(*Trigger warning: panic attack and (brief) infant death)
Ayzha was not what one might call a polished individual. She hated small talk, had no time for pleasantries, and abhorred a polite conversation. Even now, several years into her tutelage under the esteemed Red Mage of the Warren, she'd only managed to file off a few of her rougher edges.
As she stood before the Red Mage, hands clasped behind her back and bare feet planted firmly to the ground, she relied on an old mantra of hers to tamp down the edge of irritation crawling up her spine. This was a necessary formality. All she had to do was keep her mouth shut and nod where appropriate, and it would be over soon.
"As you are aware, Ayzha, it is the prerogative of a master mage to take on several apprentices," Mystic intoned in a soft and controlled voice. As if she feared speaking too loudly might set off Ayzha's sharp nerves.
She was wrong. Not about being set off, but what would provide the spark. Ayzha hated competition. She hated company even more. Just the thought of someone else muscling in on the Red Mage's time made her face flush. She bit down hard on the inside of her lip to keep from voicing her displeasure.
"I have found another youth. A young elven man. He's in need of guidance. I've agreed to take on his tutelage."
With a flick of her wrist, Mystic opened the door to her office. Just beyond the stone archway, framed by the torchlight of the hall, stood a living shadow.
The boy could not have been older than herself, though his face looked twice as old. He was pale and scrawny and were it not for the intense focus of his ice blue eyes, she might have taken him for a freshly dug corpse. He dressed all in black, from the tips of his lanky hair right down to his dirt-stained boots.
The boy started briefly as the opening door revealed his presence. He rocked back on his heels, as if ready to run, before stepping into the room. Just a single step. There he stopped once more, clasping his hands behind his back in a mirror of Ayzha's stiff posture.
"Ayzha, this is T'Dalen. He'll be joining our lessons from now on."
Ayzha eyed the not-quite-dead boy. He eyed her back, matching her stare for unblinking stare. A coolness wafted into the room with him, carrying with it an odd scent that turned Ayzha's stomach. She sniffed at the air, willing her brain to place the scent. A metallic tang tickled her throat, and suddenly she had it.
Eyes wide, she rounded on the Red Mage.
"He reeks of death," she spat.
Mystic's response, a slow and measured nod, was all the confirmation that Ayzha needed. Though her mentor's words helped solidify the boy's fate in her mind.
"T'Dalen was attempting necromancy prior to arriving here, yes. I will be working with him to-"
"I didn't attempt. I succeeded," the boy said.
His words had a high, nasally tone that set Ayzha's teeth on edge. His arrogance, that stupid, smug smirk arched across his thin lips, made her all but want to throw up.
She whipped around to face the boy once more, eyes ablaze with indignation. This child, this adulterer of the arcane arts, was not worthy of her mentor's attention. He was scarcely worthy of breathing the same air as her. Instead of giving voice to these thoughts, which really would have been wasting too much energy on the cretin, Ayzha spat at his feet.
"I will not work alongside a death cultist," she snarled.
Then she was gone, pushing her way past him and out the door.
The early days of their studies together were little more improved than the first meeting. T'Dalen seemed to delight in pushing her buttons. Always showing up to class a few minutes before her. Always appearing in the library when she wanted to study alone. Always speaking up with an answer when she was just about to give it herself. He was insufferable and smug and petty and childish and a hundred other horrible words that she hadn't thought of yet. He was, to put it simply, the worst.
The longer they spent together, the more he seemed to refine his craft. He knew just what to say to get under her skin, and even when she did lose her temper and punch him one time, he didn't even have the decency to take the hint and leave her alone thereafter.
Worst of all, Mystic insisted on keeping them together during their lessons, no matter how disruptive they became. She seemed absolutely determined to have them get along. She may as well have asked hydras to grow a heart.
Eventually, Ayzha came to accept that she would not get rid of T'Dalen. That did not mean she had to like him though. She settled into a habit of pretending he didn't exist whenever he began to tease her. That, surprisingly, seemed to do the trick.
Their dynamic changed overnight. Anytime T'Dalen sought to irritate her, Ayzha looked straight through him. She acted as if her lessons with the Red Mage were once again one-on-one. While this caused some irritation for her mentor, it gave her great satisfaction to see T'Dalen seethe and stew by himself.
After a while, the constant battle of who could irritate whom the most began to wear thin. While they still took passing shots at each other, they settled into mostly mute tolerance of each other's presence. Much to Mystic's relief.
Time passed and with it went Ayzha's single-minded focus on training. Other concerns began to creep in. Such as the impending year-end ball at the Antiem wizard's tower, the fabled Prematerris.
Social events were not Ayzha's preferred pastime. In fact, she could think of many things she'd rather do than spend time in a large, crowded room full of people she didn't know. Walking barefoot across a bed of tacks, for instance.
Being the apprentice to one of the master mages came with responsibilities though. Much as she had pleaded and begged to get out of this commitment, there was only one way out, and she was not willing to give up her apprenticeship.
On the day of the ball, Ayzha didn't spare a thought for T'Dalen. Not as she dressed in the overly tight-fitted, needlessly complicated dress picked out for her by the local fashion icon, Noone. Not as she tolerated her hair being teased up into intricate braids and pinned to her scalp with what felt like malicious intent. Not as she attempted to choke down a meager breakfast before giving up and accepting that she would just go hungry today. Her stomach had too many butterflies already to accept any more nourishment. Yet as she exited the Warren and headed for her waiting bond, Kaurynel, she gave a little start of surprise upon seeing her sullen counterpart.
T'Dalen stood with his own bond, Jigokuth, next to the fiery opal brilliance of her bond. His dragon's deep black and brown hide appeared painfully dull against the radiance of Kaurynel. Yet it was to the rider that she looked. The man who so often dressed in black and seemed to delight in letting his hair turn into greasy snakes draped around his head had received a similar treatment to herself. He looked just as pleased about it judging by the scowl on his face, but even that could not dampen the shock of seeing him done up in a black and red ensemble that highlighted his moon-pale skin. His hair had been professionally washed and brushed and tied back in a ponytail that left his sharp facial features on full display. He looked, if Ayzha had to put a word to it, nice.
His eyes raked over her as she came within speaking distance. The familiar walls went up, putting her on the defensive.
"You look... nice," he mumbled.
There was a hidden insult there. She just knew it. Though try as she might, she couldn't identify it. An awkwardly long minute passed before she realized he was waiting for a response.
"You do too," she muttered under her breath.
Neither looked at the other after that. Only their dragons exchanged a glance. An excruciating few minutes passed before the shadow of Myrah'Care passed overhead and Mystic came to join them on the field.
"Ready to go?" The Red Mage asked.
Neither Ayzha or T'Dalen responded.
"Honestly, you two. It's not going to be that bad. You'll find other apprentices to talk to, have some snacks, and watch the festivities. You don't even need to dance."
Mystic paused again, waiting for a response. Even an acknowledgement. Ayzha stubbornly continued to examine her own boots.
The Red Mage let out a short sigh through her nose, lost in the whoosh of wind beneath Myrah'Care's wings as the silver dam came to a landing behind her.
"I'm not thrilled about it either, but such is the price of station. Now let's go."
With that, she mounted up. Ayzha gave one last, longing look back at the tunnel that led to her den, then turned to Kaurynel. Her bond met her with a whuffle of warm air through her hair and a touch of reassurance in her mind. If nothing else, at least she knew that escape was just a dragon flight away.
The party was as glorious and horrible as Ayzha predicted it would be. Stepping through the ornate double doors of the tower dropped them into a world of glittering, sparkling wonderment, like falling into the belly of a crystalline beast. Though the hall they entered was large enough to house three separate dragon dens with room to spare, the sheer number of people filling the space made it difficult for Ayzha to breathe.
There were mages of all varieties at this gathering. Masters in their monochrome robes, and grand mages in the most extravagant robes ever designed and students in everything from simple, knee-length gowns to attire threatening to outclass the grand mages. Servants in simple black robes moved about them with the talent of fish navigating a coral reef. They balanced trays of appetizers and drinks, never once missing a step or spilling a drop, and appearing to be nearly invisible to those they served. As it was supposed to be.
A flash of anger spiked up her throat, quickly tempered down. She was not a servant here. Not a slave. She was apprenticed to the Red Mage of Lanutha, the youngest and most famous mage of them all. Mystic led them with unerring confidence, her head held high and her spine straight. Ayzha only needed to follow her lead. She had a right to be here. She just wished that here didn't contain so many people.
As they moved deeper into the fray and people began to gravitate toward Mystic to make their introductions, Ayzha did her best to focus on the surroundings instead. The towering stained glass windows depicting epic moments of spell craft. The floating, multicoloured balls of light dancing lazily through the air above them. The suspended crystals catching the light and throwing it back across the floor and arched ceiling in a dazzling array of sparkles. There was a lot to be thrilled by. A swirl of colours and lights and magic in all directions. It was more than she ever imagined she'd be able to see in her life time. It was too much.
Ayzha felt the panic attack beginning in the back of her throat despite her best efforts. They'd only just arrived, but already she felt control ebbing away through her fingertips. It wrapped iron fingers around her lungs and squeezed. She breathed in deeper, desperately clawing her way back to control.
Heat prickled at the corners of her eyes and threatened to undo her. A quick glance ahead at the Red Mage, currently in the midst of being introduced to this year's latest batch of new graduates, told her that she hadn't been found out yet. Good. She needed Mystic to see her as strong and capable. Not a child that would cry at the drop of a hat. Not the scared little girl she'd pulled out of the gutter. Not a slave. She was not a slave.
She needed to pull herself together. Gods, she couldn't let a stupid party undo all her progress. Frustration and anger and fear warred inside her. The panic tightened, climbing up her throat until she felt it rattling just behind her teeth.
Mystic began to wrap up her discussion. Soon she would turn her way, beckon her forward, expect her to behave with decorum and grace and- fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. She couldn't do this.
Ayzha bolted. Not at a run. She had enough self-restraint to maintain a quick step but not a frantic step as she dove into the crowd.
People came at her from all directions. They laughed and talked and danced around her, sometimes bumping into her, never noticing her. Their robes swirled around her in waves of silk and satin and long, star-filled capes. They didn't stop her, didn't acknowledge her, but gods could she feel their eyes on her.
Ayzha knew she had no particular direction. She just needed to get away. She needed a place to breathe. She despaired that no such place existed in this hellish place. So when she spotted the corner with slightly less sparkles floating around it and a distinct lack of people in a five foot radius, the relief that washed through her felt like a drug.
It took her several minutes to reach the edge of the room, and by then her breaths came in wheezing, shaking gasps and her entire body felt as if it were on fire. If she wasn't careful, her pyrokinetic abilities might get away from her. Oh gods, wouldn't that be great. Set the room on fire and really embarrass the Red Mage. Just what she needed. More failure in her life. More reasons to be outcast again. Alone again.
In this small pocket of secluded space, there were no other people around her, but no means of further escape either. She'd found the one stretch of wall between two service entrances where no one and nothing needed to happen. It wouldn't stay that way. Someone would notice. Someone would come over. Ayzha pressed herself to the cold surface of the wall, willing her body to cool and her brain to quiet. It would be even better if she could just meld into the stone and vanish, but they probably had wards preventing such things right now.
"Are you alright?"
The familiar voice caused an immediate surge of panic to constrict her throat. Ayzha slid to the floor, gasping for air and refusing to turn around. Maybe if she didn't face him, he would disappear.
Soft, cautious footsteps approached her, faltered, then stopped. For several long seconds, nothing happened. Then the air filled with the gentle warmth of magic and the noise and chaos of the party faded to a dull murmur, as if it had been smothered by a blanket. The lights dimmed, and the air cooled. Ayzha began to breathe again.
Slowly, with glacial care, Ayzha turned and put her back to the wall. She pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. Only when her body felt as secure and contained as she could manage did she lift her eyes to the shadow standing over her.
"All these wards against intrusion but nothing about carving out a small section for some seclusion," T'Dalen said. One edge of his thin, pale mouth lifted up in his characteristic smirk. The arrogance she knew so well shone in his eyes, but for the first time, she didn't feel its sting directed her way. His smile fell a second later and his cleared his throat awkwardly.
Ayzha said nothing in return. She continued to stare up at him as her brain ground its way through the muddle of events that had led to this moment.
"I thought maybe you could use some privacy. You looked like you needed it. Not that you look bad. It's just you look..." T'Dalen trailed off.
She didn't need to be in his mind to feel the discomfort radiating from him. He looked away, then turned his back to her.
"I hate them," she said in a hoarse whisper before he could step out of the tiny barrier of twilight he'd thrown up for them.
T'Dalen's steps froze. Though he didn't turn back around, she knew she had his attention.
"People who throw parties like this. I hate them. All they care about is impressing other people like them. It's all stupid politics and showing off. They're selfish and cruel and greedy and I hate them."
"Mystic isn't like that," T'Dalen said.
"She's here because of the politics, isn't she?" Ayzha shot back. "Because she has to put on a show. We're just set dressing to her."
A pang of regret coursed through her at those words. She didn't mean any of them, but she didn't not mean them either. She loved Mystic for taking her in, but she hated that they were required to play these stupid games.
T'Dalen sank slowly to the floor, still facing away from her. He crossed his legs and rested his elbows on his knees, then turned his head just enough to catch her with the corner of his eye.
"You know, a few months ago I would have agreed with you. I thought everyone was just out for themselves, but Mystic didn't have to take me in. In fact, everything would've been much easier for her if she didn't. She's had to put up with a lot of awful people because of me. I was certain that eventually she would have enough and send me away, or else tell me that I owed her for the rest of my life. Either option were things I would have done. There are a lot of people here who believe I should be dead."
T'Dalen fell silent for a bit. Long enough for Ayzha to realize this was the most they'd actually spoken to each other outside of insults since he became Mystic's apprentice.
"We're here because she refuses to let them cow her. They'd like nothing more than to see us sink into the shadows and never show our faces at functions like these. So they can pretend we don't exist. Everything we do, everything we are, is wrong to them. I hate them as much as you do, but I think Mystic does too."
Ayzha lowered her chin to her knees and pulled her body in tighter. The guilt of her outburst gnawed at her empty stomach.
"I thought you wanted revenge," she muttered into her arms.
"Revenge for what?" He asked. "Mystic helped me realize that, yes, they treated me badly, but they're not responsible for my existence. I didn't want revenge. I wanted to prove I was better than them. Which is exactly what they do to each other."
A small, quivering sneer curled the edge of T'Dalen's mouth.
"I refuse to be like them. I'd rather be like Mystic."
"Playing their games."
T'Dalen turned then, and his icy eyes blazed with the same conviction she'd seen in him upon their first meeting.
"Existing where their games say we shouldn't."
Ayzha tucked her chin down and rested her forehead on her arms. She felt calmer now, though her body ached and her senses felt hyperaware. Though she argued with T'Dalen, she knew at her core that she agreed with him. Yet it was nice for once to hear her own defenses spoken aloud by someone else.
"I'll leave you alone," T'Dalen said quietly. He began to stand, the soft shifting of his robes sounding louder in this space than the staccato waltz magically emanating from the hall's ceiling.
"Stay," Ayzha said. The word was not quite a command but not quite a question either. She lifted her head and met his gaze.
T'Dalen hesitated mid-rise, relaxed his posture, and sank back into a cross-legged position. He turned slightly so that he could face her, and gave her a wane smile.
"I'm not going to let them erase me either," she said. "I just need a minute."
"I'll wait with you," he replied. "And when you're ready, we'll go back to Mystic and continue existing." His smile grew into a smirk. "Rub their noses in it together."
Ayzha let out a short, weak chuckle. It was a pathetic noise that wheezed from her throat, but she didn't mind it. In her heart, that sound meant that she would be alright.
And maybe T'Dalen was alright too.
Their training sessions after the ball improved immensely. Ayzha no longer felt the need to irritate T'Dalen by ignoring him, and T'Dalen no longer needled her with hurtful little remarks. Though surprised by the sudden kinship between her students, Mystic was nonetheless pleased by it. She encouraged their interaction, even going so far as to allow them practice time without her supervision. And as these things often do, the sentiments between them grew complicated.
It didn't happen right away. In fact, when Ayzha first realized that she was growing fond of T'Dalen, she steadfastly refused to admit it and avoided him for a whole week. That method of dealing with her issue lasted until Mystic ordered her back into training or else she would lose her position as apprentice. Thereafter, she tried to go back to ignoring him. That plan failed when he gave her one hurt look and the guilt nearly destroyed her.
Inevitably, Ayzha's resolve failed. When T'Dalen began to return her affections, she lasted only a day before admitting defeat and giving in to her heart. It helped that Kaurynel had already fallen for Jigokuth and the two dragons were plotting their first flight together.
For a time, Ayzha was happy. Unbelievably so. She had freedom and respect and love more than she ever anticipated was her due in life. Best of all, she had no fear of losing all these wonderous gifts.
Ayzha had one year of blissful peace.
When she first began to suspect her condition, she once again refused to acknowledge it. Ignorance, however, did not make it go away. When a quick visit to the doctor only confirmed her fears, she doubled down on her denial. It wasn't until several months later that T'Dalen realized what was going on.
His fury lasted a scant few seconds in the grand scheme of things. Though hurt, he vowed to be by her side until the end. A silly notion, she reasoned, given that she still didn't believe there was going to be an end.
That day came six months later, when her muscles spasmed and her water broke. Still she didn't want to admit it. Though T'Dalen rushed to her side and carried her immediately to the medical den. It wasn't until she was on the table with her legs in the air and T'Dalen encouraging her to breathe through the pain that Ayzha admitted to herself that she might possibly be pregnant.
It shouldn't have happened. She was scarcely into her fifties. Still a youth by elven standards. Though she'd been indiscreet with T'Dalen, she knew the risk of pregnancy was never all that high for her kin. It simply shouldn't have happened.
Yet when she'd had a chance to deal with it early on, she chose instead to ignore it. Now she had to deal with the consequences.
Pain ripped through her body, erasing all thought from her mind as her entire body coiled into a single knot of screaming muscle. She let the scream out, directing her anger and fear down at her own swollen abdomen.
A warm hand slipped into her own. She gripped down with the force of a dragon's jaw, but the other hand didn't flinch away. The light around her dimmed, and the air cooled.
"I've got you," T'Dalen said at her side. "Focus on me."
She did, turning her head to meet his gaze. He held her hand through the next wave of agony. He spoke to her in a soft voice as the doctors moved about at the other end of the table. She couldn't see what they were doing, but T'Dalen's calming presence kept her focused on existing.
"Something's wrong," one of the nurses murmured.
All of Ayzha's calm evaporated instantly. She craned her head up, desperate to see over the blanket covering her lower half.
"What's wrong?" She demanded. "What's happening?"
No one answered her. A doctor bent between her legs, muttering quietly to the nurse at his side.
"T'Dalen," she called, desperation making her voice tight.
T'Dalen released her hand and moved closer to the end of the table. He said nothing. Though she willed him to speak, he mirrored the quiet, tense expressions of the medical staff around her.
Another contraction ripped through her body.
"Push now," one of the doctors ordered.
She did. She pushed with all her might. It felt like trying to push all of her organs out of her body, but she pushed until stars burst before her eyes and her head swam with shadows.
The pressure released all at once.
"I've got her," one of the doctors said.
She should have felt relief. Instead, her fear only grew with each long, silent second that passed.
"What's wrong with her?" Ayzha demanded.
"Give her here," T'Dalen said. He reached for something from the doctor's arms and turned away.
Ayzha wanted to scream. She wanted to get up and shake him, but she barely had enough strength left to keep her head up. She could only watch as he took a few steps away from her, shielding the little bundle with his body. He glanced once over his shoulder at her, and her heart fell to her stomach.
"What are you doing?" She demanded.
The nurses moved in then, gently holding her down and urging her to rest. They cleaned her with cool cloths soothed her with soft sounds, and if she had the strength, she would've flung all of them to the four corners of the world.
"T'Dalen," she called. "Answer me."
Instead, the air filled with the soft, spidery words of a spell. The soothing aura he'd maintained for her turned sour and biting cold. The shadows lengthened, creeping in to wrap around his sharp edges and soften him into a black silhouette.
Ayzha struggled to sit up, slapping ineffectually at the hands of the nurses. One of the doctors gave an alarmed cry and moved toward T'Dalen. He was arrested on the spot by the most beautiful sound she'd ever heard in her life.
The baby's cry started off as a cough, then a whimper, then burst into a full blown wail. The doctor moved in to retrieve the squalling infant from T'Dalen as he turned back around with a smile of relief lighting his face.
A waft of cold iron tickled her throat. A smell she hadn't encountered since their first meeting.
"What did you do?" She asked in a low voice.
T'Dalen's smile faltered. Guilt lowered his brow and he dropped his gaze away from her.
"I did what I had to do," he said.
Ayzha held out her arms as one of the nurses put the bundled up infant within her reach. The child, her child, was warm and pink and perfect. Yet a small part of her brain would not release its sense of dread at the sight of her.
"Get out," she said.
When no one reacted, she lifted her gaze and stared straight through T'Dalen.
"I never want to see you again."
Twenty-five years later...
Mother was running away again. Noohra didn't mind. It gave her more time to play with her friends. She knew eventually mother would return and give her that same sad smile she always gave her. They wouldn't speak of the times in which mother didn't come to visit her, but just pick up their magical studies and games as if nothing had happened.
For today, there would be no time with mother. Her friends had gone home, and Noohra remained alone on the cliff's edge outside Drakmor Castle.
Noohra was never bothered by being alone. Nor was she bothered by being around a lot of people. She always found something to be happy about in all situations. Today, what made her most happy was being able to watch the sunset over the ocean.
The sunset was always such a beautiful thing. Noohra liked to think of it as the gods painting the sky with their love for this world. The purples and pinks and blues all blended together to create a breathtaking tapestry over the canvas of the glittering ocean far below. Combined with the scent of salt water and tropical flowers, this time of day was like a feast for all of her senses. Best of all, her favourite time of day soon followed.
Noohra loved all times of day, as she loved all things, but she loved the night best of all. When the world went down to slumber and the sky came alive with the stars above, she felt at peace. At night, colours became muted and sounds quieted to the gentle chirping of nighttime insects. The air lost the muggy heat of day, and the wind whispered through the trees as if shushing everyone and everything. At night, her fire came alive.
Like her mother, Noohra was a pyrokinetic. Along with her innate magical abilities, she had a natural affinity for fire. She learned to call a spark to her hand before she learned the alphabet. She was happy to have this thing that tied her so thoroughly to her mother.
The first sign of her father's arrival was the thump and whoosh of wind beneath a dragon's wings. Noohra looked up to see an absence of stars wheeling overhead. It was difficult to see Jigokuth as anything but a void of space until he drew closer. Her father's dragon was such a deep brown-black that he blended in to any dark surroundings. When he landed, she could still only pick out a faint outline.
Her father slid down from Jigokuth's back, just another black silhouette against the darkening sky.
"There's my little sparkler," he said as he walked toward her.
Noohra was up in an instant. She crossed the distance between them and threw her arms around his middle as if she hadn't seen him in six weeks rather than six hours.
"Hi, Papa! I missed you."
T'Dalen chuckled and touched the top of her sun-warmed head.
"We've only been apart for a little while, sweet heart. Did you have fun with your mother today?"
"Oh, Mama didn't show up, but that's okay. I spent today with Ethrin and Yanna. The head cook gave us some pies from the kitchen for lunch, and we spent hours playing dragon riders and raiders."
T'Dalen sucked in a breath and tried to keep his irritation from showing on his face. Noohra knew he tried so hard not to look upset with her mother, but she could always tell. Father was often upset with mother.
"Oh, it's alright, Papa," she said quickly. "I know Mama is just busy. She'll come back next time. Or the time after that. I'm sure she will."
"It's not alright, Noohra. She isn't supposed to just abandon you like that," he said.
"But she didn't. She's just busy. She always comes back," Noohra protested. "Besides, I know she loves me even when she's not here. Just like she loves you."
The look on her father's face was pained despite his smile. He touched her hair again, then turned and started walking her back toward his dragon.
"And how do you know that?"
Noohra skipped beside him. She smiled as bright as daylight and pointed toward the waiting Jigokuth.
"Because Jigokuth is your heart, and Kaurynel is Mama's heart, and I know they both love each other very much. So if your hearts love each other, then Mama must love you, which means she also has to love me since I'm part of both of you."
T'Dalen let out a quick, surprised laugh.
"How did I end up with such a ray of sunshine as my daughter?"
"I'm not sunshine, Papa. I'm your sparkler," she countered with a giggle. The giggle turned into a delighted laugh as he picked her up and swung her around before holding her up to Jigokuth's side.
The brown-black dragon rumbled low in his throat, causing his hide to vibrate beneath her fingertips. She scrambled up his shoulder as quick as she could, then pressed herself bodily against his neck. She loved the feel of his breaths moving beneath her and the smell of his hide filling her nostrils.
"I love you too, Jiggy," she said.
T'Dalen pulled himself up behind her a moment later, and soon they were airborne.
This was also one of Noohra's favourite things. With nothing but the sky all around her and the air pulling back her long, black hair, she felt freer than the birds that filled Lanutha's skies. Someday she knew she would fly with the aid of her own magic, but dragon flight was something truly special.
As they lifted higher and higher into the air, Noohra stretched her arms out to either side and spread her fingers wide. Her father wrapped one arm around her middle to keep her steady as she fed a small stream of magic into her fingertips. Soon, tiny sparks began to fly off her fingers, winking into nothing as they trailed behind her.
The flight back to their den didn't last long. A few minutes at best. They rose up the mountainside, arching high over the sleepy canopy below, before coming to a rest on the mossy ledge that led to their home.
Noohra hopped down first, landing with another giggle and bouncing back up to her feet.
"Maybe Mama will come see me tomorrow," Noohra said.
"I'll be speaking to your mother for sure," T'Dalen said as he slid from Jigokuth's back. "Whether or not she visits you is a question we'll leave for later. Go wash up for bed, sparkler."
Noohra turned to head inside, then quickly whipped around and ran back to hug her father. A moment later, she hugged Jigokuth's leg too.
"Goodnight, Papa. Goodnight, Jiggy. Thank you for today. I had a lot of fun."
Then she turned and darted inside, eager to wash up and climb into bed. Tomorrow would be another adventure, and another day to be grateful for.
Noohra dreamed of happy things that night. Nighttimes filled with firelight and stars, days filled with friends and laughter, and her parents together and smiling at each other. For as long as she could recall, this had always been her greatest wish. She was patient though. She'd learned to be patient from an early age, when questions and prodding were often met with more distance from her mother. So for the time being, she contented herself with dreaming of a day where they could all be together again.
In the morning, she was delighted to find that her dreams had come true. She woke slowly to the sound of voices in the main room. Sleep clung to her, urging her to close her eyes a little longer, but the familiarity of the voices wormed its way into her brain and threw off the last vestiges of her grogginess.
That was the sound of her father out there, and her mother with him.
Quietly, so as not to disturb their conversation, Noohra crept from her bed and up to the edge of the curtain separating her room from the central chamber. There she crouched and strained to hear.
"She's too young still."
"She is not too young. She is the equivalent age at which human children start standing."
"That's irrelevant. She's not a human child."
"No, she's a dragon rider's child. It's time she find some ambition."
"She doesn't need ambition. She's a child. She needs her mother to not abandon her."
Ayzha tsked audibly.
"I did not abandon her. I was making arrangements."
"You don't get to make these decisions in a vacuum. She's my child too."
"And you don't get to coddle her forever. If you had it your way, she'd never grow up and never leave the den."
"That's nonsense. She goes out all the time with her friends and to school. She has a normal, happy childhood. Except that she doesn't have her mother."
"Stop trying to put this back on me. I see her every week. I have a busy schedule and I make as much time for her as I can. I'm also looking out for her future, which is something you could try doing."
"I am looking out for her childhood. That thing that neither of us had."
"Eventually childhood ends. She needs to start thinking about the future."
"Not yet."
A long pause passed before Ayzha spoke again.
"Whether you like it or not, she's of age to stand for a dragon. I'm going to bring her to the clutch."
"And if she doesn't impress this time, what then? Move on to the next world and the next clutch? How long are you going to keep finding excuses to avoid her?"
"You-"
Whatever Ayzha was about to say ended abruptly as Noohra burst through the curtain of her room and ran up to throw her arms around her mother. Ayzha froze, every muscle in her body tensed. This only gave Noohra reason to squeeze harder.
"A dragon! Am I really going to stand for a dragon of my own, Mama? Oh, I'm so happy," she exclaimed. Before either of her parents could draw breath to respond, she lifted her head and hit her father with the widest puppy-dog eyes she could muster. "Please, Papa. Let me go. I really, really want to go."
Conflicting feelings warred across her father's face. Irritation, which he wore so often, and guilt and finally resignation. He looked over her to Ayzha, who had yet to move beyond placing a gentle hand on Noohra's head.
"Fine," he said quietly. "But if she doesn't impress this time, I get to pick the next one."
"You-" Ayzha began, then bit down on the words. She drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Fine."
Noohra squealed in absolute delight. She released her mother to fling herself across the table and hug her father.
"Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you! I'm going to get a heart of my very own, and we'll be bestest friends forever. And then we'll all be able to fly together!"
"Noohra, please go out to the dragon ledge. Your father and I need to discuss details," Ayzha said.
Noohra jumped to comply, eager to do everything her parents asked of her now to make the glorious day of her bonding come that much sooner. Though still in her night dress, she bolted for the opening that led outside and threw herself at the dragons beyond.
Noohra was no stranger to mountains, having lived her entire life at the Warren. She was not prepared for the majesty of the Bower though.
Like the Warren, it spread vast, reaching fingers up toward the sky and its length extended so far that she couldn't see the end of it. Unlike the Warren, it was not covered in lush vegetation, but snowy peaks at one end and cold, black stone at the other. It was to the heart of the Bower, where steam rose in lazy tendrils from a glowing core, that Kaurynel took them. Beside them, Jigokuth was a silent, attentive shadow.
"It's beautiful," Noohra breathed as the fire opal dragonness dipped lower and lower.
"It's dangerous," her mother warned. "Don't go near the edges. And don't run off to the other sections. And do what you're told when you're told."
"I'll be good, Mama. Don't worry." Noohra craned her head back to peer up at her mother. Concern twisted in her stomach at the strained expression on Ayzha's face. Though the movement made her back twinge, she turned sideways and gave her mother a hug.
Ayzha started in response, then moved her hand up from Noohra's midsection to touch her hair.
"I love you, Noohra. I hope you realize that."
"I do, Mama. I know you show it different from Papa." She released her hold and smiled up at her mother. "But every day that the sun shines, I think it's you smiling at me."
Ayzha let out a short, breathy laugh and rolled her eyes. Despite her dismissive look, a smile hid in the corner of her mouth.
"I don't know why I was cursed with such a ray of sunshine as a child."
Noohra giggled.
"You're the sunshine, Mama. I'm just the sparkler."
She turned to face forward then and waved at her father on his dark bond. He waved back as they dipped toward the ground.
In all the perfect days she'd experienced so far, this was the most perfect. Her mother and father at her side, guiding her toward her very own heart. Very soon, her dearest dream would come true, and then there would be nothing but perfect days for the rest of time. Noohra couldn't wait to begin.
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