The world spun.
I somehow stayed upright.
A lone Skyguard approached us—armor cracked, one wing of his flight harness torn nearly clean off. He bowed deeply to Tadewi, speaking in Old Sky-tongue, the syllables cutting through the air like soft blades.
Tadewi answered in the same ancient voice—stern, clipped, tired.
The guard's expression tightened. When his gaze shifted to me, something flickered behind his eyes.
Not hatred.
Not anger.
Just… something heavy. Something unreadable. Something I didn't have the strength to interpret.
I looked away.
The guard turned and led us through a narrow passage cut deep into the cliffside. Once we stepped inside, the stone door groaned shut behind us, sealing us in with a rush of warm air and distant chatter.
And then—
Light.
A valley of tents stretched beneath the cavern roof, glowing gold and white beneath hundreds of lanterns. Fires burned in metal bowls. Stew simmered in cauldrons. Children darted between shelters with feathers braided into their hair, laughing—laughing, as if the world wasn't ending outside.
I couldn't remember the last time I heard that sound.
Even in all the chaos, the Air People found… peace.
Revik blew out a shaky breath beside me. Tadewi's shoulders softened for the first time in hours.
I felt none of it.
Only the emptiness where Raiden's presence used to be.
My chest clenched.
A tug at my hip jolted me back.
I turned.
The young girl stood beside me, eyes wide, face pale beneath streaks of dust. She reached up and touched my arm—gentle, questioning.
Her gaze asked the question I couldn't bear to answer:
Where is he?
I forced a smile that barely held and brushed her hair back.
"It's a long story," I murmured.
I wasn't sure if she understood the words, but she understood the grief in them. She took my hand—small, warm—and tugged gently, pointing deeper into the refugee city.
"You want us to follow?" I asked.
She nodded.
Revik fell in behind us, quiet and alert. Tadewi stayed behind to speak with the elders gathering near the entrance tunnel—her people needed her. I wasn't sure I could face anyone right now anyway.
The girl led us past rows of tents, past families tending wounds, past Skyguard who straightened at the sight of me. More than one gaze lingered on me too long, tense or curious or… sad.
I kept my head down.
We finally reached a tent tucked against the far wall, dim and quiet, lit by a single lantern burning low.
The girl lifted the flap.
My heart dropped into the floor.
"Muir?" I gasped.
He lay on a woven mat, pale and slick with cold sweat. His torso was covered in a thin sheet of ice, glowing faintly blue, pulsing with every ragged breath he took. Frost spread across the fabric around him.
Muir opened one swollen eye, unfocused but still managing a crooked grin.
"You should… see the other guy," he rasped.
I dropped to my knees.
Shaking.
Cold.
Useless.
"What did the healers say?" I whispered, afraid of the answer.
Muir's laugh was small and broken. "The healers said… as soon as I can't hold the ice anymore…"
He winced, breath hitching.
"…that's it."
The air punched from my lungs.
"No," I said immediately. "No. There has to be something—anything—they can do."
Revik stood frozen near the entrance—his face ashen, jaw clenched so tightly I thought it might crack. He refused to look directly at Muir's wounds.
That terrified me more than the blood on the floor.
"He wouldn't let anyone else touch it," Revik said roughly. "Says they'd botch the ice."
Muir wheezed a laugh. "They would."
"This isn't funny," I choked.
"Didn't say it was," Muir whispered.
His eyelids fluttered in pain.
A fine crack split across the ice sealing his ribcage.
"Muir," Revik whispered, stepping forward, voice shaking. "Stay awake—hey—stay with us."
Another crack split the ice.
Then another.
Panic surged up my throat. "It's failing—"
"Everything fails eventually," Muir murmured.
"No!" I shouted, louder than I meant to. My voice cracked. "No, I'm not letting this happen. You can't—you can't leave too."
My hands shook uncontrollably as I pressed them against his icy bandage. "There has to be something—something—"
Tears blurred my vision.
"What good am I?" I whispered. "I'm the Primal Dragon and I can't save anyone."
"HELP ME!" I begged them. I just hoped they would listen.
The tent went quiet.
Too quiet.
Then—
The air changed.
Cooled.
Deepened.
As if something ancient had turned its gaze toward me.
A voice like a rolling tide filled my mind—warm, resonant, familiar.
Perhaps… I can help this little water-child. He is one of my favorites after all.
My breath caught.
Njord.
The Water God.
Revik stiffened beside me, confused at what was going on.
I swallowed. "W-what do you mean?"
A ripple of light shimmered across my hands—soft blue, like moonlit water.
Water does not fear a broken vessel, Njord murmured. It simply finds a new shape.
"I don't understand."
You will.
Another voice flared sharp and hot inside me.
Kagutsuchi—the Fire God.
Careful, little flame. Divine healing isn't gentle. You could drown in it.
A third voice, faint and old, whispered beneath them:
But life… is worth the cost.
The moonlight lady.
Muir gasped as the ice trembled again.
Revik's composure cracked. "Lyra—please—do something."
I wasn't breathing.
Couldn't breathe.
My fingers curled over the ice sealing Muir's wounds, and Njord's cool presence wrapped around my wrist, guiding.
Give me your hands, he said.
My heart pounded.
I placed both palms flat over the cracking ice.
The young girl edged closer, eyes wide with fear and hope.
Revik held his breath.
Muir whispered, "Don't… do anything stupid…"
My tears hit the ice and froze instantly.
"Please," I whispered. "Please let me save him."
The tent filled with blue light.
Water stirred beneath my palms—deep, powerful, alive.
And the god's voice echoed through me like the pull of a tide—
Let us begin.