The Journey, Book 2; Chapter 25 - Previous Chapter
Chapter 26: Stables
The King’s private quarters were steeped in the stillness of night. Shadows pooled in the corners, and the soft glow of the hearth painted the walls in gold and ember-red. Nekonata lay reclined against a mound of silken cushions, Amira’s warm coils draped along his side like a living mantle. By the fire, Santaya and Kristolia slept in peaceful huddles, their breathing rising and falling with the quiet crackle of burning logs.
A faint shift stirred at his side. Amira’s head lifted, eyes glinting in the firelight, her gaze fixed on the great oak doors.
‘Convel, Auburn, and Jesser are outside, little one,’ her voice brushing through Neko’s thoughts like a whisper on still water.
He rose with a languid stretch, the joints in his shoulders loosening with a faint pop. Padding to the doors, he eased one open on silent hinges. A rush of cooler air drifted in, carrying the faint scent of wolf and winter.
Three great shapes stepped inside, Convel first, his white-silver coat shimmering in the low light; Auburn close behind, her russet fur bristling with alert energy; and Jesser, whose golden eyes darted around the chamber before settling on Neko.
Convel’s lips curled in a low, rumbling growl, not of threat, but of withheld tension.
“Is everything all right, Convel?” Neko asked, glancing between them.
“O’ mighty dragon sensed something about one of us,” Convel replied, voice deep as rolling stone. “You told us it was a matter for another time. It’s been several days… and we would know.”
Auburn’s tone was softer, though a restless purr edged her words. “Yes. It’s been on our minds.”
Amira lifted her head, the glow from the dwarven lanterns reflecting off the smooth scales of her muzzle. Her attention was unbroken, gaze fixed on the wolves.
Neko sighed and sank into a carved wooden chair. “Amira’s hearing is… extraordinary. Five centuries in her egg, without another intelligent mind to speak to, have made her… direct.” He gave the orange-and-purple dragoness a fond smile.
“When you entered the Great Hall for King Althor’s birthday,” he continued, “she heard four heartbeats… coming from Jesser.”
Convel turned sharply toward his daughter. “You’re with pups,” he breathed, awe softening the weight of his voice. “Three pups!”
Auburn’s fur rippled with joy, her tail giving an excited sweep. “I can’t wait,” she purred.
Amira’s voice stirred again in Neko’s mind, gentle, certain. Four mini heartbeats. Four pups, not three.
Neko gave a small nod and cleared his throat. “Correction, four pups, not three,” he said aloud, echoing her words.
A grin spread across Jesser’s muzzle, sharp teeth catching the firelight. “I’m gonna be a momma wolf.”
A faint sound ticked against the quiet. Soft. Barely there.
Kristolia’s ears twitched, her head lifting from the rug by the fire. She stared at the great oak doors, uncertain if she’d truly heard something or if the crackle of the flames had played tricks on her.
Neko’s gaze slid to Amira. The dragoness simply returned his look with a steady, unreadable expression, offering no clue.
Leaving Convel and Auburn to celebrate the news with Jesser in their own, exuberant fashion, Neko crossed the chamber and eased one of the doors open, and looked out…
A familiar voice greeted him, tinged with dry amusement.
“For an elf-hume, you really ought to take height into consideration,” Blacky muttered as he padded in, tail flicking in deliberate mockery.
“Oh, my apologies, O’ magnificent were-cat,” Neko replied with regal solemnity, before letting a boyish smirk betray him.
From behind Blacky, Tabby slipped in with feline grace, her whiskers twitching in sly amusement. “Oh, look at that, No-Name has a sense of humor now.”
With a flick of her tail, she bounded across the room toward Amira, scaling the dragoness’s flank with practiced ease. Settling herself between two warm ridges of scales, she curled into a neat ball, eyes half-lidded in satisfaction.
Blacky, slower but no less deliberate, stretched out by Amira’s foreleg, his head resting near the curve of her massive left paw.
Neko folded his arms, leaning against the doorframe. “So, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”
For a moment, neither cat spoke. Only the fire’s low crackle and the muffled sound of Convel’s delighted howls filled the air.
At last, Tabby’s golden eyes gleamed, the corner of her mouth curling into something wicked. “I wanted to know…” she purred, drawing out each word, “…who’s the comfiest to sleep on, Elqiana… or Amira?”
Blacky shrugged lazily. “I just follow her.”
A paw lashed out, swatting the back of his head with a sharp thwack.
“She has a name,” Tabby hissed, ears flattening for emphasis.
Blacky grumbled something indistinct, rubbing at the spot while Amira rumbled faintly, not quite a laugh, but close enough to make Tabby’s whiskers twitch in smug triumph.
Neko eased the great oak door closed, leaving it just ajar. More visitors would be arriving soon.
He crossed back to his chair, the firelight casting his shadow long across the polished floor. Sitting, he let his gaze settle on the two were-cats.
“Tabby… Blacky…” His voice was curious, but edged with something quieter, older. “Have you always known that I was… half human, half elf?”
Blacky said nothing, his amber eyes fixed on the flickering flames of the dying fire. But Tabby lifted her head, her feline face softened by an expression rarely seen from her, gentle, almost maternal.
“Yes, we knew,” she said at last. “But it wasn’t our place to tell you.”
Neko bit the inside of his cheek, gaze dropping. “It never is anyone’s place to say, is it…” The words were barely above a murmur.
Blacky suddenly sat upright, his eyes catching the firelight as he looked straight at Neko. His voice was low, but carried a strange, deliberate weight.
“There is no easy way from the earth to the stars… but never despair. For every man is the artisan of his own fortune.”
Tabby blinked at him, head tilting, ears twitching in disbelief. After a moment of silence, she finally asked, “Where the fuck did that come from, Blacky?”
His tail swished idly across the floor as he stretched and lay back down again. “I don’t know,” he said lazily. “I have my moments.”
Neko let out a breath through his nose, half a sigh, half a chuckle. The truth in those words, however, lingered in his mind like a warm ember.
Then, Amira’s voice slipped into his thoughts, soft and certain.
‘The stars are easier to reach when you have a dragon to ride on.’
He turned toward her, the orange-violet sheen of her scales glowing faintly in the firelight, and a broad smile broke across his face. Slowly, he looked back at Blacky, one brow arched high in amused suspicion.
Murmured voices drifted through the gap in the door, soft, indistinct, but familiar. Tarasque’s tone wove with Elvina’s, their words too quiet to make out, a secret meant only for the hallway.
Vivi appeared first, walking beside Gabija. His staff, crowned with an orange sunstone, pulsed faintly with inner light, throwing a warm glimmer over the dark stone walls. Overhead, Tivor, wrapped in the feathers and guise of his raven form, Loki, glided silently, shadowing them like a wraith on the air.
From the far corner of the hall came Althor and his queen, Genevieve, their presence filling the corridor. A small retinue of servants followed in their wake, arms laden with trays, silver platters of steaming meats and spiced vegetables, decanters of jewel-colored wine, and, at the rear, great trays stacked high with raw cuts, their scent rich and heady for Amira and the wolves.
Neko’s smile broadened as they began filing into the chamber. But his eyes, almost without thinking, found Tarasque.
She was dressed in loose, flowing clothes that moved with her as though the fabric remembered the wind. They complimented her figure with an ease that was almost careless, and at her wrist… a bracelet. Purple and orange beads caught the flicker of the firelight, their colors echoing the hues of Amira’s scales.
For a heartbeat, her gaze met his, and she offered a small, discreet wave, so slight it might have been missed entirely.
But Elvina noticed.
Her hand shot out, catching Tarasque’s wrist, pulling it gently but firmly down to her side. The whispering between them resumed, low and unreadable, as they stepped further into the room.
Lokia swooped in ahead of the group, giving a sharp, cheerful squawk in greeting to Neko before gliding upward to perch on a high ceiling beam. His black feathers gleamed in the firelight as he settled, head cocking to watch the room below.
The servants moved efficiently, placing steaming dishes and decanters of wine along the tables, then drawing chairs forward in quiet readiness. One large tray, piled high with raw meat, was set directly on the floor near the hearth, where Amira, Santaya, and Kristolia could enjoy the warmth and the feast.
Amira’s voice flowed gently into Neko’s mind, her tone polite but tinged with curiosity.
‘Would Convel, Auburn, and Jesser like some of this meat?’
Neko turned toward the direwolves. “Amira wishes to know if you’d care for some of the meat,” he relayed.
A glance was exchanged between them, ears flicking in silent wolfish communication before Convel gave a small shake of his head. Auburn’s tail swayed once in polite refusal, and Jesser gave a faint huff that served as her ‘no, thank you.’
“Very well,” Neko said, settling into his chair. His gaze moved between faces, Vivi at his side, and Loki’s dark form high above. “So… we need to make plans. What do we do next? Where do we go? And… how do we find your mother?”
Tabby, still perched atop Amira’s back, began slowly grooming a paw, her whiskers twitching with thought. “Us were-cats can help,” she purred. “Blacky can make himself useful for a change… we could send word for a search party to find your mystery lady.”
Blacky rolled his eyes with exaggerated suffering. “Pfft… ‘more useful,’ she says,” he muttered, tail flicking.
Gabija, seated with quiet poise, inclined her head toward the cats. “That would be most helpful. Thank you.”
Vivi leaned forward, the glow of his staff catching the amber in his eyes. “Timtur has been missing for a while,” he said.
Gabija’s gaze shifted toward him, her tone low and edged with weight. “Timtur is… undertaking something I have asked of him personally. He is late in reporting, yes, but I can feel on the winds that he is safe.”
Tarasque, seated a little apart, tilted her head, her curiosity plain. “Is that why you were meditating on the edge of the cliff… by the farm?”
"Elves…” Gabija began, her voice carrying the calm cadence of a teacher, “even riders, can reach out across the land with their consciousness, listening for what stirs in the world around them. It can take many years to master. But if you know what you are seeking, or who. the effort becomes easier. Much like the way dragons can speak mind-to-mind with their riders.”
She folded her hands in her lap, her gaze briefly flicking toward Amira. “Meditation helps us focus. It quiets the noise so the truth can surface.”
Elvina, who had been silent until now, leaned forward. “Would it be worth traveling to the villages? Asking them if they’ve heard anything about Vivi and Tivor’s mother?”
“That’s a good point,” Genevieve agreed, her voice thoughtful. “We have links to some of the closer settlements, mostly through trade. We could send our scouts to make discreet inquiries.” She turned to Althor, her eyes asking the question she didn’t voice aloud.
The King inclined his head in agreement. “If you decide to go out there, Nekonata, you will have to be very careful. No one knows who might be watching.”
Neko nodded slowly, absorbing the weight of the warning. “I worry about Amira,” he admitted, his gaze drifting toward the dragoness. The firelight danced across her orange-violet scales, casting them in shifting shades of sunset and twilight. “Her hue… it’s unlike anything else. And the fact that she’s a dragon, word would spread the moment she’s seen.”
Amira’s eyes met his, unblinking and steady, though her tail flicked once in a faint ripple of emotion he could not quite read.
Let them see me, Amira’s voice coiled through Neko’s mind, her tone edged with a predator’s pride. I have claws, sharp teeth, and dragon fire. Let the enemy feel my wrath.
Her talons clicked against the polished stone floor, an unhurried, deliberate rhythm, before she bared her fangs in a gleaming display.
Across the room, Tarasque shifted in her seat, her posture tightening as Elqiana’s voice filtered into her mind. Little redhead, her tone was dry, Amira needs to grow much larger than the size of a snake before she becomes as lethal as I.
Without softening the remark, Tarasque repeated it aloud.
Amira’s head lifted, eyes narrowing in a draconic glare. She rose to her full height, flaring her wings just enough to send a wash of air across the chamber. Tabby and Blacky yelped in unison, leaping clear of her swishing tail.
At least I’m the prettiest, most unique snake around, Amira shot back through Neko’s mind, her voice rich with self-satisfaction.
Vivi set his cup down, watching her with a faint smile. “She’s grown a lot. Her height is now as tall as a horse,” he observed, taking another measured sip. “That’s already bigger than Elqiana was at a similar age.”
Before Neko could respond, Tarasque’s posture snapped taut, her eyes glazing for the briefest moment as Elqiana’s presence filled her again. “Someone approaches,” she said, her voice carrying a sharper edge now. “A few leagues away. A blue aura… with a turquoise one.”
Gabija’s gaze locked on Vivi. “The blue aura can only be Timtur…”
“We need to get to the stables to meet Timtur,” Elvina said, her voice brisk with purpose.
Althor’s gaze flicked to Genevieve, who gave a subtle nod. The Dwarven King turned towards the group, his tone gruff but commanding. “Follow me.”
The room emptied in a ripples of motion, boots and paws and claws falling in behind him. Even Amira followed, her talons clicking softly on the stone as her long tail swayed in time with her stride.
“Out of the way, please!” Althor’s voice rang down the hall, carrying over the hum of industry. Busy dwarves, their hands full with crates and tools, parted at once, pressing themselves to the walls to let the King and his company pass.
Donal and Rorik emerged from a side corridor and fell into step beside him, their shorter legs keeping pace with surprising ease. The rest of the company, taller humans and elves, the wolves flowing like shadows between them, moved as though on a leisurely walk, though the miles of winding stone corridors they traversed would have wearied most.
At last, they reached the great stone gate set at the mountain’s base. Rorik stepped forward, placing both hands on the massive slab and pushing. The door swung outward on its hidden hinges, utterly silent despite its size.
Light burst through, dazzling and blinding after the dim gold of the torchlit halls. For a few heartbeats, the world was nothing but white. Then as sight returned, they stepped into a vast hidden clearing.
To the right stood the stables, their weathered timbers warmed by the sun. To the left, trees leaned inward toward the mountainside, their branches weaving an illusion of impassable forest, concealing the suggestion of a hidden path. Santaya and Kristolia padded into the sunlight first, shaking their fur and stretching luxuriously in the golden warmth.
Amira followed, moving with the languid grace of a great feline, her scaled body flowing in each step. She stretched long, wings unfurling in a ripple of translucent orange and purple before she leapt into the air.
Above her, Elqiana was already circling high, a gleaming pearl-white shape against the deep blue sky.
As Amira climbed, her scales caught the sunlight and shattered into a thousand patterns, rippling like molten glass across the stable walls and the ground below. The stables, the grass, even the faces of those watching seemed to wear her colours.
Neko stood among them, smiling in quiet awe, the moment briefly lifting the weight of all that had brought them here.
Last of all, the direwolves padded into the clearing. Without a sound, they claimed the cool shade of an empty stall, settling into silence as the air above hummed with the beat of dragon wings.
The group waited only a short while before the sound of hoofbeats broke through the quiet clearing. Timtur emerged from between the trees, riding his mare, a slim blonde-haired woman following close behind on a black and dapple-grey stallion. The horses slowed to a halt, their flanks slick with sweat, sides heaving from the hard ride.
Neko and Elvina stepped forward, each taking a set of reins to steady the animals. The blonde woman swung her leg over the saddle, but when her boots touched the ground, her knees buckled. She collapsed, breath hitching. Timtur dismounted quickly, catching her by the arm to help her back up.
“Is everything alright, Timtur? You are late,” Gabija asked, her voice even but edged with concern.
Timtur glanced at the woman, then turned to Gabija, offering the traditional Elvish bow of respect.
“Gabija, I apologise for my late report. I did sense you reaching out to check on me, and I thank you. I followed the ragtag group connected to the rumours for months. In the end, it appears they were the ones spreading the tales themselves, deliberately stirring trouble.”
He paused, jaw tightening.
“It was then I crossed paths with a were-cat, black, with a strange ginger crown marking on his face—”
Tabby and Blacky padded forward, weaving between the legs of the gathered crowd.
“Jeremy is up to no good again,” Blacky muttered.
“Always up to no good,” Tabby agreed without missing a beat.
Timtur blinked at them, momentarily thrown off, before clearing his throat and continuing.
“Jeremy told me the group was hunting him. When King Thomaz and Rubian ransacked a village, burning it to the ground, Jeremy decided to humiliate the king. He left a mark on his face… a deep claw scratch from forehead to chin.”
His expression darkened as he gestured toward the blonde woman.
“Ophelia here is the only survivor. They bound her to a tree and left her to die. I asked Jeremy to lead me to the village, and he did. I did what I could to heal her… then we laid the dead to rest, with help from a neighbouring settlement.”
Vivi was silent for a moment, lost in thought. Then he said slowly, “A were-cat with a human name… that’s unusual.”
Tabby’s tail flicked sharply, smacking Vivi’s leg. He gave a startled yelp.
“Not his birth name,” Tabby said matter-of-factly. “That was Red-Crown, because of the marking on his face.”
“A human child gave him the name Jeremy,” Blacky added in the same flat tone, “and he liked it, so he kept it.”
Both cats glanced at each other, then declared in perfect unison, “We don’t like it.”
Althor’s mouth twitched into a faint smirk. “It’s clear to see why you two are mates.” Then his gaze shifted to Ophelia, and the humor faded. “I am sorry for your loss, and for the loss of your people.”
Ophelia lowered her head in a small bow, accepting the weight of the Dwarven King’s words.
“From what I’ve gathered… Thomaz was bored,” she began, her voice quiet but edged with bitterness. “And he decided to pillage the village for sport. He was cruel, beyond cruel.”
Her shoulders stiffened, and a shiver passed through her at the next memory.
“And Rubian… with his grey magic. I despise him. The grey-eyed bastard found a necklace hidden under the floorboards of my house, a family heirloom. I didn’t even know it held magic. Thomaz had everyone slaughtered because of it… and because…” Her voice faltered, then hardened. “Because I was his first relationship, back when we were just teenagers.”
“What do we know of the necklace?” Elvina asked, her voice quiet but edged with curiosity.
Ophelia’s eyes lifted, the flicker of memory softening and hardening in the same breath. “It was silver,” she began, “inlaid with tiny blue sapphires and white opals. The sapphires were the deep kind, like the night sky right before a storm, while the opals shimmered as though they held pieces of dawn inside them.”
Gabija raised an eyebrow, recognition sparking.
“I believe it used to belong to Queen Calinthia,” Timtur said, his tone careful.
Gabija’s expression shifted into something more solemn. “Queen Calinthia… I remember her well. Someone once tried to assassinate her with a bow and arrow. A soldier spotted the glint of the arrowhead in the sun and stepped in front of it. Took the shot himself.” Gabija paused, the memory heavy. “She gifted that soldier’s family the necklace as thanks, a token of life for a life.”
Neko tilted his head. “If it contained magic, who gave it to her?”
Vivi stepped forward, his eyes meeting Neko’s. “Braiden, the first Rider. He forged it himself, weaving protection spells into the metal. The kind of enchantments that shielded body and spirit alike. It’s… very much like your necklace, the one Meera made for you.”
For a moment, the group fell into a contemplative silence, the weight of the revelation settling around them like a slow-falling snow.
Elqiana swept low, her pearl-white wings casting a vast shadow across the clearing before she banked upward, vanishing over the jagged line of the mountain range. The sudden rush of air and shifting light made Ophelia flinch, instinctively, she slipped behind Timtur as though the great dragon’s shadow could still harm her.
A moment later, Amira descended in a controlled glide, her wings folding as she touched down with a feline grace. She padded forward, the faint shimmer of her orange-and-purple scales dancing in the sunlight. Without a sound, she lowered her head toward Neko, her warm breath ghosting over his hand.
Please tell Ophelia, Amira’s voice resonated in his mind, soft yet steady, 'that although it’s difficult today to see beyond the sorrow, may looking back in memory help comfort you tomorrow.'
Neko’s expression gentled, and he repeated Amira’s words aloud, his voice carrying the same quiet strength.
Ophelia, still clinging to Timtur’s hand, hesitated. With his gentle encouragement, she stepped forward enough to be seen, though she didn’t release him. “T-thank you,” she stammered, her voice fragile but sincere.
Genevieve stepped forward then, her tone warm and unhurried. “Come,” she said kindly, “let’s get you both inside, there’s food waiting, and you can wash away the road dust. You’ll feel better once you’ve rested.”
The heavy air of the clearing began to lift as the group turned toward the mountain gates, the promise of shelter and safety pulling them inward.
Chapter 26: Stables
The King’s private quarters were steeped in the stillness of night. Shadows pooled in the corners, and the soft glow of the hearth painted the walls in gold and ember-red. Nekonata lay reclined against a mound of silken cushions, Amira’s warm coils draped along his side like a living mantle. By the fire, Santaya and Kristolia slept in peaceful huddles, their breathing rising and falling with the quiet crackle of burning logs.
A faint shift stirred at his side. Amira’s head lifted, eyes glinting in the firelight, her gaze fixed on the great oak doors.
‘Convel, Auburn, and Jesser are outside, little one,’ her voice brushing through Neko’s thoughts like a whisper on still water.
He rose with a languid stretch, the joints in his shoulders loosening with a faint pop. Padding to the doors, he eased one open on silent hinges. A rush of cooler air drifted in, carrying the faint scent of wolf and winter.
Three great shapes stepped inside, Convel first, his white-silver coat shimmering in the low light; Auburn close behind, her russet fur bristling with alert energy; and Jesser, whose golden eyes darted around the chamber before settling on Neko.
Convel’s lips curled in a low, rumbling growl, not of threat, but of withheld tension.
“Is everything all right, Convel?” Neko asked, glancing between them.
“O’ mighty dragon sensed something about one of us,” Convel replied, voice deep as rolling stone. “You told us it was a matter for another time. It’s been several days… and we would know.”
Auburn’s tone was softer, though a restless purr edged her words. “Yes. It’s been on our minds.”
Amira lifted her head, the glow from the dwarven lanterns reflecting off the smooth scales of her muzzle. Her attention was unbroken, gaze fixed on the wolves.
Neko sighed and sank into a carved wooden chair. “Amira’s hearing is… extraordinary. Five centuries in her egg, without another intelligent mind to speak to, have made her… direct.” He gave the orange-and-purple dragoness a fond smile.
“When you entered the Great Hall for King Althor’s birthday,” he continued, “she heard four heartbeats… coming from Jesser.”
Convel turned sharply toward his daughter. “You’re with pups,” he breathed, awe softening the weight of his voice. “Three pups!”
Auburn’s fur rippled with joy, her tail giving an excited sweep. “I can’t wait,” she purred.
Amira’s voice stirred again in Neko’s mind, gentle, certain. Four mini heartbeats. Four pups, not three.
Neko gave a small nod and cleared his throat. “Correction, four pups, not three,” he said aloud, echoing her words.
A grin spread across Jesser’s muzzle, sharp teeth catching the firelight. “I’m gonna be a momma wolf.”
A faint sound ticked against the quiet. Soft. Barely there.
Kristolia’s ears twitched, her head lifting from the rug by the fire. She stared at the great oak doors, uncertain if she’d truly heard something or if the crackle of the flames had played tricks on her.
Neko’s gaze slid to Amira. The dragoness simply returned his look with a steady, unreadable expression, offering no clue.
Leaving Convel and Auburn to celebrate the news with Jesser in their own, exuberant fashion, Neko crossed the chamber and eased one of the doors open, and looked out…
A familiar voice greeted him, tinged with dry amusement.
“For an elf-hume, you really ought to take height into consideration,” Blacky muttered as he padded in, tail flicking in deliberate mockery.
“Oh, my apologies, O’ magnificent were-cat,” Neko replied with regal solemnity, before letting a boyish smirk betray him.
From behind Blacky, Tabby slipped in with feline grace, her whiskers twitching in sly amusement. “Oh, look at that, No-Name has a sense of humor now.”
With a flick of her tail, she bounded across the room toward Amira, scaling the dragoness’s flank with practiced ease. Settling herself between two warm ridges of scales, she curled into a neat ball, eyes half-lidded in satisfaction.
Blacky, slower but no less deliberate, stretched out by Amira’s foreleg, his head resting near the curve of her massive left paw.
Neko folded his arms, leaning against the doorframe. “So, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”
For a moment, neither cat spoke. Only the fire’s low crackle and the muffled sound of Convel’s delighted howls filled the air.
At last, Tabby’s golden eyes gleamed, the corner of her mouth curling into something wicked. “I wanted to know…” she purred, drawing out each word, “…who’s the comfiest to sleep on, Elqiana… or Amira?”
Blacky shrugged lazily. “I just follow her.”
A paw lashed out, swatting the back of his head with a sharp thwack.
“She has a name,” Tabby hissed, ears flattening for emphasis.
Blacky grumbled something indistinct, rubbing at the spot while Amira rumbled faintly, not quite a laugh, but close enough to make Tabby’s whiskers twitch in smug triumph.
Neko eased the great oak door closed, leaving it just ajar. More visitors would be arriving soon.
He crossed back to his chair, the firelight casting his shadow long across the polished floor. Sitting, he let his gaze settle on the two were-cats.
“Tabby… Blacky…” His voice was curious, but edged with something quieter, older. “Have you always known that I was… half human, half elf?”
Blacky said nothing, his amber eyes fixed on the flickering flames of the dying fire. But Tabby lifted her head, her feline face softened by an expression rarely seen from her, gentle, almost maternal.
“Yes, we knew,” she said at last. “But it wasn’t our place to tell you.”
Neko bit the inside of his cheek, gaze dropping. “It never is anyone’s place to say, is it…” The words were barely above a murmur.
Blacky suddenly sat upright, his eyes catching the firelight as he looked straight at Neko. His voice was low, but carried a strange, deliberate weight.
“There is no easy way from the earth to the stars… but never despair. For every man is the artisan of his own fortune.”
Tabby blinked at him, head tilting, ears twitching in disbelief. After a moment of silence, she finally asked, “Where the fuck did that come from, Blacky?”
His tail swished idly across the floor as he stretched and lay back down again. “I don’t know,” he said lazily. “I have my moments.”
Neko let out a breath through his nose, half a sigh, half a chuckle. The truth in those words, however, lingered in his mind like a warm ember.
Then, Amira’s voice slipped into his thoughts, soft and certain.
‘The stars are easier to reach when you have a dragon to ride on.’
He turned toward her, the orange-violet sheen of her scales glowing faintly in the firelight, and a broad smile broke across his face. Slowly, he looked back at Blacky, one brow arched high in amused suspicion.
Murmured voices drifted through the gap in the door, soft, indistinct, but familiar. Tarasque’s tone wove with Elvina’s, their words too quiet to make out, a secret meant only for the hallway.
Vivi appeared first, walking beside Gabija. His staff, crowned with an orange sunstone, pulsed faintly with inner light, throwing a warm glimmer over the dark stone walls. Overhead, Tivor, wrapped in the feathers and guise of his raven form, Loki, glided silently, shadowing them like a wraith on the air.
From the far corner of the hall came Althor and his queen, Genevieve, their presence filling the corridor. A small retinue of servants followed in their wake, arms laden with trays, silver platters of steaming meats and spiced vegetables, decanters of jewel-colored wine, and, at the rear, great trays stacked high with raw cuts, their scent rich and heady for Amira and the wolves.
Neko’s smile broadened as they began filing into the chamber. But his eyes, almost without thinking, found Tarasque.
She was dressed in loose, flowing clothes that moved with her as though the fabric remembered the wind. They complimented her figure with an ease that was almost careless, and at her wrist… a bracelet. Purple and orange beads caught the flicker of the firelight, their colors echoing the hues of Amira’s scales.
For a heartbeat, her gaze met his, and she offered a small, discreet wave, so slight it might have been missed entirely.
But Elvina noticed.
Her hand shot out, catching Tarasque’s wrist, pulling it gently but firmly down to her side. The whispering between them resumed, low and unreadable, as they stepped further into the room.
Lokia swooped in ahead of the group, giving a sharp, cheerful squawk in greeting to Neko before gliding upward to perch on a high ceiling beam. His black feathers gleamed in the firelight as he settled, head cocking to watch the room below.
The servants moved efficiently, placing steaming dishes and decanters of wine along the tables, then drawing chairs forward in quiet readiness. One large tray, piled high with raw meat, was set directly on the floor near the hearth, where Amira, Santaya, and Kristolia could enjoy the warmth and the feast.
Amira’s voice flowed gently into Neko’s mind, her tone polite but tinged with curiosity.
‘Would Convel, Auburn, and Jesser like some of this meat?’
Neko turned toward the direwolves. “Amira wishes to know if you’d care for some of the meat,” he relayed.
A glance was exchanged between them, ears flicking in silent wolfish communication before Convel gave a small shake of his head. Auburn’s tail swayed once in polite refusal, and Jesser gave a faint huff that served as her ‘no, thank you.’
“Very well,” Neko said, settling into his chair. His gaze moved between faces, Vivi at his side, and Loki’s dark form high above. “So… we need to make plans. What do we do next? Where do we go? And… how do we find your mother?”
Tabby, still perched atop Amira’s back, began slowly grooming a paw, her whiskers twitching with thought. “Us were-cats can help,” she purred. “Blacky can make himself useful for a change… we could send word for a search party to find your mystery lady.”
Blacky rolled his eyes with exaggerated suffering. “Pfft… ‘more useful,’ she says,” he muttered, tail flicking.
Gabija, seated with quiet poise, inclined her head toward the cats. “That would be most helpful. Thank you.”
Vivi leaned forward, the glow of his staff catching the amber in his eyes. “Timtur has been missing for a while,” he said.
Gabija’s gaze shifted toward him, her tone low and edged with weight. “Timtur is… undertaking something I have asked of him personally. He is late in reporting, yes, but I can feel on the winds that he is safe.”
Tarasque, seated a little apart, tilted her head, her curiosity plain. “Is that why you were meditating on the edge of the cliff… by the farm?”
"Elves…” Gabija began, her voice carrying the calm cadence of a teacher, “even riders, can reach out across the land with their consciousness, listening for what stirs in the world around them. It can take many years to master. But if you know what you are seeking, or who. the effort becomes easier. Much like the way dragons can speak mind-to-mind with their riders.”
She folded her hands in her lap, her gaze briefly flicking toward Amira. “Meditation helps us focus. It quiets the noise so the truth can surface.”
Elvina, who had been silent until now, leaned forward. “Would it be worth traveling to the villages? Asking them if they’ve heard anything about Vivi and Tivor’s mother?”
“That’s a good point,” Genevieve agreed, her voice thoughtful. “We have links to some of the closer settlements, mostly through trade. We could send our scouts to make discreet inquiries.” She turned to Althor, her eyes asking the question she didn’t voice aloud.
The King inclined his head in agreement. “If you decide to go out there, Nekonata, you will have to be very careful. No one knows who might be watching.”
Neko nodded slowly, absorbing the weight of the warning. “I worry about Amira,” he admitted, his gaze drifting toward the dragoness. The firelight danced across her orange-violet scales, casting them in shifting shades of sunset and twilight. “Her hue… it’s unlike anything else. And the fact that she’s a dragon, word would spread the moment she’s seen.”
Amira’s eyes met his, unblinking and steady, though her tail flicked once in a faint ripple of emotion he could not quite read.
Let them see me, Amira’s voice coiled through Neko’s mind, her tone edged with a predator’s pride. I have claws, sharp teeth, and dragon fire. Let the enemy feel my wrath.
Her talons clicked against the polished stone floor, an unhurried, deliberate rhythm, before she bared her fangs in a gleaming display.
Across the room, Tarasque shifted in her seat, her posture tightening as Elqiana’s voice filtered into her mind. Little redhead, her tone was dry, Amira needs to grow much larger than the size of a snake before she becomes as lethal as I.
Without softening the remark, Tarasque repeated it aloud.
Amira’s head lifted, eyes narrowing in a draconic glare. She rose to her full height, flaring her wings just enough to send a wash of air across the chamber. Tabby and Blacky yelped in unison, leaping clear of her swishing tail.
At least I’m the prettiest, most unique snake around, Amira shot back through Neko’s mind, her voice rich with self-satisfaction.
Vivi set his cup down, watching her with a faint smile. “She’s grown a lot. Her height is now as tall as a horse,” he observed, taking another measured sip. “That’s already bigger than Elqiana was at a similar age.”
Before Neko could respond, Tarasque’s posture snapped taut, her eyes glazing for the briefest moment as Elqiana’s presence filled her again. “Someone approaches,” she said, her voice carrying a sharper edge now. “A few leagues away. A blue aura… with a turquoise one.”
Gabija’s gaze locked on Vivi. “The blue aura can only be Timtur…”
“We need to get to the stables to meet Timtur,” Elvina said, her voice brisk with purpose.
Althor’s gaze flicked to Genevieve, who gave a subtle nod. The Dwarven King turned towards the group, his tone gruff but commanding. “Follow me.”
The room emptied in a ripples of motion, boots and paws and claws falling in behind him. Even Amira followed, her talons clicking softly on the stone as her long tail swayed in time with her stride.
“Out of the way, please!” Althor’s voice rang down the hall, carrying over the hum of industry. Busy dwarves, their hands full with crates and tools, parted at once, pressing themselves to the walls to let the King and his company pass.
Donal and Rorik emerged from a side corridor and fell into step beside him, their shorter legs keeping pace with surprising ease. The rest of the company, taller humans and elves, the wolves flowing like shadows between them, moved as though on a leisurely walk, though the miles of winding stone corridors they traversed would have wearied most.
At last, they reached the great stone gate set at the mountain’s base. Rorik stepped forward, placing both hands on the massive slab and pushing. The door swung outward on its hidden hinges, utterly silent despite its size.
Light burst through, dazzling and blinding after the dim gold of the torchlit halls. For a few heartbeats, the world was nothing but white. Then as sight returned, they stepped into a vast hidden clearing.
To the right stood the stables, their weathered timbers warmed by the sun. To the left, trees leaned inward toward the mountainside, their branches weaving an illusion of impassable forest, concealing the suggestion of a hidden path. Santaya and Kristolia padded into the sunlight first, shaking their fur and stretching luxuriously in the golden warmth.
Amira followed, moving with the languid grace of a great feline, her scaled body flowing in each step. She stretched long, wings unfurling in a ripple of translucent orange and purple before she leapt into the air.
Above her, Elqiana was already circling high, a gleaming pearl-white shape against the deep blue sky.
As Amira climbed, her scales caught the sunlight and shattered into a thousand patterns, rippling like molten glass across the stable walls and the ground below. The stables, the grass, even the faces of those watching seemed to wear her colours.
Neko stood among them, smiling in quiet awe, the moment briefly lifting the weight of all that had brought them here.
Last of all, the direwolves padded into the clearing. Without a sound, they claimed the cool shade of an empty stall, settling into silence as the air above hummed with the beat of dragon wings.
The group waited only a short while before the sound of hoofbeats broke through the quiet clearing. Timtur emerged from between the trees, riding his mare, a slim blonde-haired woman following close behind on a black and dapple-grey stallion. The horses slowed to a halt, their flanks slick with sweat, sides heaving from the hard ride.
Neko and Elvina stepped forward, each taking a set of reins to steady the animals. The blonde woman swung her leg over the saddle, but when her boots touched the ground, her knees buckled. She collapsed, breath hitching. Timtur dismounted quickly, catching her by the arm to help her back up.
“Is everything alright, Timtur? You are late,” Gabija asked, her voice even but edged with concern.
Timtur glanced at the woman, then turned to Gabija, offering the traditional Elvish bow of respect.
“Gabija, I apologise for my late report. I did sense you reaching out to check on me, and I thank you. I followed the ragtag group connected to the rumours for months. In the end, it appears they were the ones spreading the tales themselves, deliberately stirring trouble.”
He paused, jaw tightening.
“It was then I crossed paths with a were-cat, black, with a strange ginger crown marking on his face—”
Tabby and Blacky padded forward, weaving between the legs of the gathered crowd.
“Jeremy is up to no good again,” Blacky muttered.
“Always up to no good,” Tabby agreed without missing a beat.
Timtur blinked at them, momentarily thrown off, before clearing his throat and continuing.
“Jeremy told me the group was hunting him. When King Thomaz and Rubian ransacked a village, burning it to the ground, Jeremy decided to humiliate the king. He left a mark on his face… a deep claw scratch from forehead to chin.”
His expression darkened as he gestured toward the blonde woman.
“Ophelia here is the only survivor. They bound her to a tree and left her to die. I asked Jeremy to lead me to the village, and he did. I did what I could to heal her… then we laid the dead to rest, with help from a neighbouring settlement.”
Vivi was silent for a moment, lost in thought. Then he said slowly, “A were-cat with a human name… that’s unusual.”
Tabby’s tail flicked sharply, smacking Vivi’s leg. He gave a startled yelp.
“Not his birth name,” Tabby said matter-of-factly. “That was Red-Crown, because of the marking on his face.”
“A human child gave him the name Jeremy,” Blacky added in the same flat tone, “and he liked it, so he kept it.”
Both cats glanced at each other, then declared in perfect unison, “We don’t like it.”
Althor’s mouth twitched into a faint smirk. “It’s clear to see why you two are mates.” Then his gaze shifted to Ophelia, and the humor faded. “I am sorry for your loss, and for the loss of your people.”
Ophelia lowered her head in a small bow, accepting the weight of the Dwarven King’s words.
“From what I’ve gathered… Thomaz was bored,” she began, her voice quiet but edged with bitterness. “And he decided to pillage the village for sport. He was cruel, beyond cruel.”
Her shoulders stiffened, and a shiver passed through her at the next memory.
“And Rubian… with his grey magic. I despise him. The grey-eyed bastard found a necklace hidden under the floorboards of my house, a family heirloom. I didn’t even know it held magic. Thomaz had everyone slaughtered because of it… and because…” Her voice faltered, then hardened. “Because I was his first relationship, back when we were just teenagers.”
“What do we know of the necklace?” Elvina asked, her voice quiet but edged with curiosity.
Ophelia’s eyes lifted, the flicker of memory softening and hardening in the same breath. “It was silver,” she began, “inlaid with tiny blue sapphires and white opals. The sapphires were the deep kind, like the night sky right before a storm, while the opals shimmered as though they held pieces of dawn inside them.”
Gabija raised an eyebrow, recognition sparking.
“I believe it used to belong to Queen Calinthia,” Timtur said, his tone careful.
Gabija’s expression shifted into something more solemn. “Queen Calinthia… I remember her well. Someone once tried to assassinate her with a bow and arrow. A soldier spotted the glint of the arrowhead in the sun and stepped in front of it. Took the shot himself.” Gabija paused, the memory heavy. “She gifted that soldier’s family the necklace as thanks, a token of life for a life.”
Neko tilted his head. “If it contained magic, who gave it to her?”
Vivi stepped forward, his eyes meeting Neko’s. “Braiden, the first Rider. He forged it himself, weaving protection spells into the metal. The kind of enchantments that shielded body and spirit alike. It’s… very much like your necklace, the one Meera made for you.”
For a moment, the group fell into a contemplative silence, the weight of the revelation settling around them like a slow-falling snow.
Elqiana swept low, her pearl-white wings casting a vast shadow across the clearing before she banked upward, vanishing over the jagged line of the mountain range. The sudden rush of air and shifting light made Ophelia flinch, instinctively, she slipped behind Timtur as though the great dragon’s shadow could still harm her.
A moment later, Amira descended in a controlled glide, her wings folding as she touched down with a feline grace. She padded forward, the faint shimmer of her orange-and-purple scales dancing in the sunlight. Without a sound, she lowered her head toward Neko, her warm breath ghosting over his hand.
Please tell Ophelia, Amira’s voice resonated in his mind, soft yet steady, 'that although it’s difficult today to see beyond the sorrow, may looking back in memory help comfort you tomorrow.'
Neko’s expression gentled, and he repeated Amira’s words aloud, his voice carrying the same quiet strength.
Ophelia, still clinging to Timtur’s hand, hesitated. With his gentle encouragement, she stepped forward enough to be seen, though she didn’t release him. “T-thank you,” she stammered, her voice fragile but sincere.
Genevieve stepped forward then, her tone warm and unhurried. “Come,” she said kindly, “let’s get you both inside, there’s food waiting, and you can wash away the road dust. You’ll feel better once you’ve rested.”
The heavy air of the clearing began to lift as the group turned toward the mountain gates, the promise of shelter and safety pulling them inward.
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