Serala looked out across the skies while sitting atop the flying beast body of the Tokoloshe.
The Lands of Stone stretched beneath them in endless waves of forest and plain and distant mountain, all of it painted gold by the descending sun. Wind rushed past her face, but the warmth rising from the golden fur beneath her kept the chill at bay. She could feel Mana flowing into her body from his massive form, a steady current filling the hollow places battle had carved within her.
He hadn't answered her question about the Vakochev prince.
She hadn't pushed.
She hugged her knees to her chest and let the silence remain.
The warmth continued to seep into her, comfort she hadn't asked for but couldn't refuse. Her cultivation responded to it instinctively, accepting the gift without resistance. If she focused, she could sense the threads of connection between her essence and his, pathways forged when his flames had elevated her to Vessel Completion in moments rather than years.
