Page 395 of Elemental Becoming

He tends to come when Thane is called away, when duty pulls him back to the war room or council halls and I’m left alone with my thoughts. Rian doesn’t ask how I’m feeling. He doesn’t try to fill every moment with conversation.

He just is.

His silence doesn’t weigh on me. It eases something. Like a calm tide against the shore, gentle and constant.

Kieran visited too. He grinned the moment he stepped through the door and found me propped up in bed.

“Well, well,” he said, folding his arms with mock seriousness. “Look at this. Roles reversed. And now you’re the one laid up.”

I roll my eyes. “Don’t get used to it.”

He stayed longer than he probably should have, sprawling in Thane’s chair as though he owned it, feet up, arms behind his head, all relaxed confidence.

To Thane’s credit, he was a good sport about it. He didn’t hover or glower. He simply crossed the room, pressed a kiss to my temple, and slipped out without a word.

Every day, at some point, I check in with Calryx. She’s never far away. Always watching. Always there.

Her voice echoes through my mind at the oddest times:

“If you were a hatchling, I’d sit on you until you learned better.”

“I leave you alone for five minutes and you nearly die. Again.”

“You breathe. I breathe. That’s the deal. I don’t want another rider. You are it!”

She grumbles. Scolds. Rolls her thoughts through the back of my mind like distant thunder. But beneath the sharpness is worry. Fierce, unspoken concern. And though she never says it outright, I can feel it. She’s relieved I’m still breathing.

So am I.

Valen visits in the afternoons, never staying long. But he always brings something meaningful: a book, a new theory about Elemental flow, or a question about how the bond has evolved since the battle. He treats my recovery like a study in progress, which should feel clinical. But from him, it feels like care.

We reflect on the battle. On what’s to come. Visiting the Air Clan. Finding the ledger. Speaking with Kieran about most of the truth.

And Thane, gods, Thane just lets it all happen.

No protests. No scowls.

Even when Garrick nearly broke one of his blades. Even when Lyra spilled an entire cup of tea across his maps.

He simply takes it all in stride, always nearby, a reassuring constant amid the chaos. These quarters don’t feel like just his anymore. They feel like ours.

And for the first time since the battle, since the blood and fire and everything that followed, I feel safe.

Not just physically.

Deep down, too.

Earlier this afternoon, Lyra burst into my room and flopped dramatically into the chair beside my bed as though she owned the place. She grinned at me like she’d been holding something in for days.

She wanted to hear everything.

“What was it like?” she asks, eyes wide and practicallyvibrating with curiosity. “Flying into battle on Calryx’s back? That last strike you landed with Thane? Rowena said the Commander exploded.”

I smile, but it’s tired around the edges. “It was . . . a lot.”

And that’s the truth.

I’ve already told the story a dozen times. To the council. To Valen. To the healers. I’ve dissected the battle with Thane down to every motion, every burst of magics.