"Syra!" Aidan called to the unconscious body Namir laid in front of him. "Syra, look at me!"

"What happened?" Cassius drew back an examining hand from the charred flesh that snarled up at him.

"An explosion. Namir managed to catch her, but..." Aidan cringed at form by his knees. At the red, melted skin that spread across her face. At the bubbling blisters slick with blood. At the stench of burnt hair and meat. At the bombardment of images of Ethan that brought pain and nausea with them.

"Aidan?" Cassius asked with soft voice and curious eyes.

He watched the prince's eyes fill and dribble down those high and proud cheekbones. He didn't even both to wipe them away. He just stared, unblinking, deep lines appearing one after another until his eyes were barely visible.

"Niidah," a draconic whimper barely escaped Aidan's lips, and the twins stared in both surprise and silent awe.

"Please, wake up," Aidan repeated. "I'm sorry. For everything. I'm sorry I couldn't...couldn't help. I tried...but—"

He choked back a sob and studied her wounds that didn't shimmer.

"Why isn't she healing?" Aidan spat, making the twins jump.

"I-I don't know," said Petra, "maybe she's hurt too badly?"

"How?" he snarled, his red face wrinkled and contorted. "She's a fucking dragon--you guys are remarkably hard to kill."

Petra puffed up, but kept her tongue still and gaze locked on the faint rise-and-fall of her sister's chest.

"Sorry," Aidan said with lowered head. "I'm just..." A light finger stroked away loose strands from her face and patted a cheek in delicate taps, "I just don't know what to do." His voice cracked as he gripped her petite hand.

"We know," Cassius gave Aidan a firm pat before reaching down to lift Syra up. "We need to get her to Moremi. She might know something."

"Moremi's probably busy with Dürgah. We have to—"

"Dürgah's dead," Petra said flatly, causing Aidan to choke. "We tried to plug the wound, but he bled out before Moremi had a chance to fully bandage him."

"And now Syra might—"

"She will not!" Petra spat, standing. "She can't."

"Let's get her to Moremi, in any case," said Cassius. "I hate to bother her now, but if she helped Syra once, maybe she can do it again."

***

The entire village seemed to be crowded around Moremi's hut when they delivered Syra to the front door. Kiithran huddled with snouts pressed to every window, and many wept off to the side.

"There you are!" Suri said, hurrying out the door. "Come! You should be with us, too. Raz would—"

Suri froze seeing Syra's limp body in Aidan's arms, "What happened?"

"No time," Aidan said, pushing past her, "We need Moremi's help."

"W-wait, you can't! She's—"

But Aidan was already through the door.

"Moremi! We need your—"

Bloodshot eyes looked up at him from Dürgah's lifeless body, and he froze.

"I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to intr—"

"Syra?" Razira stood from father's side to inspect her friend's injuries. "Not you, too," she whimpered at Syra's shallow breathing and the burns that covered half her body.

"Moremi?" She looked over to the grieving healer with pleading eyes, "Please?"

"Of course, bring her here, quick."

Moremi left her chief's side and examined the damage, "This," she said with a nod, "this I can fix."

She rushed about her supplies, chopping, grinding, and mixing until she brought over a bowl of brown-green salve.

"Help me put it on the burns," she said, slathering the goo over the red, blistered skin. Her gentle hands wrapped long, slimy leaves over the burns and Petra gagged at the sudden stench of dead fish.

"We'll have to keep it covered, but it will protect the wound and relieve the pain while she heals. These burns are pretty serious, though, so it might take some time."

"How much time?" Aidan asked. "She's not healing like normal."

"Magical burns damage more than skin," she explained, "and they leave a kind of...residue that the body's mana has to break down. She's lucky she's Gifted--most Kiithran would have permanent damage if they survived at all. She might get away with some light scarring."

She snatched a small morakii from a chest and nestled it neatly on Syra's chest, "Hopefully, this should help speed up the process."

"Thank you, Moremi," Cassius said, tearing up, "for helping even though you're in pain, too."

She swallowed a knot and glanced forlorn at her chief's body. But, then returned to applying the salve with a weak smile, "It's what Dürgah would have wanted."

***

A vigil was held that night. After Dürgah's family had grieved over his body, the Aerie followed Viilah, Razira, and Namir up the island's slope to a clearing on the highest ledge. There, it was placed on a pyre. One after the other, each member paid their respects until Viilah was left holding a torch in shaking talons.

"You never gave me choice, you know," she whispered to her mate. "I could have had my pick of mates, but you stole my heart before I even went looking. But I never once regretted it. To Morai, you were Gahirem: their strong but compassionate leader. To our rima, you were teacher and giver of warm nuzzles and sloppy kisses. And to me," her voice broke, "you were my partner, my best friend, my 'rising mountain'...my Dürgah."

At Viilah's nod, Suri approached holding a small bowl. Viilah's head lowered as if weighted by the setting moon. Tilting her head, she rested her left horn against Dürgah's, the metal rings clinking in the chilly silence.

"Pick any star," she whispered into his ear, "any star and I will follow it."

Her eyes closed and Suri raised the bowl just above Viilah's ring. Steam flared from the metal as the stream of liquid from the bowl bubbled and ate away at both rings, carving out a scar in Viilah's horn.

Petra caught a breath in her throat and Cassius took hold of her quivering hand. They had never seen their mother's tree, but the pain in Viilah's eyes was unmistakable. One they glimced their father wear around tight corners.

Raising her head, Viilah clenched the torch in her hand and looked out over the mourning crowd, "The rising sun has now set! And though the night will be long and lonely, we know it will rise again." She glanced over to Razira with a sad but proud smile, "It will be a different sun, but one that is bright and beautiful, and full of new possibilities! So tonight, we send our brother back to the skies, where the sun is warm and the winds soft. May he soar forever!"

"Forever may he soar!" cried the gathering.

"Goodbye, mikhan" Viilah hushed and tossed the torch onto the pyre.

"Syra should've been here," Petra said to Cassius as they watched the pyre blaze.

"She would be if she wasn't—"

"Nearly burned to death?"

Cassius opened his mouth, but had no rebuttal. He held tight to her hand but her entire body stood tense.

"Marrak is an Ignis," her voice came out weak and strained, "just standing next to one can burn you. She's only on her third molt, Cas. If Father's hide couldn't stand up to him, how can she? Or us, for that matter?"

She forced her breaths through her tightening chest. She squirmed against cold dampness in her palms. And she cursed the tingle that left her throat to sting her eyes.

"I'm fucking terrified, Cas."

He clenched a fist and watched the fire turn Dürgah's feathers into ash, "Me, too."

The heat around his sister cooled as her shimmering walls, invisible to most, melted down. Blackness filled her gut and battled its way upward against the dying embers in her chest. Each forced breath resurrecting the furnace only to smothered in the next cold wave.

He wrapped a long arm around her shoulders and rested his head against hers, "But we have to try."

Her muscles ached to squirm away, but the influx of warmth from him kept her still.

"We've come too far to just give up and run away."

"No running, huh?" she scoffed.

"Never thought that'd be aimed at you?"

"I don't run," Petra snarled with a glare.

"I know you don't."

Silent words passed and Petra finally backed down, "We just have to destroy those shards. Maybe Marrak will give up without them."

"I highly doubt that."

"Shut up, Cas." She shrugged his arm away, "Let me have hope in something."

Cassius went quiet, but a smile played at the corner of his mouth as they stood there, in the brisk night air, where the moon and stars greeted Dürgah's ashes sent skyward on the winds.

***

Moremi had insisted on keeping Syra overnight, so the party decided to spend the late night hours comforting Razira in her room.

They told of their own stories of loss and grief—albeit briefly—and watched her walls slowly crumble. There, Razira allowed herself to break. To laugh and cry at the good and bad times that swarmed her mind. To curse herself for all the grief she had caused her father and for taking their time for granted. And eventually—after her wails had quieted—to fall asleep by Petra's lap.

"We should let her sleep," Aidan said. "I'm going to go check on Syra."

The boys stood to leave, but Petra refused to budge.

"I'm staying right here."

Aidan went to argue, but Cassius caught him by the shoulder and they left Petra to keep watch over the grieving kria.

"You don't have to stay," Razira said.

"Yes, I do."

Razira didn't argue. Even her eyelids felt to heavy to lift. They sat in the quiet, with Petra leaving Razira to mull around in the endless thoughts she knew plagued her mind.

But the warmth from Razira's plummage brought calm to Petra's nerves. The delicate feathers on her head were soft and smooth, and Petra's fingers stroked them absently. Away from judging eyes, Petra allowed a faint hum of a melody to escape her.

When the winds are strong and your thoughts churn dark,

Take my wings and let them lift your heart.

For I’m here,

Anytime I hear your call, I’ll fly the skies for you.

Razira's ear twitched from sudden but silky voice that filled the small room like warm mist. The warmth washed over her and saturated every limb. Her muscles relaxed and her breathing slowed. Sleep tickled her mind, but a twitching hand brought her back.

"What is that?" she asked, when Petra finished.

"A lullaby. We usually just sing it to fussy hatchlings, but it works for other things, too."

There was a sad strain to her voice, so Razira left it alone, "It's nice."

Silence came again.

"I'd like to tell you it goes away—the pain," Petra finally said, "but it doesn't. Not really." Her voice was dry and flat, but Razira could hear the silenced wails behind it. "You will smell him, hear him, see him just out of sight. You will hate the sky for its brilliance, yet cling to it for any passing vestige—as if your wishes could lead him home. Even the damn birds seem to know his laugh. I've been told it dulls over time—that 'the ache for something missing becomes a reminder that they're always with you'. But, I haven't gotten there yet."

"I doubt that."

Petra scoffed, "You say this after knowing me for two days?"

"That's all I need." Razira didn't look up, but she knew Petra's gaze was on her, "You're strong, Petra, anyone can see that. You've known sorrow, yet you still push forward. I don't know if I can do that."

"You can't. Not alone."

She sighed and chewed on her words, "I'm not proud of it—and don't you dare repeat this—but, after Father was killed, when the humans traded wagons for weapons...if it weren't for Cassius, I...I'd probably be a tree right now."

Petra stared past the grains in the flooring, but Razira looked at her puzzled.

"A...tree?"

Her ignorance slapped Petra in the face and she quickly stuffed all sentimentality back into their box.

"Nevermind. I meant that things would've been much harder without him. My point is, you still have your mother, and Namir, even little Suri. Don't take them for granted."

Petra felt Razira's body tense from surprise. But after a moment she relaxed and smiled, leaving them in silence once again.

"You think the Aerie will execute him?" asked Petra, "Namek?"

"I don't know. We've only ever grounded trespassers—never killed them. But, then again, we've never had...this happen."

Petra kept her mouth shut. She would have clawed Marrak's throat out had she been given the chance. But Syra was right. This was not her clan. She had no say in policy. No matter how backwards she thought their traditions were.

"Have you forgiven them yet?" Razira asked after some reflection. "The ones who took your family?"

Caught off guard, memories of her father, Marrak, and Altaira flooded past Petra's eyes.

She caught a snarl behind her teeth, "No."

It was the image of a broken Aidan clutching her sister—the frustration and sincerity in his apologies—that made her pause. "Not all of them, anyway. But...I'm trying."

***

Everyone was happy to see Syra fully recovered the next morning. But Petra could see the bitter wish hiding behind Razira's eyes. The wish that her father had also recovered, perhaps even in Syra's place. She hid it well, as was expected of the next Lahirem, but Petra knew that look and Cassius tried to keep her mood from infecting his own.

"You healed right up!" Razira gave Syra a playful nudge with her snout.

"Thanks to Moremi," Syra patted the small bandage remaining on her left jaw. "She said I'm probably going to have a scar from this one, but I'll certainly take it over dying."

"I hope you took notes," said Petra.

Syra held up a small jar filled with the brown-green gel, "Packed and ready."

"Speaking of ready," Viilah turned to her daughter, "are you?"

Razira took in a long, deep breath and looked out the window at the gathering that flooded the clearing below the hill.

"Guess I have to be."

"You'll do just fine," Viilah pressed her forehead to Razira's, "we believe in you. Dürgah believes in you."

Razira's eyes glistened.

"Plus, I'll be there when you mess up," Namir puffed his chest in jest and Razira smacked his shoulder.

"Me, too! Me, too!" Suri bounced and wagged her downy tail.

Razira beamed and laughed, and shot Petra a grateful nod, "I know."

Syra kept pace as Viilah led the procession down the winding path to the ceremonial platform, the Kiirem held between gentle jaws. It felt more crowded this time. Aerie members huddled close together for support—some still wore tear stains down their muzzles. Even Aidan stood closer to her.

"The night has lifted!" Viilah stood over the crowd, Kiirem in hand, and Razira sitting somber behind her. "And with it, our sorrow."

Turning her back to the crowd, Viilah handed the Kiirem to Namir who fluttered up to the arching wooden banner that topped the stage. There, he hung the headdress where a sun was painted to both rise and set.

"For the dawn has brought us a new sun to comfort and lead us."

Stepping aside, Viilah and the pounding of drums welcomed Razira to the front. Her legs shook but she kept her chest up and face forward. Forward to her people, to the verdant reef that merged with the blue sky she swore to protect, to the possibilities that burned in her chest.

Syra watched from below, finding herself in awe.

I wish I could be that confident.

She glanced over to Petra who looked on with a giant grin, cheeks flushed with pride for her new friend.

Does Petra look like that? Does the clan look at her like they did Papa?

A faint smile flickered on her face.

I hope they do.

"Razira-kaal!" Viilah confronted her daughter, removing her own headdress, "Daughter of Dürgah and Viilah, Kaalira of Morai, the sky beckons you to lead its people. Will you accept its charge and treat every family as your own? To teach and lead each member with your best conscience until you choose a mate worthy of your brilliance?"

Razira met her mother's gaze with no falter, "Until I choose a mate, I will lead with my best conscience."

Syra could see the silent words pass between them, but pride never left Viilah's face.

"Then shine bright, Razilah of Morai!" She lifted her headdress into the air, "As the setting sun guides us home and invites the evening mist, we pray you give us strength for the day and comfort in the night."

Bittersweet bugles erupted from the gathering and drums sounded from all around the clearing as the Lahirem's headdress was lowered onto Razilah's head.

"Razilah! Razilah!" chanted the Aerie.

"Razilah! Razilah!" chanted Syra along with the others. She was happy for her, but concern nagged at her mind.

How are we going to get the shard now?

But the new Lahirem gave her a quick nod when the cheers quieted and the drums died.

"I know this is sudden." Her voice was steady and commanded the crowd better than Syra had expected, "Like all of you, I wish Pach—Dürgah, had left us gray-faced. But he also said that life is as tempestuous as the wind—you adjust what you can, and brace for the worst. That's why I need you! All of you. A leader is nothing without their people, that's what he always said. And right now, I need your support more than ever!"

Confused mutters sprung from the gathering as the council members wove through the crowd and onto the platform. Syra wasn't surprised that Karima was not among them, but her presence wasn't necessary. Each councilor stood tall beside their Lahirem, their chests puffed with pride.

"War is coming!" The oldest councilor, a graying rahg with a thin scar down his muzzle, addressed the crowd with a stern face that gripped any who heard him. It was this face, and the dark tone edged with fear in the word 'war', that made the blood pool in the Kiithrans' feet. "We have tried our best to ignore it, believing that ground affairs cannot reach us. But we were foolish."

He dropped his head, ashamed, and motioned for Razilah to continue.

"War is coming." Razilah repeated, but then stopped. "No...war is already here!"

She lifted Namek's necklace into the air with a shaking hand.

"Dürgah, my father, and you're beloved Gahirem, was murdered by a traitor! A traitor that aligned himself with people who wish to tear down our cities and take them for themselves—to destroy and upheave any peace we have managed to create. People who call themselves, the Black Thorn."

Murmurs buzzed about and she waited for the quiet to return.

"We've known about them for a while, now. We thought we were safe. We thought, because we were a peaceful realm, peace would always last. But we are not safe. And the threat will only grow the longer we choose to ignore it."

"So, what would you have us do?" came a voice from the crowd, "Hide?"

"Fight! I...we need you, to fight."

"Are you fog-headed?" A kria huffed up at her, "Kiithran don't go to war! We don't fight! You'll be sending us to our deaths!"

"What about those left here on Morai?" Another kria called, "What about the rima left when their father's don't return?"

"We'll be sending you to protect those rima," said the elder kria next to Razilah, "and only those who volunteer."

"And who in their right mind would volunteer for that?"

"Dahmia of Morai," Namir stepped forward, challenging his squadrons, "for years you have trained. From the smallest rima to the strongest rahg, I have seen you fight and bleed, preparing yourselves for when the Aerie needed you. We need you now. You pledged your wings and your loyalty to protect our home, and now we ask you honor that pledge."

There was hushed talk among the dahmia, but none were completely sold.

"If you are strong, then you shall be free," Namir quoted the dahmia's mantra. "But, how can we remain free if we do not fight back?"

"They've already taken our Gahirem!" Razilah joined her brother. "Should we let them have the rest of us, too? Because they will come, and they will take us—either as food for the table, or a beast for the field. Now who's with me?"

The hands came slowly. But one by one, they filled the gathering, and Syra filled with relief.

"Thank the stars," Syra breathed out a long breath and let her shoulders relax.

I don't know how Valen plans to use them, but we'll take all the help we can get.

"Thank you, all of you," Razilah said with great pride and relief. "The council and I will discuss what steps must be taken. But for now, eat and rest. The celebration was cut short yesterday, and Sendur and Ekahlu deserve to have their bellies filled."

The crowd dispersed and food was prepared. The tension settled to the back of everyone's mind as music and belly-bloat softened the nerves. After some debate, the council had decided to call for Valen the next morning as Razilah had insisted that everyone enjoy themselves that night.

With that, the council departed, but Razilah was not yet finished with Syra and her party.

"Namir," Razilah gave him a curt nod when she was alone with them.

He disappeared into a back room, later returning with the Kiirem held tightly in one hand.

"Take it," Razilah took the stone from her brother and held it out to Syra.

"W-wait. But, you were supposed to vote on it. What if your people find out? Won't they be mad?"

"Maybe, if they even notice." She passed Petra a quick smirk. "At the end of the day, a rock is a rock. It is the people who determine its value. And right now, it's more valuable to you."

She grabbed Syra's hand and slid the green-and-red crystal into her palm.

"But, you won't be able to read your people anymore."

Razilah let her eyelids droop, "Perhaps we were never meant to. Perhaps, it is better to trust and listen to your people rather than...invading their heads. Plus, it didn't work too well for Pacha in the end. We need something better than false security."

Syra clutched the shard and joyous relief flooded her face as its warmth flooded her hand, "Thank you."

"Put it somewhere safe. If things are as bad as Valen says, the Black Thorn could have eyes anywhere, and Koth is a long ways off."

"Koth? Is that where the next shard is?" asked Aidan.

Razilah nodded, "Pacha always spoke fondly of Stahdler, the Nord's chief. But that was before your border disputes, so I can't guarantee they'll be that welcoming. Make sure to contact Valen before you attempt to cross the border—Stahdler might be aware of the Kesh Raza, but his guards won't be."

"Perfect. Right when I have no sword and no rali." Aidan grumbled to himself. Not to mention he now had no way of fighting Marrak.

"Not true," Namir said, "not completely." Again, he left the room, but this time returned with a long wooden box.

"My dahmia scoured for hours looking for this, just so you know." Namir set the box in front of Aidan and lifted the lid.

Aidan's excitement evaporated as the blade gleamed up at him in two ragged pieces.

"Unfortunately, we didn't find it whole."

Aidan's shoulders drooped and he let his head fall into his hands, "Now what?"

"Can't we just reforge it?" Syra turned to Razira, "You have blacksmiths, right? How much trouble could that be?"

"Near impossible," Aidan muffled through his hands. "You forget what it's made of. Austrum may be called blue steel, but it requires a precise technique to smelt and an even more precise smith. And with the supply of austrum at nill, most of those smiths have changed vocation or relocated."

"Most, but not all."

Aidan's head shot up at Viilah's correction, "You know of one?"

"One. And I'm not even sure if he still meddles in austrum."

"It's still worth a shot." His eyes pleaded with the siblings, "I know it might be a detour, but that sword is the only way I can help you fight Marrak."

Petra grumbled to herself, but nodded her approval.

"Where is this smith?" asked Syra.

"Dairos."

Syra flinched. Dairos was one of the cities Valen said harbored the Black Thorn.

"He's a halfling named, Weldon." said Viilah, "I used to buy jewelry from him when I was Kaalira. He should help you if you mention that Viivida sent you."

"We can take you as far as Shrye, but you'll have to ride to Dairos from there," offered Razilah.

"But we have nothing to trade."

"Then take a moraki as a parting gift. One should be enough to rent you some auna and then some."

"Thank you, Razilah." Aidan took the two halves of metal and bound them up with his cloak.

"Just promise me you'll stab that monster Marrak if you get the chance."

A dark smile split Aidan's face and he linked a finger around Razilah's talon, "Happily."