Page 335 of Elemental Becoming

I smile faintly as my breathing begins to settle. “I’m starting to see I shouldn’t underestimate myself either.”

The room is quiet now, the scent of rain and us lingering in the air, intimate and warm. The sheets are no longer soaked, only tangled. Papers rest wherever the wind left them. The air element lingers beneath my skin, a quiet pulse in my bones. I can still feel its presence in the space around us.

Thane watches me from where he lies propped on one elbow,his dark hair tousled. There’s no teasing in his expression now. No amusement. He’s simply looking at me.

“You,” he says quietly, “are a wonder.”

I swallow, warmth spreading through my chest for an entirely different reason.

“That’s just post-flood flattery.”

A soft huff escapes him, one corner of his mouth lifting.

“No,” he murmurs. “I’m saying it because it’s true.”

SKYSIGNING

FORTY-SEVEN

Many generations ago, a hereditary form of deafness was common in this region. From it arose a language of the body, not spoken, but expressed through movement and gesture. Rich and nuanced, it became so ingrained in the local culture that nearly everyone learned it, regardless of whether they could hear.

Dragon riders quickly recognized its value. In flight, the wind drowns out speech, and while riders can communicate with their own dragons through their bond, speaking with other riders is far more difficult. Over time, the language was adapted for use with the hands alone, allowing riders to communicate clearly in the sky. Today, this form is known as Skysigning, the common language of dragon riders.

—VALEN’S JOURNAL

AMARA

The next morning, Thane and I start our day running aerial formations. Garrick, Rian, and Jarek fly ahead, their dragons holding tight formation with the rest of the squad as we climb higher into the morning light.

I adjust my grip on the reins, the supple leather of my new gloves flexing with the movement. Part of the riding set Thane gave me last night.

A smile tugs at my lips at the memory.

A long black box had been waiting in our room after dinner, wrapped in soft cloth. Thane stood by the doorway, arms crossed, watching me with that quiet intensity that always makes my pulse skip.

“A gift?” I’d asked, one brow lifted. “Because I won the Firebrand?”

He’d laughed, a sound that no longer felt rare. “Sure, why not. It’s a good reason to celebrate with something you need anyway.”

Now, high above the training fields, I glance down at the leathers fitted to my frame. Obsidian-black, sleek and battle-ready. Reinforced seams. Segmented sleeves designed for incredible movement.

But it’s the detailing that stops me.

Crimson and ember-gold stitching trace the jacket’s edges, a nod to fire. Silver embroidery curls along my shoulders, a whisper of air. Green etching wraps my belt and knees, grounding me in earth. The gloves gleam with subtle blue inlays, rippling like water caught in motion.

Woven together, every thread speaks of the power I carry.

Of who I am.

Thane hadn’t said a word when I tried it on. But his gaze had lingered on the back, where an embossed pattern mirrors the tattoos along my spine.

Fire.

Water.

Earth.

Air.