Page 97 of Elemental Becoming

Out.

I force myself to focus.

The cool press of her scales beneath my skin.

The rush of wind in my ears.

The unabating pull of Calryx’s magics anchoring me in place.

Here.

Now.

I breathe again.

“Virelya?”

Calryx’s voice cuts through the spiral, touched with something sharper than usual.

“What’s wrong? I can feel your heart racing.”

“I’m okay . . . I’m okay,”I manage, my breathing beginning to slow. The thoughts still circle, but they start to settle, like sand disturbed beneath water, sinking back into place.

“What unsettled you?”she presses.

I take another breath and straighten in the saddle.

“It’s a lot to hold,”I confess.

Her wings beat hard, lifting us higher. I tighten my grip out of instinct, even though the magics holds me firmly in place. Then her wings stretch wide, leveling as we glide, clouds drifting beneath us. Through the breaks, I catch glimpses of the land far below.

“It is a great deal for one to carry,”she says.“But you do not have to carry it alone.”

A swell of emotions rises in my throat. Tears sting my eyes, but the wind steals them away before they can fall.

“Thank you.”

“You are never alone, Virelya. We are bonded for life. You have me by your side until your last heartbeat.”

A pause.

When she speaks again, there is a hint of teasing in her voice.

“And there is the Warlord.”

A smile breaks across my face.

“Yeah, yeah,”I mutter.

We fly in silence for a while.

I let the wind take over, rushing past hard enough to drown out thoughts of the prophecy, the dormant eggs, the weakening wards. Calryx’s shield lets me keep my eyes open, taking it all in.

Below us, the world blurs.

The colors streak by. Deep green forests, sun-bleached fields,the dark ribbon of a river carving through the land. Villages scatter the hills like tiny clusters of stone, barely distinguishable at this height.

And yet, even with the heat of summer still thick in the world below, up here, the air is cooler, sharper. A crispness bites at my skin, slipping past the high collar of my riding leathers. I’m grateful for them. The supple, reinforced material protecting me from both the chill and the burn of high-altitude winds.