Sam slammed his fist into the wall, wreathed in flames. The stone cracked and bowed under the heavy blow. Breathing erratic, he summoned a brisk breeze to cool himself down. It worked, too well. He shivered in the empty hallways, teeth chattering.
The flames below the surface curled around his arms and chest, creating a blanket of pure flame. Light footsteps crept down the hallway. When the body came into view, it was his Uncle Aedion.
His uncle jumped when he saw his cousin's son. "Holy shit, Sam! Could you have at least said something?"
Sam winced. Being yelled at was something he was never fond of, but he shoved it down deep. "No more obvious than the giant blanket of flames?" he quipped with a smirk.
Aedion frowned, lips twitching with a suppressed grin. "Your mother is a horribly evil person. She decided to send me and Gavriel on a 'mission' to find some important book." Sam threw his head back and laughed. His uncle frowned, the hint of a smile vanishing in an instant. "It's not funny," he growled, crossing his arms.
"Yes it is. Mum just sent you two on a father-son bonding trip." Sam smiled, the ache in his knuckles fading. Aedion just stalked off, stomping down the hallway in anger.
• • •
Hours later, Tempest devoured the ground beneath her hooves. The castle faded into the distance, a speck on the horizon. Wind tore at his shoulder-length golden hair that Nehemia loved to play with. His little sister was at home, being doted on by both his parents. Sam grinned wide as his eyes watered and the edge of the forest came into view.
A shadow crossed above him, the shape distinctly a wyvern. Wings boomed. Tempest slowed as the wyvern flew ahead and set down on the wide meadow. A girl his age slipped out of the saddle, striding over to him as he dismounted.
Manon and Dorian's daughter was a visual beauty. One eye of gold and one of sapphire-blue. They stood out against her tan complexion and silver hair. Like her mother, she had the iron nails and teeth, but she also had her father's magic. It was a slightly disastrous combination.
"Hello, Sam," she murmured as she pulled him in for a tight hug. "It's been too long." Sam wrapped his long arms around her and squeezed, a faint grin on his face.
"Much too long, Rhiannon." Sam held her at an arm's length and inspected her before flicking her nose. She growled at him. "Now let's go wreak some havoc."
Rhiannon grinned, the tips of her iron teeth showing as she walked back toward her wyvern. Helia rubbed her massive head against Rhiannon's shoulder, tail curling around her rider. Stroking Tempest's nose, Sam watched his childhood friend and her closest companion. He took a piece of parchment and wrote a short note on it before attaching it to Tempest's reigns. Then he sent her back toward his parents. Tempest was a dark blur as she galloped away in a streak of grey.
Mum and Dad, don't worry. I'm fine. I'm with Rhiannon. We're going to explore Oakwald Forest. Be back in a week or so. Love, Sam.
Sam strode over to Rhiannon and Helia, the latter watched him warily as he approached. She grumbled low in her throat before huffing out a breath in his face. He grinned, patting the side of her neck. Helia purred with closed eyes.
"Ready?" he questioned as Rhiannon climbed up into her saddle. She nodded. Sam climbed up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist as Helia flapped her wings and they lifted off.
A sea of green lay below them as they headed deeper into Oakwald Forest. Lilting melodies were whispers as they wove their way to a lake in the dead center of Brannon's forest. Flashing blue and red and purple bursts of light lit up the forest.
Wind whipped Rhiannon's braid into Sam's face and made his eyes water. Her flying leathers were finely crafted, made by Manon's second just for Rhiannon when she claimed Helia. The leather was soft with wear against his palms.
Sam whooped and let go out Rhiannon's waist, falling back and tumbling through the air. The tree tops rushed up to greet him. Each membrane in the leaves could be seen clearly. He shifted just as he was about to hit the trees and banked, soaring over the tree tops. His wings skimmed the leaves, ruffling them softly.
A torrent of bright-winged birds soared into the air as he wove through the branches sticking up through the canopy. Helia hovered up ahead, Rhiannon standing in the saddle, eyes scanning the trees. Sam rose and shot toward his friend, wings opening inches from her face. She laughed, blowing him a kiss.
"Show-off," she grumbled, her eyes alight with laughter. Sam screeched, flapping enough to send gusts of wind into her face. Strands of silver hair waved gently. Rhiannon reached up to stroke his wing; he shied away from the touch. His wings were extremely sensitive to the lightest touch of a feather.
Sighing, the witch's daughter settled back into her saddle. Helia made a purring noise and shot forward, heading deeper and deeper into the never-ending forest. With an irritated cry, Sam followed them in his falcon form.
• • •
Hours later, they stopped at a crystal-clear lake the color of uncut sapphires. The wyvern drank water in large gulps as her tail swished slowly behind her. Rhiannon slid from the saddle and took a long swig of cold water from her canteen. Water dribbled down her chin; she swiped it away with the back of her hand.
Sam shifted back and slid out of his clothes, diving into the lake. Rhiannon soon followed him, but she kept her undergarments on. Bubbles popped on the surface from where he dove down, deep enough to touch the bottom of the lake. He appeared moments later, shaking his head and grinning widely as he slowly treaded water.
Rhiannon shivered, teeth chattering loudly as she stuttered. "S-Sam. It-it's really c-cold." Wrapping her arms around herself, she rubbed her arms. It did nothing to warm her. The water heated around her and she relaxed, teeth halting the incessant chattering. "Better. Thank you."
The pair stayed in the lake for only a few minutes longer before clambering out. Sam dried both in seconds with his mother's flames. They slipped back into their clothes, Rhiannon's braid dripping onto her dry leathers. Her wyvern was sprawled out on the shore, inky-blue scales soaking up the rays of afternoon sunlight.
Inside her packs was a blood-red cloak, gifted to her by her mother's Second. It was the last cloak of a Crochan queen. The witchling pulled it out and slung it on, flipping up the hood. Gazing up at Sam from under the hood, she smirked. Sam laughed as she shook her head and the hood fell back.
She climbed up into the saddle, extending a hand for the Crown Prince of Terrasen. He took it, swinging up behind her. Helia crouched before leaping into the air, flapping her powerful wings thrice.
Uneventful hours passed, and the sun encroached low upon the horizon, staining the sky pink. So caught up in admiring the sunset, Rhiannon didn't notice the ink-black stain spreading across the sky until she was nearly upon it. Her wyvern screamed, back-flapping frantically. But the pull was too great. They were sucked into the inky shadows.
