They stood there as the sun began to set, casting gold fire through the canopy. The world below them glowed in shades of amber and emerald, serene and unbothered, the calm surface of an ocean that hid a chasm beneath.
Lindarion's hand drifted to the hilt of his sword, the steel pulsing faintly with its own inner rhythm, the same rhythm as the World Tree, as if both answered to the same unseen call.
Ashwing tilted his head, sensing his unease. "You're thinking too loud again."
"Am I?"
"Yeah. About big things. Dangerous things. Things that usually end in 'and then Lindarion had to fix it'."
The prince almost smiled. "Then I'll make sure it ends differently this time."
The dragon's tail coiled around his shoulder. "You always say that, too."
