Page 215 of Wings of Ash & Flame
“Kaia and Caius are safe,” she answered. “When the barrier holding Dawson,Beck,and me prisoner collapsed,the magic suffocating our bond lifted.That’s how I found you—lying unconscious in a bed of ash.”
Tears pricked as Professor Ross’s sacrifice resurfaced, along with all the truths he’d revealed. “Thank you,” Alaire whispered, swallowing past the burn in her throat. “For coming to find me.”
“Always,” Solflara replied. “I will follow you into whatever darkness.”
Alaire focused on the creature who had never abandoned her, no matter how many reasons she’d given her to.
“Though it would be remiss of me not to mention that the gold dress I found you in was quite tacky.Seek a stylist before you ascend the throne,or I’ll deny our bond entirely.”
Despite the weight pressing down on her, Alaire almost laughed. Somehow Solflara knew—or sensed—the truth of what had happened in Nebula’s Veil: her magic, unbound.
Closing her eyes, Alaire looked inward, searching for her power. It rose easily to meet her. Within herself, she saw it clearly: the Star of Eternal Night. There were no spells to dull its luminance now. It emitted a soft shimmer of silver and indigo, half a swirl of shadows speckled with starlight. She remembered the violent detonation, violet fire devouring everything in its path, and felt relief that she hadn’t burned out. She’d onlyneeded time to rest and recover. Learning how to tame that kind of power was essential.
“She refused to leave your side,” Dawson said, amusement threading his tone. “The soulwardens had to move you here so she could keep watch—lest anyone risk incineration for upsetting her.”
Solflara’s feathers ruffled smugly.
“She does love to threaten immolation,” Alaire quipped, suppressing a laugh.
When she looked back at Dawson, his eyes were dark chips of ice. “We didn’t know what happened to you. I thought I’d lost you.” He pressed her wrist to his chest, like he couldn’t believe she was real.
“You know me—too stubborn to let Umbra have me.” She smiled faintly. “I tried to find you.” Her thumb brushed his temple.
“You’ve been out nearly a week.”
“A week?” Her brows shot up. Her body was whole—no cuts, no breaks, no bruises.
She tried to sit, but the room tilted violently.
Dawson leapt to his feet, gently pressing her back against the pillows. “Your magic is powerful but untrained. Whatever you did, it pushed you to the edge. Your body’s healed, but your power needs rest. You’ll be back to causing mischief in a few days, Firework.”
Would she? After everything that had happened, was she really just supposed to go back to class? War was coming, unlike anything Elithian had ever seen. And she carried knowledge none of them yet possessed.
“Thank you,” she whispered—not just for his vigil, but for pushing her, for believing in her, for being the flicker of hope in her all-consuming darkness. For seeing her when she couldn’t see herself.
She was falling for him. And she didn’t know what to do about it.
“Rest, Alaire. We can talk later.”
Every instinct told her to push, to demand answers. But when her gaze met his, the fight drained from her. For now, this was enough.
She sank back into the pillows, eyelids heavy. When she woke, Dawson would be there. They’d find a way forward—together.
A few days later, when the soulwardens were convinced Alaire had rested enough, she called a meeting to finally tell the others what had unfolded.
Her boots scuffed against the limestone as she ascended the narrow steps, hand brushing her breathbind reliquary to ensure she hadn’t forgotten it. The soulwardens had given her a replacement after the previous one was lost in the trial’s frozen tundra. Despite her healing powers, her lung affliction remained, as did her scars—a lingering consequence of her bound magic.
Twin gargoyles flanked the staircase, wings curled, claws hooked into the stone.
She moved quietly, or so she thought.
“Well, well… look who’s up and about,” one of them drawled, voice as rough as grinding stone.
Alaire froze mid-step.
The gargoyle on her left shifted, dust falling from its jaw as it clicked back into place. “Oh, don’t mind us. Just doing our part to watch over the academy’s most talked-about flier.”
Alaire sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. She wasn’t in the mood.
