Page 127 of Heart Cradle
“I’m not dipping,”Jeipier huffed through their shared thread.“I’m scouting low. For wolves.”
“There are no wolves in this airspace,”Xelaini said with amused disdain. “And if there were, I doubt Maeve would need your protection”
Maeve leaned forwards against the warm curve of Xelaini’s neck, her body cradled between the dragon’s shoulder blades, the wind kissing her skin beneath her clothes. She had dressed with intention magic early in the flight, subtle layers of soft wool and linen, moss-green and black, wrapped tightly to ward off the cool rise in altitude.
“He’s being sweet,”she sent gently, her mind brushing both dragons. “Let him guard me, even from flying wolves.”
“I will,”Jeipier said proudly, “but I am also terribly fast and fearless. Probably the fastest and bravest dragon to have ever lived.”
“Second-fastest,”Eiran added, lounging behind her on Xelaini’s back. “And definitely second bravest.”
“You’re just saying that because I didn’t eat your boots yesterday.”Xelaini laughed.
Maeve snorted aloud. “You ate his boots Jei?”
“He tried.”Eiran said dryly. “Took them from the stables, declared them a trophy.”
“You should wear something more edible,” Jeipier said, utterly unrepentant.
Xelaini’s deep laugh rippled through their minds like velvet. “He has a point.”
“You’re all bloody traitors.”Eiran muttered, Maeve could feel the smile on his lips even through the wind.
The glide slowed and below them, the trees parted in a wide crescent, revealing a grove that pulsed with something more than beauty, something mystical. The glade seemed untouched by time, the canopy shimmered with drops of water, though no rain had passed. Wildflowersscattered across the grass like paint flung by the gods, glowing faintly in the soft, low light, and at the grove’s heart stood a tree.
An ancient sentinel of twisted roots and spiralled bark, its trunk as wide as a tower base. Vines curled along its limbs like veins of metal, and high in its canopy bloomed fuchsia-edged leaves, each one reflecting the sky in shifting glimmers. Its surface was riddled with symbols, sigils and runes that moved slowly, pulsing like breath.
Maeve exhaled, barely more than a whisper. “Is that…?”
Eiran leaned close behind her. “The oldest living tree in the Fae Lands. Some say it grew from the first seed ever planted by the gods. Others say it was the burial site of a celestial being, but no one denies what it became.”
“What?” she asked.
“A haven to magic and now, to us.”
They landed with soundless grace. Jeipier tucked in behind them, lowering his head to the ground.“It’s… beautiful.”
“And old,”Xelaini added. “Mind your flame, little ember.”
The dragons moved off without prompting, padding into the glade, like panthers hunting prey. Maeve could hear Jeipier’s excited chuff as he leapt through a patch of drenched wild grass, and Xelaini’s quiet huff of indulgence.
As they drew near, a seam appeared in the bark, curved like an eye half-open, a faint glow emanated from within. Eiran took her hand, warm and sure, together, they approached the tree. He reached out, brushing the rune at its centre. The door opened and it led to a staircase that wound around the trunk, carved directly into the living wood. The further they descended the air changed, growing warmer, salted and charged with something Maeve had no word for. She didn’t ask, just simply followed. The glow never flickered, steady in its warmth.
Around them, the tree’s inner walls were smooth but alive, runed and pulsing, like it carried the life force of the land itself. At the final step, the tunnel opened, and Maeve gave a small cry of surprise. It was a cove, tucked beneath the heart of the tree, cradled beneath its roots, the world opened wide into a secret shore.
Sand stretched soft underfoot, faintly warm from magic and the glow of a false sky overhead, one that mirrored the stars she’d known her whole life.
The Earth’s sky.
Familiar constellations blinked from above, stitched in light across an enchanted dome. Waves rolled gently in a shallow, glimmering sea that curved against the sand like a whisper, and the air, it smelled like citrus, salt and cooling sand.
Lisbon.
Eiran stepped beside her. “I couldn’t take you there, but I could bring it to you.”
Maeve turned slowly in place, her boots sinking into the sand, breath caught in her throat. He watched her with soft eyes, waiting. Letting her take it in. She stepped forwards, kneeling near the water’s edge. The waves curled against the shore, scattering flecks of light where they kissed the sand. It wasn’t real, not entirely, but it was close enough. The air was warm, the salt clung to her skin, and the stars above… they were hers. The sky she’d known for thirty-five years.
She looked up, heart full. “I missed this.” she said quietly. “I didn’t realise how much until just now.”
