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Alaric

The Eyrie—Rooftop

I feel like a green-as-grass boy waiting to see his first crush round the bend of a sunlit trail. It’s absurd. I’ve faced down armies, ruled tempests, and outmaneuvered kings and monsters alike—but this?

This anticipation, this fluttering madness just beneath my ribs?

It’s her.

Jules.

My viyella.

I know what’s at stake.

I know Nightfall teeters on the edge of unraveling.

The SoulTakers are closing in.

The crown is hidden— barely .

The other Lords are restless.

Everything could crumble before moonrise.

And yet, I stand here like a fool on the wind-swept rooftop of the Eyrie, smoothing nonexistent wrinkles from my tunic, waiting for her.

Because today, I will do something I never thought I’d do.

I will shift into my Dragon form and take my viyella on a tour of our land.

The wind curls around me like a familiar pet, excited by my excitement.

Below, waterfalls crash into crystalline pools, silver mist rising like breath from the earth.

Forests stretch toward the horizon in shades of violet and jade, dotted with glowing fungi and creatures that exist only in this world.

From this perch— my mountain throne —the land is harsh, beautiful, wild. And today, it is hers to see.

The sound of footsteps breaks my reverie, and I glance toward the stairwell as Shade emerges first. Regal and composed as always, her fiery hair swaying like a banner.

And then— thank the gods above and below —she appears.

Myrrin. Jules.

Her dark hair is loose around her shoulders, gleaming with whatever magic the Eyrie infused into her bath.

She wears a shorter, slate-blue dress made of silk that clings and flows in all the right places, cinched with a belt of braided silver.

Beneath it, she wears the supple leather leggings I sent— hand-treated by my artisans to be soft against skin, but durable enough to protect her from the rub of scales.

I had them made just for her. And I’d conjured a riding seat, too—woven from elemental silk and anchored with rune-locks.

It will rest between my wings, built for one rider.

Her.

She approaches, looking up at me through thick lashes, cheeks pink from the mountain air—or perhaps from whatever she saw in my expression.

I clear my throat. “ Myrrin , are you ready for an adventure?”

“Another one?” she quips, arching a brow. “I guess so. But I’m warning you, Alaric—” her voice lowers as she steps closer, eyes teasing “—a girl could get used to this.”

“Good,” I murmur, taking her hand and brushing my lips across her knuckles, “because I fully intend to get you very used to this.”

She laughs softly, and the sound— gods, the sound— it echoes like wind chimes caught in a sunbeam. I swear I can feel my Dragon stir beneath my skin in response.

I guide her toward the open expanse of rooftop, where the wind howls in greeting.

The sky above is streaked with violet clouds, the sun in this realm a burnished gold.

The moment she steps up to the ledge, she gasps.

“Oh wow! It’s—it’s beautiful!”

The view is staggering. And I haven’t even shown her me yet.

“Don’t move,” I say, and she looks at me curiously, but nods.

The wind answers my call before I give it voice.

The illusion I wore when I met her on Earth has already been done away with.

But now, it’s this version of me that melts away in strips of light, revealing my other form.

This me is enormous, claws, scales, curling black horns, and the runes glowing down my skin like living fire.

My wings unfurl in one sweeping motion— dark as obsidian, laced with streaks of lightning.

My shift is painless, and fast. But I slow it down for her. So she may see.

The power of it shakes the stones beneath our feet.

My form expands exponentially— muscle, magic, scale, and sinew —until I am towering and magnificent, a great winged beast forged from air and shadow.

I glance down at her and see her awe.

No fear. Just wonder.

My heart thunders.

With great care, I lower myself, revealing the enchanted seat I conjured for her.

It’s cradled between the ridges of my spine, secured by elemental binds no wind can loosen.

“Climb on, my viyella ,” I say, my draconian voice rumbling with a low, swirling growl that vibrates the air around us.

I could speak straight into her mind— our bond allows that now —but I resist.

She’s still new to this world, new to me.

I don’t want to overwhelm her more than I already have.

Still, the sight of her— standing with the wind pulling at her dark hair, her cheeks flushed from the mountain air and what we shared last night —nearly undoes me.

She pauses, just for a breath. Then her lips lift into a grin that lights up the storm brewing in my chest. That smile could shatter kingdoms.

It could unravel me.

She approaches without fear, her eyes wide with wonder.

“Okay,” she murmurs, more to herself than to me. “Let’s do this.”

Her hands brush along the curve of my scaled hide, reverent and curious, and I shiver beneath her touch.

Carefully, she climbs into the enchanted saddle I conjured between my wings, her weight settling onto me like a brand.

A little squeak of amazement escapes her lips.

It’s fucking adorable.

I rise.

With one mighty push of my wings, we launch into the skies.

The wind greets me like an old friend, swirling around us, carrying our scents, our magic.

Clouds part, sunlight spills across the sky, and my brave little mortal clings to the reins I enchanted for her, her thighs tightening around my torso.

She lets out a breathless shriek— not in fear, but exhilaration.

A laugh bubbles from her lips. “Alaric! This is insane!”

In response, I tilt and roll, letting her feel the freedom of it. She clutches tighter and laughs louder, the sound echoing across the vast heavens.

“You’re amazing!” she shouts into the roaring wind.

I answer her through our link, “Agree to disagree, my viyella , for it is you who amazes me.”

Her gasp is audible, her joy crashing into me like a wave.

I feel it. Live it. Breathe it.

Magic hums between us, bending air, and making her shriek with joy.

I dare to ask, “Want to go faster?”

“Yes!” she cries aloud, her voice gleeful and daring.

And so I oblige.

I open my maw and let loose a stream of silver flame into the sky, branding the clouds with light.

Then I pull my wings tight, tucking them just so, and dive like a bullet.

We shoot across the horizon, faster than thought, slicing through the wind. Her thrilled cries ride the air, wild and unafraid, and I feel her joy like fire beneath my skin.

I carry her higher—over the jagged mountains of the Eyrie, over the shimmer-laced forests and glassy rivers of Nightfall.

Creatures below lift their faces, sensing me. Knowing me. The Lord of Air, keeper of Winds, and now they know that I’ve claimed a mate.

But no one could know I’ve soul-bonded to this mortal. That I have indeed entered the zareth.

And for the first time in centuries, I feel it in my soul.

Freedom.

Because I’m not alone anymore.

I have her. My viyella . And I will never let her go.