The corridor was quiet as Saphira and Niks walked side by side, their footsteps soft against the old wooden floor. Lamps on the walls glowed a pale gold, casting long shadows that shifted with their movement. Saphira kept her hands tucked into the sleeves of her jumper, her fingers fidgeting in <b>the </b>Fabric.
“She’s been resting mostly,” Niks said gently, as if picking up a thread she hadn’t realized she’d dropped.
Saphira nodded, then nced up at him. “Have you heard from Jed?” Her voice was soft, edged with the weight she hadn’t quite named aloud yet.
Niks shook his head, his jaw tightening just slightly. “Not yet. I checked in this morning–nothing.”
A small knot pulled tighter behind her ribs. “It’s not like them to stay silent this long.”
“I know,” he murmured. “They’re being cautious. But I’ll try to reach them again while you’re with Zafira, see if anything’se through.”
“Thanks,” she said quietly. “I’m just… worried. They’re walking into something we still don’t fully understand.”
Niks didn’t speak, but the nce he gave her said the same thing had been circling in his mind since they left. He reached over and brushed his hand gently against hers–just enough pressure to ground her. She met his eyes and gave a small, grateful nod.
They reached the door to Zafira’s room.
Niks paused,ying a hand on the frame before he turned to Saphira. “I’ll give you two some time alone. I’ll be just down the hall–try Jed again.”
She nodded, watching as he stepped away before turning to the door. She knocked lightly.
“Come in,” came, the soft voice from inside.
Saphira opened the door slowly.
Zafira was propped up against the pillows, sunlight slipping through the curtains in warm nts across her nkets. She looked better–still pale, still tired -but no longer as fragile as she had days before.
Her face lit up the moment she saw Saphira. “Hey…e in.”
Saphira stepped in, hesitating only slightly before Zafira shifted and patted the <b>space </b>beside her on the bed.
Saphira settled gently onto the edge of the mattress, folding one leg beneath her.
“How are you feeling today?” she asked softly.
Zafira <b>gave </b>a small, confident smile. “A lot stronger,” she said, “Less like ss<b>. </b>More like myself.”
Zafira looked over at her, brow lifted in quiet curiosity. “How are you getting on with her?” she asked. “Your dragon, I mean.”
Saphira tilted her head slightly, lips tugging in a thoughtful line. “Weird,” she admitted, letting out a breath of dry amusement. “But good. I can feel her
all the time–like this low hum in the back of my mind. Almost like<b>… </b>background music, but from the inside<b>.</b><b>” </b>
now<b>, </b>
She ran a hand over her braid, gently tugging at <b>the </b>end as <b>she </b>searched for the right words. <b>“</b><b>It’s </bforting, in a way. Like I’m not alone in my <b>skin </b>anymore. But I’ve still got a long way to go. <b>She’s</b>… powerful. And I’m still learning how to listen to her without being overwhelmed<b>.</b><b>” </b>
Zafira nodded slowly, gaze flicking out the window before returning to Saphira. “<b>It </b>takes <b>time</b>.” Her voice <b>dropped </b><b>slightly</b><b>. </b><b>“</b><b>I </b>still remember <b>what </b>it was like before I shifted the first time. I thought I was ready. But I didn’t understand her, not really. Not until I stayed in that <b>form </b><b>for </b><b>so </b>long
Saphira watched as her expression changed<b>, </b>eyes going <b>distant</b>, shoulders curling inward ever <b>so </b><b>slightly</b>.
“How does it feel now?<b>” </b>she <b>asked </b>gently. “Thinking about shifting again<b>?</b>”
Zafira hesitated<b>. </b>Her hands tightened <b>slightly </b><b>on </b>the nket over <b>her </b><b>legs</b>.
“I’m scared,” she admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “Scared if I shift again… I won’te back. That I’ll lose myself in her <b>again</b><b>. </b><b>And </b>I know <b>I </b>can’t keep her locked away forever–she’s part of me–but I don’t know how to face that without fearing I’ll disappear.”
Saphira’s chest ached at the honesty in those words. She reached out,ying a hand lightly over Zafira’s.
“You wille back,” she said softly. “When the time’s right, and when you choose it. Not because you’re forced. Not because you’re afraid. But <b>because </b>you’re ready to trust her to have your back. And trust yourself.”
Zafira’s gaze flicked up to hers–shining, vulnerable.
“It’s okay to wait,” Saphira added. “To take time to rebuild that trust. You’re not weak for needing it.”
Zafira nodded slowly, exhaling like the breath had been trapped in her chest too long.
“Thank you,” she murmured.`
Saphira gave her hand a squeeze. “When you’re ready… she’ll be there. And so will <b>I.</b><b>” </b>
The knock came–soft but deliberate. Three measured taps that echoed just loud enough to pull Saphira’s gaze from the pillow she was fluffing behind Zafira’s back. She paused mid–motion, heartbeat shifting ever <b>so </b>slightly at the sound.
Zafira caught her nce and gave a faint nod, barely more than a tilt of her chin.
Saphira straightened. “Come in,” she called, voice gentle.
The door eased open on quiet hinges, and Asher stepped into the threshold. He hovered there, one hand <b>braced </b>lightly on the frame, the other still <b>at </b>his side. His eyes found Saphira first, and he started to speak–casual, almost.
“Sorry to interrupt, I just wanted to-”
His voice halted mid–sentence. Not because of choice. Because the words had simply… vanished.
His gaze hadnded on Zafira.
Saphira watched it happen–the moment everything changed. Asher’s posture froze mid–step, breath hitching in a way he didn’t even <b>seen </b>aware of. His hand tightened slightly around the doorframe, knuckles paling. The look in his eyes was distant and thunderstruck. <b>And </b><b>yet </b>fixed. Locked on her.
Zafira went still beneath the nket, posture instinctively straighter <b>as </b><b>if </b>something ancient had brushed along her <b>spine</b>. Ho lips parted, but <b>no </b>sound
ter in a vivid bloom that came. Her chest lifted with a sharp, trembling breath, and Saphira saw the color drain from her cheeks only to return mon <b>swept </b>across her skin like fire blooming beneath snow.
Saphira didn’t speak. She didn’t need to.
She felt it ripple through the space—the way the air shifted, heavy and watchful. A pull that wasn’t physical, but so tangible it made her <b>own </b>breath catch. Not fear. Not tension.
Recognition. Something deep and primal and far older than logic.
Zafira stared, her voice when it came <b>a </b>ghost on the air–breathy and fragile, shaped <b>by </b>awe and disbelief.
“<b>Are </b>you…” her eyes widened a fraction, lips trembling, “…my mate<b>?</b><b>” </b>
The