Witnessing Grayson's silent kiss upon the stiff body of the little owl, everyone present was gripped by a wave of sorrow. Morven and Andros turned away discreetly, while Seraphine and Katheren embraced, their tears flowing freely. The atmosphere was laden with grief.
Lifting his head, Grayson silently regarded the tiny creature for a long moment before beckoning to the genie, who floated to his whispering call. After a brief exchange and several nods of assent, the genie zipped to the fireside.
With a few incantations and a shake of its head, the genie conjured a metallic spit above the fire, stunning the onlookers. An outrageous thought crossed their minds: Was Grayson planning to roast the little one?
Instead, Grayson remained seated, watching as the genie deftly added a succulent turkey to the spit, dripping with juices. Thanking the genie in a subdued tone, Grayson cut off a leg of the turkey and laid it beside Elyra.
"This was your favorite," he said, his voice tinged with melancholy. "Ironic for a bird to enjoy roasted fowl, but under the circumstances, I hope you savor this final meal…"
His words filled the air with a heavy silence. The sight of the owl lying next to the fragrant turkey leg caused many to dab at teary eyes, an unspoken lump forming in their throats.
Grayson asked everyone to close their eyes in a last tribute to Elyra. With eyes shut, they remembered her mischief and mirth, her tiny chirping that once filled them with laughter.
In the quiet, Grayson's eyes opened to a sliver, focusing on the owl. Suddenly, Elyra's wings twitched, her head turned, and spotting the closed eyes around her, she sprang up and voraciously began to peck at the turkey leg.
Watching her from the corner of his eye, Grayson saw her transform into a little girl for convenience, hugging and biting into the leg with relish.
Caught off guard by a gentle tap on the back of her head, she paused. Then, turning to face everyone, she found their frowns aimed at her. A sheepish grin spread across her face as she waved and took another bite of her treasure.
Grayson snatched the turkey leg from her, chiding, "Naughty girl, pretending to be dead, are we?"
On the third tap with the turkey leg, the girl suddenly turned and leapt into Grayson's embrace, hugging his neck and planting a greasy kiss on his cheek before resting her head on his shoulder.
Grayson quietly observed her, feeling her silent affection and gratitude. He brought the turkey leg to her lips, and she bit down hard, refusing to let go.
The gathering was warmed by the scene, smiles breaking through their recent tears. Seraphine and Katheren happily wiped their faces, took the girl into their arms, and planted kisses on her cheeks, not minding the oily smudges she left on their clothes.
Handing Elyra to Seraphine and Katheren, Grayson stood and passed the Ice Tail Feather to a nearby Titan soldier to deliver it to the Titan general for the revival of the frozen giants.
As Grayson turned to rejoin the group, Andros approached him. Shoulder to shoulder with Grayson, the knight commander smiled appreciatively, "I never would have guessed a wanted man could show such tenderness."
"What you see is just one aspect of me," Grayson replied, matching Andros's gaze. "Cruel or kind, it all depends on whom I'm dealing with. To you, I will always be the fugitive."
Andros chuckled before asking about Grayson's next move. "Will you continue your pursuit of 'Bloodhand' Wystan?"
"Isn't chasing Wystan your task?" Grayson replied, glancing back toward the bonfire where laughter emanated from Elyra and the others.
Andros, his eyes on Seraphine in the merry crowd, mentioned his duties and his decision to accompany Grayson and his companions.
Grayson teased Andros about a potential infatuation, to which Andros replied with business-like decorum, stating their upcoming trip to Hurricane Cliff was purely official.
Accepting Andros's offer to travel together, Grayson playfully slapped the knight's shoulder and walked towards the fireside, leaving Andros to watch his departure before his gaze returned to Seraphine's smiling face.
After the feast, Grayson asked the genie for clothes suitable for their journey north. The genie provided him with a white suit adorned with silver, and for Katheren, a white cotton robe to fend off the cold. Provisions and ammunition were plentifully supplied.
Once ready, Grayson and Andros bid farewell to the Titan general, who gave them a lightning-shaped stone tablet, a token ensuring friendly reception in Tyrrel's territory.
Thanking the general, they mounted the knights' griffins and set course for Hurricane Cliff.
Unseen on a clifftop nearby, a figure in a black robe, clutching a book of dark magic, watched their departure with a sinister smile.
That midnight at Thunderfort, Solon, the second son of the Titan King, brooded on the Thunder Throne. Behind him, a giant crystal sword shaped like a bolt of lightning pierced the ground, its energy lighting up the hall like daytime.
"Lord Solon, you seem troubled. It appears the throne beneath you has not brought the joy you seek."
A chilling, hoarse voice echoed through the great hall. Solon looked up to see a black-robed wizard with a book of dark spells entering.
"'Bloodhand' Wystan, I thought you'd been hunted down and killed by the mages' tower!" Solon said with a cold chuckle.
"Not just yet," Wystan replied confidently, approaching the throne. "I won't die easily, not until you sit on the Titan Throne for real."
"What do you mean by that?" Solon stood, his massive frame causing the hall to tremble. "You better clarify your words before I crush you for your insolence. What do you mean by 'not the true Titan King'?"
Anger flickered in Solon's eyes as he rose from the throne, his imposing presence dominating the hall.