The Five Realms

Chapter 38: Beanca VI

Chapter 38: Threadlines and Tensions

The moonlight played tricks on the water, drawing gold from the minerals in the river's skin and casting it in shimmering motion. Beanca sat on a low, flat rock with her boots unlaced and damp, her fingers absently tracing spirals in the cool soil. Emeraldsa lay close behind her, curled protectively, while Solin's soft panting merged with the rustle of leaves. It should have felt peaceful. It didn't.

Not even twelve hours ago, Joey had fallen into a lava chasm. Not tripped near it. Not been singed. Fallen in.

And he'd survived.

Beanca shut her eyes, letting the image replay—Joey's scream, the blur of white light, her breath catching like a rabbit in a snare. And then nothing. Just silence. Until he'd reappeared on Rohan's back, unburnt and cocky as ever. Like he hadn't just erased her insides with terror.

She hadn't said much since.

It wasn't just that he'd survived. It was how. Fireproof. Some ancient Rider trait passed down from his father. From Eragon. And Joey had known. Not fully, not with certainty—but enough. Enough that he hadn't warned her. Hadn't trusted her with it.

She'd trusted him with Solin. With her life. And he hadn't told her.

That's what stung.

She exhaled slowly and opened her eyes. Across the fire, Joey was sitting alone, his back to a boulder, picking at the straps of his boots like they were offensive. Rohan was near but silent, his tail curled around himself like a coiled thought.

Beanca didn't hate him. She just didn't know how to talk to him without her chest tightening.

Emeraldsa stirred behind her, lifting her head slightly.

Go, the dragon seemed to suggest.

So she stood.

Beanca crossed the space between them quietly, her boots barely disturbing the moss at their feet. Joey didn't look up until she was standing right in front of him.

"Hey," she said.

Joey blinked, caught between guilt and something like hope. "Hey."

She sat beside him—not too close, but not distant either. They stared into the fire for a long beat, the silence brittle.

"I'm not mad," Beanca said finally. Her voice came out too flat. She exhaled and tried again. "I mean... I was. And honestly? It still stings."

Joey nodded, but stayed quiet.

"You fell into lava, Joey." She gave a short, hollow laugh. "One second we thought you were dead, and the next you're walking out like it was a sauna. You didn't even know for sure you'd survive."

"I didn't mean to fall," Joey murmured. "I slipped. It shocked me too. I screamed—I was scared."

Beanca turned to him, brows tight. "And still... you didn't warn us. Not even me."

He hesitated. "My dad told me to keep it quiet. Back when I was a kid, it felt like a weird fairy tale. And after a while... it just stopped coming up. It's not like we walk into fire every day."

Beanca stared into the flames. "But you should've told me. Not because of the lava. Because I trusted you to trust me."

Joey winced. "I do. I just didn't think—"

"I know you didn't think. That's the problem," she said softly, not accusing now—just tired.

He swallowed. "I'm sorry."