Syra woke to the smell of rain and the squeaking of stubborn metal.

“Come on, you wretched thing.” Curses hushed from above and her eyes opened to see a pink rump and fluffy, white tail wriggling from atop the bookshelf.

“Rasu?” she asked, half-asleep.

The tail bristled and Rasu’s alarmed face peeked down at her.

“Oh, you’re up. Good.” His fur flattened back down and he returned to the circular, half-open window just above the bookshelf. “Help me with this thing, would you? Damn thing’s stuck again and rain’s getting everywhere.”

Syra sat up just in time for a screech and loud thud as Rasu slipped and tumbled off the edge, plopping into her arms.

“You alright?” she asked, chuckling at the angry, wet face that blinked up at her.

“Yes, I’m fine.” He sprung from her lap and smoothed his fur as if dusting himself off.

“You want to try your luck with it?”

Syra stood on the bed to reach the half-moon windowpane. Its hinges were rusted but gave after a firm heave.

“You should probably clean these. Or grease them, at least.”

“I know,” he chided himself, “I keep meaning to make a note if it, but just never do.”

Syra watched him wipe up the rain puddles with a fur-covered blanket, imagining a full-grown nord mopping up instead of the smaller, tailed primate.

“Thanks for letting me use your room. I hope I’m not intruding too much.”

“It’s fine,” he said and tossed the rag into a basket, “it’s not your fault Blyth leaves such a mess. Plus, you’re the only one who’d fit in the bed.”

Syra laughed at the image of the others with their legs hanging off the edge, but Rasu just studied her face.

“I’m sorry about what I said last night,” he said, noticing her dark circles. “I didn’t mean to keep you up.”

Dinner’s revelation about soulbinding still echoed in her head, and the night only brought more questions.

“It’s alright, I’m glad you told me. It’s just…a lot to think about.”

“If you’re wanting to change to impress that human boy, don’t bother.”

Her shocked face made him grin.

“I could smell his affection over dinner.”

Rasu’s confirmation lightened her chest enough for a small smile to grow.

“Thanks, but it’s a bit more complicated than that.”

“Oh?”

Syra sat herself back down on the bed, leaving room for Rasu to join her, “Affection is one thing, but…a family’s another.”

“Oh, so it’s an incompatibility problem.” His eyes searched his mind but only found disappointment. “Yes, that would be a bit of a hurdle. One I don’t currently have an answer to, I’m sorry to say. But, are children really that imperative? You seemed to get along just fine last night—he barely left your side. Could you not be satisfied with that? Or, if not, you could always foster one. I’ve heard they’re having issues with throw—”

“He needs an heir.” Syra’s smile weakened. “He’s a prince, so he’ll need an heir, eventually.” She picked at the fabric by her stomach, “As will I, I suppose.”

“That is tricky, indeed. And a harder decision. Would you be willing to trade your magic for this future you want?”

Her gut coiled against such a decision, but released as the bedroom door sprung open and a half-soaked Petra barged in.

“Good, you’re awake. We could use your friend right now, so if you could grab Leti real quick, that would be great.”

“Hold on now,” Syra fumbled to reorient herself, “what’s happening?”

Petra groaned. “I just told you. Get up and get Leti. Aidan went to help Blythe and now that Tarsi fellow started some shit with him and won’t listen to anyone. Not even Cas.” She grabbed Syra by the wrists and heaved her off the bed. “So, let’s go.”

***

Petra led them up the muddied hillside to the workshop atop the falls. Yelling pierced the crashing of water and the edge on Cassius’ voice warned of his waning patience.

“Let him go. Now.” Cassius called from the cliff’s edge.

Amongst the rain and mist, Aidan knelt on the slick wooden beam spanning half the width of the falls. His nails dug into its grooves, as Tarsi jerked at Aidan’s collar making him wobble and scramble like a wet cat.

“I don’t take orders from you.” Tarsi brought a small blade to Aidan’s throat and snickered at the towering human brought low. Even the giant cogs of the turbine below seemed to creak in humor with him.

“But you do answer to me.” Leti charged to the edge of beam, as if unaware of the 10-story drop awaiting a shaky foot.

Tarsi eyed down his commander, but neither his hand nor foot wavered.

“Release him, Tarsi. Now.”

The soaked hair around her face reminded Syra of little Rasu, but her eyes were sharp and frosted over, where any sympathy was frozen underneath.

Tarsi hesitated, then steeled himself, “I will not.”

Syra felt Leti’s ice chip.

"Listen to your commander, Tarsi," Blythe warned. "You have a family now, remember?"

But Tarsi did not budge.

“I will not beg, Tarsi. But you are a dear teammate, and I don’t want to—"

“I will not,” Tarsi repeated.

“So, you’re choosing to disobey orders, then? You know what that means, right?”

“I do.”

Tarsi’s gaze was locked onto Leti and, if she squinted, Syra could make out the slight flicker of remorse under his hairy brow.

“Then why?” Leti asked before Syra could. “What has this man done to you?”

“Is he not the prince?” Tarsi leered down at the Altairan crest crumpled in his fist. “The human prince?”

“Aye, and what of it?” Aidan hissed up at him, gaining himself a warning shake.

“You should have some say in it, right? The border?”

“Not currently, no. Foreign affairs are a different branch and—”

“Then talk to them! Order them. Do something. Ever since you humans entered the bay, more of our people are becoming Bent." He shot a sorrowful glare at Blythe. "How do you except my son to hunt when his legs won’t work right?"

"We’ve tried talking to that ‘department’ of yours, but you still keep on coming. Even dragons know how to keep their borders, but you…you just keep toying with us.”

Tarsi looked from Aidan down at the vortex of water churning below, “Maybe this will teach you that we’re serious.”

“This will only teach them that you’re ready for war.” Syra called out. She couldn’t tell if the burning in her chest was mana, or fear.

A sneer grew on Tarsi’s face as he eyed her and the twins down, “We are.”

“No, you’re not.”

Surprise struck everyone as Cassius stepped forward onto the beam.

“Falorn is your only major city. And without our help with The Hunt you’d be struggling to keep your people fed. The humans have three times more manpower, and even more resources. You are not in a position to threaten them.”

“He’s right,” said Syra. “At this point, any confrontation needs to be done diplomatically—with words, not lives.”

“I’ve told you—we’ve tried! And what do you dragons really know of diplomacy? It’s only diplomatic when your clan gets what it wants, while my people are left to scavenge the wilds of the North, or the gauntlet of your cities. It’s only diplomatic when you give yourselves the advantage.”

“You’re right, it’s not fair,” said Cassius.

Tarsi paused, surprised by his validation but unconvinced, “You know nothing of unfairness, dragon.”

“I know anger.” The rain seemed to steam off him as the Empath’s walls thinned. “I know the silent wail of being helpless. The sorrow that claws at you as you watch your people suffer for no fault of your own, and the rage at being unable to do anything about it. Because if you did—if you did stand up and demand change—you would only be inviting more suffering by retaliation.”

Despite their icy hue, a warmth grew from his eyes, “I know. And I know you know that standing there where you are, with your knife at his throat, is just a plea. A scream for attention because nothing else has seemed to work. You don’t want to kill him—to live with that scar on your heart, or his face haunting your sleep. You—"

“You know nothing,” Tarsi repeated. “You talk nice, but your words are empty. Like a vase that can only look pretty but has no substance to itself.”

“Excuse me?”

“I know your kind—you Empaths. How you steal the feelings of others. How you live through others without actually living yourself—without having to risk yourself. My feelings are mine, not yours. My people are mine, not yours. And whether I kill him or not is my decision, not yours.”

“Your decision, huh?” The edge of Syra’s upper lip twitched and Cassius felt the buzz of static as Syra stepped onto the beam behind him.

“Fine. Here’s my decision: Leti,” she called over her shoulder, “if he dies, I will bite off his head myself.”

Leti tensed and looked to Petra, but her gaze didn't waver.

“And I’ll let her.”

“Tarsi,” the edge on Leti’s voice vanished, “I understand your intent, and your frustration. But this is not what Stahdler would want. It is not what I want. You are a valuable warrior and comrade; one I do not wish to lose. But if you do not release him safely, you will become nothing. You will be banished from these lands, your name from our mouths, and your children will hear nothing but curses for their father who betrayed their people. As you said, it is your decision, but as your comrade, I ask you to please, let him go.”

Tarsi’s grip on the knife tightened and he ground his teeth against the cry in his throat. Syra’s heartbeat drummed over the roar of falling water, until his hands finally dropped.

Aidan sprung from Tarsi’s hold and shuffled with careful steps towards Cassius. Cassius held out a hand, then froze. His eyes locked on Tarsi.

“So be it.” Tarsi said and slammed a heavy foot down onto the beam.

The vibrations echoed off the stone walls and Aidan’s legs wobbled. And then, inch by inch, he leaned.

“Aidan!” Syra cried, but she was too far to reach him.

It was Cassius’ hands that grabbed his arm before his feet left the beam. Aidan snatched hold of Cassius’ forearm, making him wince and nearly topple himself.

“Hold on, I got you.” Cassius latched an arm under Aidan’s shoulders and squatted against the slick wood.

Aidan’s hands shook as his face loomed over the churning of water and metal gnashing up at him. But Cassius heaved him up enough for him to scratch and clamber back onto the beam.

“Thank you,” he said, crouched with white knuckles gripping the beam.

“You really don’t like heights, do you?” Cassius chuckled as he helped him to his feet.

“Not particularly, no.”

“Well, you might have to get used to it,” Cassius whispered as he walked him towards Syra’s outstretched hands, “because she loves flying.”

Both men looked up to Syra waving them forward, each envisioning their own version of the scaled sprite zipping above them. But they should have been looking down.

Cassius’ foot hit the puddle first—a meek glob of mist, but just big enough for his boot to lose traction. His fall was not slow. Aidan managed to grab a sleeve, but gravity ripped apart the seam and pulled him down into the mist.