Tahlu led the party outside to the Southern Gate where their rides had been prepared. Aidan looked on in silent confusion, but Petra cackled at the long, fuzzy faces that blinked down at them.

Instead of horses, they were brought mero, for the Tal did not ride horses. They stood about the size as a horse, but were much more limber—dainty even—and of cloven hoof. Perfect for scaling the rocky ledges of the mountains. Their hair was fluffy, particularly around the neck, with two small horns poking out between their ears.

"Not what you were expecting?" Tahlu asked Aidan in jest as he scratched the creature behind its ears. "Just think of them as horses of the mountains. There are many steep trails where you're going, and mero make a rock wall look like a staircase."

The mero bleated and stomped a hoof as Tahlu found its favorite scratching spot, and its leg muscles rippled under its fur.

"They're also quite fast when you get them going."

They bid their farewells and Sulaer made sure to hug each one of them before they mounted up.

"Please, be careful," she said. "The mountains may be old and beautiful, but they can also be dangerous. Just because a rock looks sturdy, doesn't mean it is."

"We're well aware," said Petra.

"Oh, right. You would be, wouldn't you?" Sulaer said, recalling their montane origin. "Well, I still packed you some medical supplies, just in case. There's salve, bandages, some more amec crystals for you, Syra...and some herbs if you can't find any, and—"

"I'm sure we'll have everything we'll need," Syra said, giving her pack a confident pat.

"Thank you, Sulaer," Aidan said with a prolonged gaze that made Syra's jaw tense.

"Of course!" Warmth bubbled from her grin and he gazed on like one soaking up the last rays of sun before winter. "Oh, almost forgot! Tahlu, didn't you have something for him?"

"Oh, yes, thank you." Tahlu unstrapped the sword from his belt and handed it up to Aidan.

"Thank you, sire, but I already have one," Aidan said, taking it by the hilt.

"Not one like this." Tahlu pulled off the sheath and silver-blue metal shone brilliant in the sunlight.

Both Aidan and Syra's eyes widened as Tahlu and Sulaer chuckled to themselves.

"Is this...austram?" Aidan asked Tahlu, rotating the blade, mesmerized by its velvety luster.

"Indeed, it is. One of the last ones made."

Aidan twirled it with a quick hand, feeling its light weight and how it cut the air with little resistance.

"I can see why people call it, blue steel." Syra said.

"I know you have your own sword, and that it probably means a great deal to you," Tahlu said, "but I'm sure you're aware that no ordinary sword can fell a dragon..."

Aidan's twirling ceased and he laid the blade across his lap.

"Especially not one with hide as thick as Marrak's."

Aidan looked from the blade to the sword hung from his waist. He unclipped it and held it tight in his hands.

"This was my brother's," he said, eyes staring down at the finely crafted scabbard and into the misty memories it held. "My father had it reforged for me when I became a soldier. It's been watching over me ever since." His thumb massaged the scuffs along the sheath before handing it down to Tahlu, "Please, take care of it."

Tahlu accepted the sword with a bowed head and sympathetic eyes, "Until you return for it. For now, what may I call this special blade?"

"Its name is--" Aidan paused, giving a hesitant glance over to the siblings, "Drahgrashi."

Syra's ears screamed as her own language hissed from his lips. Like Aidan's own poison-tipped arrows, the draconic word for 'dragonslayer' hit her and the twins in their throats.

Syra didn't need to be an empath to feel another wall shoot up around Petra, and Cassius just turned his face away, no doubt just as hurt by the sentiment.

"I'm leaving," said Petra, giving her mero a tap with her heels.

"Same," Cassius said and followed her.

That left Syra sitting atop her giant goat with mouth caught open and no words.

"I named it for Ethan," Aidan explained, keeping his eyes averted. "I thought, if I slayed the dragon that took him me, I could look it in the eye and let that be the last word it ever heard. That somehow, it might bring my brother some peace."

"You said you named it that when you became soldier?" Syra asked, strained and barely audible.

"Yes."

"So, the same day you bed me?" Her voice cracked.

That night had been one of her happiest. One she remembered fondly even now.

How could he? she asked herself, anger churning in her gut. Of all available suitors, she had chosen him--an act no dragon took lightly. Yet he found solace in the murder of her kind?

It was for Marrak, not your clan, came the small voice in her head that chided her whenever she was being stupid. And so were the dragonlances. He's just as angry and scared of Marrak as you are.

Aidan met her gaze with genuine remorse. He knew how much the sentiment hurt her, even without seeing how her face contorted from the shock. But that had been years ago, when grief and rage fueled his mission to protect his city. Syra had been his one reprieve from the nightmares and anti-magic projects that threatened to become an obsession. And despite their time and experiences together, a tickle of unease still cropped up whenever he was alone with Petra or Cassius.

He wanted to forget it all, to just enjoy their company and charge through the journey together. But he couldn't. He couldn't forget the stench of burnt flesh as his brother lie dying, or the shrieks of fear from the city streets as the shadows flew overhead, or how his gut seized when Syra's voice boomed from a scaly beast.

She had been honest in her explanation—he knew Syra well enough to know she hated to lose anyone—but resentment still festered and a sliver of him remained callous to her cries.

"I didn't mean to hurt you," he said, letting the words drip from his tongue and burn into her ears.

***

The ride to Misty Hollow felt longer than it should have. The mero's agile hooves made their descent to the small mining town quick work, but the silence between them screamed unspoken words and made the hours drag on. Petra made a point to stay as far away from Aidan as possible, going as far as to skid down a steep ledge head first if it meant she could stay yards away. Cassius kept to himself, eyes on the trail and lost in his own thoughts.

From her position behind Aidan, Syra could see rooftops and smoke poke out from the hills and treetops, and she prayed the rest of the journey wouldn't be this awful. Aidan's words had echoed in her head the entire way down and her mind replayed the entire last decade to her on repeat.

She had known of his disdain for dragons—only her fellow mages seemed immune to the city's hated—but did not know just how deep that well ran. Or maybe she did, but just didn't want to believe that he could hate her kind so much. How he could hate her so much.

Did I really misjudge him? she thought. He was so kind before. Before he knew everything at least. Should I have just told him everything from the beginning? Would it have made a difference? Or changed the way he saw us, if he had the chance to get to know one? Maybe if he hadn't been so focused on revenge, our clanmates' deaths could have been prevented. Her head swam with what-ifs and she just missed rear-ending Aidan as he stopped a ways away from the town gates.

"We should find an inn to stay for the night," he said.

"You can," spat Petra, "I'm not sleeping anywhere near you, dragonslayer."

Aidan winced and let his gaze fall. He couldn't really blame her.

"We'll find another place to stay," Cassius said, trotting after Petra. "There has to be more than one inn in this place."

"Like hell I'm staying in an inn!" Petra dismounted and began unpacking her things from the mero, lying them against a tree, "My rump is staying right here. Like I said before, the less humans, the better." She gave Aidan a death glare before throwing her cloak out over a bed of grass.

"We should stay together," Syra said. "Tahlu warned us that the Black Thorn could be in any city, and we'll be weaker if we're separated."

"Then I'll just have to handle things myself," Petra said, patting the hilt at her side.

"Do you really think two weeks of practice makes you capable of taking down a whole squad?"

"Let them be," Aidan said, inviting Syra to join him, "Where they sleep is their choice."

Their choice.

Syra hesitated and stared at Aidan's outstretched hand. That warm hand that had fought away her nightmares, had also held that disgusting blade. As much as she had craved his embrace, the thought of being alone with him now made her stomach tighten.

"Actually," she stammered with tensed jaw, "I think I'll stay with them for tonight."

"Really?" the twins said in surprised unison.

Syra nodded without a word and averted her gaze away from the equally surprised Aidan.

"Oh," Aidan said, fidgeting in his saddle. "Well, alright then. Just please, stay out of trouble and don't--"

"We'll be fine," Cassius said, giving him an easy smile and nod, "We'll meet you back here at dawn."

***

The early hours were spent hopping shop to shop for supplies. There were no towns between there and Morai, so Aidan made sure to stock up on dried foods and hunting gear.

"Alright, I think that's everything," Aidan said, checking over their supplies for a second time. "Tahlu said to keep west of the mountains, so we'll take the road south of here."

As they passed the town square, a clamor of voices rose from a growing gathering of townsfolk.

"Did you hear?" One woman whispered to another, grabbing Syra's attention, "Another city has been attacked."

"Attacked? By what?"

"What do you think? A dragon, of course. Bloody beasts just can't leave us alone."

Syra grabbed Aidan by the sleeve and tugged for him to stop and listen. From her height, she couldn't see who was amassing such a crowd, but her taller companions were unpleasantly aware of the bronze coins that hung from the group's necks.

"Settle down, now! Everyone!" A gruff, overconfident voice snapped Syra's attention to the man standing atop the town well, arms outspread as if casting a spell. Larson, she growled to herself, scowling up at him from the shadows of the townspeople.

"I know the rumors are upsetting, and I'm here to set the record straight."

"Bashta," Petra hissed low, "he's here to make them worse."

"Last night," Larson continued, "I received a raven from a comrade in Rozenfall. It seems that, sometime yesterday afternoon, a dragon attacked the city, demolishing many of their buildings and setting them ablaze—including half of the Arrun groves."

Alarm swept through the crowd, many scared and others angry.

"But why?" yelled a young lady, "Rozenfall is miles from the mountains. Why would it attack a city that's had no qualms with them?"

"Because they're dragons!" another cried.

"They know nothing but fire and death!" went another.

Larson held up a hand for quiet.

"No qualms, you say?" he asked the young woman. "Are you aware that Rozenfall is the source of all your defenses? All of your precious ropes, repellents, salves and ointments for those pesky magical plants that just won't go away. The fact that it burnt down half of their Arrun trees is proof that it knew what it was doing—that it knew Rozenfall was our main line of defense."

"How?" called a man, unconvinced, "Dragons are just dumb, savage beasts. They don't know anything!"

"Beasts, perhaps," Larson agreed, "But beasts that can be controlled!"

The crowd was aloud with whispers, like crickets in a summer field.

"And who do you think controls them?" Larson pushed on. "Who sought peace with them? Traded with them? Made them their guard dogs?" He laughed at how insane it all sounded now.

"Altaira," the young lady said from the hush of the crowd.

"I'm sorry, what?" Larson egged on, with a hand to his ear, "I couldn't hear you."

"Altaira!"

Syra watched as anger leapt from one person to the next, the wave of dissent surging through the farmers and miners, the bakers and the crafters.

"Altaira is our capital," Larson said with remorse, "but tell me. How many times have they come to your aid? When that mine collapsed, how long did you wait for soldiers to dig your men out? When the town flooded from the rain and snow, what help did they send for the injured or your broken homes? How many of you are still missing your children? Even as I stand here mocking them, there are no guards to stop me."

Larson took the necklace from his neck and held it out above the people, the morning light glinting on the small coin.

"A small, humble coin, for the small, humble man. Alone, it doesn't amount to shit," he said, gaining a few laughs, "but melt those down together,"—he pulled out his sword which shone a bright bronze—"and you have yourself a weapon."

Clapping sparked from within the crowd, and soon it grew into applause.

"Altaira knows we're here," Larson said when the clapping died down, "that the Black Thorn is a threat and only growing stronger. So, they're sending their guard dogs to cut off our trades routes and supplies. But that will not stop us, will it?"

"No!" yelled the crowd.

"It only proves how corrupt they are! They don't care about us! They only care to line their own pockets and sit in the plush beds that we make, filling their plump bellies with food that we grow! I say it's time to change things."

The crowd seethed. Their whoops and hollers filled the square, drunk on rage and the promise of easier lives unhindered by wealth or status. All the while, Larson and his men smiled, their mission completed.

Through the throng, Syra watched one of the men whisper to Larson, prompting him to look dead at her. Aidan saw it, too, and he pulled at her arm, his eyes locked onto Larson.

"We need to leave, now."

***

The town was too enamored by the show to even notice the party leaving out the south gate. For this, Syra thanked the stars.

The trail was small and a slight overgrown from little use, and hugged the river running parallel to the mountains. It was an easy ride for their mero and they had traveled some miles before they heard the neighing of horses. From behind them, heavy hoofbeats approached at a worrisome pace.

"You think they followed us?" Cassius asked, turning to scout the trail behind them. He flinched away, nearly toppling off his ride, as an arrow whizzed past his face. "I'll take that as a yes."

"I knew you'd turn up sooner or later!" Larson called from his horse as he and his band of men galloped towards them. "How does it feel, having the deaths of three people on your hands?"

"You tell us!" Petra snarled back, digging her heels into her mero's side and leading the party at a faster pace.

As the trail crested a hill, the river fell away into a ravine and the mero's hooves drew getting nervously close to the edge. The stretching of a bow string made Syra flinch just an arrow whistled past her, digging into Cassius' mero's flank. It screamed and stumbled. Its legs buckled and they tumbled sideways into Petra. The rocks underhoof gave way and the two mero toppled over the edge of the ravine, taking the twins with them.

Syra screamed, and Larson laughed, "Two down!"

Syra snapped her reins and the stag bounded off on agile hooves.

"Petra! Cassius!" she called, keeping her eyes on the pair of heads bobbing in the swift current. They rose and sank with flailing arms and her chest tightened.

Shit, they don't know how to swim yet.

The archer readied her bow again and Larson let her pull ahead.

"Don't miss this time!"

"Oh, I won't."

Syra felt the line of mana lock-on to her back before her eyes caught the shimmer of runes tattooed across the archer's knuckles, and the glowing arrowhead.

Shit.

The arrow exploded on impact with her barrier and sent both her and Aidan airborne. She hit and skidded against the dirt, tumbling over to see both mero skittering off into the forest.

"Are you alright?" Aidan asked from beside her, a gash beginning to leak on his forehead.

"Yeah, I'm fine," She was scratched up and had landed on her elbow too hard, but she could still run.

"Don't even try it," Larson said, as he and his men surrounded them.

"Finish it," he commanded the archer, who loaded another arrow.

Syra saw Cassius and Petra being dragged away below her and she curled her fingers into claws, charging her hand.

The archer charged the arrow, "Not this ti—"

But Syra swung quicker. She clawed at the air and sent a blast of hot wind arching into them, sending up a veil of dirt and dust.

"Hang on," she said, grabbing Aidan and leaping off the edge of the ravine. Gold shimmered around them as they hit the water.

Their heads popped to the surface, spitting and coughing.

"Cas! Petra!" they called, treading water to keep their legs away from the hungry rocks below.

"There!" Aidan pointed to a low-hanging limb where Cassius had latched himself.

Aidan managed to grab a floating log and pulled Syra over to it. They scrambled on top and Syra dug both hands into the water.

"Hold on!" With glowing hands like paddles, Syra pulled the water back around them, propelling them forward. She spun the log sideways to lodge it between a boulder and the bank, allowing Cassius as foothold.

"Where's Petra?" Syra asked.

"Over there!" Cassius pointed to the red locks washing over the stones as Petra's mouth gaped barely above water.

"She's stuck!" Syra stripped off her cloak and shoved it at Aidan before wading back out into the current. With one hand gripping the cloak, she dove under the rapids, feeling for Petra's foot among the rocks.

Where is it?

She ran her hand over the river bottom, but found nothing. Squinting against the rushing water, she could see Petra's foot lodged under a rock just a few more inches away. She reached and the rock shimmered. With a tug, she yanked the rock away and Petra shot to the surface, coughing and wheezing. Syra grabbed hold of her arm and tugged on the cloak for Aidan to pull them out of the current.

Syra caught her breath and Cassius and Aidan heaved Petra up onto the bank.

"Are you okay?" Aidan asked Petra, watching her choke up water between gasps.

"I cannot wait until I get my body back. You humans really do suck at this surviving thing."

"Yep, she's fine," said Cassius.

"Were we followed?" Aidan asked Syra.

Syra sharpened her focus from her perch atop the bank, "Not that I can see. But you should ask, just in case."

"On it." Aidan crouched against the embankment and gripped at the exposed tree roots. "You check over Petra."

Cassius joined Syra in examining Petra, but he couldn't help but stare at Aidan's trance-like focus.

"What's he doing?" he whispered. "Is he...praying?"

Syra glanced from Petra's bruising foot to the pensive man kneeling among mud and roots, "In a way, I suppose. He's scouting--asking the trees to see what they see. Can't see very far, but it should tell us if there's anyone approaching."

"He...talks to trees?" Petra asked.

"When necessary. He won't admit it, but he's actually a decent green witch—takes after his mother. Even the clovercrown I gave him years ago is still green on his headboard." A sad grin flickered as she watched his eyes search under their lids. "At least it was when I left."

Moments later, Aidan's eyes flashed open and he wobbled back to his feet.

Syra tensed, "Anything?"

He held up a calming hand and shook his head, "No, we're clear. They probably assumed the rapids would take care of us."

"Let's hope so."

"Still, we should get going. We just lost most of our supplies and our rides, we can't stand to get caught again." He turned to Petra, "Can you walk?"

"I'm fine. Just soaked is all." Petra shoved herself to her feet, giving her ankle a good stretch before walking away. "Let's just find our bags so I can eat and warm up."

They made their way along the rocky river bank, hoping for a scalable slope to take them back up to the trail. But the sides remained steep and the rushing water echoed off their flat faces in mockery. It was a stroke of luck that one of the mero had found sanctuary on a pebbled shoreline. One of its saddlebag managed to survive the trip downriver, and the mero munched away at a bush outside a small cave eroded into the bank.

"We should rest here for the night," Aidan said, tossing his bag into the cave.

"It's still daylight," said Petra. "We can keep going."

"We're also still wet with half our supplies. We need to make camp and dry off before night comes." Aidan shot her a raised eyebrow, "Unless you're fond of freezing to death."

Now that the sun was hidden by the ravine walls, Petra couldn't deny that the chill made her hair stand on end.

"Fine," she said, clambering up the rocks into the dirt hole.

Syra followed after her, but as she pulled herself up she felt her head swim and her grip falter.

"Woah, now," Aidan said, catching her before the ground did, "You alright?"

Aidan helped her up, but she still staggered, "Yeah, just a bit...lightheaded, for some reason."

"You probably used too much mana."

"Maybe," Syra said, not that convinced. She knew what mana deprivation felt like, and this wasn't it.

"You think she picked up something from Omei?" asked Cassius.

"I sure hope not," Aidan said, beginning to worry. The last thing they needed was to come down with some exotic flu. "You should rest, just in case," he said, sitting her down inside the cave.

"Petra, you watch her," Cassius said from the shore.

Petra bolted upright like he threw fresh embers at her, "Why me?!"

"Aidan and I will go get some wood and fish, so someone needs to be here with her."

"Ugh!" Her groan echoed off the stone walls. "You're mean."

"Now, is that any way for a Vayguard to act?" Cassius mocked.

Petra crossed her arms with a huff, resigning herself to her side of the cave, "Fine. Go. But you better bring back a fat one!"

Hours passed without their return, and Syra only seemed to grow sicker. Her skin paled and she nodded off and on.

"You think it's an infection? Like in Omei?" Petra asked when Syra jolted awake again.

"I don't know. I don't think so. I don't feel feverish. I just feel tired and...tight, and...kind of itchy," she said, wriggling on the ground.

"Well, I hope it goes away soon. We have a lot of ground to cover."

"Yeah, me too."

A long pause passed between the sisters, each trying to occupy their own minds but neither comfortable with the silence. It had been years since they were alone together, and even then it only led to Syra having a face full of flames.

"Why do you still pine over him?" Petra finally spoke, ignoring any subtly. "Has he not made it clear he isn't interested?"

"It's not like that," Syra said just above a whisper.

"Sure looks like it. He seemed pretty fond of that Talian mage."

"I noticed."

"Then why keep hoping he'll change his mind? It's driving Cassius crazy."

"And what about Tarys, hm? Did you give up on him, too?" Syra scowled over at her through narrowed lids. "Just because he didn't notice you after a month of your silent stalking?"

Petra pulled her arms tighter around herself and shut her mouth.

"At least I told him how I feel, and don't cower away because he might say no," Syra said.

"But he did say no. Yet you cling onto this daydream that all will be magically forgiven."

"Because I have to," Syra snapped. She took a deep breath and stared up at the tiny roots weaving through the dirt ceiling, "If I don't keep the embers going, then it will certainly die."

"Well, maybe it should. It's not like you can stay with him when this over."

"You don't know that. There are ways...there has to be."

"You're a naïve and sheltered fool, Syra," Petra huffed.

"And you're a bitter cynic who's scared of her feelings."

Jade clashed with gold as they leered, unfaltering, into each other.

"I might be a fool," said Syra, "but at least I'm trying to make things work."

Petra scoffed, "Trying just gets you killed."

Silence fell between them as the patter of rain grew louder outside.

"Mother tried," Petra said, her voice distant, "and look where that got her."

"Mother was a fighter! That's what trying means: to fight. You can't succeed without trying first. That's why I can't give up: if she didn't, neither can I."

"Ha! You say that, but you barely knew her."

"I knew her better than you."

Guilt sliced at Syra's throat and she clamped her mouth shut.

"I-I'm sorry. That...that was out of li—"

"You're right." The rigidness left Petra's face and her gaze wavered. "I can barely remember her face...or her scent. Sometimes I think I catch a whiff of it from Father's den, but even then I can't place the memory. It's like, having known them makes their absence harder—you know someone's supposed to be there, but they're not. And that hole just doesn't go away."

Syra looked over Petra through heavy lids. She knew that hole all too well. She had thrown so much at it—books, food, late-night lessons and sleepovers. But even surrounded by loyal comrades that coldness still pricked her gut when her mind wandered. The best she could manage was to just keep it locked up in the box with everything else. At least until she could face it in her mirror alone. But now, it was her sister who wore that expression.

"I'm not like Cassius," she said softly, "I'll never be able to feel your pain, or take it away. But, I know mine hurts like hell, and I'd never want you to feel that way." She scoffed, "Probably should have told you that sooner, huh?"

Petra stared in a bit of shock as Syra bobbed in and out of consciousness.

"Sorry, your sister's just little broken," she chuckled at herself before passing back out.