The air didn't bite. Not the way it should have.
I sat there, knees drawn up, hands limp at my sides, the warmth in my chest flickering low like a dying coal.
Her reflection had stopped rippling. The tears had slowed. I could see her clearly again. Pale blue eyes. Smooth skin. White hair trailing like silk.
"You're not me." You never will be.
The words escaped before I could stop them. The rest stayed locked behind my teeth.
I didn't recognize my own voice. Too soft. Too light. I guess it belonged to her too.
A quiet moment then a sound behind me—soft. Deliberate.
I froze.
Reflex took hold. I wiped my face, straightened my back, forced the tremble from my hands. I didn't turn.
But I heard him.
"You're still alive."
The words were quiet. Not flat. Not mocking. There was… something in them too, a kindness.
Lirian stepped into view, not close enough to press, but near enough that I could feel his presence. He set down a bundle beside me—crudely stitched furs, stripped from some beast that had met its end down here.
"It's not much," he added, "but it should serve as a cloak. Unless we can hunt more, I am afraid this is what I am currently capable of in my state."
He didn't leer. Didn't stare. Just watched. Calm. Measured.
"Not that you'll freeze, not anymore. Your body's built for this. You won't feel the cold."
I said nothing. Just reached for the furs and pulled them around my shoulders. They were rough against skin but they covered her, and that was enough.
Silence stretched for a few minutes before Lirian chose to speak again.
"You were unstable earlier."
I stiffened.
"Your magic was pulsing. Erratic. Spiked... then collapsed."
He tilted his head, watching me carefully.
"Are you feeling the hunger again?"
I clenched my jaw. Yeah? Well, you know I've been through a lot these past few days.
"No."
A beat of silence. Then,
"I'm fine."
It wasn't true.
The warmth in my chest gave a single, uncertain flicker—like it was calling my bluff.
Lirian's eyes narrowed slightly, but his voice remained even.
"Magic doesn't lie."
He crouched nearby, not too close, not looming—just present. His gaze flicked briefly to the stream, then back to me.
"When dragons feel… too much, their cores react. Instinct and emotion don't stay buried for long. Especially in hatchlings."
I hated that word.
Hatchling.
Like I was some new thing. Like I hadn't already survived more than he could guess.
I am new. An errant thought slipping in.
I wrapped the cloak tighter around myself.
"It won't happen again."
He didn't challenge that. Just sat in silence for a moment, his expression unreadable.
Then, quietly,
"Just because you keep saying you're fine doesn't mean you are. I would prefer us to communicate openly."
I looked away.
"You've been through quite a bit," he said, voice still low. "In what might seem like a very short amount of time. But you were born today."
I scoffed.
"I lived four decades before this."
He brushed it off with a small shake of his head.
"A human life does not equate to an immortal one."
He waited and let the words settle.
"You were in that egg for thirty years."
The number landed like a stone in my gut.
"Three full cycles. While your body was reshaping itself, your mind was asleep. There was no preparation. No transition. You simply... woke."
Our eyes met. No amusement. No judgment. Just calm understanding.
"When you stood before the Empress, I recommended death."
I blinked. Slowly turned my head toward him.
He didn't flinch.
"I told her later it would be a mercy. That humans weren't built for this. That you would break."
His gaze didn't waver.
"So why are you helping me?" I narrowed my eyes slightly, voice low.
He didn't look surprised by the question.
"Because my people wronged the Empress," he said. "And I'm paying the price."
I scoffed.
"Seems cruel to punish you for someone else's mistakes."
Lirian gave a small smile, almost sad.
"You'll understand soon enough. When you live for thousands of years, your mind on such things changes."
He shifted slightly, glancing at the tunnel beyond.
"Regardless, you'll need to learn to hunt on your own."
My eyes snapped to him.
"Hunt?"
"Your mother will be reaching out in the coming decades."
I stared.
"Decades?!" I spat.
He only shrugged.
"Time moves differently for dragons."
I let that hang between us, bitter on my tongue. He spoke like that explained everything. Like it justified decades of silence, a stolen life, a body that wasn't mine.
"Easy for you to say," I muttered, adjusting the furs against my shoulders. "You've had time to get used to all this. The cold. The quiet. The waiting."
"I didn't say it was easy," Lirian replied. "Only that it moves differently."
I glanced at him. "So what, I just wait here until she decides I'm ready to be seen again?"
"She will reach out," he said. "When she believes the time is right."
I laughed, dry and sharp. "And what exactly is the point of all this? Why bother with any of it?"
That finally gave him pause.
"She's been searching," he said, after a moment. "For someone. For a long time."
I raised an eyebrow. "And she just happened to stumble across me?"
"Proximity matters," he said. "But it wasn't only that."
I didn't speak. I waited.
"You had potential," he continued. "Not cultivated, not trained—but raw. Unyielding. Even I could sense it when she first brought you here."
I shifted slightly, fingers tightening around the edge of the cloak.
"So that made me worthy of this hell?"
"She doesn't act without reason," he said. "And the spear…"
"What does the spear have to do with anything?"
"Magic calls to magic. That relic was tied to her. To her mate. And it reached for you. That must mean something to her though I only speculate."
I bit down a retort, jaw tight. It sounded like speculation. All of it. Pretty theories dressed up as answers.
"And you just go along with it?" I asked. "All this blind loyalty because she might have seen something in me?"
Lirian met my gaze. "I go along with it because she didn't kill you."
That stung more than it should have.
He continued, quieter now, but not without weight.
"The Empress doesn't make gestures. If you're still breathing, it's because she saw something useful. Something she wanted to see through."
I looked away, gripping the edge of the cloak tighter. The fabric scratched at my collarbone like dried grass.
"So I'm alive because I checked enough boxes," I muttered. "Potential. Proximity. Convenient timing."
"She's not interested in chance," Lirian said. "If something stands in front of her, it either has a purpose… or it ends."
I snorted. "What, and I'm her outcome now?"
"I don't know what you are to her," he said, not unkindly. "But you're not an accident."
I didn't answer.
I turned my head toward the stream again.
Her reflection had faded. Only mine remained.
The stream had stopped steaming. The heat from the stone beneath it was fading, leaving the air still and cold.
Lirian rose, brushing off his hands.
"We should move."
I arched a brow. "Tired of the conversation?"
"No, it's actually quite pleasant to have some company after a few decades. " he said, glancing toward the dark of the tunnel. "Just aware your last meal won't hold much longer."
My chest tightened, a dull twist just beneath the warmth.
"Another kill?"
He shook his head. "Not like before. You need to learn to do it yourself."
I stood slowly, ignoring the slight stiffness in my legs. The cloak dragged heavier now, weighted with everything we'd left unsaid.
He took a few steps ahead, then paused and glanced over his shoulder.
"Have you hunted before?"
I stared at him.
Then raised a single brow.
"I was a sellsword."
A flicker of something passed over his face—amusement, maybe. Or relief.
He nodded once, then turned without another word.
I stood and turned to the water. She watched me with my eyes. I frowned. She did too. I didn't look back again as I followed.