“To carry me. To protect her. If she falls, so too does the world.”
The words hit hard. Not with threat, but with a purpose.
They sink deep, rooting behind my sternum like a brand carved into my soul itself.
“You are steady, loyal, and unwavering in your values. Yours is a strength the dragons can trust to not use for your own gain.”
The wind lifts again, high in the trees, a whisper through the canopy like it’s a part of the conversation.
“I will guard her with my life,”I vow.
It begins to glow brighter, but as it seeps its energy into me once more, the more faint the spirit grows before me.
I don’t fight it as it roots itself into my marrow.
Every other bond I’ve formed came through trial–a meeting of strength, of spirit, of will. Mutual recognition.
But this isn’t a trial between us, it’s a surrender of myself.
Within moments the spirit is gone from sight butis now permanently etched inside of me like a new star in the sky.
Bright and endless.
Its power lingers, unfamiliar and immense, coiling low in my chest. The other spirits shift in response, unsettled despite their acceptance. The wolf stiffens. The hawk circles inward. The bear huffs low. Even the serpent curls tighter, tension rippling along the inside of my spine.
They’re not rejecting it, but they’re wary of the new dynamic within.
It takes effort to keep them calm, to hold steady beneath the storm of change. My skin feels too tight, lungs too full, as if I’ve taken in more than this body knows how to bear.
I breathe deeply, dragging the air down into my ribs. The smell of pine, riverbeds, and the sky itself grounds me. The scent of my home.
Wren watches me in silence as I turn to face her fully.
“We’ll need to walk for a bit,” I say, my voice rougher than usual, scraped raw by the shift still happening beneath my skin. “I…can’t shift again. Not yet.”
Her brow lifts, but she nods without hesitation.
“Is it okay if I ask why? I want to understand you and the shifters as a whole.”
I tilt my head toward the trail we need to continueon and begin to move, guiding her beside me through the thinning trees.
“The dragon’s still settling,” I murmur. “The others are...adjusting and making space. They will need to establish their new hierarchy. Until that’s done, I can’t call on any of them.”
We fall into step, her heavy boots muffled against the soft forest floor. Moonlight cuts through the canopy, catching the sheen of damp leaves.
She glances at me, her expression thoughtful. “It sounds like you own many spirits. Does it feel crowded?”
A faint smile touches my lips as I glance down at her. “They’re not owned. They’re earned.”
She looks at me differently then, thoughtful and quiet.
“Shapeshifters don’t inherit forms when we’re born,” I explain, keeping my voice low. “We don’t earn them through magic. We meet them in the space between their world and ours. If the spirit sees a soul it respects, someone it can trust, it stays.”
She tilts her head. “And if it doesn’t stay?”
“Then it simply leaves,” I answer with a shrug. “Normally to never reappear again to that shifter.”
A breeze cuts through the trees, tugging at her dark hair. She brushes it behind her ear, fingers grazing her cheek. It’s a small thing, but I watch it. I watchher.
