The morning air in the rocky bowl was cold and carried a new, thick scent. It was the smell of the roc, a day dead and beginning to turn in the mountain sun—a heavy, metallic odor that clung to the back of the throat. Arianda woke to it, the memory of the attack settling over her like the grey light. She saw it in the others too, in the way Simon didn’t immediately crack a joke, in the careful silence Lilith kept as she rolled her bedroll, in how Kira’s eyes kept scanning the high canyon walls.
They gathered for Zariel’s dyeing with a quiet, practiced rhythm. The crimson paste was cool under Arianda’s fingers. Zariel, sensing her mood, remained still, his golden eyes watching her face as she worked the color into his silver scales. Simon daubed at his flank, his movements uncharacteristically slow. “Still smells like giant dead chicken out there,” he muttered, but the attempt at humor fell flat, swallowed by the pervasive odor.
Breakfast was a quiet affair of travel bread and dried fruit until Swan joined them, her silver curls catching the weak light. She settled beside Diego with a gentle grace, Salem the green rabbit hopping to her side. The simple presence of someone so calm seemed to ease the tightness in Arianda’s shoulders. She chewed her bread, her thoughts drifting far from the mountains.
“I keep thinking about my cousin,” Arianda said, the words coming out softly. “Eleanor. She vanished back home, before all this. I want to find out where she might be here. If she’s… alright.”
Swan, who had been sipping water from a skin, went very still. A faint, almost imperceptible shiver passed through her shoulders. She lowered the skin. “Eleanor,” she repeated, her voice neutral. “Sage mentioned a notebook she left behind.”
“Just one word in it,” Arianda said, watching Swan’s green eyes. “It said ‘listen.’”
This time, Swan’s reaction was a slight tightening of her fingers around the waterskin. She recovered quickly, a polite smile touching her lips. “What do you know of her?”
Arianda shrugged, feeling the poverty of her knowledge. “Not much. She was a distant cousin. Disappeared a long time ago. Liked plants. Used to laugh loudly from what gam told Ma. That’s all.”
Swan nodded slowly, as if fitting pieces together in a private puzzle. “If she came to this world under the sign of the Rabbit, as you said, then she would have gone to the Rabit Kingdom. They are… gentler there. The Rabbits give their new arrivals more freedom, more space to find their own way. Less rigid structure than the most other Kingdoms or the Clans.” She reached down to stroke Salem’s long ears. “If she is there, she will be alright.”
The certainty in Swan’s voice was a small, warm stone in Arianda’s chest. She held onto it as breakfast ended and Sherief called the air adepts to train.
The lesson was a battle against distraction. The stench of death was a constant whisper, and Arianda’s mind kept replaying the feel of thinning air beneath the roc’s wings. Sherief, his loose green robes flapping in the breeze he conjured, had them create small, controlled whirlwinds. “Lift the dust,” he commanded, his voice a blunt instrument. “Only the dust. Not the pebble next to it.”
Arianda struggled. Her whirlwind was either a weak sigh that stirred nothing or a sudden gust that snatched up a small storm of debris. To her left, Nyra had a neat column of spinning air, a tiny tornado dancing on her palm. To her right, Sera was chattering to hers as if encouraging it. Arianda bit her lip, focusing on the feel of the air molecules, trying to gather them, to persuade them.
Sherief walked among them, observing. He stopped by Arianda, his critical gaze on her trembling vortex. Without a word, he tossed a handful of torn parchment scraps into the circle of trainees. “Catch one. Keep it aloft. Not still. Moving. But yours.”
A scrap fluttered toward Arianda’s chaotic wind. She panicked, and it was flung away. She took a breath, forcing her hands to still. She caught another scrap in a gentler current. It bobbed erratically, threatening to escape. *Density*, she thought. She remembered the water, the air within it. She pulled at the molecules beneath the parchment, compressing them into a denser, more stable pocket. The scrap stabilized, hovering, but it became sluggish, trapped in the invisible cushion.
Sherief appeared at her shoulder. His voice was a low whisper, for her alone. “You’ve made it a stone. Now make it a leaf. Heat the air below it. Just a little. And let the foundation… breathe.”
Arianda closed her eyes. She imagined the molecules above the parchment gaining energy, vibrating, expanding upward. Simultaneously, she relaxed her fierce grip on the dense air below, allowing it to soften and flow. The effect was immediate. The parchment scrap lifted, caught in a gentle, cycling current. It floated easily, turning lazy circles in the column of her wind. She wasn’t fighting it anymore; she was guiding it.
She opened her eyes. Sherief gave a single, curt nod before moving on. The approval was silent, but it warmed her more than any praise.
By lunch, the roc’s odor was a background note, overshadowed by the simple fatigue of focus. Arianda joined Lilith, Simon, and Kira where they sat against a sun-warmed rock. They ate a hearty stew in comfortable silence for a moment.
“It’s all just repetition now, isn’t it?” Simon said finally, tearing off a piece of bread. “Faster whirlwinds. Harder flames. Quicker ice. It’s like Sage’s drills back at the fortress. They’re trying to make it… automatic. Like breathing.”
Kira grunted, his analytical mind turning it over. “Muscle memory. So in a fight, you don’t think. You just do.”
“Yeah,” Arianda agreed, stirring her stew. She thought of the ice dagger, of the thinning air. Instinct had created it and nearly killed Lilith. What was the difference? She looked at her friends, their faces marked by the same long morning, the same shared fear from the day before. “I guess that’s the point. So the right thing *is* the automatic thing. But, What if I react faster than I think… and hurt someone?”
“Alright, crew! Let’s get a move on—we have daylight to burn, and if we leave now, we might actually rest under a roof tonight.” Diego stepped in, a cheery smile on his face, his silver eyes sweeping over the group. He noticed the worried looks on the children. “Trust me, you’ll want to see the sculptures they make. It’s rather impressive.”
The path leveled briefly along a stretch of worn stone, giving the caravan a rare moment of easy footing. The tension from the ridges had eased just enough for voices to return.
Arianda glanced at her hands as they walked, flexing her fingers slightly. They felt steady now… but she couldn’t forget how easily they hadn’t been.
Simon walked backward ahead of the group, arms spread as if presenting something important. “Alright, I’m just gonna say it. When did we all suddenly become… taller?”
Kira didn’t even look at him. “We didn’t suddenly become taller. It’s been happening for weeks.”
“Yeah, but I just noticed,” Simon shot back. “Which makes it sudden.”
Lilith glanced between them, amused. “You noticed because you’re not the shortest anymore.”
Simon froze mid-step. “I was never the shortest.”
Arianda raised a brow. “You were absolutely the shortest.”
“Temporary condition,” Simon said quickly. “Clearly resolved.”
Kira finally looked over, squinting slightly. “You’re still shorter than me.”
“That’s because you’re built like a wall,” Simon replied. “That’s not a fair comparison.”
Lilith smiled faintly, brushing a loose strand of blonde hair behind her ear. “It’s not just height. Everything feels… sharper. Like we’re more there than before.”
Arianda nodded slowly. “Sage did say we age with knowledge. I just didn’t expect it to feel like this.”
“Speak for yourself,” Simon said, gesturing to himself. “I’m hitting my prime early. It’s efficient.”
Raphaela huffed, a small curl of warm air puffing from her nostrils as if in agreement.
Kira crossed his arms. “You tripped over a rock this morning.”
“That rock attacked me,” Simon said immediately.
“It was stationary.”
“Ambush predator.”
Lilith let out a quiet laugh, the sound light but genuine. Moss chirped beside her, splashing a small arc of water at Raphaela, who snapped playfully at it.
Arianda glanced down at Zariel as he walked beside her. His crimson-dyed form moved with more confidence now, his steps longer, steadier. “They’ve grown too,” she said softly.
Zariel lifted his head slightly, his golden eyes catching the light.
*Well, of course. Your growth feeds mine too.*
Arianda blinked. “…Wait.”
Her steps slowed. “You mean… when I learn, you—”
*Grow. Yes.*
She stared at him for half a breath longer than necessary.
“…That feels like something you should have said sooner.”
Zariel huffed softly, almost amused.
*You just caught up.*
Kira nodded toward Raltz. “He’s heavier. I can feel it when he leans. More muscle.”
“Raphaela thinks she’s bigger than she actually is,” Simon added, as the red whelp attempted to climb onto a rock clearly too small for her. She slipped halfway off and glared at it like it had betrayed her.
“Same,” Lilith murmured under her breath. Moss, a few paces away, huffed softly in mild offense.
Simon pointed at Lilith. “See? She gets it.”
Lilith shook her head, smiling despite herself. “I meant the confidence, not the clumsiness.”
“Rude.”
Arianda watched the group—Simon’s easy grin, Kira’s steady presence, Lilith’s quiet warmth. Even the dragons, weaving between them, felt… more solid. More real.
“It’s strange,” she said. “Back home, growing up felt slow. Like you didn’t notice it happening.”
Simon nodded. “Yeah. Here it’s like… you blink and suddenly your clothes don’t fit right and your dragon could probably knock you over.”
As if on cue, Zariel bumped gently into Arianda’s side. She stumbled half a step, catching herself with a small laugh.
“Case in point,” Simon said.
Kira’s gaze shifted briefly to the horizon, ever watchful, but his voice softened just a fraction. “We’re not just growing. We’re adapting.”
Lilith looked out at the distant hills, her expression thoughtful. “Let’s just hope we’re growing into the right things.”
For a moment, no one answered.
Then Simon clapped his hands once. “Well, I, for one, am growing into someone who deserves more food. This increased size requires increased rations.”
“You’ve always required increased rations,” Kira said.
“That’s because I’ve always been ahead of my time.”
Raphaela chirped proudly.
Arianda shook her head, smiling as the conversation drifted into easy laughter again. For a little while, the mountains didn’t feel quite so heavy.
The pale dust of the mountain path gave way to a fine, brilliant sand that crunched underfoot and reflected the late afternoon sun with a blinding glare. The air grew hotter, drier, carrying the scent of baked earth and something faintly metallic. Diego, walking at the head of the column, turned and called back, his voice cutting through the weary silence. “Keep moving. We’re close. Exhaustion is a choice right now.”
Simon wiped his brow, leaving a streak of grime. “My choice is to be exhausted.”
“Noted and overruled,” Diego said, a faint smile on his face as he pointed ahead.
Arianda followed his gesture, her eyes squinting against the glare. In the distance, nestled between two vast dunes, a city sparkled. It wasn’t stone or wood, but glass—countless panes, sculptures, and ornaments catching the setting sun and fracturing it into a thousand dancing colors. The light wasn’t just on the city; it was the city. It pulsed and shimmered, and even from here, she could hear a faint, melodic chiming carried on the hot wind.
“Veridia,” Swan said, coming up beside Arianda, her voice soft with what sounded like relief.
The sight lent a final burst of energy to the group. They pushed forward, the sand sliding beneath their boots, the dragons panting softly in the heat. As they drew nearer, the details resolved. Towers weren’t just glass, but layered lenses that cast rainbows across the sandy streets. Wind chimes made of delicate, colored glass rods hung from every eave, their song a constant, gentle orchestra. Windows were mosaics. Sculptures of abstract forms refracted light into shifting patterns on the ground.
They passed under a grand archway of fused, greenish glass, and the world changed. The air cooled slightly, filled with the murmur of many voices and the constant, beautiful chime. The streets were crowded, but not with the uniformed wardens and trainees of Zarinthar. These people wore vibrant, practical clothes in silks and linens, their faces bearing the marks of sun and wind. And they were, almost all of them, alone.
Arianda stared. A woman bargained at a stall selling shimmering cloth, no companion at her side. A group of children chased a glass ball, their laughter sharp in the air, with no dragon or rabbit or tiger among them. Here and there, she spotted a companion—a small earth-hare helping a cart-puller, a water-snake coiled around a merchant’s arm—but they were outnumbered ten to one by the humans.
“Where are all the companions?” Simon whispered, echoing her thoughts as Raphaela pressed close to his leg, her red scales looking distinctly foreign here.
Diego slowed, allowing the group to gather around him as they moved through the main thoroughfare. Colored light played across his white tunic. “Veridia is an independent city-state. One of the few thriving communities of the naturally born inhabitants of Zoel.”
“Naturally born?” Lilith asked, her hand resting on Moss’s head.
“People born here, from parents born here,” Swan clarified gently. “Not arrivals like us. The bond with a zodiac companion… it doesn’t exist for them.”
Kira’s watchful eyes scanned the crowd. “So they build instead.”
“They build,” Diego confirmed, nodding toward a team of workers who were, with careful hand-signals and pulley systems, hoisting a new pane of amber glass into a frame. No earth-warden shifted the stone. No air-warden lifted the weight. “They thrive on craft, trade, and their own two hands. Magic is… an occasional hired tool here, not the foundation.”
Arianda watched a little girl, no older than six, carefully stringing tiny glass beads onto a wire, her tongue poked out in concentration. She had no dragon. She would never have one. The thought was profoundly lonely, and yet, the girl’s face was calm, focused, utterly content in her task.
Zariel brushed against her, his silver scales now a disguised crimson in the dappled light. *It is quiet here. Inside them.*
He didn’t mean the noise. He meant the psychic space. These people’s minds were their own. The constant, warm presence of a bonded companion was a silence they had never known, and therefore never missed.
“This way,” Diego said, leading them off the main street into a narrower lane where the glass was tinted deep blue, casting a cool, underwater light. “We have an acquaintance here. A place to rest that won’t involve curious stares at our… entourage.”
They stopped before a building that looked like a geode cracked open. The walls were rough, dark stone on the outside, but the interior, visible through a broad, unglazed opening, glimmered with embedded crystals that glowed with a soft, internal light. A sign hung above the door, a simple piece of polished slate with a single word carved into it: The Hearth.
Diego stepped inside, the rest of them filing in after, their dragons causing a momentary bottleneck in the doorway. The interior was warm, low-ceilinged, and smelled of yeast, stew, and clean stone. A few patrons looked up from their meals, their eyes lingering not with fear or awe at the dragons, but with a mild, practical curiosity, as if assessing how much space they’d take up.
A tall woman with arms corded with muscle and hair the color of iron braided tightly back emerged from a rear archway. She wiped her hands on a cloth, her gaze landing on Diego. A slow smile spread across her face. “Sing. Only you would bring a miniature menagerie to my door.”
“Elara,” Diego said, spreading his hands. “We require rooms. And a great deal of food.”
The woman—Elara—snorted, her eyes sweeping over the tired trainees. Her expression softened, just a fraction. “The back courtyard. Water pump is there. Stables are around the side for your… larger friends. Food comes after you’re settled. You look like you’ve been wrestling the desert itself.”
As the group shuffled gratefully toward the back, Arianda paused, looking once more at the city street beyond the door. The colored light. The chiming glass. The people walking alone. It was beautiful, and it felt, for the first time since arriving in Zoel, like she was looking at a world that was truly, completely alien.