“You are more than you appear,” Quiraxa said, raising her voice just over the rushing wind.

I looked down at her in my arms; she was already looking away with her chin up. “How do you figure that?”

“Your wife appears to be a competent woman, and an angel. I did not know such a combination to be possible.”

Oh. “What about my armor?”

“It is fitting for Wrath, yes. But you look like a fresh spawn; you carry its weight like a burden.”

“I do not!”

The conceit demon tilted her head just enough for me to see one slitted eye. “Prove to me as such and then I will respect such an assertion.”

“You could’ve just said ‘prove it.’ It’s faster, you know.”

“I am not so petty.”

“Riiight.”

Quiraxa’s neck tightened. “You are infuriatingly childish.”

I smiled dopily with a mouth full of blades. “I try my best.”

Instead of a response, the conceit demon turned away to look back at the passing mountains. For all her efforts, she couldn’t quite make a bridal carry at two thousand meters dignified.

Somewhere above us, Seyari was whirling on air currents, and below us the land slept in deep winter: a valley cut through an endless row of tall, jagged peaks. We’d managed to leave before nightfall, but it was certainly night now. In gaps between the clouds, stars and a sliver of moon lit up the increasingly-hostile landscape. Trees huddled under meters-deep drifts, and in some places had been buried entirely. Ice-coated cliff edges, and chasm-riddled glaciers glittered under the scattered moonlight.

As we flew on, the trees grew shorter and sparser, and the glaciers pushed lower and lower down nearby peaks. Even in the dark under the clouds, I could see it all in ghostly white and grays: a wild land, still as death in winter’s embrace. Beautiful, at a distance.

At times like this, when my conversation partner wanted silence, and I had a singular purpose at the fore of my mind but not yet within grasp, my mind wandered away toward humanity. An odd word, ignorant of other species, but no less undefined than “inhuman.”

What I was doing—what I currently was full-stop—was completely inhuman. Sure, some of the stronger human mages could accomplish flight in a similar manner, but in short, terrifying bursts. And not with all the other myriad caveats and supplemental magics and senses I was now acutely aware of.

Flying in this manner was different from dreams. Not just in the obvious ways: sharper senses, sensible physics, mountains without malformation, et cetera. It was different in all the little things you’d never think about. Without heat from my magic, my hair would soak through from ambient moisture, I’d get a face full of bugs in the summer surely, and the air operated less as a uniform broth and more as a stew cooked by someone whose idea of chopping potatoes was more about the element of surprise than uniform chunks that’d all cook evenly.

The metaphor might’ve gotten away from me, but the sky had a lot more than just birds in it. It was wet, unpredictable, and temperamental. And the fact that I could control the air and the heat and plow through it like my fist through Castle Astrye’s outer wall pulled hard at my idle thoughts.

Not only was I turning a week or more of miserable, dangerous walking full of uncomfortable nights and uncertain days into a single day’s flight, I was trivializing it to the point of mockery. All these mountains and all this cold, completely useless in the face of a flying brazier with a brassiere.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

“Are you considering the coming battle?” Quiraxa asked, breaking her silence.

I shook my head. “No. Just thinking about my former occupation as a campsite heater.”

She blinked. “I am truly sorry for having asked.”

I shrugged all four shoulders and Quiraxa jerked. “Do not do that!”

“…Sorry.” And this whole time I’d been holding back the urge to scratch a horn, too.

“You are strange.”

“I know.”

She stared up at me with an expression I couldn’t puzzle through.

“I’ve worked really hard to keep it that way, too. Wouldn’t want to lose my edge.”

She looked up at my teeth without a hint of a flinch—perhaps she mistakenly thought hers could match up. “I prefer silence.”

I shrugged again and had to suppress a giggle when Quiraxa hissed.

“You doing okay?” I shouted up to Sey, letting my magic guide my voice through the wind.

“It’s a lovely night for a flight,” she responded, and I caught how her voice pitched up.

Dipping my tail and angling my flaming wings, I rose up to meet her. She looped away, and I let her, though we caught eyes. Hers were hard and a little puffy at the edges, only heightened by the predatory glow they gave off.

Something was eating at her. Mordwell, I was ninety-percent sure. But, there was always the outside chance she was mad at me… or herself.

The latter made me worry. Mordwell or anger at me—that needed space. She’d come to me or let me go to her when the time was right. But if she was down on herself? I’d need to push for that.

“Now you are thinking of what you might lose.”

I looked down at Quiraxa. “Not—sort’ve, actually. I’m worried about Sey.”

“For an angel, and for someone fouled with human blood, she is strong.”

“Would it kill you to give a real compliment?”

“I do not embellish.”

Bold-faced, smirk-lipped liar. Still, I continued, more than anything just talking to keep my mind from twisting down a dark path. “What do you think she’s worried about?”

“The battle. Unlike you.”

“Well, it might be—”

“I do not think she is so soft.”

And that proves you’ve not really gotten to know her then. “Her feathers are, though,” I deflect. “And other parts.”

Quiraxa’s eyes wander. “You might well be part lust demon.”

“I assure you I’m not,” I hissed, more vitriolic than I’d intended. I thought back to my origins, and to Abby.

“Perhaps so.”

I looked up at Sey again. Screw it. I flew toward her, and she looped away once more. “If you’re mad at me I’m sorry,” I shouted, uncaring if I was heard by any ground-based lookouts. “But if you’re beating yourself up—don’t!”

I could throw more potentially useless words into the wind, but instead I let her go back up. Just when I thought she wouldn’t reply, her voice came back down, faint and tired-sounding.

“Just thinking about ancient history. And what needs to be done. I’ll be fine.”

I wasn’t sure she would, but what was I going to say? Quiraxa was big enough I had to use all my arms to hold her, but I still risked the one lowest down on her legs to give Seyari a thumbs-up. For a moment, before she turned away, I saw a smile.

Good enough.

I thought about what I’d tell her at camp when we stopped for the night reflexively. But… there was no camp. No fire, no tents, no wagon or cart or horses. No Nelys or Taava or Salvador or Kartania or Aretan or Myrna or Phol.

No Lorelei.

Lorelei.

The name twisted in my stomach, and I found myself looking instinctively for trails through the woods, campfires on the horizons, and the smell of cooking dinner. Sometimes, you don’t realize a part of your life’s over until it’s long past. Endless days on the road, consumed in part by anxiety over Kartania, and then Finley and Mordwell.

Death, misfortune, serendipity, and friendship. All over a cookpot, under worn canvas, and on ground that felt a little different every night. Even Lockmoth hadn’t seemed permanent. Even Astrye didn’t let me escape that sort of lingering “I’ll be traveling again” feeling.

But as I was now, I wouldn’t. Taking Nelys home? Three days at the most there. Maybe four or five if we get lost. Visiting Lilly or Aretan would take less than a week there and back.

I didn’t need to eat, or sleep. And I didn’t dare think about the passage of time. That at least was hidden away by the existential threat of Envy’s war.

Even still, it hit me. Like my years alone on the island, my days of traveling with friends were over. Unless Mordwell slipped away—and I felt in my bones he hadn’t this time.

A chapter closed. Not in the narrative sense, but I was—had been for over a month—in a new chapter of my life. Seyari probably felt the same, only with decades of feelings pent up and boiling over.

I flew just a little closer.

I stopped looking for trails and wishing for disappointing stew.

I even sped up a little, as Quiraxa pointed to a gap in the mountains. On the other side, a rain shadow, and the endless, jagged white.