Bálint blinked in disbelief. “Whoa. You’re always hungry. Are you feeling alright?”
Jabir shifted over when Bálint dropped onto the bench beside him. Bálint’s brows furrowed—before he took a bite of a plum Danish and moaned with delight. Flakes drifted into his lap. They sat in silence. The sounds of the harbor rose around them, a symphony Jabir couldn’t quite feel part of.
Bálint finally asked, gently, “Hey, are you okay?”
Jabir swallowed and looked down at his hands. He turned them over, palms to the sun, and studied the faint calluses from climbing, building, flying… from living.
“I don’t know,” he admitted. His voice was low, raw. “I’m not sure I want to go back.”
Bálint froze, the pastry in his hand forgotten. “What? What are you talking about?”
Jabir’s lips curved into a forced smile. “I’m seriously thinking about staying here. In this world.”
Bálint set the plate down slowly, his entire posture shifting. “Is it… because of the girl?”
Jabir let out a dry laugh. “Partly. Jewel’s amazing. But it’s more than that.” He lifted his gaze to the horizon. “I feel like I belong here in a way I never quite did back home. Like… I can breathe easier. Be more me. Fit in, maybe.”
“But Jabir…” Bálint leaned forward, panic creeping into his voice. “You have a life there! Your parents, your animals, your—your collection of rocks… and-and other stuff that you keep under your bed! You can’t stay here!”
Jabir gave a half-hearted snort, then looked away. “If it weren’t for Mom and Dad… I don’t know what I’d go back for.”
There was a long pause.
Bálint reached out and touched his arm. “Is it because of me? Or the others? Did we—did we… do something? Say something that hurt you?”
Jabir stood abruptly, the motion sharp. “No. It’s not like that.” He moved to the railing, gripping it hard. The stone was cool and rough beneath his fingers, grounding. “You guys haven’t done anything wrong.”
He turned his head, his voice tight. “I just need to think. I’ll be back in a little while.”
Without waiting for a response, he shimmered, shifting into his dragon. Wings burst from his back, flashing blue and silver in the morning light. His dragon pushed off the railing and lifted into the sky with a single beat, sending a gust of wind rippling through the balcony curtains.
He flew high, letting the cool wind scour his thoughts, his scales catching the light in dazzling arcs.
Below him, the city stretched like a storybook—spiraling towers, crowded streets, and sun-washed plazas filled with laughter. Chimneys smoked. Gardens bloomed. Children dashed along cobbled streets, faces upturned in joy.
He flew over a tavern courtyard where couples enjoyed an early morning breakfast as music drifted from an open window. Across the street, a baker dusted flour from his apron and tossed scraps to two waiting griffin pups. A trio of harpies flitted through the alleyways, their bright feathers flashing in the sun.
They were all different.
Yet, they belonged.
They weren’t trying to be something else.
They just were.
They just wanted to be loved. Accepted. Seen.
Like Jewel.
Like him.
A sharp ache bloomed in his chest.
He missed her.
Missed her laugh, her wild eyes, the way her presence had grounded him even when everything else felt uncertain.
Maybe just one more time, he thought.
