Winning concessions from the consensus did not come without cost. Saphienne had embarrassed Tolduin before his peers, and the elder wouldn’t be quick to forget the humiliation a mere child had so rudely inflicted on him. That he’d not been found negligent in his care for Lynnariel, only too conservative and inflexible, meant that he was unlikely to reflect on his overturned decisions — and he resented Saphienne for meddling with what she wasn’t old enough to understand.

  Fortunately, while he remained priest to her mother and herself, no one had been blind to their mutual antipathy by the end of the meeting, and it was in everyone’s interest to make sure that peace would prevail.

  Saphienne had duly proposed two adults to arbitrate disputes between them. In seeming rapprochement toward Tolduin, she’d first named a priest, one whom he believed to be his ally, thus contriving to appear reasonable before she’d then also nominated a longtime critic of his care for her mother. While she justified the pair as achieving balance between traditional and contemporary opinion, Saphienne felt confident that Nelathiel and Gaelyn would support her should the elder undertake any petulant reprisals.

  Whether in fairness or out of obligation, Tolduin had acquiesced.

  Outside, appearing to have left the ugliness of their dispute in the meeting hall, Saphienne stood smiling beside Tolduin as a proclamation of the regional consensus was read to the public from atop the steps. No mention was made of her grandstanding or the censure that had nearly befallen her, and the intervention granted to her was elided as additional support for the wellbeing of her mother.

  Tolduin contrived humility. “I confess to underestimating you, Master Saphienne.”

  Her reply was wry. “I expect you’ll tell me that you won’t make that mistake again?”

  “Fear not: vengeance belongs to the gods alone.” He patted her shoulder as the crowd before them cheered. “You shall distrust me, but I fain hope that you are right about Lynnariel. I will pray that my fears are unfounded. Should the gods be kind, I would that we not have cause to revisit our dispute.”

  “Am I to believe we will be friends?”

  “Of course not.” He laughed genially. “Not until you realise your inexperience, and apologise. I expect the day of your contrition will not soon arrive.”

  As Saphienne was cheered with Thessa, she shrugged his hand away and went down the steps to meet her admirers. “May we both live so very long, Master Tolduin.”

  * * *

  Her heart yearned to go straight to her mother, but Saphienne knew that too many people would accompany her, and Lynnariel wouldn’t do well under their attention. She therefore chose to walk through the village with her friends and girlfriend – Laewyn having joined Celaena, Faylar, Iolas, Thessa, and Laelansa – in the direction of the teahouse, indirectly summarising recent events. “Thessa can share the rest with you, later.”

  Already warned to exercise discretion, the artist inclined her head.

  “Forget the past,” Faylar insisted, “what about the future? Did Master Almon say when he’ll be–”

  “No, and we’re not going to press the matter.” Saphienne poked him. “Your future master will honour his promise once he’s stopped grumbling; until he does, we can rely on a another nagging voice to keep reminding him.”

  Celaena and Iolas grinned at her oblique reference to Peacock.

  Laelansa slipped her arm around Saphienne’s shoulders, indifferent to inferences of their romance by onlookers. “What about the rest of today?”

  She’d been contemplating how to occupy the hundreds of literal followers who even now were tailing them down the grove. “I know I’m asking for a lot of favours–”

  Excluding Laelansa, all of Saphienne’s friends laughed.

  “I’ll take that as your agreement. Faylar, since you’ve spoken to my mother the most: could you, Laelansa, and whoever else wants to help please gather supplies and visit her? Don’t let her refuse to see you. The house will need cleaning, and she’ll need encouragement to bathe and then eat. I’d go myself, but all these people–”

  Celaena snatched up her hand. “Saphienne, we’re not stupid. What do you want us to say to her?”

  Her steps slowed. “…Tell her that things have changed for the better. Tell her that I’ll come to see her as soon as I can slip away. Tell her that…”

  Both Laelansa and Celaena squeezed her as she struggled for words.

  “…Tell her that I’m looking forward to getting to know her again. I’ll say the rest myself.”

  * * *

  Iolas opted to stay with Saphienne when he learned she was going up to the lake, and after goodbyes were exchanged he wandered with her ahead of the curious multitude.

  “…How long do you think it’ll be,” he wondered, “before someone works up the nerve to approach us?”

  She contemplated a gaggle of children running on through the trees, their merriment frequently punctured by backward glances and giggles. “Not too long… one of the children will be dared to ask me a question, and the rest will take it as a sign they can intrude… then the adults will catch up.”

  “Why not go somewhere private?”

  “They’d just wait outside.” Saphienne rolled her eyes. “I’m apparently the most interesting person in the vale, and everyone visiting wants to be able to say they met me, and have a personal anecdote about what I’m really like.”

  “Gods help them if they find out,” he teased. “Maybe I should tell them you enjoy going for long walks in the rain?”

  “I really do…” Wistfulness made her glance up at the clouds, which gave no indication whether they might indulge her. “Doesn’t make for a very dignified appearance, though. Do you think seeing me soaked to the skin would deter the hero worship?”

  Iolas’ smile was small. “Hasn’t deterred me.”

  She snorted and nudged him.

  “…While we still have a moment to talk,” he added, rubbing behind his ear, “I want to say that I meant what I told you earlier: I’ve forgiven you for the spell you cast on me.”

  Saphienne groaned. “Your master has informed me that I don’t face any sanction, and he went so far as to say that he approved. He mentioned something about you being passionate when rising to the defence of others.”

  “Headstrong, he means.” Iolas thrust his hands in his pockets, staring at the ground as they strolled up the valley. “…I feel very strange around you now. Not because of that — but it does underline what I’ve been struggling with.”

  She observed him without turning her head. “Don’t be coy.”

  He opened his mouth, shut it, then settled on a grin. “…I used to be your senior.”

  Saphienne smiled as she shifted her gaze forward. “Would it be odd of me to admit I feel like you still are?”

  “Odd? More like foolish.” He shook his head. “I’m the same person I was when I met you, but you’ve changed.”

  “Iolas, I swear: if you tell me how much I’ve grown? I’m fascinating you again.”

  He laughed.

  “I’ve changed in many ways,” she agreed, feeling impossible horns upon her brow, a tail twining restlessly behind her. “You wouldn’t believe me if I shared them all. For what it’s worth, while I’m your superior in the Great Art–”

  “That doesn’t trouble me.” He leaned against her briefly. “I’ve known that you’re better than me from the night we met. Hurt my ego a little, but it was good for me.”

  Saphienne wanted to say she wasn’t better than him… but she was a peerless dragon, and he an elf of the woodlands. “I don’t matter more as a person.”

  He canted his head toward the gossipers hanging back. “They’d disagree.”

  “They’re misinformed.”

  “I disagree, then.”

  “As your superior,” she imperiously decreed, “I hereby overrule your opinion.”

  They chuckled together.

  “I may be taller now,” Saphienne conceded, “but to me you’re still the older and wiser child, the boy who took the time to try to understand me — and whom I led astray. Were it not for your patience and empathy back then, I wouldn’t seem so impressive from a distance today. I’m grateful to have you as friend…” She held her hand out to him. “…And I’ve missed you, Iolas. I’ve been–”

  She blinked back unexpected tears.

  “…I’ve been very lonely.”

  His voice was soft as he squeezed her palm. “I wondered. When Faylar mentioned that story about a swan raised by ducks? I was thinking that swans look composed above the surface, but their legs are frantically kicking below. When you went off with Kelas yesterday, I could feel you were upset about…” Tact made him trail off.

  “I’m not a man.”

  His acknowledgement was amiable. “I wouldn’t care if you were.”

  “I’m not.” Part of her wished she could share her much more fantastical preoccupation with him. “I just felt estranged from myself, and wanted to find an easy answer. I need to feel like myself, to feel like I belong.”

  Iolas appraised her. “You’re more at ease. Should I thank the dragon?”

  Her grin was toothy. “More than I can express.”

  They climbed a shallow rise in companionable quiet, listening to the murmur of the people they led.

  Saphienne pulled him closer. “What’s the point we’re circling around, Iolas? That you’re unsure how to relate to me, now I’m not a sullen little girl with something to prove?”

  “That I find it hard,” Iolas confided, “to reconcile the way I used to feel toward you with the person you’ve gr– that you’ve become over time.”

  “Smooth.” She kept smiling as she reflected on her friendships. “You know, you’re not the only one? Celaena is far better at keeping her cool than she used to be, but she was flustered when she saw me this morning.”

  “Saphienne, I want to stress that I’m not making a pass at you when I say–”

  “Oh how you disappoint me, Iolas!”

  He flushed at her sarcasm. “Very funny. The truth is that you’re impeccably dressed, your personal style is striking, and Laelansa will tell you that you’re devastatingly beautiful, especially when you smile.”

  She narrowed her eyes as she studied him. “Laelansa will tell me, will she?”

  He pretended not to catch her insinuation. “She is your girlfriend.”

  Feeling affectionate and mischievous in equal measure, Saphienne was dissatisfied by the reservedness still holding Iolas back. He’d always been self-conscious that he was older than her and Celaena and Faylar and Laewyn, keeping himself tidied away, maintaining appropriate boundaries. Yet his mother’s advice had outlived its usefulness, what had formerly made him irreproachable now become a hinderance to their bonding.

  He misread her meditative silence, tried to explain himself. “I only mean that… Laelansa is the person you should listen to when she tells you who you are. If girlfriends can’t be honest with each other, what’s the point?”

  She recalled how Laewyn had often cut through shyness. “…Orgasms?”

  Iolas recoiled, stunned. “Saphienne!”

  Saphienne giggled at his scandalised expression.

  “Since when have you–”

  “I believe girls start at the same time as boys?”

  He was flabbergasted by her brazenness. “Saphienne!”

  Choking back her laughter, she slipped her arm through his. “Celaena was right about you, Iolas: you really are very proper about things. But if you’ll forgive me being crude to make a point,” she continued as she dragged him along, “you need to get used to me not being a little girl anymore. I’m comfortable with you admiring me, but I’m not going to accept you withholding yourself for fear of what I – or anyone else – might think. I don’t want us to drift apart again — so save your formality for when I tutor you.”

  “…You’re like a new person.” He marvelled at his friend as her maturity sank in. “What did Thessa say, when she first met you? ‘I like you,’ I think it was.”

  “Your sister used to be carefree around me, before all the wizardry intimidated her.” Saphienne glanced meaningfully at him. “Does that run in the family?”

  His blushing smile was fond. “I suppose it might have done. Sorry about that. And I’m sorry for behaving like you’re still my junior… I do think you’re beautiful, Saphienne.”

  “Devastatingly beautiful — so I’m led to believe.”

  Just then, a girl no more than seven years old inched toward them from where she’d been waiting atop the incline, her playmates watching at a distance as she bowed. “Excuse me, Master Sa… Master Saph… master wizard?”

  Saphienne was endeared where she shared a grin with Iolas. “Yes?”

  “Why were you laughing? What was so funny?”

  Iolas cringed with such intensity that Saphienne vicariously felt his embarrassment, and she let go of him to lean over the child with what she hoped was a friendly smile. “Would you like to hear a joke?”

  The young girl nodded.

  “What’s the difference between an elf and a dragon?”

  “…I don’t know…”

  “Yes — I can tell!” Saphienne pounced with a gentle roar.

  The girl sprang away with a squeal, then ran off, giggling.

  Amused, Iolas offered her his arm again. “Just like you predicted. Or was that a prophesy? Did you augur the future for us, Master Saphienne?”

  She accepted as she observed the girl excitedly sharing with the other children. “Doesn’t take a divination to see what’s coming. Hopefully, it won’t be too bad…”

  On cue, the group hurried down to meet them.

  * * *

  There were endless questions.

  “How big was the dragon?”

  “Bigger than that tree…”

  “Were you scared?”

  “Only that other people would be harmed.”

  Iolas attested that Saphienne had never been afraid of getting hurt.

  “Why was the dragon here?”

  “She was injured and needed to land.”

  Stolen novel; please report.

  “Will it come back?”

  “No. I told her to leave the woodlands, and she will keep her word.”

  One of the adults queried her, “How is it possible that a dragon was able to reach us? Aren’t we supposed to be protected by the Luminary Vale?”

  She stopped walking. When she faced her questioner, she crossed her arms, imagining fiery wings conjured imposingly about herself. “What do you think occurred? How the dragon entered the woodlands will be answered by others, but make no mistake: you were protected by the Luminary Vale, for I have been accepted within.”

  An apology was swiftly delivered.

  “Let me speak unambiguously.” She surveyed her audience. “None of you were in any danger from the dragon. Even had I not been there, I am certain the dragon would have withdrawn without harming anyone. The Eastern Vale is safe–”

  “Because you’re here!”

  She tried to wave off the ensuing applause. “Even if I wasn’t–”

  But the very idea was booed, and Iolas interceded to move on.

  * * *

  Upon reaching the shore of the lake Saphienne pointedly thanked her well-wishers for their escort, informing them that she had magical matters on which to attend. She left them milling about the southern edge as she headed for the crossing to the island.

  Iolas hesitated. “Master Saphienne, is your purpose here suitable for a junior apprentice to–”

  She smirked as she stalked over the sand. “Do come along, Apprentice Iolas! Educational though you may find this, it shan’t be from anything I teach you.”

  He followed awkwardly at her heel.

  However, while her curiosity was aroused by robed figures she spied across the stepping stones, Saphienne didn’t proceed directly to them, her attention stolen by an insistent wind that nudged her toward the tree line — at which she gasped.

  On the exact spot where Saphienne had been seated when the dragon descended, the spirits of the woodlands had since raised a monument.

  Iolas swallowed. “…This might be getting out of hand…”

  They had captured her likeness almost perfectly, grown from flawless birch and embellished with yellow flowers that spilled down in imitation of her long hair. Her dress was formed from stark blossoms, her jewellery’s rosy gold reproduced with pink roses, and her feet were bare where their roots vanished into the ground.

  But what disturbed Saphienne was the staging, nearby trunks shifted closer to interweave their raised limbs in the style of offering trees, the blanketing blooms of her hair extended and rising to make a canopy–

  And her eyes embellished with sunflowers, golden where she gazed upon the isle.

  Unnerved, Iolas was hushed. “This has gone beyond adoring you with flowers; they’ve sanctified you.”

  Saphienne needed every reserve she could draw upon not to show her dismay, adopting a fragile smile as she paced over to the grass. “What a lovely sentiment! Yet I think the spirits do me too great an honour–”

  “We do not do more than the gods demand.”

  Saphienne turned, seeing a bloomkith embodied in a shell woven from sharp leaves that she needed a moment to recognise. “…That is a bold claim to make, Holly.”

  The spirit rattled as she bowed to Saphienne, her proportions reminiscent of the priest of Our Lord of the Endless Hunt with whom she often associated. “I tell you true: in you we see Their hand. Your elders too have recognised this fact — by will divine they said that you did act!”

  Saphienne remembered the wording of the motion passed by the regional consensus, unable to hide her wince. “Holly, ‘in awe of the will of the gods made manifest’ is just a poetic phrase. They only meant that what I did had impressed–”

  “Not so,” said another voice. “Thou art a child beatified.”

  Glancing to the body of marigolds that approached from the other side, Saphienne immediately placed who spoke. “Ruddles, with respect for your faith, I have to question your wisdom. Did you arrange this?”

  “Not I alone.” Her floral countenance was more visibly elven than that of Holly, and she stirred the ruddied petals of her lips in a smile. “O’er this, I did preside with many mothers joined in song upraised. Sweet child, belovèd girl: thy name be praised!”

  “Spied I your halo,” Holly joyfully agreed, “swift descending down!”

  She wanted to massage her temples. “…You know this going to make my life extremely difficult?”

  “Not so,” Mother Marigold countered once again. “No more shall any claim thou art apostate, child, so great and fair thy fame. In time, thy punishment shall be revoked, such be the awe thy labours hath evoked.”

  …Which would have far-reaching implications, for if she had embodied the will of the gods when she turned back the dragon, didn’t that also imply that she’d been enacting their design when she’d freed Tyrnansunna from her millennium of imprisonment? Saphienne’s sanctification wasn’t about what was convenient to her: the spirits who sought clemency for their sisters were using her to advance their cause. This was religious politics, among the most dangerous in the woodlands.

  And the worst part? Holly and Ruddles were entirely sincere. They believed her holy.

  “We should speak about this later,” Saphienne proposed to Ruddles. “I presently lack for a theological argument necessary to justify my objection.”

  Ruddles grinned. “Delight shall I to speak with thee forthright — in sooth, I shall delight to school thee right.”

  She gave up on further argument with a bow.

  * * *

  Where the dragon had breathed sapphire flames across the beach, Saphienne was disappointed to discover the vitrified ground had been removed. She trivially cast the Second Sense as she approached the stepping stones, prompting Iolas to expend greater effort to cast the simpler Second Sight; she nodded as she perceived the flickering resonance left behind on the sand.

  “I am not yet approved by the Luminary Vale to tutor you,” Saphienne told the apprentice, “so I will withhold comment on anything you say. What do you notice?”

  His pupils were white with divinatory insight as he crouched down. “Overwhelming Conjuration… yet it’s very strange. The red doesn’t hold steady, but keeps dancing and flickering.” He shivered at the weirdness. “I don’t understand how this is possible, but the resonance of the dragon’s fire feels like tongues of flame. And there’s Transmutation as well — but not incorporated alongside the conjuration? The same resonance is revealed as both, somehow.”

  Saphienne was less puzzled than Iolas. She had witness Parthenos’ fire up close, and so she knew that what he saw alternately as Conjuration and Transmutation hadn’t been divided in the blaze. Curious though it was, the dragon’s fire simultaneously belonged to both disciplines, impossible to cleanly distinguish, defying the order that elven magic would impose.

  “I’m assuming the ground here was dug up, and new sand conjured.”

  He lacked the sensitivity to know he was correct: the fainter resonance of a recent yet much less powerful conjuration was masked by the overwhelming mark left by the dragon. Comparatively minor, the spell was clearly elven, and Saphienne intuited that the wizards and sorcerers who were deliberating on the island had been responsible for cleaning up.

  Her supposition was confirmed when – as she alighted the stepping stones – one of the sorcerers peeled off to meet her. Vestaele was dressed in more practical clothing than Saphienne, her garb still dark and violet despite having forgone her short mantle in concession to the summer sunshine.

  “Master Saphienne! You found time to review your work.”

  Saphienne balanced midway across. “I would have been here earlier, were I not detained; an old friend showed me the value in promptly attending to research.”

  This charmed the woman who had taught her. “And how fares your foray into politics?” Vestaele looked beyond Saphienne, to where the spirits had cultivated her resplendent image. “You’ve certainly acquired the influence you disdained…”

  “Acquired, and wielded.” She folded her arms, her sardonic smile largely directed toward herself. “My compliments to you, Master Vestaele, for supposing that to arm me would eventually see the weapon brought to bear. Congratulations: I found myself able to do sorely-needed good for others. While I don’t intend to make a habit of asserting myself, I’m aware that what I would do has no bearing on who circumstance will compel me to be.”

  Smiling in vindication, Vestaele bowed. “I won’t apologise for what was necessary. Let me be the first to offer you my political counsel, when you need guidance to navigate the peril of suddenly mattering.”

  Saphienne chuckled at her shamelessness. “How kind!”

  “Speaking of mattering…” Vestaele addressed Iolas. “…Apprentice, you are insufficiently versed in the Great Art to participate here. Wait on the beach while Master Saphienne and I converse.”

  Raising her eyebrows, Saphienne held up her hand. “Hold, Iolas. I have confidence in you,” she ventured as she tilted her head, “so unless Master Vestaele means to say that she wishes to talk about business of concern to the Luminary Vale…”

  Vestaele crossed her arms. “I do.”

  “…In that case, please go and wait for me.” Saphienne glanced across her shoulder in apology. “I anticipate I won’t be long.”

  Out of his depth, Iolas bowed to them both before he departed.

  His presence intrigued Vestaele, who lowered her voice as her fellow master joined her on the isle. “Should he be accompanying you?”

  “Master Almon will be writing to request that I may tutor him,” Saphienne explained, “along with Apprentice Celaena. Even should we be refused, I see no harm in Iolas observing for himself what I decline to explain.”

  Sharp as ever, Vestaele’s eyes narrowed. “A pretext for rekindling old friendships?”

  Saphienne clasped her numb hand. “Candour would be refreshing! Tell me, my old friend: how many of my associations have you reported back to High Master Lenitha?”

  Her former master was nonchalant. “None.”

  “Then you report them to Master Illimun,” she inferred. “I presume that Master Taerelle would have held too much influence over me, had we entered the Luminary Vale together?”

  Vestaele offered no comment.

  “Let me be unambiguous.” She leant closer. “I’m my own person. If I have to wait over twenty years before I’m permitted to progress, so be it, but I’ll keep the company I choose, in the way I decide. Iolas probably won’t follow me into advanced studies, and Celaena will be under my wing no matter what comes. You want that I should remain on good terms with you?” She bared her teeth, not quite smiling. “Then you’ll agree: Master Almon’s proposal is an excellent way to keep me occupied.”

  “…As you say.” Vestaele afforded Saphienne unguarded esteem. “Any misapprehensions I may have had about your independence are rapidly dissolving, Master Saphienne. Will you entertain a thought for me?”

  Mollified, Saphienne straightened. “I always find your perspective enlightening.”

  “Consider the possibility that you have it the wrong way around.”

  Saphienne blinked. “…There was concern I’d have influence over Taerelle?”

  “I wasn’t involved in making the decision to defer your entry — and, candidly?” The politician shrugged. “I would have advised against it. The sooner you take up your place, the sooner I might entice you into assisting me. Your remaining here didn’t suit my interests, and so I inquired whether it was due to concerns about your maturity.”

  Discerning that Vestaele wasn’t lying, but was revealing the truth because it served her own purposes, Saphienne listened carefully.

  “In confidence,” the sorcerer emphasised, “you were deferred by decision of the High Masters, for several reasons: first was to confirm patience that hasn’t been evidenced by your rapid ascent; second was to grant you time to experience more of your childhood without the weight of expectations; and third was to allow Master Taerelle to establish herself outside of your shadow.”

  There was sense in what she heard. “…Were those the only reasons?”

  “The only reasons told to me.” Her grey gaze glinted. “I know that this next admission won’t win me your love, but I’ll trust in your intelligence to see the larger perspective. Had I been involved in the decision? I wouldn’t have deferred your entry.”

  When it arrived, Saphienne’s smile was bitter. “…You’d have held back Taerelle, so that I would be more isolated. And you’re sharing because you’d rather that I believe you, even if I should dislike you, than be left wondering whether you were to blame.”

  “I’ll be astonished should your request to tutor your friends be refused. My calculus is that Master Illimun wants you to be closer to Celaena, for reasons that are less self-serving than my ambitions for you.”

  He understood that Saphienne valued her happiness. “…He cares about his daughter.”

  “And for you, I think.” Vestaele pursed her lips. “My relationship with him is friendly but transactional, while your persuading him to send Celaena to live with her fellow apprentice has slowly won his gratitude. You would be misguided to resent him — he wouldn’t have enforced your deferral, if he thought it bad for you.”

  “He’s hardly the only master of Fascination to decide what’s best for me.”

  “Nor the only one you’ve impressed.”

  She ignored the compliment. “Since I find you in a forthcoming mood, Vestaele, why don’t we skip the politeness? You sent Iolas away because you’re about to tell me the Luminary Vale has instructed you to investigate, and I’m not allowed to examine the scene until you’re done.”

  “Worse.” Vestaele canted her head toward the other magicians. “We’re just the preliminary step — you’ll be interviewed before too long, by scholars who are versed in the study of dragons; I would prepare for their arrival within the week. No one can believe that you prevailed.”

  “And yet, I did.”

  Vestaele crouched down, adjusting the laces on her boot. “…I can’t fathom how a ward of the Second Degree held against the dragon’s fire, nor determine what spell you were casting when you struck back. Vexingly, the resonance of the island is so saturated by the dragon’s magic that we have no insight into yours…”

  So that was what the Luminary Vale wanted! Absent the full story, Saphienne was assumed to possess a secret that had made her spellcasting potent enough to contest a dragon — occult knowledge that would be extremely valuable.

  “For now,” Saphienne offered, “I’ll content myself with your promise: you’ll provide me with samples of the dragon’s blood, as well as what was left behind by her fire.”

  Vestaele stood. “I’m entitled to keep some for myself. Are we to share?”

  Her favour was valuable to the politician in the long run. “To a very limited extent; if you’re expecting mystical revelations from me, you may be disappointed.”

  “How quickly you’re growing into your position! Perhaps there is such a thing as teaching too well?” The sorcerer was far from displeased. “We have an accord.”

  Saphienne turned to the stepping stones as she bade farewell. “Until we meet again, Master Vestaele.”

  Her devious pursuer remained in place, grinning. “Have a good day, Master Saphienne!”

  * * *

  Although her conversation with Vestaele had lasted but a few minutes, by the time Saphienne rejoined Iolas there were a dozen people nearby, whispering to each other in reverence where they beheld the sacred effigy fashioned in devotion by the sylvan spirits. One among their number was a priest, and as Saphienne watched the woman began a ritual invocation to receive the bloomkith and woodkin who might convey its significance.

  “…We need to leave.”

  He flinched, having been too absorbed by the spectacle to hear her approach. “That seems wise to me; word is going to spread quickly. Where to?”

  “My mother’s house.” She quietly swore, her return observed by a boy who was calling attention to her. “I’m going to make another stop along the way. You go on ahead, and take care to not be followed.”

  Someone called her name.

  Iolas was worried. “Never mind me — are you going to be able to slip away?”

  His earnestness made Saphienne grin, and she stared at the junior apprentice with withering scepticism. “…Really? Maybe you do need tutoring.”

  As she commanded the superior violet sigil that she memorised most days, Iolas had just enough comprehension of her gestures to guess what Saphienne was casting – and how ridiculous his question had been – before she vanished from his perception.

  He was scarlet where he gazed through her. “…Well, now I feel stupid…”

  Deftly, she patted his shoulder with her occulted hand before she retreated south.

  * * *

  Forbidden from examining the island, there was one other place where Saphienne would be free to scrutinise the aftermath of a dragon’s fire.

  She found the garden behind her house unchanged since the morning, the Second Sense showing shimmers of sunlight where the spirits tending the blooms danced and played in the daytime. Without the use of a more specific Divination spell, they were indistinct, impossible to pinpoint or identify with confidence, and she avoided them as she slipped through their handiwork to reach the hillock enclosing her ritual space.

  Yet when Saphienne eased open the door, what she encountered momentarily made her suspect that they had been busy inside, too.

  Tall grass; wet moss; creeping shrubs; gnarled briars; fresh verdant growth in every shape had exploded all across the stone floor, erupting from the mark she had scoured with her fire before she had lost the draconic sigil in sleep. Moisture perfumed the air with the scent of living soil after a downpour, cool despite the warm afternoon outside, water beaded to trickle down the walls where the breath of the eerie, respiring plants had condensed.

  She surreptitiously shut the entrance behind herself, then walked sunwise around the perimeter, drinking in the sight. Her expanded senses were also flooded with green, faint yet ongoing Transmutation gleaming in the depths of the spiral she had carved… but it was also a conjuration, and an invocation, creating the conditions to support new life by calling forth the residual magic imparted by the sun.

  This spring was her doing.

  “…What I make of the world…”

  Her fire brought forth a flourishing.

  * * *

  Let the place of the solitaires

  Be a place of perpetual undulation.

  Whether it be in mid-sea

  On the dark, green water-wheel,

  Or on the beaches,

  There must be no cessation

  Of motion, or of the noise of motion,

  The renewal of noise

  And manifold continuation;

  And, most, of the motion of thought

  And its restless iteration,

  In the place of the solitaires,

  Which is to be a place of perpetual undulation.

  * * *

  Attempting to comprehend the symbol through elven spellcraft was fruitless, so Saphienne instead let her divination lapse and came to sit in the centre, attuning herself to the verdure to feel what she may.

  Apart from their supernatural encouragement? The overgrowth was mundane, seeded from the surrounding forest. She soon lay down amid the foliage, finding that the thorns were too tender to prick her skin, making for herself a fine bed.

  She felt well, and awake.

  …Was she a dragon?

  Saphienne allowed her suspended disbelief in her scales to resume, taking seriously her meditation.

  She supposed a better question was to ask whether she was an elf, because she knew the answer to that was nebulous — implying that being a dragon was similarly indefinite.

  Then, if she was neither for certain, was she more like one than the other?

  “…More like an elf…”

  Her gaze darkened.

  …Wholly an elf? No; certainly not enough of one to belong.

  Could she be somewhat a dragon? Might she be a dragon in the best of ways, and thereby correct the deficiencies implied by elven being?

  “…That would be happier…”

  She was being nonsensical. Whatever would Kylantha have thought of her silliness?

  Tears filled her eyes.

  “‘…You can be whatever you want to be. I won’t mind…’”

  Where they spilled upon the grass, it grew imperceptibly thicker.

  * * *

  Reluctantly, and after studying with her spellbook, she called upon the lacklustre Evocation of Flame to incinerate what had arisen across the floor — then was inspired by what she’d witnessed, hiding her scoured gyre beneath a conjured surface of fine, level sand.

  Appearance didn’t matter. Her fire would not be quelled.

  Underneath, Saphienne remained a dragon.

  …At least for today.

  * * *

  All her friends were there when she snuck into her family home, busy with chatting and cleaning and cooking, more life within the tree than she ever remembered. Faylar and Laewyn were kissing on the couch; Celaena was waving a borrowed Rod of Cleansing nearby, pausing to boldly interrupt them to kiss Laewyn as well; Iolas was finishing with mopping in the kitchen while his sister sat on the table, drinking wine as she directed her younger brother; Laelansa was softly singing to herself, making yet more of the fried toast she’d previously made for her beloved.

  Invisible by choice, Saphienne went up to her mother’s aired bedroom. Lynnariel was curled up on the foot of her remade bed, washed and dressed, holding in her lap the bust of herself that her daughter had carved.

  Saphienne closed over the door, ended her fascination. “Hello, mother.”

  Lynnariel wasn’t startled, but she was fearful when she looked up. “…I tried to tell them that they shouldn’t be here.”

  Saphienne sat beside her mother.

  “Tolduin will be–”

  “He won’t.” She offered her hand. “He’s not in control any more. I am.”

  Lynnariel searched her gaze.

  “I’m going to take care of you.”

  Her oceanic eyes dimmed. “…I should be the one taking care of you…”

  “Hush.” Saphienne slipped her arms around her mother. “I won’t let you think like that, mother. Come downstairs.”

  Slowly, Lynnariel breathed. “…There are so many people–”

  “Friends.” Saphienne reached up to stroke the back of her neck. “Just friends. You don’t have to say anything to them. Just sit beside me. Just be with me, as best you can. It’ll be enough.”

  And, for the first time?

  It was.

  End of Chapter 115

  Chapter 116 releases Friday the 20th of February 2026.

  Thanks for reading!