Page 102 of Elemental Becoming

“It is what it is.” I sigh. “It was the only way Thane would feel comfortable with me walking around the city.”

I don’t fault him.

As Spiritborn I understand the risk.

Still, guilt nags at me. Rian, Kieran, and the others are spending their day escorting Lyra and me while we wanderthrough shops and market stalls.

The street opens into a large square lined with shops on every side.

At its center stands a towering statue of Vaerion, the God of Fire.

He is cloaked in armor shaped like curling flame, one hand resting at the hilt of a massive blade. Even cast in stone, his eyes seem to burn beneath the shadow of the surrounding buildings.

His posture is rigid.

Watchful.

Like a commander still waiting for the next war.

I bow my head in respect as we pass the statue, remembering the way the gods spoke to me when I felt adrift back at the outpost.

Twice.

“There it is!”

Lyra’s shout pulls me from my thoughts.

I look up to find a small shop tucked between the others, sheer curtains the same shade as Rian’s eyes billowing through the tall, open windows. Seashells frame the entrance, strung together in delicate patterns that chime softly in the breeze.

Kieran releases my arm. “I’ll wait out here,” he says, nodding toward Rian.

Then he steps to one side of the doorway while another soldier takes the other, positioning themselves like the guards outside Lord Eryndor’s chambers.

I grimace at Kieran, silently apologizing for all of this. He answers with an easy, reassuring smile.

The other soldiers spread out around the square, their eyes constantly moving over the crowd. Rian follows us into the shop. Taller even than Thane, his broad frame barely fits through the doorway. He ducks his head beneath a string of hanging shell charms, then smiles once inside.

And immediately, I understand why.

The entire shop feels like a piece of the Water Clan carried into the heart of Volcaris.

Soft shades of blue wash across the walls and fabrics draped from the ceiling, colors that remind me of shifting tides and sea-glass. Gauzy scarves sway gently in the breeze drifting through the open windows, while strings of polished shells and tiny glass beads chime softly near the entrance.

Shelves overflow with handcrafted trinkets from the coastal regions—silver jewelry set with pale green stones, bracelets braided from dyed water reeds, carved driftwood combs, tiny glass bottles filled with shimmering sand, and polished pieces of sea glass wrapped delicately in silver wire.

The air smells faintly of saltwater and lavender.

Calryx and I should have a beach day.

I reach for her through the bond.“Calryx, what do you think about a beach day? Just you and me.”

A beat passes before her voice slides into my mind, warm and clear.“Just say when. You’re the one with the busy schedule.”

“You know I don’t want to go to this ball,”I mutter internally, weaving between shelves lined with glass bottles and dried herbs.“It’s not my fault everyone keeps scheduling my life for me.”

“Being a dragon offers glorious freedom,”Calryx replies smugly.“Enjoy being summoned.”

I snort softly beneath my breath. And then the connection fades.