Through Smoke and Ashes

Twenty One||One Down, Three to Go

My eyes opened to a sky stitched thick with stars, cold and endless, as if it had been watching me long before I stirred. They burned cold and sharp above me, scattered across the black sky like shards of ice, and for a moment I forgot where I was. 

The fire beside me still lived, flames snapping and curling as if competing with one another to reach higher, to defy the night.

I pushed myself upright, the world slow to settle. Bedrolls surrounded the fire in a loose ring, and still shapes wrapped in furs and cloaks, breath fogging faintly in the cold air. All of them slept.

All except one.

Kayne sat near the fire, far enough back that the sparks couldn't reach him. He worked a blade against a wet stone with methodical patience, the soft scrape, shhk, shhk, steady and unbroken. Firelight danced along the edge of the sword and caught in his hair, but his face was unreadable, focused. He didn't look up. He didn't notice that I was awake.

"Because he thinks you're sleeping, Navidean."

The voice came from behind me.

I was on my feet in an instant, breath catching, heart leaping, then settling just as quickly. Relief loosened my shoulders before I could stop it.

"Alec," I said, turning.

He stood just beyond the edge of the firelight, arms folded, expression unreadable as ever. His gaze swept over the camp, over the sleeping riders, the weapons stacked nearby, the faint trails of breath fogging the air. The sight of him pulled something tight in my chest loose. I hadn't realized how much I needed him until that moment.

I crossed the short distance between us without thinking. "Hey," I said quietly, grateful in a way I refused to examine.

Once his gaze was finished observing the camp, he settled on me. "I see you've made friends."

I snorted. "Hardly."

Alec sighed, the sound heavy with knowing. "You have to go with them, Navidean." His eyes returned to mine, sharp and unyielding. "And you have to tell them who you really are."

I stiffened. "No."

"This is good for you."

"You don't get to decide that," I snapped, the words coming faster than I meant them to. "I'm fine here. I like it here. It's just me and Naxan—"

Alec sighed, long and tired, and shook his head. "You can't keep doing this, Navidean."

I stiffened. "Doing what?"

"Hiding," he replied simply. He stepped closer, his boots crunching softly against frost-hardened ground. "You cannot live here forever."

The words landed like a blade between my ribs.

"I don't want to go with them," I said, quieter now, stubborn all the same. "I like my life," I shot back. "I like it quiet. I like it just me and Naxan."

Alec studied me for a long moment, then shook his head. "You're becoming like your dragon every day."

I frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

He moved closer and sat on a fallen log, close enough that the world seemed to tilt toward him. "Your dragon is of a solitary breed," he said calmly. "They survive alone. They fight alone. They die alone."

My jaw tightened.

"It isn't healthy," he continued. "Not for him. Not for you."

"We're doing just fine," I shot back.