Page 122 of Aryn

Brihn nods as he glances around at the snow-peaked mountains. “In the south, yes. We had to adapt, and for many, that meant finding new homes.”

“They’ve moved further north?” Aryn asks.

“The cities are thriving. Without the oppression of the prior Vaelor, people have come together in ways our history hasn’t seen in millennia. Many have flocked closer to the capital, where the weather isn’t as extreme. There’s growing industry and education… communities learning to bring their skills together. Elyra fights for the greater good like we’ve never seen in our history.”

“Like the Drüinae at Maelithryne?” I ask, thinking of the greenhouses.

Brihn nods at me with a pleased smile. “Exactly. Without their help to grow the plants, feeding our people would be nearly impossible. When the Viskari started to build their numbers again, I asked Elowen if she’d feel safer following her family north. After what happened to them, I’d never ask her to stay, even if I need her.”

Aryn grins, no doubt remembering our conversation with her. “Let me guess, she said no?”

Brihn lets out a soft chuckle. “Stubborn as they come, that one. She said Maelithryne is her home now, and we are her people. Simple as that.”

“Sometimes it is as simple as that,” Aryn says, giving my middle a gentle squeeze. “The Viskari have grown bolder, then?”

Brihn’s voice turns grim. “Fanatics do what they’ve always done. They attract those who can’t live by the rules of society. Most are criminals who’ve either been tossed out of other cities or villages, or they’re on the run for their crimes. Some are born into it, but most find their way south in search of somewhere they’ll belong.”

I shrug as I scan the treeline for movement, half-expecting our conversation to summon them. “Why not just imprison them?”

Brihn clicks his tongue. “And be responsible for feeding them? Most cities can’t spare the resources to provide for a mouth that doesn’t contribute, so they throw them out instead.”

“For others to deal with,” I counter.

Brihn’s eyes flare with irritation for a moment before he scoffs and tosses Aryn a sidelong glance. “Loves to argue as much as you do, doesn’t he?”

“More,” Aryn answers with a soft laugh.

Brihn’s annoyance fades when he meets my eyes again. “The system isn’t perfect. Anyone will admit that. But it’s worlds better than what we had before, and progress isn’t always linear. We’re doing the best we can in a world that’s fighting us at every turn.” He gestures at the empty road. “The only reason the Viskari are so prevalent in the south is because people are spread out. They’re easier targets. We at Maelithryne consider ourselves the last real line of defense for those who remain.”

I huff a quiet laugh. “Gotta steal that glory, huh? Must run in the family.”

Brihn fights a smile. “That it must.”

The path narrows as the river cuts closer, forcing Brihn to ride ahead of us. Along the water’s edge, I catch dark shapes gliding just beneath the surface. “Draxyss again,” Aryn tells me, resting his chin on my shoulder as he points. One of them breaks the surface, and I shudder at the memory of how impossibly fast they move. “They won’t attack unless they have the advantage in numbers.”

Just as I start to ask if he’s really sure about that, a giant shadow sweeps overhead. The creature flying above is like nothing I’ve ever seen, with enormous leathery wings, a feathered spine, and four clawed feet dangling beneath it. It clutches a small animal in its grasp, but pays us no attention.

“I swear to everything that’s holy, if that’s a dragon…”

Aryn snickers as he watches it fly past. “Not quite. It’s a pha’rix. They live in the mountain peaks, in nests the size of houses. They’re beautiful, but they can be territorial.”

“Territorial,” I repeat. “That’s very calming, Aryn. Are we in its territory right now?”

The creature circles overhead before vanishing behind the peaks. “This is likely part of its hunting ground, but it looks like dinner has already been caught.”

“Reassuring,” I mutter, scanning the skies in case it decides we’d make a decent dessert.

Travel goes smoothly for most of the day, though the snow grows heavier as afternoon fades. When we stop for a quick, cold dinner, Brihn motions toward us. “Your turn to ride. Rest while you can.”

Aryn and I climb into the covered wagon and settle beneath the thick furs. I take advantage of the space to stretch out properly. Shadows pass overhead, and I watch as another pha’rix glides by.

“This place is a lot,” I say, almost to myself.

“It is,” Aryn agrees as he twists onto his side to look at me. His hair is tied up today, making the concern on his face more prominent.

“What happens if we actually do it?” I ask.

He wrinkles his nose in that familiar way he does when he’s confused. “Do what?”