pulse with residual energy, lines that spoke of movement through space and time, of crossing boundaries that should not be crossed.

    "Ivy," he called, his voice carefully controlled. "Come here. You need to see this."

    When she joined him, he pointed to the rune without taking his eyes off it. "This whole time... she wasn't growing larger," he said quietly, the pieces finally clicking into place. "She was moving... through time. Forward, to when she'll be a Deep White. That's why she has no wounds—in the timeline she borrowed from, they never happened."

    He reached out through their bond, not with words but with the wordless communication that dragons preferred. Images and concepts rather than speech.

    What you did. Show me.

    Kisa's response came back in fragments, simple concepts layered with exhaustion and something that might have been pride. Time. Forward. Needed... strength. Borrowed... future self.

    Dangerous?

    A pause, and then a feeling like shrugging, if dragons could shrug. Always dangerous. Was... necessary.

    Gaelyn pulled back from the mental link and looked at Ivy, seeing his own awe reflected in her expression. "She reached forward through her own timeline," he explained. "Became what she will be, just long enough to save us all."

    He stared down at the rune again, its implications settling over him like a heavy cloak. If Kisa could do this, if she could reach through time itself, then everything they thought they knew about dragons, about bonds, about the nature of reality itself, might need to be reconsidered.    ​
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  • Something wasn't right. Ivy couldn't put her finger on what, but Gaelyn looked different. There was something hard and steely in his eyes that hadn't been there before and a hundred and one reasons for why began to speed through her mind, one after the other after the other.

    Was he angry at her? Was he building up to say something she wouldn't like? Was he… gods, was he… had someone hurt him, changed him on the inside? What if Ivy had been too late, what if—

    The kiss came unexpectedly, cutting of her panic before it could fully bloom. Her eyes widened enough for her tears to spill onto flushed cheeks but when the initial surprise finally passed, Ivy realised that she could feel the desperation in Gaelyn, in how his hands tangled into her hair, in the urgency of how his lips moved against her own. He needed this. Needed her.

    And she had never felt needed before; by anyone.

    She kissed him back, her hands balling into his shirt. There was no question, no request for an explanation. Only Ivy giving him what he needed until he pulled away again and finally gave her the verbal confirmation that she had sought.

    He was okay. Gaelyn was okay.

    Relief coursed through her system faster than adrenaline left it, and it took everything Ivy had in that moment for her to remain standing. The look in Gaelyn's eyes had softened again to something more familiar and as they stared at one another, her own expression remained open, patient. She didn't ask, but she was there. If and when he needed to speak, she would listen. And she would keep herself together until she knew that he could do the same for himself. God knows, Gaelyn had been her rock more times than she cared to admit.

    In the end though, he turned towards Kisa instead.

    Ivy wrapped her arms around herself in the brief emptiness he left behind, she too focusing upon their dragon as panic started to close around her throat again. Kisa had been hurt, scared… yet Gaelyn seemed calm in the steps he took towards her, steps that were slow, tentative, and the more Ivy watched, the more she realised that Kisa? Kisa was not wounded as she should have been. As Ivy had seen her been.

    Confusion rattled in her mind, replaying the images of that vicious onyx coiling around glistening pearl, until Gaelyn's voice pulled her back again, strong, steady.

    She needed to see this? See what?

    It took Ivy a moment before she began to move rigidly, feeling a little like she was wading through treacle. Her muscles ached and her mind felt heavy, but she made it to his side and followed his gaze until she saw it. The rune carved into the floor; perfect, precise.

    Passage.

    "What is…?"

    But then he explained. This wasn't just any rune; it was Kisa's. All this time, their dragon had not been changing her size, but her age. She could move through time.

    Ivy felt like she flatlined in that moment, as if she had finally reached her mental limit. She shook her head, her shoulders and body trembling as her hands had been, as if the movement was spreading. "That's not… I mean, it's not possible, it…" In all of her time in the archives, in all of the time she had spent studying, Ivy had never heard of this. Of dragons who could pass through the very foundations of existence. She might have laughed if she hadn't felt so hollow.

    "A deep white?" She whispered, her dark eyes floating to Kisa who stared back at them, blinking slowly like something older. Wiser.

    She had travelled through time to heal herself, to borrow something to replace the wounds that Ivy was responsible for. More tears spilled onto her rider's cheeks as she stepped towards her with this new information, her hand reaching up to meet Kisa's nose slowly, gently, as if she believed she needed to re-earn the dragon's trust all over again. Guilt peppered her features, shame decorated her eyes.

    "We always knew you were special," Ivy whispered to her. "We just didn't know to what extent."

    A few moments passed as the meaning of all of this settled, as Ivy's walls finally began to crumble, piece by piece. With Kisa's revelation came the reality of what pain she had been in, of what had happened to her; it had been so bad, she'd had to seek the impossible just to escape it. Ivy couldn't bear the thought almost as much as she couldn't believe it was possible.

    She stroked along Kisa's scales, her fingers hovering over where she had seen Nyx sink her teeth into.

    "I'm sorry," she eventually managed, her voice nasal, breaking. It might not have been the time, not after learning what they just had, but Ivy needed to say what was on her mind and she needed to say it now, before she simply couldn't anymore.

    "I'm sorry for what happened. I'm sorry to… to both of you." She glanced back over her shoulder at Gaelyn, more tears dribbling until they fell. "It was my fault. I… I closed my eyes for a second and I… I put us all in danger. I thought I could handle it but I…" Her bottom lip trembled and she turned forwards again, shuffling in towards their dragon's scales. When she reached her, Ivy dipped her forehead against Kisa's neck and closed her eyes, her shoulders beginning to shake with the deep, breathless sobs that were trying to escape from her.

    "I don't… I don't deserve either of you, and I'm just… I'm so, so sorry."

    ​
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  • Gaelyn watched Ivy break apart against Kisa's scales and felt something twist in his chest. She was wrong—so completely, utterly wrong—and he needed to tell her that. The words should have come easily. She'd saved them all by holding the line when he couldn't wake up fast enough. She'd fought off a mental attack while defending their camp alone. There was no fault here, no blame to carry.

    But when he opened his mouth, nothing came out except a rough exhale. The clinical part of his mind that had served him so well in the fight was useless here, and the warmer parts of himself were still swimming up from depths he'd rather not examine. How could he explain that her perceived failure was actually extraordinary courage? How could he make her see that falling asleep after weeks of exhaustion wasn't weakness, but human limitation pushed past its breaking point?

    The words tangled in his throat like fishing line, each attempt to speak them only making the knots tighter.

    Kisa, though, had no such limitations.

    The dragon's mind touched theirs both at once, not with the simple concepts she usually shared, but with something deeper. Images flowed between them—not of the present, but of possibilities. Futures that might come to pass, threads of time that she could see more clearly than either of her riders.

    Broken apart. Alone. Failing.

    The first vision was dark. Gaelyn fighting through a burning city with dead eyes and mechanical movements, his warmth finally frozen over completely. Ivy retreating so far into her archives that she forgot how to come back, lost in shadows of her own making. Kisa, growing smaller and smaller until she faded entirely, a bond stretched too thin to sustain.

    No. Wrong path. See true.

    The vision shifted, and suddenly they could see themselves as she saw them. Not broken or failing, but blazing like twin stars bound in orbit around each other. Gaelyn's ice-cold precision tempered by Ivy's fierce loyalty. Ivy's tendency to retreat balanced by Gaelyn's steady presence. Both of them stronger for the other's existence, both of them capable of extraordinary things when they stopped fighting the connection between them.

    Bond. Not just to me. To each other. Always was. Always will be.

    More images came in gentle waves. The moment in the inn when they'd chosen to trust instead of run. Their first flight together, learning to move as one. The way they'd naturally fallen into watch rotations, each instinctively knowing when the other needed rest. A dozen small moments that proved what Kisa had always known—they were meant to be together in this.

    You fought. Mind-battle. Kept safe while bondmate slept. Brave. Strong.

    The concepts were aimed at Ivy specifically, wrapped in the warm certainty that only dragons seemed capable of. To Kisa, there was no question of fault or failure. There was only a rider who had stood guard while under psychic assault, who had held her position even when terror tried to break her apart.

    You protected. Both of you. Pack survives when pack stays together.

    Then, more gently, almost playfully, came an image that made them both blink in surprise. Kisa as she truly was—not the small dragon they knew, not even the Deep White she had borrowed from her future, but something timeless and vast. Ancient beyond measure, with knowledge that spanned eras. And in all that endless existence, across all the threads of possibility she could perceive, this bond was precious. Rare. Worth protecting.

    Time shows truth. You are meant. Both. Together. Unbreakable.

    The mental touch faded back to its usual gentle presence, but the images lingered. Gaelyn felt his throat finally unlock, though his voice came out rough and unsteady.

    "She's right," he managed, stepping closer to where Ivy still pressed against Kisa's neck. "About all of it. You didn't fail us, Ivy. You saved us. While I was trapped in dreams, you held the line. While they were trying to tear your mind apart, you kept fighting." He reached out tentatively, his hand hovering just above her shoulder. "I should have woken up sooner. I should have been faster. If anyone failed—"

    No blame. No fault. Only love. Kisa's correction was swift and certain, cutting through both their attempts at self-recrimination. Bond is strong. Bond endures. Bond protects all. And somehow, in the simple certainty of dragon wisdom, it felt like the truth.    ​
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