Chapter 137 Stars and Snowflake
Bella
I spent the whole day in the village without really meaning to. I woke up intending to do one thing, and then another happened, and then another, and suddenly the sun has shifted, and I’m still here, boots dusty, fingers cold, heart full in a way that I'm learning is normal. Red had found me first. She perched on a half-built porch railing, sleeves rolled, hair braided back, indicating she had already been giving orders. There was a line of cabins stretching behind her with timber frames going up in a steady rhythm and smoke curling from chimneys that didn’t exist yesterday.
“You look suspiciously relaxed,” she had said.
“I slept,” I replied.
She narrowed her eyes. “With Damien.”
“Yes.”
“That’ll do it.”
She hopped down and handed me a bundle of rope without explanation. I took it expecting that this seemed to be how things work now. Ashlyn joined us a little later, cheeks flushed from the cold and from walking too fast. Paul was not far behind her, still human today, thankfully, hands shoved into his pockets like he wasn't entirely sure what to do with them when he wasn’t enormous and scaled. They didn't say much about what had gone on between them. I didn't want to ask either, so I quietly observed how they moved together easily now. Their shoulders often brushed, with a quiet awareness between them that didn’t exist before. Gilfred appeared sometime after that, emerging from under a crate with a triumphant chirp and something shiny in his mouth that definitely did not belong to him. A child squealed and chased him, and another joined the hunt. He darted between their legs, tail flicking, clearly enjoying the attention despite pretending he didn't. The villagers were busy in a way that felt different from the Sanctum. There was movement here that came from choice and excitement. People stopped to talk, and they argued about roof angles, window placement, and where the fire pit should go. Someone insisted on carving a symbol above their door, something old and personal and not approved by anyone in authority. I loved watching them like this, carefree and relaxed. Ice flickered constantly. A flurry here. A frost bloom along a beam there. Every time it happened today, the elementals were less afraid of it. I could just tell they were learning to trust themselves and others. A dragon would catch it and breathe warm air across the space, without being asked and without needing to comment. The ice softened and settled, and laughter followed. I helped where I could. I held the boards steady, and I passed nails. I sat with a woman who kept touching the doorframe of her new home, awed by it. I talked to her about that door for a whole twenty minutes, telling her I loved it just as much as she did, and I'd probably need to get one for my home. We had lunch outside again around the firepit where pots bubbled, and bread tore easily under warm hands. I burnt some of the bread, but no one complained. Someone did hand me a bowl and told me to sit down, though. I tried telling them I didn't need to rest, but they insisted. Gilfred gave me a look suggesting I shouldn't be trusted with ladles, but what does he know? He's a gecko, not a chef. He didn't read the cookbooks I had.
Anyways, I watched the children run around while I ate. They kicked up snow, grass, and whatever existed between seasons up here. Their magic popped and spilled in small bursts. Gilfred organised a game that only makes sense to him. He perched somewhere high and called out sharp clicks, and the children scattered, hiding behind trees and crates and one another. He hunted them with theatrical seriousness, announcing victories with exaggerated tail flicks. He let himself be caught exactly once. The cheers were deafening.
The sun shifts throughout my surprisingly eventful day, and shadows begin to stretch. The village slows without stopping. People begin moving inward, finishing tasks, stacking tools, closing doors that belong to them now. Smoke deepens, and the air cools as someone starts humming, and someone else joins in. Ashlyn sits beside me without warning, legs tucked up, hands wrapped around a mug.
“I didn’t know it could be like this,” she says.
“Neither did I,” I reply.
Paul approaches a few moments later and hesitates, then sits on the other side of her, close enough that their knees touch. She leans into him without thinking, and he exhales so loud I want to comment on it, but I don't. He looks relieved that she's allowing him to be in her presence. Whatever they have going on is fragile, so I'll hold back a while longer to start giving them shit about being so cute together. Red passes by, counts heads with her eyes, nods to herself, and then finally allows herself to sit. She stretches her legs out and tips her head back, watching the sky change colour.
“We did good,” she says.
“We did,” I agree.
The light fades slowly, painting the mountains in deep blues and soft silver. Stars begin to prick through the dark little by little. The village glows with small fires, lanterns, and windows lit from within. A shadow passes overhead, vast and familiar. Wind stirs hair and cloaks, and heat brushes my skin. Damien’s dragon circles once, low enough that the fires flicker, then he descends in a controlled sweep that sends sparks spiralling upward. Children gasp, and adults look up, but no one panics and, thankfully, this time, no one bows. He lands at the edge of the village, wings folding neatly, presence dominating everything around him. His eyes find me immediately, and then his voice touches my mind, warm and amused and very pleased with himself.
It’s a beautiful night, Snowflake.
I smile before I can stop myself.
Do you want to see the stars a little closer?
I rise, brushing snow from my hands, heart light and ready, already stepping forward before I answer.
Yes.
I really do.