“This is in no way, a joy ride!” Aidan screamed from between Syra’s scaly fingers. He clawed, white-knuckled, at the bronze cage clutching him to her chest, and his locks whipped his face in their protest against such heights.

The twins, however, banked, dove, and surfed thermals like lumbering dolphins.

“Landelle is past those hills,” Syra called them back from playtime. “The Transpoint is just after that, so keep your eyes sharp. Both on the ground and the sky. We don’t know how Marrak plans to attack.”

“And if you do see the army,” Aidan added, “avoid burning everything, please. We’re trying to stop the rebels, not destroy homes and crop fields.”

“You know I can’t guarantee that,” said Petra.

“Well, try! These are people you hope to get steak from, remember?”

Petra swallowed her retort and turned her large, blazing eyes to the forest and fields below. “Then we need to separate them first—before they meet if possible.”

“Agreed,” said Aidan. “A single wall of dragonfire should stall them without too much damage.”

“And if they’re already engaged?” asked Syra. “We’ll be burning both sides.”

“Then we’ll wall them off completely," said Petra, "Encircle them like skyrays and keep them in the fields.”

“And if they have flameweavers? They’ll cut right through.”

Petra scoffed, “Not my flames, they won’t.”

“It’ll at least scare them shitless for a time,” Cassius said, smirking. “And keep them from entering the city.”

Aidan shook his head, “We’ll need more time than that if Marrak’s disguised himself again.”

“I doubt he’ll stay hidden once he sees us, if he’s hidden at all.” Syra scanned the approaching cloudfront, “He’s probably leading the charge himself.”

“Not likely,” said Aidan. “He’s far too cautious to give away their position. If their goal is surprise, then he’ll most likely jump first and hide among the masses until the battle starts. Just like he did nine years ago.”

Nine years ago. Syra stared at the hazy ridge in the distance. Nine years and two deaths ago, this whole charade started with a broken stone and a promise. And now, it’ll end no differently.

“We can’t let that happen,” she said. “We have to find him before he shifts. Confine him if at all possible.”

“Didn’t Baba send for the Fae and Kiithran?” asked Cassius. “We’ll at least have their support.”

“Yes, but we can’t be sure of a speedy arrival. So, right now…it’s up to us.”

The streets and rooftops of Landelle blurred beneath them, and Syra’s gut clenched tighter than the fist at her chest.

“We’re here,” she said, spying the glint of the Transpoint above the treeline. She peered down at Aidan’s head poking through her fingers, “Your final orders, Captain?”

***

Syra smelled the battle before the horn sounded. Carried on the wind, the cry of man and metal reached their clouded approach and even the falling drizzle couldn’t mask the stench of fearscent. Her stomach knotted and she clenched her eyes shut.

Damn it. Not now.

But it was all there. Again. The fear. The metal, wet with rain and blood. Only the burnt flesh was missing and even that was a matter of time. She had taken such care, too—like many soldiers did. But a year’s respite wasn’t enough to prevent her breath from catching, and her wings hesitated in their banking.

I said, not now! Now is the time to focus. Come on…focus. She forced her breaths to match her wingbeats. There we go. Just…one thing at a time. One ‘best step’ at a time.

“What is it? Can you see anything?” Aidan asked, snapping her back to their gray surroundings.

“Just a little. They’re coming up below us now.”

“Alright. Slowly now, so we can get a better view.”

“Got it.”

They descended through the clouds and shapes appeared through the mist. Their details were blurred by the height and rain, but Syra sharpened her focus until uniforms were visible.

“How are we?” asked Aidan. “What can you see?”

“They’re well past the Outer Ring, but have stalled just below Petaller’s Hill. We have reinforcements on the way, but they have another wave waiting behind the ridge.”

“Alight. Cassius, Petra? You cut-off the second wave. One of you, guard the top of the ridge. The other maintains the flamewall. The rain should keep flames from spreading too far, so you can make it as thick as you’d like. We’ll go—”

“Hold on!” Syra banked sharper, circling for a better view into the forest flanking the MainWay. She couldn’t spot all of them, but there was definitely movement under the canopy—like ants under leaves. “They’re in the forest, too! On both sides.”

“Shit, they’re surrounding them.” Petra banked and took off towards the forest.

“Wait!” Aidan called. “We don’t know that for sure.”

But his voice was lost to the wind and Petra vanished into the gray.

“Damn it, Petra.” Aidan strained his eyes at the treeline, praying for a glimpse of positioning. But even Fae eyes had their limits and he turned them back to Cassius.

“Can handle the ridge yourself? We can’t let their reinforcements through.”

“Don't worry.” Cassius’ darkening eyes sent tingles down Aidan’s neck. “I can be scary when I want to be.”

“G-good. Syra and I will handle the other flank then search for Marrak.”

“And if Marrak acts first?”

Aidan glanced down at the ring of dragonlances primed atop their towers, “Then neither fire nor arrow will be enough.”

“Then it’s a good thing we have a little magic on our side.” Cassius said, giving Syra a wink before veering back towards the ridge.

“A little magic, huh?” Aidan chuckled and looked up at the green eyes above him—at their golden constellation twinkling inside. “I don’t think he noticed that the package just got a lot bigger.”

Syra’s smile only lasted until the meadow came into view.

I just hope it’s enough.

Syra brought them down where the mist met the forest northwest of the city. She released Aidan but remained crouched and scanned the understory for movement. Neither spoke. Aidan tapped his nose but Syra shook her head and huffed rain from her snout.

‘Great’, his eyes seemed to say. ‘I’ll scout ahead’, he signaled, pointing to a nearby tree. ‘You hold and keep watch.’

Aidan knelt by the tree and Syra kept her body still and her eyes sharp.

There was an odd calmness about them. A security. Not exactly pleasant, but familiar. She glanced down at the silent and focused man below her. That was it. She had seen this scene many times before, but never from this height. He had always towered above her. But now, seeing him so small lit a spark that growled in her chest.

It’s like Mär Vanadür all over again. But this time, we’re infiltrating a human den. She scoffed to herself, Who would’ve thought Marrak to be less reasonable than Erdenir?

Psst!

Aidan’s hiss snapped her back and she craned her head over.

“Their flank is holding beyond that rise over there,” he whispered. “But they’re scattered and nervous. If you can distract them, I should be able to sneak into the west tunnel. You can follow afterwards. You remember the way, right?”

Like I could ever forget that spot.

“White clover, come over?” she asked with a smirk.

“Exactly.” He forced the twinkle in his eye away and refocused on the forest ahead. “Now go. I’ll be right behind you.”

Syra watched him slink through the brush on sure and silent feet. When he reached the edge of the stream bank he signaled her forward.

With a slight hop, her form shrank and a bronzed bird fluttered from its glow. She darted through the trees until she reached the company of rebels. She zipped back and forth, flying tree to tree. Some of the men took notice, but passed her off as wildlife and continued forward.

Looks like I’ll need to be more persistent. More…annoying.

The memory of Cassius’ game of hide-and-seek came to mind and a trill burbled in her throat.

She landed near their rear and opened her beak with a deep breath. Then, she began the harkening. The piercing squawks and shrills filled the glen, even grating her own ears. Over and over, she screamed until the nearby soldiers cursed and threw sticks and stones. But she merely fluttered to a different tree to continue her oral barrage. Some finally gave chase and she turned her focus to their heads, swooping and bombarding the whole flank.

“What the hell is this thing doing?” One said, shielding his head.

“Its nest must be somewhere,” said another.

“Well shoot it down! Or they’ll hear us.”

Their arrows flew, and missed.

“Stop, stop! You’re wasting your arrows.” Their commander stepped between them and flailed his arms at her.

You! Syra’s feathers puffed up as her eyes locked onto Larson. He had the same smug grin, but the hand-shaped burn on his cheek was freshly scarred. Looks like Marrak has some sense of justice after all.

Larson seemed to take notice of her gloating as he paused to stare her down, “If the little shit wants a fight, I’ll give her one.” He drew out a throwing knife and pointed it straight at her, “I’ll slash that throat wide open—we’ll see if you can sing then.”

She readied a spring and locked her gaze on his face.

You sir, won’t be seeing anything.

His knife flew and she dove. But the blade only caught the wind under her wing, and she latched her toes into his hair, pecking at the white berry in his face. He yowled and thrashed her from his head. Red flowed down his face and the men gathered round. All eyes were on him—all eyes except his.

With the flank in chaos, she crested the rise and scouted for Aidan. Nothing. But beyond the wall of the Inner Ring, two pillars of smoke rose into the clouds.

Shit. He better have made it in.

She wafted down to the stream below. There was still no Aidan. But there were tracks in the clover patch. Tracks that led along the stream to a small, gated tunnel. Seeing no followers, she flew over and hopped through the bars into the shadow of the tunnel.

“Syra?” Aidan eyed the blood-faced bird with caution.

“Aye,” it squawked, shifting back into humanoid form.

“Why do you have blood–”

“No time, let’s go.” She wiped her face and tugged him down the tunnel, a hand lighting their way. “Cas and Petra have already started, so Marrak will be on guard. Have you thought of how to bind him? We’ll need something bigger than an earring this time.”

“Yes, but I have to get to the workshop first.” He paused as the tunnel expanded and they entered the catacombs under the city.“ I also have to warn my father and the guard about Marrak’s new headgear. They don’t know what they’re up against. Our current defenses might not be enough.”

“Probably won’t.”

He leered down at her and she dipped her head.

“Right, not helping.”

His jaw tensed, “I do have one thing. But it’s a prototype—I don’t know if or how well it’ll work.”

“At this point, anything’s worth a shot.”

They turned a corner only to be met with a wall of fallen rubble.

“Shit,” Aidan kicked the collapsed stones. “Shit, we can’t go back. They’ll be—”

“It’s alright.” She dug up the map from her memory, “I know another way. Come on.”

She led him through the weaving tunnels without much pause, and Aidan followed right along, surprised by her surefootedness.

“How do you know your way around so well?”

“Long story. You can thank me later.”

Like he’d actually thank me for collapsing an entire street.

They finally arrived at a stairway.

“This leads up to the Academy’s sewer system,” she said, ushering him up the steps. “Get to the main floor and you’ll know your way from there.”

“Wait,” he paused, looking back, “you’re not coming?”

She pointed at her face, “You really think your father will listen to this?”

“But you’ll be spotted either way. At least I can protect—” He shielded his eyes as the sudden light illuminated the archways.

“You just focus on protecting the city and capturing Marrak”, said the nordess in front of him, “I’m going to find Marrak.”

“You can’t—not alone. We don’t even know where to look.” He reached for her arm but she stepped back.

“I have one idea. If not there, then I’ll go ask Orleck. I’ll explain the coup against Stahdler and have them search the city.”

“So, you’re just going to throw Stahdler’s name around like that?”

“If he can help us find Marrak quickly, then yes. I’ll bow after this is over. Now go!”

“Alright, alright—I’m going, Captain.” He pulled her close and pressed a light kiss to her temple. “Just…be careful.”

She watched him disappear up the stairs, then followed the tunnel further down. Despite the layers of earth between them, she swore she could hear the chaotic feet and mumblings of the students—her classmates—in the hall above.

Please, be alright. She pictured Rimmel crouched over Ricca, while Nelly directed everyone to the basefloor. Just stay there. Stay safe—don’t fight. You have no business out here. No, not even you, Nel. She smeared away a stray tear as she came to the stairs at the end of the tunnel. Let me fix this. Let me fix this for all of us.

Pastel clouds of blooms greeted her outside the tunnel gate.

Were the cherries always this pink?

She stared a moment at the garden before her, as if the breeze through the leaves muted the crying in the distance. She had only been gone a month, yet spring arrived in full ensemble without her. The blooms came for their bees. The geese came with their waddlings. And, to her surprising satisfaction, so did he.

‘Once this is all over…’

Her pulse quickened, but he remained seated, giving her no notice. He simply sat, on that bench, by that tree. Their tree. And there he sat, picking. Picking one, by one, by one, pausing each time to watch the snowy petal waft and fall to the green below. As if waiting. Silent, contemplative, and waiting.

One last shot.

She entered the garden and plucked an iris from its stem. Its purple petals matched the cape draped over his head and shoulders. Altaira purple. Clutching the bloom, she willed her hand steady and approached her mentor on the bench. But still, he did not rise nor lift his head to her. He simply twirled the balding daisy between his fingers. Only when her boots entered his vision did he stop.

She held out the iris, her skin stark white against its dark bloom, and he slowly lifted his head.

“You shouldn’t be here. Get to the basefloor where it’s sa—” His face froze as he met the green eyes staring down at him. “Syra?”

She offered him a faint grin, “I take it that cake is off the table?”

“You’re alive! Thank Draco you’re—” his arms flew up to meet her, but froze mid-air, “you’re here.” He groaned and let his arms and head fall, “No. No, I told you to leave, Bug. It’s not safe for you anymore, and we’re about to be—”

“But we don’t have to be.” She tapped the daisy gently with the iris. “You’ve made your point—the Black Thorn voiced their anger and Altaira heard it. Now, we can just—”

“Just what?” The gems in his forehead flickered and he turned a snarl on her. “Talk things out? Figure out ‘a better way’?”

“Yes! That’s exactly we need to d—”

“Oh, my dear dear Syra,” his snarl twisted into a wry grin, “my dearest little Fuzzlebug. How hard you fight despite how little you actually know.”

A lock on her box snapped open.

“Then tell me what I don’t know, damn it!” She threw the flower down and snatched up his collar, jarring the smirk from his face. “Tell me what’s actually going on!”

“That is not my place, I’m afraid.”

“Not your place? If not you, then who? For Erd’s sake, you’re Master Valen the archmage! Council Magus and advisor to King Rogan. You taught me everything I know, magic and otherwise. You…you’re Valen Ferra and I’m your—”

He pressed the daisy to her mouth, silencing her, “And there’s your problem—right there.”

“What?”

“I am not Valen.” He plucked off another petal. “I am not your mentor.” And another. “And I am certainly not your father.” Two more. “Just as you,” he tucked the single-petalled flower behind her ear, “are not human and Altaira is not your home.” He wiped the budding tear from her cheek, “You must accept this, Syra. You must wake up.”

“And if I don’t?” She smacked his hand away. “If I choose to believe otherwise—to live and act otherwise?”

“Then you are a selfish fool, Syra Montari!” The shards flashed and his pupils narrowed. “Actions have consequences, and some are greater than others. They ripple, and build, beyond just one lifetime. And one slip, one misjudgement or missaid word, one choice can shape a wildly different future.”

“Then why are you continuing with this rebellion? Why are you…breaking everything?”

“Because it was already broken!” A sadness filled his eyes and the shards lost their glitter. “Because it is necessary. And…because it is done. Blows have been made. Lives lost to a cause, on both sides. There is no going back. Only forward.”

“Only forward?” She pulled at her hair to restrain the roar in her throat. “Forward for whom? Forward to a future that you planned? One that suits you?”

“Oh, no. No, no. Lord knows that future is way gone. Years gone.”

“Then, why are you here? In this spot? By our tree? Why would you come all the way here instead of leading the charge towards this glorious fut—”

“Because!” He winced and rubbed at his head until the surge faded. “Because…” His eyes locked onto hers, fully red and bloodshot, and he placed a hand on her head, “I came here to say goodbye, Bug.”

“W-what do you mean, goodbye? Aren’t you going to fight? Aren’t we going to fight?”

At this, he chuckled loud enough to spook the geese.

“I never wanted to fight you! It was you and your mother’s stubbornness that brought you here. Not me. But now—” He grimaced and doubled over, clutching his face, “Now, you’ll have to fight. And I’m not even sure what you’ll be facing.”

“What are you talking about?” She lifted his head to see shimmering black veins webbing across his face and down his neck. They inched forward with every pulse, and with each surge the shards shone brighter.

“The shards,” she watched wide-eyed as the blackness spread, “it’s the shards doing this to you, isn’t it? They’re burning you out!”

But he was too stricken to answer.

“Alright. Then we…we just have to remove them.” She reached to grasp one shard but it immediately arched and shot her hand away, singed.

Damn it, that was stupid.

She charged her hand and tried again. This time only sparks flew and she held her hand steady inside the current. Her nail just grazed the stone when Marrak screamed. He screamed and shook as his body steamed, and Syra yanked her hand away.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! But we have to get—”

“No! No, you have to go.” The black veins widened and bubbled until black scales covered his skin.

“No, I can fix this!”

She charged her hand again, but he grabbed it tight as scales consumed his hand.

“I’m so sorry, Bug.” His eyes pleaded up at her. “I didn’t expect this—I didn’t want this. But please, you must wake up now.”

“But what does that even mean? What if I can’t ‘wake up’?”

“Then,” his outline glowed red and slitted eyes locked onto hers, “you must run.”