Aeson stood at the edge of the Eyrie's main plateau, the wind cool against his face. His legs were unsteady from the wine, but he kept his eyes closed, drawing in long breaths through his nose.
"I will take him each day for lessons in flying and creating fluidity of the bond." Chora Sarn's voice cut through the sweet silence. "From what I can tell, he's had little time on dragonback, something that must be rectified immediately. Therin, if you and Thacia could take charge of his Spark instructions, that would be appreciated."
"Consider it done, Chora," Therin answered.
Aeson opened his eyes and turned back to the group – all twenty-six of the Rakina who resided in Alura, along with Therin, Asius, and Senas. After the celebrations, Chora had called for a meeting to discuss the path forward. Even though there was no 'leader' per say, Chora was the eldest among them, and she had been one of Alvira's top commanders before The Fall. "I will continue his teaching in the blade, but I would appreciate it if you would join me, Harken, and also you, Atara."
"Gladly." Harken stood with his back against a tree, his arms folded, the end of Sardakes's black tail curled around his legs.
"What is the point?" Atara Anthalin was an elf of the now lost kingdom of Caelduin. She was one of the greatest blade masters Aeson had ever known. She suffered greatly when her soulkin, Seynarí was taken from her. "What is the point in any of this, Aeson? All we are doing is setting this man on a path of pain. Will you look him in the eyes when Eltoar Daethana slays his soulkin? Will you whisper your apologies when Helios rips Valerys apart like a plaything?"
"Atara is right," one of the others, Willam, said. He sat on a flat stone, his legs folded, his eyes fixed on Aeson. "We all know that no matter how much time we spend training this man, he will never be able to face even a single Dragonguard, never mind all of them. It is a fact, Valerys is too small. Even Meranta or Eríthan are twice his size. And Eltoar and the others have trained in the Spark and the blade for centuries. Do you expect Calen to best them? Eltoar, the one who slew Alvira Serris? The one who bested you, Aeson? What we should be focusing on is the egg and how it hatched. Creation over destruction. Longevity over revenge. It came from Valacia, perhaps that is the route we should follow."
Aeson nodded slowly, thoughts of that night in Ilnaen flooding his mind, images of Alvira approaching him on the bridge to the Tower of Faith. Not a day passed when he did not wonder what might have been different if he had not trusted Eltoar that night. Would Alivira still be alive? He shook the thoughts from his head. "The elves have already instructed the Dracårdare to keep the eggs warm and will begin testing for the Calling come dawn's light. On that, they have asked for one of us to oversee the process – I suggested Ferdinan, but as this is of such great importance, I would ask for more volunteers." Aeson looked at a short, flame-haired man with dark eyes, who nodded. Aeson turned back to Willam. "Simply procuring a single egg from Valacia almost cost me my life and the lives of my sons. We lost over a hundred companions, and I'm still not sure how we made it out alive. That is a path for the future, maybe, but not for now. You do not give Calen enough credit, Willam, or you, Atara. He wields a blade well, far better than I did when I had seen his summers. His father taught him well." Aeson glanced towards Therin, giving his old friend a weak smile. Therin had never told Aeson of Vars Bryer, but he supposed it all made sense now. "And his advancement in the Spark is unmatched. I have never known another soul to learn so quickly."
"A benefit of being bonded to a Valacian dragon, perhaps?" Chora suggested, scratching her chin. "It has always been said that Valacian dragons hold a strong connection to the heart of the Spark. Perhaps the stories are, for once, not embellished." She turned to look towards Therin. "You knew his father. Is there druidic blood in his veins perhaps? A closer bond with the dragon than is normal? I've not seen it before, but that doesn't mean it is impossible."
"Not that I know of. But—"
"It does not matter," Atara snapped, shaking her head. "The others will rip him apart as though he was a child. They will tear Valerys to pieces, and the blood will be on our hands. They won, Aeson." Atara took a step closer to Aeson, the others watching her in silence. "The war is over. The Order is no more. You have been chasing a fallacy for centuries, and you will not find your answer in more blood. I know you blame yourself for Alvira, but sending this young man to his death will absolve you of nothing."
Aeson cleared the distance between himself and Atara in a matter of moments, his blade in his hand before he'd even realised he was moving, the edge pressed to Atara's neck. "Say that again."
"Do it." Atara leaned forwards, pressing her neck against the blade's edge, drawing blood. She looked tired, her eyes sunken. "Do it, Aeson."
"Enough!" Chora's cheeks were flushed with anger. "Those of you who want no part in this, leave now. None of us will begrudge you, and it shows no weakness. You have all suffered more pain than any soul was ever meant to know. You have earned your rest. But in the same vein, we will fight. And I will not have you spilling doubts into Calen's mind or fighting against everything we wish to do. You are our brothers and sisters until the day our souls leave this world, and even thereafter. Show us the respect we show you."
Aeson gritted his teeth and pulled his blade away from Atara's throat, sliding it into the scabbard across his back. He looked into the woman's eyes. "Forgive me, Atara. My losses pull at my soul recently. I've not been holding my temper well."
"No," Atara said, shaking her head. "Forgive me. I will help train the young Draleid. I still do not believe there is a point, but Seynarí would be ashamed of me if I did not try. I owe her a reason for not joining her."
Aeson cupped his hand at the back of Atara's head and pulled their foreheads together. "We are of the same cloth, you and I. When we die, we will do so in flame and fury. Whatever path we choose, dying quietly in a place like this was never in our stars. I will make you believe."
"Please do, brother. I would welcome it."
Aeson gave Atara a soft smile, pulling his head away. As he did, he saw a number of the Rakina had left without a word, and a few now stood separate.
"I've lost enough," a tall elf by the name of Malkir said, giving a slight bow at the waist. "I am ashamed to say it, but my fight is over. Draleid n'aldryr, myia'ydilar. La maeri du aldryr ar orimyn."
Dragonbound by fire, my friends. I wish you fire and fury.
More Rakina left, each saying their piece, until, aside from Aeson, only Chora, Thacia, and Harken, and seven others remained. Ten in total. Ten of twenty-six. Aeson had hoped for more.
Atara remained, as did Willam, surprisingly. Aelmar and Moras – two Jotnar – still sat beneath the canopy of one of the trees. Numeni, Dernin, and Lira all stood together on Aeson's right, nodding to him as his gaze met theirs."
"Thank you." Aeson looked at those who remained.
"There will be time for thank yous when this is all over," Chora said, turning her chair to face Aeson. "For now, there is much…" Chora's voice faded, her eyes narrowing at something behind Aeson. "I believe we have company."
Aeson turned to see a small green sphere floating behind him. A moment passed, and the sphere spread, flattening into a disk, its centre growing dark as obsidian. The disk rippled like liquid, and then a shape stepped through, armoured in smooth, flowing green armour, the sigil of a downward sword set into a sunburst emblazoned across the breastplate.
"Aeson Virandr." The figure's helm rippled, then turned to liquid, flowing backwards into the collar of the armour, revealing the face of a man with dark hair and a thick, dark beard. "It has been far too long."
"Kallinvar. You look as though time has forgotten your face."
"The sky is calling the ocean blue, my friend."
Kallinvar stepped towards Aeson and they pulled each other into a tight embrace. The man's armour was cold even through the cover of Aeson's shirt. It was a strange thing; Aeson hadn't seen Kallinvar since the night Ilnaen fell. And before then, he'd never even met the man. Yet somehow it felt as though he were embracing one of his oldest friends – a kindred soul.
After a few moments, they pulled apart, and Aeson took a step back. "I take it one of your brothers or sisters travelling with Calen told you of this place?"
"Sister-Captain Ruon. She contacted me through the Sigil as soon as you arrived here. She has told me that three elven rulers reside here, those of Lunithír, Vaelen, and Ardurän, and that they wish to meet with me. I will do so in the morning, but I thought it best I speak to you first. I wanted to let you know the Knights of Achyron are behind you." Kallinvar looked past Aeson to those gathered. "We failed you, the night Ilnaen fell and the years after. We should have been there sooner. We should have stood by your side. We didn't, and both of our people suffered for it. We are here now, and we wish to rectify that mistake. We will stand and fight at your side. We will support Calen in the battles to come."
Snapping twigs and rustling grass sounded as Chora wheeled herself closer to Kallinvar. The man loomed over her like a giant, his dark green armour making him seem even larger than he truly was.
Chora looked up at the man, her gaze unwavering. "You did not fail us, Kallinvar. We failed ourselves. Just because you were not able to stop us from breaking doesn't mean you hold the blame for it happening. I am sorry for your loss. That night and more recently. Verathin was a unique soul. He was kind, measured, learned, and thoughtful. His loss is felt keenly, though I could not think of a better soul to stand in his place."
Kallinvar looked down at Chora, his chest swelling as he drew in a deep lungful of air. "You honour me, Chora Sarn. Beyond words. Verathin's is a soul that can never be replaced. He was not only my Grandmaster, but a mentor and a friend. It appears we have each of us lost things that can never be replaced. As I said, I have come here to tell you the Knights of Achyron will not stand back again. We will fight with you at every turn, and we hope you will do the same. The Blood Moon will taint our skies in a matter of months. I believe this is when Fane Mortem will attempt to tear the veil between worlds. And I would have us stand together as best we can when that day comes, as well as in the battles that will follow."