Page 155 of Heimlock

“Well, maybe one day we’ll meet again in a bathroom.”

She frowns, then quickly turns it into a smile. “Yeah, maybe.” Grabbing her purse, she gives me a long look before walking to the door. “Thanks, Trinte.”

For what? A good fuck? A reckoning? Because the latter is what has cremated my sense of self. “You’re welcome?”

Her eyes flicker again with something I’m desperate to discover. “Have a good night.” She unlocks the door. With one last, long look, the Fire Sprite leaves me in the bathroom, surrounded by her scent.

It takes me a long time to leave the bathroom; the crushing disappointment leaves me too emotional to face strangers.

Why does it feel like something monumental just happened?

And why does it feel like nothing will ever be the same, ever again?

59

There have been many times in life I’ve wanted to die. There have been many times I considered doing it myself. Challenging my father to the Cairanin was one of those moments where it sounded like the perfect solution.

But as we fly to the Morestia Mountains, all I can think about are the reasons I want to stay alive. These past two weeks with Kyrielle have been the most incredible of my life. Every night, I fall asleep and wake-up next to a woman who wants to be around me. We make love at least twice a day, usually because all of the meals she demands — she loves my cooking. My nightmares are almost non-existent, and when they do appear, she's there to soothe me.

There's no soothing anyone right now, though.

Kyrielle is on my back, vibrating with anxiety. She's wearing one of my oldest hoodies, swallowed up by the fabric.

Next to me flies Fynn, carrying Orliana, Joulian, and Talia. At the mountains, a large amount of our Weyr will be in attendance as witnesses. A crowd is promised.

A Cairanin hasn’t been enacted in over sixty years. Leave it to me to be the modern trailblazer. Everyone is excited for a guaranteed deadly show. Son versus father? Even better. Dragons love revenge; few will miss this moment.

Even with the unknown coming, I’m … at peace. If I die today, these weeks with Kyrielle have made it all worth it. Every moment with her has been a gift that I’ll never take for granted.

The landscape changes from the beautiful floating city of Gondora to the islands of Slous. By late morning, we’re flying over Talum, the land of forests. Then over Oasha, where sunbaked sands lead to easy thermals for a rest. We’re headed there after this experience for a lovely overnight stay.

Finally, the Morestia Mountains jut up from the horizon. There are hundreds, if not thousands, of various sized peaks. Like glittering teeth of a beast. The tallest are covered in snow, with the smaller ones gleaming in the sun, casting rainbow specks through the air. Thousands of years ago, these used to be normal mountains, made of stone and dirt.

Over the centuries, Dragons have come here to enact Cairanin. Every winner receives the honor of using the full power of their Fyre to turn parts of a mountain into glass. Today, I’ll be able to do the same.

The weather is gorgeous, with cold, biting winds adding to the cruel, glittering landscape. Because of a Dragon's power, the Morestia Mountains make the most sense. Thinner air means more work; cold air means weakened Fyre. It’s as much of an equalizer as possible.

“It’s so beautiful,” Kyrielle breathes. I crane my head to take her in with my good eye. In the dancing rainbow light, she glows like a flame held against a kaleidoscope.

Fuck, I love her so much.

You’re beautiful.

“Smooth,” she says dryly. “How much longer?”

Another thirty minutes or so. How are you feeling?

She sighs. “I’m flying into snow-capped mountains to possibly watch the love of my life die. How do you think I’m doing?”

Fair point.

Her hand strokes my scales affectionately. “And you?”

Like I’m flying the love of my life to snow-capped mountains so she might possibly watch me die.

“Fair point.”

Our words hit me like a sharpened arrow. The last five years flick through my mind in rapid fire: the agony Fynn endured; his loneliness; his refusal to move on. I don’t regret cajoling him into being with Orliana — they’re clearly happy — but I can’t imagine moving on from Kyrielle.