The Journey, Book 3: Chapter 22 - Previous Chapter
Chapter 23: Rooftops
Nekira wandered alone through the sleeping city of Caa Alora.
Above him, the immense silver-barked trees swayed gently in the early dawn breeze, their leaves whispering like distant waves. Lanterns of pale blue mage-light still glowed softly along the woven bridges and carved walkways, though the darkness was already beginning to surrender to morning.
He had not slept.
Not truly.
Every time he closed his eyes he saw dragon eggs bathed in ancient firelight. Saw destiny pressing down upon him from every direction. Saw Tara standing beside the dragon eggs while their sleeping presences stirred at her voice.
And every single time…
He walked away.
Since the gathering in the Queen’s chamber, he had done everything possible to avoid her.
Training alone in isolated corners of the grounds.
Volunteering for patrols no one else wanted.
Leaving rooms the moment she entered them.
Amira had questioned him endlessly during their flights together, though she already knew the answers before she asked.
Nekira had refused to speak of it anyway.
Even Queen Gabija had noticed.
That alone was embarrassing enough.
As he crossed another suspended bridge between towering homes grown into the trees themselves, his eyes lifted instinctively toward one of the higher eyries.
Elqiana.
The enormous pearl-white dragon rested half inside the vast open structure woven into the ancient trunk. Her massive tails hung lazily over the edge, curling around the tree in a loose spiral. Morning light shimmered across her scales like fresh snow.
Nekira slowed slightly.
He knew Tara was resting in there.
He could almost picture her asleep beside the great dragon’s side, curled beneath thick blankets while Elqiana guarded the entrance like an ancient spirit of the forest.
For a moment, his feet threatened to stop entirely.
Then Elqiana’s tail shifted slightly.
One enormous white eye opened halfway.
Watching him.
The dragon said nothing.
Which somehow felt worse.
Nekira cleared his throat awkwardly and continued walking.
‘Coward.’
The thought arrived in his own voice.
Amira’s amused agreement brushed faintly against the back of his mind from far across the city.
By the time the sun finally rose over Caa Alora, golden light spilling through the endless canopy above, Nekira had returned to his own loft quarters near the western eyries.
He showered.
Shaved carefully.
Changed into clean training leathers and a dark green tunic embroidered lightly with silver threading along the collar.
Normal routines.
Simple routines.
Things he could control.
When he finally descended the stairs from his loft, he stopped midway.
A messenger stood waiting below.
The young elf looked profoundly nervous.
Mostly because Amira lay sprawled across the wooden floor nearby, one enormous eye cracked open while she lazily tapped a long curved talon against the boards.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
The messenger flinched every single time.
“Stop teasing the messenger, Amira…” Nekira said softly, though the exhaustion in his voice robbed the words of any authority.
Amira gave an entirely unapologetic rumble.
Nekira descended the remaining steps and faced the messenger properly.
“What can I do for you?”
The elf immediately bowed low.
“Master Nekira, His Majesty King Althor departed several hours ago. He requested I deliver a message personally.”
Nekira already felt a headache forming.
“Go on.”
The messenger straightened nervously.
“He said—and I quote—‘False reasons trapped in your old bean. Failure isn't your nemesis, denial of truth is.’”
Silence.
Amira’s tail twitched.
Nekira closed his eyes slowly and sighed through his nose.
Of course Althor would leave him with cryptic wisdom before departing.
And of course the dwarf king had somehow seen through him almost immediately.
“Thank you for the message,” Nekira muttered quietly.
The messenger bowed once more, clearly relieved his life had been spared from Amira’s entertainment, and hurried away down the walkway.
For several moments neither dragon nor rider spoke.
Then Amira lifted her head slightly, amusement practically radiating from her.
‘Old bean?’
Despite himself, Nekira snorted softly.
“Old bean. Human phrase for brain.”
Amira stretched languidly, massive wings flexing slightly as she yawned, revealing rows of terrifying teeth.
‘Well… your old bean really needs to figure things out.’
Nekira groaned quietly.
‘What little-legs king says has truth.’
“I liked you better when you pretended to be wise and mysterious.”
Amira gave a deep, smug rumble.
‘And I liked you better before you started fleeing from small red-haired humans because your feelings frightened you.’
Nekira froze.
Amira opened both eyes now, fully awake and entirely too pleased with herself.
‘You are wolf-friend, Ingmar slayer, dragon rider… You’ve defeated humarf’s and undgrols, you’ve flown on my back into storms…’
“…Because we had too.”
‘Yet one woman smiles at you and suddenly you become frightened forest rabbit.’
Nekira stared at her in disbelief.
“You are enjoying this far too much.”
Amira lowered her enormous head closer to him, warm breath washing over his face.
‘Immensely.’
Nekira dropped heavily into the chair beside his desk.
For a long moment he simply sat there in silence, elbows resting on his knees while the pale morning light filtered through the loft windows.
Then he reached for his boots.
The familiar motions helped steady him somewhat.
Loop.
Pull.
Tighten.
Repeat.
“It doesn’t work like that, Amira…” he muttered while threading the leather lacings through the final hooks. “She’s my cousin.”
Amira grumbled from across the loft without even opening her eyes.
‘Means nothing to me.’
Nekira glanced toward the enormous dragon.
One golden eye cracked open lazily.
‘Dragons do not have “cousins.” We mate with who we please. Usually the strongest mate we can find.’
Nekira snorted softly.
“Somehow that explains a lot about dragons.”
Amira ignored the comment entirely.
‘You humans make everything complicated.’
“Because it is complicated.”
He stood and stamped one boot against the floor firmly before tightening the second.
“Family politics. Kingdoms. Alliances. Expectations.”
Amira rested her chin on her forelegs dramatically.
‘Sounds exhausting.’
“It is.”
He grabbed his cloak from beside the doorway and fastened it around his shoulders.
“Only… if it worked that way for us…”
The unfinished thought lingered between them.
Amira watched him quietly now.
Nekira avoided her gaze.
“I’m going for a walk.”
Amira rolled her eyes so dramatically it almost looked painful.
Then the dragon curled back into herself with a deep rumbling sigh.
‘Of course you are.’
Within moments she was already settling back to sleep.
Elsewhere high within the eastern eyries, Tarasque stretched lazily beside Elqiana’s enormous resting form.
The pearl-white dragon occupied nearly the entire chamber, her gleaming scales reflecting the soft morning sunlight pouring through the open arches of the eyrie.
Tarasque scratched affectionately beneath the dragon’s lower scales along her underbelly.
Elqiana immediately released a deep pleased purr that vibrated through the entire floor.
‘He was wandering again.’
Tarasque sighed.
“I know.”
She crossed the room barefoot toward a small stone basin filled with cool water and splashed her face.
Red hair clung briefly to her cheeks before she pushed it back.
“It’s infuriating how he keeps managing to avoid me…”
Elqiana gave a low grumble of agreement.
Tarasque leaned both hands against the basin edge.
“He can’t keep avoiding me forever. We need to talk about the dragon eggs. Make plans. Figure out where we can train new riders…”
Her expression shifted then, becoming more thoughtful.
“Breeding grounds for future dragons too.”
At that, Elqiana carefully shifted position.
Very carefully.
Even her smallest movements carried enough weight to shake dust loose from the ceiling beams.
Her long pearl-white tail slid fully into the eyrie before coiling neatly around her body.
Tarasque barely even looked anymore.
As the tail swept past, she casually hopped over the thick scaled limb without breaking stride, clearly having done this countless times before.
Elqiana watched her fondly.
Tarasque reached the carved wooden wardrobe near the far wall and pulled its doors open.
Several outfits hung neatly within—travel leathers, royal garments, lighter riding attire.
She tilted her head thoughtfully.
“What colour today, Elqi?”
The dragon huffed softly.
“Black like my mood… or green with elegance?”
Elqiana gave a thoughtful rumble.
Then another.
Tarasque narrowed her eyes slightly.
‘You just like the green because it matches your eyes.’
The great pearl-white dragon looked entirely unashamed.
Tarasque laughed quietly despite herself.
“Fine. Green it is.”
Tara descended the spiraling stairway wrapped around the massive trunk of Elqiana’s eyrie slowly, one hand trailing lightly along the smooth carved railing.
Morning sunlight filtered through the canopy overhead in shifting beams of gold and green, illuminating drifting particles of pollen and mist in the air.
Above her, Elqiana watched silently from the open eyrie entrance, enormous white eyes following every step.
As her boots touched the lower walkways connecting the great tree structures of Caa Alora, a small white blur suddenly appeared beside her feet.
“To the library again?”
Snowy.
The tiny white were-cat somehow always materialised without warning, despite wearing enough silver bells and jewellery to outfit a market stall.
Tara smiled faintly.
“Yes. Someone has to do the research, don’t they?”
Snowy flicked her fluffy tail dramatically.
“The scholars are researching.”
“They’re panicking while pretending to research.”
“A fair point.”
The were-cat trotted alongside her casually.
Far above and several walkways away, Nekira landed silently atop the roof of a lower building.
He crouched instinctively, keeping himself hidden behind curved wooden supports and hanging vines as Tara continued walking below.
This was ridiculous.
He knew it was ridiculous.
And yet somehow he still followed her anyway.
His eyes tracked her movements automatically.
The way her copper-red hair bounced lightly against her shoulders when she walked.
The sway of her hips beneath the soft green dress she wore today.
The way she absentmindedly brushed strands of hair behind one ear while reading a small folded note in her hand.
Amira’s voice echoed smugly in the back of his thoughts.
‘Frightened forest rabbit.’
Nekira ignored her with professional determination.
Below, Tara glanced toward Snowy.
“Do we know any more about the dragon armour Nek—” she paused briefly, correcting herself, “—Neks found?”
Snowy suddenly leapt gracefully upward into Tara’s waiting arms, curling immediately into a fluffy white spiral while purring loudly.
“No,” the were-cat admitted. “But you and no-name will like what the elven craftsmen have done to some of the armour.”
Tara slowed.
Then stopped entirely.
Nekira instinctively flattened himself lower against the rooftop before realising she had no possible way of seeing him.
“What’s been done to the armour?” Tara asked curiously.
Snowy’s blue eyes gleamed mischievously.
“Colour is everything.”
The were-cat’s tail flicked once.
“Especially to dragons.”
Tara narrowed her eyes immediately.
“…Snowy.”
Snowy purred louder.
“You’ll see.”
High above them, Nekira frowned slightly.
Colour?
What did colour have to do with—
Then realisation hit him.
“Oh no…”
Amira immediately woke within their shared bond the moment the thought formed.
And began laughing so hard he nearly lost his footing on the rooftop.
Nekira followed Tara all the way to the palace entrance, keeping to rooftops, balconies, and the higher walkways woven between the trees.
Still…
This felt different.
Less like scouting.
Far more like a man making increasingly questionable life decisions.
Below, Tara adjusted Snowy slightly in her arms as she approached the great carved entrance of the palace-library. Morning guards bowed respectfully as she passed beneath the sweeping archways of silverwood and stone.
Neither she nor the were-cat looked up once.
Nekira watched until the doors closed behind her.
Only then did he finally exhale.
For a long moment he remained crouched atop the roof of a random dwelling overlooking the palace district while the city slowly came alive around him.
Merchants opening stalls.
Messengers hurrying between walkways.
Dragons shifting in distant eyries overhead.
He rubbed a hand across his face tiredly.
“This is getting pathetic,” he muttered to himself.
Amira, thankfully, remained asleep.
Or at least pretended to.
A few moments later Nekira dropped silently from the rooftop, boots landing softly against the moss-covered ground below.
Then he headed toward the training grounds.
If his mind refused to quiet itself…
Then perhaps exhaustion would solve the problem instead.
The western training fields were already active by the time he arrived.
Elven soldiers moved through drills with elegant precision beneath the towering trees while others practiced archery from elevated platforms woven into the trunks themselves.
Nekira rolled his shoulders loose as he entered the main sparring circle.
Several elves noticed him immediately.
Some straightened slightly.
Others exchanged knowing looks.
Over the past few weeks his swordsmanship had improved dramatically.
Living among elves tended to do that.
Their movements emphasised balance, precision, economy of motion.
No wasted effort.
No reckless swings.
At first the training masters had corrected him constantly.
Now?
Now some of them struggled to keep pace with him.
Which Nekira privately found deeply satisfying.
One of the elven captains stepped forward with a raised brow.
“Three today?”
Nekira unsheathed the magically blunted training sword from his hip.
“Feels fair.”
The nearby elves laughed quietly.
Three stepped into the circle opposite him.
Two males.
One female.
All experienced.
All quick.
The female elf moved first.
The other two followed immediately after, striking from opposite angles with practiced coordination.
Nekira met the attacks calmly.
Steel cracked against steel.
He parried left.
Shifted right.
Turned a thrust aside with the flat of his blade before stepping backward just enough to avoid the next strike aimed for his ribs.
He remained entirely on the defensive.
Watching.
Learning.
Especially their footwork.
Elves revealed intentions through movement long before their blades committed.
Weight shifts.
Hip turns.
Shoulder alignment.
Patterns.
The second male lunged aggressively.
Too aggressively.
Nekira ducked beneath two crossing attacks at once, dropping sharply onto one knee.
Then he spun.
His training blade whipped outward in a low arc.
Tap.
The flat of the magically dulled sword struck one elf squarely in the stomach.
The male cursed as he felt the strike against his stomach and stepped aside..
Before the others could react, Nekira shoved backward across the dirt and surged back to his feet.
Just in time.
Two more strikes descended simultaneously.
CLANG.
Nekira caught both blades against his own.
Their swords crossed together above him in a shower of bright sparks.
Muscles strained.
Boots dug into the dirt.
The female elf suddenly smiled.
“You’re adapting.”
Nekira smirked slightly despite himself.
“You elves telegraph with your feet.”
All three immediately looked offended.
Which confirmed he was correct.
The sparring session continued far longer than anyone expected.
What had begun as a simple training match slowly turned into a war of stubbornness.
Nekira refused to lose.
The three elves, now fully invested in preserving their dignity, refused to yield.
Steel rang endlessly across the training grounds.
Again.
Again.
Again.
Sweat darkened Nekira’s tunic and rolled steadily down the sides of his face, but his movements remained sharp despite the exhaustion burning through his muscles.
Opposite him, the two remaining elves were beginning to fade.
The female elf’s breathing had become uneven.
The last male’s footwork had grown heavier.
Tiny mistakes.
Tiny openings.
Nekira watched all of it carefully.
Around the sparring circle, more and more spectators had gathered to watch. Elven soldiers paused their own drills, leaning against practice posts or sitting along the raised roots surrounding the grounds.
Whispers spread through the crowd.
The human rider was keeping pace with three elite elves.
Some were starting to look genuinely offended by that fact.
Unnoticed by Nekira, Tara quietly stepped onto the edge of the training grounds carrying several scrolls tucked beneath one arm.
Snowy sat perched comfortably on her shoulder.
Tara slowed as she spotted the growing crowd.
Then her eyes found Nekira in the center of the ring.
For a moment she simply watched.
The speed.
The balance.
The discipline in his movements.
This wasn’t the reckless fighter she remembered from years ago.
This version of Nekira moved with frightening control.
Nekira inhaled slowly, adjusting his grip on the training blade.
“Ready?”
The female elf snarled softly through clenched teeth.
The male beside her gave a frustrated roar and immediately rushed forward.
There it was.
Frustration.
Emotion.
Loss of discipline.
Nekira’s eyes sharpened instantly.
This time…
He attacked first.
The shift was immediate.
Graceful.
Fluid.
His blade became a purple blur as he surged forward with flowing precision, every movement connecting seamlessly into the next like water crashing through stone.
The female elf barely managed to raise her weapon in time—
Tap.
The flat of Nekira’s magically blunted blade struck her left shoulder.
The enchantment flared brightly.
Clean hit.
Before the final male could react, Nekira pivoted sharply.
His sword stopped inches from the elf’s heart.
Silence.
Then—
The training grounds erupted into applause.
Cheers echoed through the trees.
Several elves groaned dramatically while others laughed and shouted congratulations.
The defeated male lowered his sword with an exhausted curse.
“You are becoming insufferable.”
Nekira grinned despite himself.
“Apparently your feet still give everything away.”
That earned several deeply offended looks from nearby elves.
Tara shook her head, unable to stop herself from smiling as she began walking toward him through the dispersing crowd.
Nekira bowed respectfully toward his sparring partners first.
Then—
He saw her.
Instantly his spine straightened.
His stomach dropped.
There was nowhere to run.
Tara stopped a few feet away from him.
“Neks…” she said softly.
Nekira swallowed.
“Tara…”
Silence stretched awkwardly between them for approximately two heartbeats.
Then the sky exploded downward.
WHUMP.
Both of them vanished beneath an enormous pearl-white paw as Elqiana landed beside the training grounds hard enough to shake nearby trees.
Gasps and startled shouting erupted from every direction.
Pinned flat against the grass beneath the dragon’s massive paw, Nekira groaned loudly.
Beside him Tara looked equally horrified.
‘Kiss and make up. NOW.’
Elqiana’s voice thundered through both their minds simultaneously.
“Elqi!” Tara complained immediately. “We are not children!”
The dragon lowered her massive head until one enormous white eye filled their entire vision.
‘Well you are BOTH acting like it.’
Her gaze shifted directly toward Nekira.
‘Especially you.’
Nekira stared upward in disbelief.
“Why am I being blamed more?!”
Elqiana’s expression somehow became even more judgemental.
‘Because you are the one climbing rooftops to stare dramatically from shadows instead of speaking like a functioning person.’
Nekira froze completely.
Tara slowly turned her head toward him.
“…You were WHAT?”
Nekira closed his eyes.
“Ok… ok, you win. You win. Could you please kindly let us up now?”
Elqiana considered this carefully.
Then, with agonising slowness, she lifted her enormous paw off them.
Nekira and Tara sat upright immediately, both dishevelled and covered in flattened grass.
Elqiana pointed one huge curved talon directly at Nekira.
Her scales ruffled smugly.
‘Dragons always win, little one.’
Chapter 23: Rooftops
Nekira wandered alone through the sleeping city of Caa Alora.
Above him, the immense silver-barked trees swayed gently in the early dawn breeze, their leaves whispering like distant waves. Lanterns of pale blue mage-light still glowed softly along the woven bridges and carved walkways, though the darkness was already beginning to surrender to morning.
He had not slept.
Not truly.
Every time he closed his eyes he saw dragon eggs bathed in ancient firelight. Saw destiny pressing down upon him from every direction. Saw Tara standing beside the dragon eggs while their sleeping presences stirred at her voice.
And every single time…
He walked away.
Since the gathering in the Queen’s chamber, he had done everything possible to avoid her.
Training alone in isolated corners of the grounds.
Volunteering for patrols no one else wanted.
Leaving rooms the moment she entered them.
Amira had questioned him endlessly during their flights together, though she already knew the answers before she asked.
Nekira had refused to speak of it anyway.
Even Queen Gabija had noticed.
That alone was embarrassing enough.
As he crossed another suspended bridge between towering homes grown into the trees themselves, his eyes lifted instinctively toward one of the higher eyries.
Elqiana.
The enormous pearl-white dragon rested half inside the vast open structure woven into the ancient trunk. Her massive tails hung lazily over the edge, curling around the tree in a loose spiral. Morning light shimmered across her scales like fresh snow.
Nekira slowed slightly.
He knew Tara was resting in there.
He could almost picture her asleep beside the great dragon’s side, curled beneath thick blankets while Elqiana guarded the entrance like an ancient spirit of the forest.
For a moment, his feet threatened to stop entirely.
Then Elqiana’s tail shifted slightly.
One enormous white eye opened halfway.
Watching him.
The dragon said nothing.
Which somehow felt worse.
Nekira cleared his throat awkwardly and continued walking.
‘Coward.’
The thought arrived in his own voice.
Amira’s amused agreement brushed faintly against the back of his mind from far across the city.
By the time the sun finally rose over Caa Alora, golden light spilling through the endless canopy above, Nekira had returned to his own loft quarters near the western eyries.
He showered.
Shaved carefully.
Changed into clean training leathers and a dark green tunic embroidered lightly with silver threading along the collar.
Normal routines.
Simple routines.
Things he could control.
When he finally descended the stairs from his loft, he stopped midway.
A messenger stood waiting below.
The young elf looked profoundly nervous.
Mostly because Amira lay sprawled across the wooden floor nearby, one enormous eye cracked open while she lazily tapped a long curved talon against the boards.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
The messenger flinched every single time.
“Stop teasing the messenger, Amira…” Nekira said softly, though the exhaustion in his voice robbed the words of any authority.
Amira gave an entirely unapologetic rumble.
Nekira descended the remaining steps and faced the messenger properly.
“What can I do for you?”
The elf immediately bowed low.
“Master Nekira, His Majesty King Althor departed several hours ago. He requested I deliver a message personally.”
Nekira already felt a headache forming.
“Go on.”
The messenger straightened nervously.
“He said—and I quote—‘False reasons trapped in your old bean. Failure isn't your nemesis, denial of truth is.’”
Silence.
Amira’s tail twitched.
Nekira closed his eyes slowly and sighed through his nose.
Of course Althor would leave him with cryptic wisdom before departing.
And of course the dwarf king had somehow seen through him almost immediately.
“Thank you for the message,” Nekira muttered quietly.
The messenger bowed once more, clearly relieved his life had been spared from Amira’s entertainment, and hurried away down the walkway.
For several moments neither dragon nor rider spoke.
Then Amira lifted her head slightly, amusement practically radiating from her.
‘Old bean?’
Despite himself, Nekira snorted softly.
“Old bean. Human phrase for brain.”
Amira stretched languidly, massive wings flexing slightly as she yawned, revealing rows of terrifying teeth.
‘Well… your old bean really needs to figure things out.’
Nekira groaned quietly.
‘What little-legs king says has truth.’
“I liked you better when you pretended to be wise and mysterious.”
Amira gave a deep, smug rumble.
‘And I liked you better before you started fleeing from small red-haired humans because your feelings frightened you.’
Nekira froze.
Amira opened both eyes now, fully awake and entirely too pleased with herself.
‘You are wolf-friend, Ingmar slayer, dragon rider… You’ve defeated humarf’s and undgrols, you’ve flown on my back into storms…’
“…Because we had too.”
‘Yet one woman smiles at you and suddenly you become frightened forest rabbit.’
Nekira stared at her in disbelief.
“You are enjoying this far too much.”
Amira lowered her enormous head closer to him, warm breath washing over his face.
‘Immensely.’
Nekira dropped heavily into the chair beside his desk.
For a long moment he simply sat there in silence, elbows resting on his knees while the pale morning light filtered through the loft windows.
Then he reached for his boots.
The familiar motions helped steady him somewhat.
Loop.
Pull.
Tighten.
Repeat.
“It doesn’t work like that, Amira…” he muttered while threading the leather lacings through the final hooks. “She’s my cousin.”
Amira grumbled from across the loft without even opening her eyes.
‘Means nothing to me.’
Nekira glanced toward the enormous dragon.
One golden eye cracked open lazily.
‘Dragons do not have “cousins.” We mate with who we please. Usually the strongest mate we can find.’
Nekira snorted softly.
“Somehow that explains a lot about dragons.”
Amira ignored the comment entirely.
‘You humans make everything complicated.’
“Because it is complicated.”
He stood and stamped one boot against the floor firmly before tightening the second.
“Family politics. Kingdoms. Alliances. Expectations.”
Amira rested her chin on her forelegs dramatically.
‘Sounds exhausting.’
“It is.”
He grabbed his cloak from beside the doorway and fastened it around his shoulders.
“Only… if it worked that way for us…”
The unfinished thought lingered between them.
Amira watched him quietly now.
Nekira avoided her gaze.
“I’m going for a walk.”
Amira rolled her eyes so dramatically it almost looked painful.
Then the dragon curled back into herself with a deep rumbling sigh.
‘Of course you are.’
Within moments she was already settling back to sleep.
Elsewhere high within the eastern eyries, Tarasque stretched lazily beside Elqiana’s enormous resting form.
The pearl-white dragon occupied nearly the entire chamber, her gleaming scales reflecting the soft morning sunlight pouring through the open arches of the eyrie.
Tarasque scratched affectionately beneath the dragon’s lower scales along her underbelly.
Elqiana immediately released a deep pleased purr that vibrated through the entire floor.
‘He was wandering again.’
Tarasque sighed.
“I know.”
She crossed the room barefoot toward a small stone basin filled with cool water and splashed her face.
Red hair clung briefly to her cheeks before she pushed it back.
“It’s infuriating how he keeps managing to avoid me…”
Elqiana gave a low grumble of agreement.
Tarasque leaned both hands against the basin edge.
“He can’t keep avoiding me forever. We need to talk about the dragon eggs. Make plans. Figure out where we can train new riders…”
Her expression shifted then, becoming more thoughtful.
“Breeding grounds for future dragons too.”
At that, Elqiana carefully shifted position.
Very carefully.
Even her smallest movements carried enough weight to shake dust loose from the ceiling beams.
Her long pearl-white tail slid fully into the eyrie before coiling neatly around her body.
Tarasque barely even looked anymore.
As the tail swept past, she casually hopped over the thick scaled limb without breaking stride, clearly having done this countless times before.
Elqiana watched her fondly.
Tarasque reached the carved wooden wardrobe near the far wall and pulled its doors open.
Several outfits hung neatly within—travel leathers, royal garments, lighter riding attire.
She tilted her head thoughtfully.
“What colour today, Elqi?”
The dragon huffed softly.
“Black like my mood… or green with elegance?”
Elqiana gave a thoughtful rumble.
Then another.
Tarasque narrowed her eyes slightly.
‘You just like the green because it matches your eyes.’
The great pearl-white dragon looked entirely unashamed.
Tarasque laughed quietly despite herself.
“Fine. Green it is.”
Tara descended the spiraling stairway wrapped around the massive trunk of Elqiana’s eyrie slowly, one hand trailing lightly along the smooth carved railing.
Morning sunlight filtered through the canopy overhead in shifting beams of gold and green, illuminating drifting particles of pollen and mist in the air.
Above her, Elqiana watched silently from the open eyrie entrance, enormous white eyes following every step.
As her boots touched the lower walkways connecting the great tree structures of Caa Alora, a small white blur suddenly appeared beside her feet.
“To the library again?”
Snowy.
The tiny white were-cat somehow always materialised without warning, despite wearing enough silver bells and jewellery to outfit a market stall.
Tara smiled faintly.
“Yes. Someone has to do the research, don’t they?”
Snowy flicked her fluffy tail dramatically.
“The scholars are researching.”
“They’re panicking while pretending to research.”
“A fair point.”
The were-cat trotted alongside her casually.
Far above and several walkways away, Nekira landed silently atop the roof of a lower building.
He crouched instinctively, keeping himself hidden behind curved wooden supports and hanging vines as Tara continued walking below.
This was ridiculous.
He knew it was ridiculous.
And yet somehow he still followed her anyway.
His eyes tracked her movements automatically.
The way her copper-red hair bounced lightly against her shoulders when she walked.
The sway of her hips beneath the soft green dress she wore today.
The way she absentmindedly brushed strands of hair behind one ear while reading a small folded note in her hand.
Amira’s voice echoed smugly in the back of his thoughts.
‘Frightened forest rabbit.’
Nekira ignored her with professional determination.
Below, Tara glanced toward Snowy.
“Do we know any more about the dragon armour Nek—” she paused briefly, correcting herself, “—Neks found?”
Snowy suddenly leapt gracefully upward into Tara’s waiting arms, curling immediately into a fluffy white spiral while purring loudly.
“No,” the were-cat admitted. “But you and no-name will like what the elven craftsmen have done to some of the armour.”
Tara slowed.
Then stopped entirely.
Nekira instinctively flattened himself lower against the rooftop before realising she had no possible way of seeing him.
“What’s been done to the armour?” Tara asked curiously.
Snowy’s blue eyes gleamed mischievously.
“Colour is everything.”
The were-cat’s tail flicked once.
“Especially to dragons.”
Tara narrowed her eyes immediately.
“…Snowy.”
Snowy purred louder.
“You’ll see.”
High above them, Nekira frowned slightly.
Colour?
What did colour have to do with—
Then realisation hit him.
“Oh no…”
Amira immediately woke within their shared bond the moment the thought formed.
And began laughing so hard he nearly lost his footing on the rooftop.
Nekira followed Tara all the way to the palace entrance, keeping to rooftops, balconies, and the higher walkways woven between the trees.
Still…
This felt different.
Less like scouting.
Far more like a man making increasingly questionable life decisions.
Below, Tara adjusted Snowy slightly in her arms as she approached the great carved entrance of the palace-library. Morning guards bowed respectfully as she passed beneath the sweeping archways of silverwood and stone.
Neither she nor the were-cat looked up once.
Nekira watched until the doors closed behind her.
Only then did he finally exhale.
For a long moment he remained crouched atop the roof of a random dwelling overlooking the palace district while the city slowly came alive around him.
Merchants opening stalls.
Messengers hurrying between walkways.
Dragons shifting in distant eyries overhead.
He rubbed a hand across his face tiredly.
“This is getting pathetic,” he muttered to himself.
Amira, thankfully, remained asleep.
Or at least pretended to.
A few moments later Nekira dropped silently from the rooftop, boots landing softly against the moss-covered ground below.
Then he headed toward the training grounds.
If his mind refused to quiet itself…
Then perhaps exhaustion would solve the problem instead.
The western training fields were already active by the time he arrived.
Elven soldiers moved through drills with elegant precision beneath the towering trees while others practiced archery from elevated platforms woven into the trunks themselves.
Nekira rolled his shoulders loose as he entered the main sparring circle.
Several elves noticed him immediately.
Some straightened slightly.
Others exchanged knowing looks.
Over the past few weeks his swordsmanship had improved dramatically.
Living among elves tended to do that.
Their movements emphasised balance, precision, economy of motion.
No wasted effort.
No reckless swings.
At first the training masters had corrected him constantly.
Now?
Now some of them struggled to keep pace with him.
Which Nekira privately found deeply satisfying.
One of the elven captains stepped forward with a raised brow.
“Three today?”
Nekira unsheathed the magically blunted training sword from his hip.
“Feels fair.”
The nearby elves laughed quietly.
Three stepped into the circle opposite him.
Two males.
One female.
All experienced.
All quick.
The female elf moved first.
The other two followed immediately after, striking from opposite angles with practiced coordination.
Nekira met the attacks calmly.
Steel cracked against steel.
He parried left.
Shifted right.
Turned a thrust aside with the flat of his blade before stepping backward just enough to avoid the next strike aimed for his ribs.
He remained entirely on the defensive.
Watching.
Learning.
Especially their footwork.
Elves revealed intentions through movement long before their blades committed.
Weight shifts.
Hip turns.
Shoulder alignment.
Patterns.
The second male lunged aggressively.
Too aggressively.
Nekira ducked beneath two crossing attacks at once, dropping sharply onto one knee.
Then he spun.
His training blade whipped outward in a low arc.
Tap.
The flat of the magically dulled sword struck one elf squarely in the stomach.
The male cursed as he felt the strike against his stomach and stepped aside..
Before the others could react, Nekira shoved backward across the dirt and surged back to his feet.
Just in time.
Two more strikes descended simultaneously.
CLANG.
Nekira caught both blades against his own.
Their swords crossed together above him in a shower of bright sparks.
Muscles strained.
Boots dug into the dirt.
The female elf suddenly smiled.
“You’re adapting.”
Nekira smirked slightly despite himself.
“You elves telegraph with your feet.”
All three immediately looked offended.
Which confirmed he was correct.
The sparring session continued far longer than anyone expected.
What had begun as a simple training match slowly turned into a war of stubbornness.
Nekira refused to lose.
The three elves, now fully invested in preserving their dignity, refused to yield.
Steel rang endlessly across the training grounds.
Again.
Again.
Again.
Sweat darkened Nekira’s tunic and rolled steadily down the sides of his face, but his movements remained sharp despite the exhaustion burning through his muscles.
Opposite him, the two remaining elves were beginning to fade.
The female elf’s breathing had become uneven.
The last male’s footwork had grown heavier.
Tiny mistakes.
Tiny openings.
Nekira watched all of it carefully.
Around the sparring circle, more and more spectators had gathered to watch. Elven soldiers paused their own drills, leaning against practice posts or sitting along the raised roots surrounding the grounds.
Whispers spread through the crowd.
The human rider was keeping pace with three elite elves.
Some were starting to look genuinely offended by that fact.
Unnoticed by Nekira, Tara quietly stepped onto the edge of the training grounds carrying several scrolls tucked beneath one arm.
Snowy sat perched comfortably on her shoulder.
Tara slowed as she spotted the growing crowd.
Then her eyes found Nekira in the center of the ring.
For a moment she simply watched.
The speed.
The balance.
The discipline in his movements.
This wasn’t the reckless fighter she remembered from years ago.
This version of Nekira moved with frightening control.
Nekira inhaled slowly, adjusting his grip on the training blade.
“Ready?”
The female elf snarled softly through clenched teeth.
The male beside her gave a frustrated roar and immediately rushed forward.
There it was.
Frustration.
Emotion.
Loss of discipline.
Nekira’s eyes sharpened instantly.
This time…
He attacked first.
The shift was immediate.
Graceful.
Fluid.
His blade became a purple blur as he surged forward with flowing precision, every movement connecting seamlessly into the next like water crashing through stone.
The female elf barely managed to raise her weapon in time—
Tap.
The flat of Nekira’s magically blunted blade struck her left shoulder.
The enchantment flared brightly.
Clean hit.
Before the final male could react, Nekira pivoted sharply.
His sword stopped inches from the elf’s heart.
Silence.
Then—
The training grounds erupted into applause.
Cheers echoed through the trees.
Several elves groaned dramatically while others laughed and shouted congratulations.
The defeated male lowered his sword with an exhausted curse.
“You are becoming insufferable.”
Nekira grinned despite himself.
“Apparently your feet still give everything away.”
That earned several deeply offended looks from nearby elves.
Tara shook her head, unable to stop herself from smiling as she began walking toward him through the dispersing crowd.
Nekira bowed respectfully toward his sparring partners first.
Then—
He saw her.
Instantly his spine straightened.
His stomach dropped.
There was nowhere to run.
Tara stopped a few feet away from him.
“Neks…” she said softly.
Nekira swallowed.
“Tara…”
Silence stretched awkwardly between them for approximately two heartbeats.
Then the sky exploded downward.
WHUMP.
Both of them vanished beneath an enormous pearl-white paw as Elqiana landed beside the training grounds hard enough to shake nearby trees.
Gasps and startled shouting erupted from every direction.
Pinned flat against the grass beneath the dragon’s massive paw, Nekira groaned loudly.
Beside him Tara looked equally horrified.
‘Kiss and make up. NOW.’
Elqiana’s voice thundered through both their minds simultaneously.
“Elqi!” Tara complained immediately. “We are not children!”
The dragon lowered her massive head until one enormous white eye filled their entire vision.
‘Well you are BOTH acting like it.’
Her gaze shifted directly toward Nekira.
‘Especially you.’
Nekira stared upward in disbelief.
“Why am I being blamed more?!”
Elqiana’s expression somehow became even more judgemental.
‘Because you are the one climbing rooftops to stare dramatically from shadows instead of speaking like a functioning person.’
Nekira froze completely.
Tara slowly turned her head toward him.
“…You were WHAT?”
Nekira closed his eyes.
“Ok… ok, you win. You win. Could you please kindly let us up now?”
Elqiana considered this carefully.
Then, with agonising slowness, she lifted her enormous paw off them.
Nekira and Tara sat upright immediately, both dishevelled and covered in flattened grass.
Elqiana pointed one huge curved talon directly at Nekira.
Her scales ruffled smugly.
‘Dragons always win, little one.’