He pivoted sharply. “Secure the camp. No one leaves until we’re back.”
And with that, he strode in the direction his instinct led.
They moved fast, boots pounding over brittle grass. As they crested a low rise, the light shifted over the land, turning brighter and warmer. The ground underfoot changed, too. Softer. Greener.
Resh slowed.
The field ahead bloomed unnaturally. The Cycle of Fire had withered everything else to dull brown, but here the grass grew lush and vibrant, as if caught in mid-Growth. White, yellow, and sapphire wildflowers peppered the earth. The scent—fresh rain and jasmine—tightened his chest.
Then he saw him.
Astenos.
His fearsome mount stood tall in the middle of the glade, his body casting no shadow on the ground. This was the beast that had once trampled a Shade warlord into mulch for raising a weapon against Resh during negotiations. Astenos—who had never allowed another soul to ride ortouch him—stood in the middle of the glade, docile as a gelding at pasture. Resh had never seen him so still without something dead at his feet.
And beside him, tiny, barefoot, pale as the waxing moon—
Auryn.
Standing on tiptoe, feeding the enormous creature a crimson slice of fruit, vivid against the silver spill of her hair. She stroked his muzzle with her small hand, humming softly. Astenos leaned into her touch like a doting hound, his massive plated shoulders relaxed. He closed his glowing blue eyes, then bent all six of his legs and laid down beside her with a snort, nuzzling her.
Behind him, Zarrek placed a single firm hand on Resh’s shoulder. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse, each word scraped out of him.
“If you tell me one more time...” A pause. “That she isn't dangerous, I'll break your jaw.”
"Zarrek…"
"Look at the way the men look at her," Zarrek warned, his grip tightening, his voice dropping low. Resh glanced at the surrounding Reskala. Grown men twice her size—enthralled. "These aren't farmers. They're men of Krystopolis. You know what happens when something is worshipped in the Doctrine."
Resh swallowed. Images of blood rituals, frenzied chanting, and sacrifice flashed through his mind. The Vox Ring, the processions—Companions prostrating themselves at his feet, priests painting his body for the Estâr ritual, and drums beating in the deep.
With a curse under his breath, he scratched at the scar on his nape.
"Yeah," Zarrek said, close to his ear. "I see you still remember."
Resh breathed.
Once. Deep. Heavy.
Pushed the images away.
Ahead, Auryn whispered something to Astenos. The steed let out a soft rumble and nudged her shoulder like he understood.
Zarrek let out a low breath of his own. “That beast won’t even let me trim his hooves. What in the name of the Void is she?”
Resh’s throat was tight. Something unnamable pressed against his ribs.
Ahead, Auryn giggled, a sound so light it didn’t belong to this world. Astenos let out awhuffand nudged her again, more forcefully this time. She staggered, barefoot heels skidding in the dewy grass. Astenos’s bulk could crush her with a careless shift. One wrong move, and there’d be no one left to feed him those Voids-damned apples.
Resh gritted his teeth. His patience snapped. He moved. Each step released a small cloud of wisp seeds and heady scent. A scene from a storybook dream. Astenos lifted his head at the sound, ears twitching.
They shared a timeless look, rider and horse linking minds. But the beast didn’t rise. Instead, he huffed a gust of warm air through flared nostrils, snorted once, and rested his chin back at Auryn’s feet. His plated tail flicked lazily. The veins of mana running through his thick skin pulsed from bright blue to white.
Auryn glanced up then, as if she’d only just noticed him. Her smile lit the whole glade. “He likes apples,” she explained. “And songs. Mostly songs.”
Resh couldn’t tear his eyes from her.
“Thank you for the gift.” Auryn nodded. She turned her head. The light caught in her hair, revealing a ribbon of glinting gray.Hisribbon. Freshly braided.
