Chapter 31 Trust the Sky
Serafina
It was noon, and we had been walking since dawn.
The Cursed Forest did not care for the passage of time the way mortals did. Light filtered through the canopy in uneven bands, fractured and pale, as if the sun itself were uncertain whether it should be here. The air carried the faint scent of rot and damp earth, and every step felt like trespass—even after hours of walking.
But my body knew time well enough. My legs burned. My shoulders ached beneath the weight of my sword. Hunger curled low in my stomach like a reprimand.
Yet this was not where the day had begun.
I woke to the slow creak of wood.
Back and forth.
Back and forth.
For a breathless moment, I thought I was still dreaming—until I opened my eyes and found Azerath sitting in a rocking chair beside my bed, massive even in human guise, his presence filling the small room. He was watching me with unsettling stillness, gold eyes reflecting the faint glow of dying embers.
“Azerath,” I murmured, pushing myself up on one elbow. “Don’t you sleep?”
“I have been asleep for centuries,” he replied calmly. “Since I was in hibernation for so long, now that I am awake, sleep eludes me.”
The chair rocked again.
“But I did rest,” he added. “I find it peaceful… to watch you sleep.”
Heat crept into my face. I glanced toward the window, expecting to see dawn already breaking—but beyond the glass, the world remained wrapped in darkness.
“What time is it?” I asked.
“It will be dawn soon.”
He snapped his fingers.
A tray appeared on the bed as if the air had simply decided to give it form—eggs still steaming, toast stacked neatly, sausages glistening with fat, a small dish of butter, and a porcelain cup of tea that smelled faintly of citrus and herbs.
“Eat your breakfast, Serafina,” he said. “We shall leave once light hits the horizon. We will continue our journey through the Cursed Forest, avoiding Ashwood. That path would lead us straight to the Coal District.” He paused. “It is still a two- to three-day journey on foot.”
“Two to three days?” I groaned. “Isn’t there any way we can get there faster?”
“I am afraid not,” he said, almost apologetic, “unless you would like to travel at night… or ride on my back.”
I stared at him as I spread butter across my toast.
“Actually,” he continued, tilting his head, “our route is already the quickest. We will bypass Spark altogether.” His gaze sharpened, thoughtful. “Would you like to learn to ride atop me? If we fly, we would reach Dust in a few hours.”
I shook my head immediately. “You can’t be seen. And I can’t be seen with you. And when I say you, I mean dragon you.”
“Serafina,” he said gently, but firmly, “you will have to learn. In the event that you must escape, you need only climb onto my back, and we will fly where they cannot reach you.”
I took a bite of bread and chewed slowly, considering.
He was right. Infuriatingly so.
“Fine,” I said at last. “But how can I practice without us being seen?”
A slow devilish smile curved his mouth.
“After we set camp for the night, and after you have had your supper, I will take you out for flying lessons. Deal?”
I nodded. “Deal.”
I ate with sudden enthusiasm, pushing every sausage toward Blink. She devoured them with equal gusto, tail thumping against the floor.
After breakfast, I changed into a simple green wool dress, belted high at the waist and cut narrow through the sleeves, its hem hitched just enough for walking, sturdy enough for travel and muted enough to disappear into the forest. I traded my silk shoes from the night before for sturdy boots, strapped on my bag and scabbard, and wrapped myself in the cloak the old woman had given me.
When I stepped outside, the hut vanished behind me—dissolving like mist beneath sunlight.
Blink led the way.
We walked quietly, senses sharpened, expecting Imperial Enforcers… or rebels… or worse. But the forest remained eerily empty.
And now that it was noon, my stomach betrayed me with a loud, undignified growl.
We found a long, flat stone and sat. I closed my eyes and imagined what I wanted—fresh ham sandwiches, thick and warm. Chicken for Blink. When I reached into my bag, my fingers closed around exactly that. Two glasses of orange juice followed.
Blink puffed before eating.
“What did she say?” I asked.
Azerath’s gaze lifted toward the distant trees.
“She senses people at the boundary of the Cursed Forest and Ashwood. Waiting. After what happened yesterday, they will not enter.”
“Enforcers?” I asked. “Or rebels?”
Blink froze mid-bite. Then she shimmered.
In a blink, fur became feathers, bone re-shaping, mass condensing. A falcon launched skyward, wings cutting through the air. She returned moments later, landing lightly before shifting back into her wolf form.
She puffed again.
“Both,” Azerath translated. "But we need not worry. They are guarding the forest."
I didn't ask who he meant by they. I already knew.
We packed up and moved on.
As we walked, I prayed no one would dare follow us. But, as dusk crept in, screams tore through the trees—short, sharp, and abruptly cut off.
Growls answered. Then snarls.
I had been right about they.
The wolves had found themselves another meal.
By dusk, Azerath conjured the hut again between two giant trees. I asked for stew, and Blink received the last of the roast beef. After supper, Azerath regarded me critically.
“Change,” he said. “Trousers. Shirt. Coat. Boots. Gloves. And braid your hair.”
Everything I needed was already laid out in the closet. I dressed quickly, braiding my hair as I went.
When I caught my reflection in the mirror, I couldn’t help but smile. I’d never worn trousers before—and somehow, they made me feel invincible.
The night air was cool against my skin as we stepped outside.
Azerath closed his eyes. The transformation was never gentle.
Bones cracked—not grotesque, but inevitable. Flesh reshaped. Wings unfurled with a sound like thunder breathing. When he finished, the forest felt smaller, humbled by the vast, obsidian presence before me.
I swallowed hard.
“How do I—” I began.
“Slowly,” he said, voice now resonant. “Approach from the side. My shoulder ridge. Hold the spine-scales, not the edges.”
I climbed, nervous, fingers trembling as I gripped his spine-scales. I could feel his heat radiating through my gloves.
“Sit between the ridges,” he instructed. “Lean with me. Trust the movement.”
“I don’t trust you,” I muttered.
He rumbled—a dragon’s laughter.
“Then trust the sky.”
He crouched, and in one swift movement, the ground vanished.
“Hold tight, Serafina,” he said calmly, the powerful sweep of his wings lifting us into the air.
I pressed closer against him, heart racing—not from fear, but from awe. The familiar heat in my chest pulsed, stronger now that Azerath and I were in sync.
For the first time since awakening him…
I wasn't running. I was flying.
"This is... insane! I'm actually flying!" I couldn’t help but scream.
The forest dropped away beneath us. The treetops shrank, their twisted crowns merging into a dark, rippling mass.
Wind cut past my ears, cold and sharp, carrying pine, smoke, and the faint scent of night-blooming flowers. I dug my fingers into Azerath’s spine-scales, knuckles aching as I clung for balance.
I had never been this high.
I had never been anywhere like this.
A laugh tore out of me before I could stop it.
“Serafina,” Azerath’s voice resonated through bone and air alike, steady as the horizon. “Breathe.”
“I am breathing!” I shouted back, though it came out half-gasp, half-laugh.
“Then breathe with the wind,” he corrected. “Not against it.”
His wings tilted, just slightly.
The motion was subtle—almost graceful—but my body reacted violently, instinct fighting physics. I shifted my weight too late, lurching to one side.
Azerath corrected instantly.
“Do not fight the turn,” he said. “You must move as I move.”
“I’m not used to trusting something that could swallow me whole.”
Another rumble—amusement again. “I would never swallow my wife.”
“That’s not comforting.”
“Give it time.”
He banked again, slower this time.
“Lean left,” he instructed.
I obeyed—tentatively, then more fully. My body followed the curve of his movement, fear loosening its grip as we soared.
We circled low above the canopy, never breaking above the cloud line. The moonlight painted his scales in silver and obsidian, stars reflecting faintly along the ridges beneath my palms. Every beat of his wings sent a pulse through my bones—powerful and rhythmic.
I had spent my life walking carefully. Obediently. Measured in every step.
Up here, none of that mattered.
“Again,” he said. “This time, close your eyes.”
I frowned. “Absolutely not.”
“Serafina.”
“I will fall.”
“You will not.”
“You say that very confidently for someone who could survive the impact.”
A pause.
Then, softer: “I would never let you fall.”
I had to trust him.
I inhaled and closed my eyes. The world vanished into sensation.
Wind pressed against my chest. Heat radiated through the scales beneath me. The sound of wings became the only rhythm I knew. When he turned, I felt it before he spoke, my body responding without thought.
For the first time, I felt no fear.
When I opened my eyes again, the sky actually felt... soothing.
We descended in a wide spiral, landing silently in a clearing far from camp. I slid down his side, legs shaking as my boots touched earth.
Azerath folded in on himself, shrinking, reshaping, until he stood once more in his human form—tall, handsome, dark-haired, gold-eyed and utterly naked. I looked away.
"Azerath, clothes," I reminded him.
"Give me a moment," he chuckled. "There."
I turned to look at him. For a moment, I just stood there—hands trembling, breath unsteady, heart still racing like a little girl who had spotted the doll she wanted.
“Well?” he asked.
I laughed, breathless. “I hate you.”
His brow lifted as he reached for me. “That is not what your pulse suggests.”
I swatted his arm. “Don’t you dare.”
He smiled—not smugly. Genuinely.
“You did well,” he said. “Most do not adapt so quickly.”
“So that's what you call not dying. Adapting," I muttered.
We returned to camp in silence, the forest settling around us. Blink lifted her head as we approached, eyes sharp, ears twitching.
She huffed once.
“Yes,” I said quietly, patting her head. “I lived.”
"Your bath is ready, Serafina," Azerath said as we stepped into the hut. "Get some sleep. We leave before dawn."
"No," I said.
"No?"
"No more walking. Tomorrow we plan. At night, we fly to Dust."
"Are you sure, Serafina?"
I nodded. "And I know exactly where we can land without anyone seeing us."