Page 340 of Elemental Becoming

I feel Calryx shift behind me, her presence brushing against mine, smug. “Of course, she’s keeping up. She hasme.”

I bite back a laugh. “Modest, as always.”

Her response is instant, smooth as silk.“Modesty has nothing to do with it. It is simply truth.”

“Calryx, I absolutely adore you,”I say, grinning.

A deep, satisfied hum rumbles through her chest, her approval settling over me like warmth from the sun.

Thane notices my wide smile, and he looks over his shoulder at where Calryx is still standing, stretching her wings. “Calryx?”

I’m still grinning when I respond. “Of course.”

His lips twitch, as though he already knows there’s no point in asking for details. “Figures.”

As we cross the field with Garrick, Rian, and Jarek, their voices weave around us. Conversations overlap as they replay maneuvers, debate who executed them better, and argue over which dragon showed more skill.

I study Thane. His expression gives nothing away, his attention fixed ahead. After a moment, curiosity gets the better of me.

“Do you and Xaroth not talk like this?”

His gaze shifts to me briefly. The answer comes first as a feeling through the bond, measured and deliberate, as though he’s weighing the words before speaking them aloud.

“Xaroth isn’t like Calryx.”

He glances back towards his dragon, his massive obsidian form cutting through the morning light like a moving shadow.

“He was built for war. His last rider was a warrior too.” His mouth quirks at one side. “Xaroth is basically the epitome of what you call a broody moody Warlord.”

I laugh softly, immediately seeing the comparison betweenXaroth and Thane.

“Not so moody anymore,” I counter.

“Because of you,”he says into my mind, his eyes softening.

Then he looks back at Xaroth. I follow Thane’s gaze. Xaroth moves like a weapon drawn, every motion controlled and economical. A creature that wastes nothing. Not breath. Not energy. Not thought.

It explains a lot.

Thane exhales, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Dragons have their own minds, their own preferences, their own perspectives. They aren’t just reflections of their riders. Calryx is playful. Headstrong. Xaroth is . . . precise. Purposeful.” He shrugs. “He doesn’t talk unless it matters.”

“And what matters?” I ask, curious.

Thane glances up for a moment, considering before he answers. “Battle. Orders. Decisions worth making. He doesn’t waste words.”

I glance back at Xaroth. No, he definitely doesn’t seem like the type.

Calryx snorts in my mind, thoroughly unimpressed.“Xaroth can be dreadfully dull.”

I smother a smile.

WIND-CARVER

FORTY-EIGHT

One of the first lessons we’re taught as Air Clan scholars is this: nothing is created without intent. Especially in design. Form must serve function. Art is never just decoration—it carries meaning, message, purpose. Nothing is wasted. We study the quiet power of subtlety, knowing that the most effective espionage lies in what goes unnoticed. A curve, a color, a pattern—all can conceal or convey. We are trained to look deeper, to question every detail. Design becomes an elegant way to send a message—covert, clever, andprecise.