Page 148 of Pets in Space 10

Fallin

Valhyr’s Crown welcomed us home with skies of sapphire and clouds that stretched like pale silk across the horizon. Below us, jagged cliffs rose from forests of silver-barked trees and red-sheened moss. The wind here smelled as familiar as the land looked.

The outpost loomed ahead, a fair distance from the spaceport – a cluster of towers built into a mountainside, old and weathered, yet still inhabited. It had once been a gathering place for scouts and storytellers. Now it served as a waypoint for returners like us. For the draquari.

My people.

The last few weeks had passed in a blur of stars and motion.

After saying goodbye to the other tyvarin – many of whom chose to remain on Kalumbu and begin new lives there – Hazel and I had boarded a slow-travel freighter heading toward this sector.

Ruby had decided to come with us. The Bloodstar crew along with the IA had helped arrange everything.

They’d even left us with credits and a comm device, in case we ever wished to reach out again.

We hadn’t needed it. Not yet.

The human females – or Peritans, as it turned out they were known in Intergalactic Standard – had offered to meet with Hazel again, introduce her to their mates, exchange stories, but she had refused.

She wanted a new start. She didn’t want to hang on to the past – and that included making connections with the other females who’d shared her fate.

I supported her decision. Hopefully, she would make friends among my people. My family. I couldn’t wait to introduce her to my clan.

We’d spent the voyage in a tiny private cabin, barely large enough for my wings to stretch fully, but we’d made it ours.

Hazel had strung bits of yarn from the ceiling like constellations.

She’d bartered for hooks and thread at every space station we stopped at, somehow always returning with a new skein of strange, colourful fibre that she insisted could be crocheted. And it could.

She made a scarf first. Then a tiny dragon plushie for Ruby, who missed the wide skies of Kalumbu. I didn’t understand the appeal of yarn at first, but now I’d grown fond of the quiet clicking sound of her work, the way it soothed her. The way it soothed me.

We made love in silence and in laughter, with the stars watching through the porthole.

We explored forgotten spaceports, browsed through second-hand datapads, ate food that neither of us could pronounce.

It was a slow journey, but a meaningful one.

Every night ended with her body curled against mine, soft and trusting, the way it was always meant to be.

Now, the end of the journey lay before us.

Or perhaps, the beginning.

Hazel stood beside me at the edge of the landing platform.

Ruby circled above, spiralling with joy.

Below us, in the open courtyards of the outpost, draquari moved with the ease of those who belonged.

Wings shimmered in every colour imaginable – bronze, obsidian, pale opal green.

They carried woven bags, metal tools, and scrolls.

In this part of the planet, they held on to old traditions, forsaking technology for the simpler life.

I caught a burst of song from somewhere – no words, just the long, open tones of home.

Hazel’s hand found mine.

They’re beautiful,” she whispered. “All of them. I’ve never seen so many dragons before.”

“Draquari,” I said softly. “That’s what we call ourselves. Dragon is… close. But not quite the same.”

Her gaze flicked to me. “And you’re one of them. But different.”

I nodded. “The changes the masters made – they marked me.”

I pushed back the edges of my tunic, revealing the seams of metal that still lined parts of my ribs. Where wings met shoulder. The iridescent shimmer across my scales, subtly different than those of the others.

Maybe one day, I could have the metal removed.

Not my inner fire, though. I had grown used to it.

I’d never forgive the game makers for what they’d done to me, how they had changed me against my will, but I had come to the conclusion that I would use their modifications for the better. For my future.

“They used tech and trauma to make me something else. A hybrid of draquari and machine. Tyvaron, they called me – not my name, but a designation. A weapon. They did not think us worthy of names.”

Hazel’s fingers traced the metal, slow and reverent. “But you’re still you. You’re Fallin.”

“I don’t know how they will receive me. If the draquari will accept the man I have become.” I chuckled softly. “Shall we see how they’ll react to seeing Tyvaron?”

She looked at the draquari down below, going about their business, oblivious to our arrival.

“Let’s do it.”

I stepped back, lifting my arms to the sun. The change came effortlessly now – a cascade of heat and energy, light and memory. Wings burst free. My tail uncoiled. My claws curled into the stone beneath me.

I was myself again. I looked like Tyvaron, the leader of the tyvarin, but inside, I was Fallin of Clan Varrna. Draquari-born. Reforged.

Hazel smiled up at me, her hair caught in the wind like a living flame. She climbed onto my back with the ease of practice and settled just behind my neck, gripping the harness we’d fashioned during our journey. Our baggage would stay here until we’d found a place to settle.

Ruby squealed with delight and swooped alongside us.

I leapt.

Wings caught the wind, muscles surged, and we soared.

Below, the world stretched vast and untouched. Rivers wove through valleys like liquid silver. Canyons split the land like old scars. And far ahead – the mountains. Tall, proud, eternal.

My homeland.

Hazel whooped behind me, the sound carried away on the wind. I could feel her joy – her awe – and it filled my chest until I thought I would burst with it.

Beneath us, draquari looked up in surprise, some in fear. A few spread their wings and leapt into the air, either out of instinct or recognition. I didn’t know which.

We flew past them – not fleeing, not attacking, simply gliding in wide, regal arcs over their heads.

My wings cast long shadows over the courtyards and towers below.

I angled toward the far cliffs, where the wind curled strong and wild.

Where the old paths carved into stone still marked the way to Vareth-kai.

Home.

The ridges were steeper here, red rock veined with glinting silver ore, cliffs draped in climbing vines that shimmered with dew. As we neared, I saw it – the plateau where my family’s hearth had once burned. It was still there. Cracked and weathered, yes. Overgrown. But not destroyed.

Hazel leaned close. “Is this it?”

“Yes,” I said, voice deep with memory. “This is where I was born. Where I took my first flight. Where my father taught me to catch the wind, and my mother sang the names of the stars.”

I landed with care, not wanting to disturb the sacred ground. Hazel slid from my back, touching down lightly, reverently. Ruby landed beside us, flapping her tiny wings and chirping like she knew this place mattered.

I shifted back to my smaller form, kneeling to press my palm into the warm stone. For a moment, I didn’t speak. I just breathed. Let the past settle into my bones.

“I remember chasing shadows here,” I said finally. “My brothers and I carved our names into that wall.” I gestured to a craggy outcrop now half-covered in moss. “We made promises here. Swore we’d never be parted. That nothing could break us.”

Hazel knelt beside me, her hand finding mine. “Do you think they’re still out there?”

“I don’t know.” My throat tightened. “But I’ll find out.”

She squeezed my fingers. “Then this is where we begin.”

A cry echoed in the distance – not a roar of alarm, but a call. A signal. Draquari approaching, wings beating the wind in slow, curious rhythm.

“They’re coming,” I murmured.

Hazel stood, brushing her hair from her face. “Should I hide?”

“No.” I looked up at her, heart full. “You stand beside me. You are my mate. My strength. My future.”

She nodded, quiet and sure. “Then let them come.”

And so we waited, the wind around us full of song, of memories, of new beginnings.

I rose slowly to my feet, Hazel at my side, as two draquari descended in a wide arc and landed a respectful distance away.

One was younger, unfamiliar. The other – older, broad-shouldered, his wings tinged with iron-grey, one of his horns broken at the tip, and his brow marked with the tattoos of clan leadership.

Recognition hit me like a bolt of lightning.

“Vekorr?” I said, breath catching.

He blinked, then stepped forward slowly, as if not daring to believe. “Fallin?”

I nodded once. “It’s me.”

A shudder passed through him – then he crossed the distance in a few long strides and seized me in a crushing embrace. His strength hadn’t faded in the years I’d been gone. His arms locked around me like he was anchoring me to the world.

“We thought you were dead,” he rasped. “We searched every sector. We sent messages across systems. Your brothers went mad with grief. Your mother… gods, Fallin. She still sets a place for you.”

I swallowed hard, barely able to breathe. Hazel stood just behind me, silent but present, her hand warm at my back.

“They took me,” I said. “Pirates. They brought me to Kalumbu. Have you heard of the Trials? The game makers there turned me into a weapon and erased my name. But I broke free. I remembered. I came home.”

Vekorr stepped back, eyes scanning me – the metal at my sides, the shimmer of altered scale, the fire that still lived in my eyes. But he did not flinch. He simply nodded. “You are still of Clan Varrna. And you are whole enough to return. That is all that matters.”

Then he turned his gaze to Hazel, curious but not unfriendly.

“Who is the one who brought you back?”

I nodded, and Hazel gave a tentative smile. “Hazel. I’m… not from here.”

“She is my mate,” I explained. “The stars led her to me.”

Vekorr looked at me again, then smiled at us both. “Then she is one of us now. You both are.”

My throat closed. I’d imagined my return a thousand different ways. Not one of them included being welcomed home by the clan elder, my uncle.

He turned to the other draquari and murmured a short message in our old tongue – a call of welcome, of return, of gathering. Then he looked back at us, his eyes glinting.

“Come. The fires are still lit at the hall. The hearth never went out. Your family will want to see you. And the stars will want your stories.”

Hazel looked up at me, eyes wide and shining.

I squeezed her hand.

“Let’s go home,” I said.