Page 54 of Fallen Nocturne

The world spreads below us like a tapestry woven by gods. Green and gold forests stretch toward the horizon, divided by rivers that catch the fading light like silver threads. I can see the curve of mountains in the distance and the sprawl of Völundr’s white buildings glowing in the sunset. Tiny figures move through the streets, unaware of us soaring above.

The wind rushes past, cool and clean. It smells of pine and distance and freedom.

“Move with him,” Landon instructs, demonstrating on his own wyvern. “Feel the rhythm. When he banks left, you lean left. When he climbs, shift your weight forward slightly.”

I try my best.

My body is stiff with fear at first, fighting every movement. But Sunstorm is patient, his flight steady and even. Gradually, I begin to understand the rhythm Landon describes. I feel the rise and fall, the subtle shifts, the way the wind catches and releases beneath his wings.

“Good,” Landon says, and I hear approval in his voice. “You’re a natural. It’s funny that you’re not even afraid of the height.”

“Should I be?” I ask.

It’s true. The height doesn’t frighten me at all. If anything, it feels familiar.

“I feel like I’ve flown before,” I mutter.

I mean, I have. Back in Astefar, I used to hide in Sadie’s pocket while she collected nectar, tucked small and safe against her leg. Never at this height. I remember being terrified throughout every flight.

When did that fear disappear?

The thought nags at me, a missing piece I can’t quite grasp.

We fly in formation, Landon demonstrating turns and climbs. Nothing too extreme, but enough to show me the basics. Sunstorm responds to my tentative commands with patience, rewarding my small successes with steady, reliable flight.

“You’re doing well,” Landon says, bringing his wyvern closer. “Better than most first-timers. Some people freeze up completely, and others get sick.”

I manage a weak smile, though my arms are already aching from gripping the saddle.

“Come,” Landon says, noticing my distraction. “There’s something I need to show you.”

He banks his wyvern east, toward the horizon where the sun hangs low and bleeding. Sunstorm follows without needing my command, falling into formation beside Landon’s mount.

We fly toward the dying light, and I try not to think about the earthbound wyvern I’m leaving behind. But the guilt follows anyway, heavy as stone. I should be beside Coral instead of taking the sky she’ll never touch. Every stretch of distance between us feels wrong.

The sun bleeds across the horizon, painting the sky in shades of copper and gold. We’ve been flying for nearly an hour, and my body has finally stopped fighting the rhythm of Sunstorm’s wings. Somewhere along the way, my fear has softened into awe. From this height, the world seems impossibly vast and beautiful.

“You’re good at this,” Landon calls over the wind. His wyvern glides beside mine, close enough that I can see the sunset catching in his red hair, turning it to flame. “Most people don’t find their balance this quickly.”

I adjust my grip on the saddle. “I don’t know why.”

I shouldn’t be this comfortable. This is my first time flying at such a height. Yet something about it feels right, as if my body remembers something my mind has forgotten.

The mate bond pulses between us, warm with Landon’s approval.

“I told you I would show you the Fae King’s strategy,” he says, his voice turning serious. “The flight patterns, the formations. I can teach you all of that. I can show you how his forces will move, where they’ll strike, how they’ll coordinate their assault.”

He guides his wyvern higher, and Sunstorm follows. We climb until the air thins and the world below is nothing but a patchwork of colors in the fading light.

“But the truth is, none of it matters,” Landon continues.

My stomach clenches. “What do you mean?”

He is quiet for a long moment, his jaw tight. The wind carries us forward, toward the darkening east where the first stars are beginning to appear.

“Prince Finnbheara.” Landon’s hands tighten on his reins. “You met him at the prisoner exchange. The one on the red wyvern.”

I remember. The prince with the easy smile and the massive crimson beast. His wyvern had been strangely aggressive toward me, though I hadn’t understood why.