Suddenly, Kailorien remembered what Auryn had once said.War isn’t something one can tame.The words echoed, dread settling in the pit of Kailorien’s stomach. He strode forward and stopped a few paces from the curtain.
“We may have wielded blades side by side once, Riven, but that does not give you leave to enter my fortress unannounced.”
The Glider glanced at him, as though the Resh’Agar was nothing more than a diversion. “Then strengthen your Wards and train your Kelvasari.”
Kailorien took another step.
The Riven didn’t budge. “I bring warning.” His head tilted, birdlike. Watching. Analyzing. “Dissenters move beneath the clouds. Whisper your name. They know you walk the stone. And they say…you carry something with you. A thing to strengthen the Flaeme.”
Kailorien’s hands clenched into fists. Auryn? No. That was impossible. They couldn’t know. Evenhebarely understood what she was. She’d only been at his side a few months. How could rumor have spread so quickly?
“I carry no such thing,” he insisted.
“Perhaps not as they describe,” the Riven murmured, his voice like wind moving across a forgotten stone. “But describe they do. The Resh’Agar’s Kelvasari are a roaming city. Every town, every hamlet, every cottage you pass will carry your story. Rumors will rise, and the winds will reach our Skywhisperer.”
The Riven stepped away from the bed and into the room proper. The air between them quaked.
"Merchants tell tales of a creature with silver hair. Of flowers blooming from the dead. Of rivers held still with nothing but a hand." The Riven's tail moved behind him, the feathers shifting. "The winds do not lie. Our Skywhisperer heard the tale of the silver-haired one closing a rift in the sky. This is a power that cannot be allowed to roam free."
A beat passed. The runes on Kailorien’s arms pulsed. He gritted his teeth. “You will not touch her. She is under my protection.”
“Then she will need it. The winds already know her story. If you believe you can hide such feats, then you are more ignorant than I would have believed.”
Kailorien clenched his fists. “You came alone?”
“I do most things alone,” the Glider said. “You know this.”
“Then deliver your warning and get out.”
The Riven lifted his chin then lowered his glaive. As the end of it hit the stone, the floor shuddered with the weight. “You are the Skycleaver. The Gliders know your scent. They remember the mountain split beneath your fury. But not all revere the Resh. Not all believe your purpose brings peace.”
“We’ve traded for decades,” Kailorien reminded him. “Mana springs, relics, even bloodlines. You owe us more than suspicion.”
“We owe no one whilst the Flaeme still breathes,” the Glider warned. “The Sky knows the threat. Something stirs in the deep Vein. Something smelling of divinity and war andclaiming.”
His wings flared, casting jagged shadows across the stone floor. “Evenyoucannot deny it.”
A beat of silence stretched between them, final as judgment.
“The Gliders don’t make idle threats,” Kailorien said. “So why are you really here?”
The Riven’s violet eyes simmered, slitted pupils contracting as they slipped back to Auryn. “To see for myself the reason the Skycleaver grows nervous.”
“If you've seen enough, then leave. Tell your Matriarch,” Kailorien commanded, voice low. “Tell Shiva’sera—that she tests my patience with her interference in my personal affairs. I carry no weapon.”
The Riven’s eyes glinted. “No weapon,” he echoed. “Then why do you guard the silver woman like a throne?”
He took one step back. Then another. His talons scraped on the floor, his tail feathers adjusting for flight.
“Prepare.”
“For what?”
“What you do best, Resh’Agar.War.” He paused, thinking. "War may be your specialty, Skycleaver, but it is our domain. Sending battalions to raid a fortress is worth the loss to the Matriarch if it means preserving the Nestings."
A chill rolled down Kailorien’s spine.
“She is not a threat.”
