Scene 1

  -Ryker-

  The castle falls away behind us, white stone shrinking under Obsidian's wings. My heart is still pounding as we cut through the air. Everything about it feels too fast, too loose, too close to losing control. I never thought I would be flying a dragon, let alone heading out on patrol for the kingdom. The cold wind tears at my coat, sharp enough to steal my breath, but I trust Espen's work. I always have.

  My father used to say Espen was born into the wrong guild. Military by name, artisan by nature. I remember him saying the Rune Father's story was larger than any single path, longer and deeper than we could ever see. Just because Espen began in the Military Guild did not mean he was meant to stay there. He believed that. My father believed it too. He said Espen would take what he learned, the discipline and the losses, and turn it into something that helped others. Weapons. Tools. Things meant to protect instead of destroy.

  That was one of the last conversations we had before he died.

  The memory lingers as we fly on. When my nerves finally settle, I admit the truth to myself. Flying is exhilarating. The ground stretches white and endless beneath us, snow buried deep across the cliffs and forest. The sky is clouded, heavy with winter, but the beauty of it still catches me off guard.

  I glance toward Elara and Vitalis flying alongside us. She looks like she is enjoying every moment of it. Smiling. Looking around like a kid walking the castle for the first time.

  We follow the edge of the cliffs until the lake comes into view. Its shoreline is frozen solid, but the center remains open, dark. It looks like an eye staring up at the sky. As we get closer, I see that it is perfectly still. The surface mirrors the distant mountains without a ripple.

  Something in me pulls toward it, and I feel Obsidian lean that direction before I even realize the thought has formed.

  The bond still unsettles me. The way he feels things before I say them. Before I choose them. Does he sense everything all the time? Every fear. Every hesitation.

  Obsidian reaches for me through the bond, not forceful, just present. Comforting.

  I lower myself closer to the saddle and push the connection back.

  Not now.

  Then a voice slips into my mind.

  Please.

  It is not loud. Not commanding. Rough at the edges, but steady. Gentle in a way that makes my chest tighten.

  Obsidian.

  This is the first time I have ever heard him.

  My hands lock around the saddle straps. I do not want this. Dragons have taken enough from me. I am meant to be alone. I work better alone. I have survived by keeping distance, by carrying my pain myself. I do not need help. I do not want it.

  Why did you choose me?

  The questions crash together until I cannot separate one from another.

  "No," I answer, before I can stop myself.

  Fear, I realize. I am still afraid.

  The moment the word leaves me, the bond fractures. Not breaks, but pulls back. Obsidian's presence retreats, and for the first time since the ash marked me, the constant weight of closeness fades. The space it leaves behind hurts. A hollow ache opens in my chest, sharp and unfamiliar. My rune stays dark.

  At the same time, Obsidian's wings falter. Just for a breath. He regains his rhythm and turns slightly toward Vitalis as we continue forward.

  She looks at me, eyes narrowed. Anger and sorrow burn there, clear as firelight.

  What did I just do?

  I look away. I cannot face her. I cannot face Elara.

  As the tower comes into view, I glance down at the forest below. The same ground I hunted for years. The place that once felt like freedom.

  Now, it gives me nothing.

  We fly in silence. Not the quiet of snow and wind, but the silence of a dragon who chose me and I pulled away from. I finally feel alone again.

  And I hate it.

  We pass over the trail where I once walked with Joren months ago. I wonder how he is holding up. I have not seen him for a week. He asked to visit the nest, to talk, but it was right after Elara's episode. I did not want to add weight to her shoulders, so I turned him away.

  When I tried to find him later, he had already been called to mining duty. Digging coal and crystal before winter fully set in. Before Black Frost closed the roads.

  Rune Father, why can't you pull him out of that?

  I already know the answer. You do not work like that. You never have. Not for me.

  I shake my head. I tell myself I have as much faith in the Rune Father as I do in this bond. None at all.

  And yet something in me still believes.

  I hate that part of myself. Because belief means someone is still writing the story. And I am the one trapped inside it, living every line. If you are real, why do You feel so silent when I need You?

  The tower rises through the snowfall like a blade breaking the sky. Gray stone catches the last thin light of day. Obsidian's wings shudder as we circle, the air sharp with pine, cold metal, and the promise of river water below.

  The courtyard is alive with movement. Guards unload crates. Rune torches burn gold against the dark. Obsidian lands hard, stone dust curling around his claws. Vitalis follows moments later, light as breath. Her glow pushes warmth into the gray, defiant and soft all at once.

  Drexen Veynar waits on the steps, his cloak snapping in the wind. His Pyraeth stands near him, scales glowing faint red as the last of the daylight fades. It eyes us, me, as we dismount and make our way forward. My focus stays on Drexen.

  "Well," he calls, voice carrying easily across the yard. "Finally. The new couple arrives. A scholar and the burnt hunter."

  The words scrape like grit. A few soldiers near the brazier shift, smirks half-hidden, watching to see how we react.

  Elara stiffens beside me as we walk toward the building at the base of the tower. It is odd. Part of me feels like she should not be here, and at the same time I know she is exactly where she is meant to be. She keeps her pace steady, but I feel the tension rolling off her. Her hand brushes the strap of her satchel, fingers curling like she needs something solid to hold on to.

  "Ryker," she says quietly, close enough that only I can hear. "Are you okay? What happened?"

  She felt it. Through Vitalis. Through the bond I just fractured.

  I do not answer her. Not because I am angry. Not because I do not care. But because this place is not ours. Every word matters here. Every weakness is something to be taken.

  I have reported to places like this after hunts often enough to know the truth. These men are rough. And they will break anything that is soft.

  We are under someone else's rules now. And it twists something in me to know that of all people, it is him standing at the top of these steps.

  What Thalos sees in Drexen, I will never understand.

  I shove the thought aside. I am here for a reason. I remind myself of that.

  Purpose.

  Duty.

  Control.

  Respect and honor. The same things my father carried, even when the world gave him every reason not to.

  "Lieutenant," I say, doing my best not to let the sarcasm slip into my voice.

  Drexen's smile sharpens, satisfied.

  "Inside."

  Scene 2

  Elara

  The sting I felt in the air still lingers beneath my skin.

  It came without warning. One moment we were flying in steady formation, Vitalis calm but watchful. The next, unease crept through her, thin and sharp. I followed her attention and saw Ryker ahead of us, his shoulders rigid, his head shaking once as if refusing a thought he could not escape.

  He looked as though he was arguing. Not aloud. Not with me. With Obsidian, perhaps. Or with himself.

  Then the pain struck.

  It was fast and precise, like the edge of a blade pressed and gone before I could react. I sucked in a breath, fingers curling instinctively against the saddle strap. The sensation faded almost as quickly as it came, but the echo remained. I was certain I had felt it through the bond.

  Whatever had happened did not touch Ryker alone. Obsidian faltered mid-flight, his wing dipping before he corrected, the motion sharp and unbalanced. Like a heart skipping a beat.

  I did not ask.

  "Emberlyn."

  Drexen's voice snapped me back into the present.

  I blinked, realizing I had stopped just outside the doorway of the tower outpost. "Sorry. What?"

  "Inside," he said, already turning. "We need to review your patrol assignments."

  I followed Ryker in, adjusting the strap of my satchel against my shoulder. The structure was plain from the outside, built for function rather than comfort. Inside, it felt alive with purpose.

  Maps lined the walls, hides and linen stretched tight over wooden frames, their edges darkened with age. Rivers were traced in faded blue, patrol routes etched in charcoal and ink. Runes glimmered faintly where borders shifted or danger lingered. At the center of the room stood a wide table bearing a carved relief of the kingdom and its surrounding reaches. Bridges, hunting grounds, ferry crossings, and lookout posts were marked with worn tokens. The scent of oil and old leather clung to the air.

  Lamps burned low in their glass casings, their light steady but muted.

  A man waited near the central table. He was broad-shouldered and older, his beard streaked with gray, one leg stiff as he shifted his weight. Old burn scars shimmered faintly along his forearms, the kind left by forge heat rather than flame.

  "This is Harven," Drexen said. "Quartermaster. You'll answer to him for everything except your souls."

  Harven snorted. "Wouldn't want those anyway."

  He took the writs Valcoro had given us and pressed a rune seal into the parchment, the mark glowing briefly before fading. "Welcome to the river post. The roofs hold. The food's hot. Don't expect more than that."

  Drexen moved to the table and struck the map with a pointer. The sound echoed sharply through the room. He placed a carved blue dragon token west of the tower. then then two more to the east.

  "Stormridge," he said without looking at Ryker. "You'll fly with me tomorrow along the sea road. Third-span bridge collapsed in the last storm. Builders are exposed. Keep them alive and return before dark. Do not waste resources."

  The pointer slid east, tapping the black line of the river's southern curve.

  "Emberlyn. Patrol with Lyra Halden. South to Ferry Ridge and back. Watch for factionless skiffs or wild dragon movement. Do not engage unless attacked. Do not improvise."

  I felt Vitalis stir, a ripple of unease passing through her. I spoke before I could second-guess myself.

  "Lieutenant. Our dragons—"

  Drexen did not look up. "What about them?"

  I steadied my breath. "They are bonded. Mated. We were instructed to keep them within range of each other when possible. Prolonged separation can destabilize the bond."

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  He finally looked at me then, unimpressed. "Cause feelings?"

  "It affects more than emotion," I said evenly. "Focus. Response time. Magical stability."

  "The only thing directing this patrol is me."

  The room fell silent.

  "We have four dragons at this post," he continued. "My Pyraeth covers the west. Halden's Hydrith and your Lumira take the east. Stormridge's Umbryx stays west. We spread our assets. We do not indulge them." What would you like me to do Emberlyn, send two new riders that dont know how to patrol together?

  I swallowed the rest of my argument. Because he was right. and Because he would not hear the rest of it.

  Vitalis already understood and i was late to the party.

  Harven cleared his throat. "If the lieutenant's done inspiring confidence, I'll show you the grounds."

  Outside, the wind cut hard and cold. Frost clung to the stonework of the tower where the wind was plastering it, pale against the dark rock. Harven's lamp cast warm amber light as he led us along narrow paths between low barracks and supply sheds. Forge vents breathed heat into the air, carrying the scent of iron and coal. Rune seals hummed faintly beneath the stone near the armory doors.

  The sky was heavy with cloud, the moon and stars swallowed by thick gray. Dawn pressed close, but the cold showed no mercy. I pulled my cloak tighter, covering my mouth against the bite of the wind.

  "Mess hall's there," Harven said, nodding toward a squat building with smoke curling from its vents. "Fish stew most nights. Bread when traders remember us. Armory's past the wall. Use it if you need. And try not to set anything on fire with rune work." His mouth twitched. "I like my walls intact."

  "I understand," I said.

  He studied me for a moment, then nodded once. "Good. Courtesy goes further than rank out here."

  Behind us, Obsidian and Vitalis followed close, their shoulders brushing as they shared what warmth they could. Ahead stood the central barracks, long and rectangular, built from thick stone.

  "Is that where we'll be staying?" Ryker asked quietly.

  Harven shook his head. "You'll be separated from the main force. Riders need clear access to the skies if anything goes wrong. It never has. But we plan for what might."

  He gestured east. "Emberlyn. You and your Lumira will stay with Halden. West barracks for Stormridge. Drexen's quarters are attached to the tower."

  Understanding came first. The reaction followed, sharp and unwelcome.

  "Halden's flown these routes before," Harven added. "Steady. Reliable."

  "I've heard of her," I said before I could stop myself.

  "She'll take to you well enough."

  He dismissed us with a final nod and a brief blessing to the Rune Father, urging rest before the early patrol.

  Ryker and I stood where Harven left us, the cold settling in around our boots.

  I step closer, lowering my voice. "Earlier. In the air."

  Ryker does not answer right away.

  His gaze drifts past me, toward the dark line of the western barracks, as if he is measuring distance rather than my question. Behind him, Obsidian shifts, his wings folding tighter against his sides.

  "I know," Ryker says finally. The words are quiet, but not soft.

  I hesitate. "Did it hurt?"

  Sorrow flickers across his eyes. He lifts one hand, then lets it fall again, unfinished.

  "There was pressure," he says after a moment. "Like something pulling the wrong way. Obsidian felt it before I did." He exhales slowly. "I should have noticed sooner."

  "That wasn't what I asked," I say, gently.

  He lets out a small, humorless breath. "It wasn't good. I didn't mean to..." The words trail off, unfinished, as if finishing them would make them real.

  That answer tells me everything and nothing.

  He shifts his weight, discomfort written into the motion, as though standing still costs him more than moving. "We've been pushing the bond harder than we should," he continues. "The patrol. The separation." His eyes flick to Vitalis and Obsidian as they circle one another, slow and deliberate. "They feel it before we do."

  Silence stretches between us.

  "We should get some sleep," he says at last, the words sounding practiced, as though he has been waiting for the moment to say them. "Tomorrow's going to be long. Cold."

  I nod, though neither of us moves.

  Before turning away, he pauses. "I think you're going to like Lyra." His tone steadies, shifting onto safer ground. "I don't know her well, but I've seen her fly during my hunts. She knows the river. Knows how to read her dragon. I've watched her Hydrith swim against the current like it belongs there."

  He hesitates, then adds, slower, "She was one of the fastest to settle into her bond. Didn't fight it. Didn't rush it either. If you have questions... she'd be the one to ask."

  Vitalis and Obsidian circle closer now, foreheads nearly touching. The air hums faintly between them.

  Ryker watches, something conflicted passing through his expression. "This is new for you too," he says quietly. "But you and Vitalis listen to each other. Don't let anything disrupt that. It matters."

  A small smile crosses his face, brief and restrained. "You'll do fine."

  Then, almost as an afterthought, "Make sure you write things down. I know Mira will want every detail."

  He turns before I can reply, heading west.

  Thanks to the bond, I can already feel myself missing him. The absence settles quicker than I expect, a hollow place forming where his presence had been only moments before.

  This is going to be a long week.

  By the time I reach the eastern bunker, night has fully settled. Lyra is already asleep.

  Vitalis moves ahead of me, her steps quiet against the stone as she circles the outer wall. She pauses a few paces from the Hydrith, who stirs just enough to acknowledge us before sinking back into rest. Vitalis turns toward me, her gaze angled just shy of meeting mine. It is enough. A reassurance without words.

  We will make it through.

  Then her head turns west, toward Obsidian.

  And my heart follows, even as I try to stop it.

  Inside the bunker, the space is dim and orderly. Lyra's gear is laid out with care at the foot of her cot. Her flight jacket folded clean and precise. Her boots scrubbed free of river clay and lined heel to toe. Even in sleep, she carries the air of someone practiced. A rider who has done this many times before.

  I have never seen her in person. Only heard her name spoken in passing, most often by scholars.

  Halden. The River Watcher.

  The one who swims with her dragon.

  I do not wake her.

  I unroll my blanket across from her cot, careful not to disturb the quiet, and lie back against the stone. Beneath the floor, the dragons hum softly through the rock, a steady presence that seeps into my bones. I pull the furs tight around myself, breathing in the mingled scents of coal smoke and hide, and let the rhythm carry me down into sleep.

  Scene 3

  -Elara-

  I wake to the sound of men moving through the courtyard below and the low, grinding rush of ice breaking along the river. For a moment I lie still, listening, letting the cold morning settle into my bones. Then I feel Vitalis stir at the edge of my awareness.

  She did not sleep well. I know it immediately through the bond. There is a restlessness there, a soft unease, the absence of her mate's wings wrapping her through the night. Almost as soon as she wakes, the pull west begins. It is faint, but insistent, like a thread drawn tight inside my chest.

  I push it aside as I sit up.

  Lyra is already awake. She sits on her cot pulling on her boots and leathers, watching me with an expression that feels far too alert for this early hour.

  "Morning, Emberlyn," she says. "It's about time you woke up."

  Morning light spills through the narrow opening above us, and with it I finally get a clear sense of her. She is tall, her blond hair pulled into a single braid down her back. Her shoulders are strong, her movements practiced, the kind of strength that comes from repetition rather than show.

  "I slept okay," I say, ignoring the ache in my back and the way a shiver already runs through me as the chill settles deeper.

  She snorts. "According to Kethis, both you and Vitalis had a rough night. He says neither of you would hold still. And that you were talking in your sleep."

  Heat rushes to my face. "I don't sleep talk," I start to protest.

  She cuts in with a sly smile. "He also says you snore."

  It takes me a moment to realize she is teasing me. I roll my eyes as I stand and reach for my bags. "Is this how it's going to be?" I ask, gathering my gear and clothes.

  Then the truth settles in. She is fully bonded. Fully connected. She can speak with her dragon as easily as she speaks with me. The thought fills me with something like awe, and a quiet hope that one day I might reach that same place with Vitalis.

  "My name's Lyra," she says as she crosses to the far wall.

  Only then do I notice the rune carved into the stone. A flame symbol, precise and deliberate, with a thick piece of metal shaped perfectly to match it and set into the carving. Clever, I think, watching as she feeds power into the metal. It glows red, then brighter, releasing a steady heat that begins to chase the cold from the room.

  "Thank you," I say as I pull on my coat, the last piece of clothing, and sling my satchel over my shoulder. I check its weight, making sure everything is there. I still do not know what the day will bring.

  "Yeah, of course," she replies. "So. Lieutenant Veynar has asked me to train you. What to look for on patrol, answer any questions you've got."

  I nod, listening as her tone shifts. The levity fades, replaced by something sharper, more focused.

  "It's simple," she continues. "We fly to the midpoint between this tower and the one to the southeast, then back. We watch for dragons, factionless, anything out of place. There are rumors that some of the Black Stack raiders who hit the trade ships are nearby. If we see something, we signal the tower and they respond accordingly. Sound good?"

  "Yeah," I say, nodding again.

  But my thoughts spiral anyway. I am not ready for this. Why are they here? Are they looking for me? How would they even know?

  "Good," Lyra says. "Let's get moving before the men decide to think less of us. As if that's possible."

  There is humor in her voice, but also truth.

  As we head for the door, her posture shifts. She straightens, shoulders squaring, her movements tightening as she steps into the role she carries. This is someone who protects the kingdom. Someone who has done this before.

  I tell myself to pay attention. She is going to teach me more than she realizes.

  We cross into the courtyard, heading toward the center to check in before flight. That is when I see Ryker.

  He looks exahuasted, like he didnt get any sleep. my thoughts instantly turn to what happened during his flight. The thought twists something in my chest. I wonder if he even felt Obsidian reaching for Vitalis?

  The thought lingers longer than I want it to.

  Suddenly Lyra grabs my arm. "Come on," she says. "Let's get food for the trip."

  My body reacts before my mind does. My heart stutters. Everything locks. I twist sharply, forcing her hand away as I spin to face her.

  She releases me immediately, surprise flashing across her face. For a breath, neither of us speaks.

  Then she nods, glancing toward the food hall, accepting that something happened without pressing for answers.

  I look back toward Ryker and Obsidian.

  Men move around them with carts, horses, and gear. Ryker grips the strap near Obsidian's wing claw and is hauled smoothly into the saddle. Through the bond, I feel Vitalis surge with longing and protectiveness, her attention fixed on her mate as they share one last look before turning away.

  Ryker turns his head toward me.

  There is something in his expression that feels like a warning and a promise all at once. Be careful. Stay warm.

  I nod back. "Please be safe," I whisper, so quietly I am not sure anyone hears it.

  After we gather supplies, we head for our dragons. Lyra mounts Kethis in one fluid motion, rider and dragon moving as one. They have done this many times before.

  When I reach Vitalis, she lowers her wing. I grasp the strap, ready for her to lift me, but she does not.

  Instead, she turns her great head toward me.

  I lower my eyes out of respect, but she waits. Gently. Patiently. Until I lift them again.

  Her eyes are gold. Warm and steady. I can feel the effort it takes as she focuses, reaching through the bond. When her voice comes, it is clear and strong, shaped with care.

  Remember.

  The word reaches me cleanly, without images or pain. Just truth. What I have lived through still belongs to me.

  There is a pause, measured and deliberate.

  Endure.

  My breath deepens. Not because I am calm, but because I am still here. My feet stay planted against the stone. My body no longer braces to flee.

  We are not fully bonded. The path between us is narrow, unfinished. For Vitalis to send even one word like this must take focus. For two, shaped and separate, it costs her something she chooses to give.

  She does not ask me to relive what hurt me. She does not soften it or shield me from it.

  Remember is not a summons to pain.

  Endure is not a command to suffer.

  Together they mean this. I have faced fear before. I have lived through it. And I can stand again now.

  The worries remain. The patrol ahead. The rumors of factionless. Ryker flying west and the ache that tightens in my chest when I think of him. The quiet fear that I am not ready for what this bond will demand.

  Vitalis feels it all. The quickened pulse. The tension along my ribs. The thoughts that circle danger before it arrives.

  She does not take them from me.

  She meets them. Steady. Unmoving.

  As if endurance itself is a language she has always known how to speak.

  Scene 4

  -Elara-

  It's later in the afternoon and I sit near the fire pit Lyra made, holding my hands close to my chest and trying to coax the feeling back into my fingers. This is our last stop before we wait for the other patrol group to signal from the far tower that their route is clear. The cold has worked its way deep into me. When the numbness finally begins to fade, the sting is sharp and sudden. I breathe warmth into my hands, wincing, and glance up just in time to see Kethis wading into the river.

  I stare, stunned. Ice floats along the surface, clinking softly as the current carries it past.

  He wades out until the water reaches his chest, then lowers his head beneath the surface. When he comes back up, he shakes himself like a massive hound, sending frozen droplets scattering through the air.

  "Lyra," I say, genuine curiosity slipping into my voice. "How can Kethis go in there? I thought dragons couldn't handle the cold very well."

  My gaze drifts to Vitalis, curled tight near the water's edge. Snow has melted around her body, steam rising from her scales in slow, steady breaths. Through the bond, I feel her exhaustion, heavy and dull, like a weight pressing against my chest.

  Lyra breathes a small flame into the fire pit, coaxing the embers back to life. I am still not sure why she does not simply have one of the dragons start it, or why she is not using runes, but I watch the patience and precision in her movements as she does so.

  "I'm not completely sure," she admits. "After we fully bonded, we learned he's one of the only dragons who can withstand the cold for long periods. He can even go out during Black Frost for a few hours."

  There is a note of wonder in her voice, like the truth still surprises her.

  "It probably has something to do with our rune," she adds. "All I know is that he likes the water. Says it wakes him up. Sharpens his mind."

  I glance back toward Kethis. The rune on his chest is Contain. It is carved in a slow, curved spiral, not bright or blazing, just steady, as if the cold has nothing left to take from him. A unique rune, I think. An emotive one, maybe, as I try to recall the lines of runes Mira showed us in the Vault.

  Lyra settles beside me and reaches into her pocket, pulling out a small stone.

  "Here." She presses it into my hand. The rune of flame is embedded in its surface. "Activate it, but think warmth instead of fire. Like the sun hitting you at midday. It'll heat up and warm your hands."

  "Thank you," I say softly.

  The fire grows stronger as we sit in silence for a moment. I still cannot get a clear read on Lyra. She has an edge to her, something sharp and steady, but there is kindness beneath it. As we rest, I feel her relax, both physically and mentally, like she has learned when it is safe to let her guard down.

  I look up when Vitalis lifts her head. She watches Kethis, who has turned toward her now. I cannot hear their voices, but I feel the shift. They are speaking. Vitalis dips her head once in agreement.

  Kethis rises from the river, frozen droplets clinging to his scales before falling away as he shakes. He moves to Vitalis's side, and I hear a low breath, followed by a deep, furnace-like hum. A small, continuous flame flows from him as Vitalis spreads her wings. He warms them carefully, melting the frost that has gathered along the edges. The sight alone warms me as I watch.

  After a few minutes, Lyra turns back toward me.

  "Alright," she says. "Let's review. What are some things you should be watching for while we're in the air?"

  "Factionless," I answer, a thread of fear tightening my voice as I force myself not to glance into the forest behind us. "And half-souled dragons. Trade ships or caravans too, depending on the season."

  "Correct," she says. "And what signs would you look for?"

  I roll the stone between my fingers as I think. "For dragons, bedding areas on the ground where they sleep. Signs of recent kills, especially larger animals. Claw marks on stone where they sharpen their talons. And watching the skies. You said to rely on our dragons too. Their senses are stronger than ours."

  She smiles. "Correct."

  "For factionless," I continue, "you told me they will see us long before we see them. They avoid direct fights with dragons because they know they would lose. You also said to smell for campfires and smoke trails. If we suspect they are nearby, we signal the tower and wait for reinforcements while flying high enough that their bows cannot reach us."

  "Correct again." She grins and tosses another log onto the fire. "You're definitely living up to your scholar background."

  She watches the flames for a moment before speaking again. "Do you have any questions so far? About dragons, bonds, patrols. I know this year has been different. Forced bonds. Rushed training." She shakes her head. "You should be in the nesting caverns for winter, strengthening your bond naturally. Especially with mated dragons."

  I hesitate, then ask the question that has been sitting with me. "What is it like being fully bonded? And how did you bond so fast?"

  She stares into the fire for a long moment.

  "When Kethis chose me, I was hesitant," she says slowly. "I was troubled. I caused problems everywhere I went and had no real direction. Then suddenly I was bonded to a massive creature and given responsibilities I never asked for."

  Her voice softens.

  "As the weeks passed, we began to trust each other. We realized we were stronger together than apart. And eventually..." She pauses. "We gave in to each other. I don't know how else to explain it."

  She glances toward Kethis, who has finished warming Vitalis and now lies a short distance away.

  I nod, trying to understand what that means for me and Vitalis.

  "You're part of the Sailors' Guild, right?" I ask. "Why don't you work there more? I've heard you prefer patrols."

  Lyra looks at me thoughtfully. "Kethis and I have always felt that while our skills could be useful elsewhere, our purpose feels clearer here. Our story is here. Defending what we care about. The kingdom. Our families. So we volunteer for patrols whenever we can."

  The question slips out before I can stop it. "Does that mean you've killed people?"

  She nods, sadness settling over her features. "It's not easy. Death is hard, for dragons and for people. Ending something that was created." Her voice tightens. "But sometimes it's required."

  She goes quiet, then continues. "A few days ago, we lost a dragon and rider to a half-souled one. It had just made a kill, and we landed too close without knowing. It attacked us when we weren't looking. Kethis was able to kill it, but..."

  She stops.

  I realize then that she was there. With the rider and dragon Thalos mentioned. The reason Ryker and I are out here.

  "I'm sorry," I say.

  "We hesitated when we noticed the half-souled dragon was Kethis's brother," she says. "Because of that, we lost one of our dragons and almost a rider." A tear slips down her cheek. "The grief was unbearable. Kethis made the decision to kill his own kin to protect me."

  I sit there, taking it all in. The reality that dragons need us so they do not become wild feels unsettling in a way I cannot quite name.

  Why would the Rune Father allow something like this to happen? I wonder how often a nest has to banish its own kind if they do not find a mate or rider. Would I be able to see someone I know, someone whose story had nowhere left to go, and kill them to protect someone I love?

  The thought lingers as I watch Kethis swing his tail over and lay it across Lyra's lap.

  She wipes her face and takes a long breath. The sun finally breaks through the clouds, warming the frozen land.

  "Anyway," she says, forcing steadiness back into her voice. "How is your bond with Vitalis going?"

  I lean back slightly. "It's alright."

  "Her rune is Remember, isn't it?" she asks. "Have you been trying to fully connect with her through it?"

  "Sometimes," I admit. "But it's hard."

  She studies me. "Is that why you pulled away from me?"

  I stiffen.

  "You don't have to answer or give details," she says gently. "I've been through enough to know it's something serious. But can I offer advice?"

  I nod.

  "If you want to fully bond with Vitalis, you'll have to align yourself with her rune. With her story. With what the Rune Father intended." She glances toward the dragons. "That includes being honest. With yourself. With her."

  Then Vitalis looks toward Kethis, who relays something to Lyra.

  Lyra nods once, as if confirming something unspoken. "And apparently with Ryker too. If that doesn't happen, Vitalis will leave you."

  The truth lands heavily.

  Vitalis knows about that night. When I hid beneath the cart. When I watched Ryker's father die.

  She wants me to remember it.

  She wants me to share it.

  And that is not what I want to hear.