The fire crackled gently behind me as I stood beside Aria, the warmth at my back a steady anchor as new dragons emerged from deeper within the caverns. I listened closely—every footfall, every flutter of breath, every faint heartbeat that echoed through the ice walls. This was my world now, built on sound instead of scent.

  They came slowly, curious faces slipping into the common chamber one by one. I tracked each approach by sound—the rhythmic crunch of steps across frost-lined stone, the whisper of robes brushing ice-polished walls, the slight shift in air pressure when someone paused nearby. Their steps carried different cadences—some slow and steady, others light and curious. I tried to anticipate their emotions the way my mother taught me, by tone and rhythm. Beneath the murmur of conversation, I could hear the flutter of breath, the low, instinctive hum of their magic brushing the cavern walls.

  Behind me, I caught the low rumble of Vesk’s voice. It was sharp. Tense. Tighter than it had been when he’d spoken to me.

  He was speaking to someone—Thor, I heard.

  The shift in his voice was impossible to miss. I focused harder, hearing the strain behind each word, the way his breathing didn’t match the rhythm of his voice. They were talking about me. I was sure of it. And I couldn’t help but wonder—what was Vesk asking Thor? Why did his voice hold that strange mix of urgency and restraint?

  And then—nothing.

  A wall of silence fell. Mental speech.

  I turned my focus away, my chest tight. There was no sense trying to listen in—I wouldn’t hear anything now. Instead, I turned toward the dragons in front of me.

  The first to approach was tall, pale-skinned, with swirling tattoos running the length of his arms. Aria stepped forward with a warm smile and gestured between us. “Elle, this is Dareth. He’s one of our most skilled ice pathfinders.” His steps were even, but I heard the soft intake of breath as he neared—sniffing.

  I saw the confusion flicker across his face.

  The next dragon was a woman with pale gold hair and eyes like glowing embers. Aria motioned again. “And this is Lira, one of our lightweavers. She’s been with our horde for decades.” She took a subtle breath through her nose, then frowned just slightly.

  I’d seen that expression before.

  They were trying to place my scent—and I knew they could. Dragons always could. I still had a scent, still carried traces of who I was and where I’d been. But I didn’t react to theirs.

  That was what confused them.

  Dragons often released scents instinctively—fragments of mood, thought, emotion. Subtle cues layered into the air like threads of conversation. But to me, those threads were invisible. I couldn’t read them. I couldn’t return them.

  It made me a mystery.

  “I can’t smell,” I said before the confusion could harden into discomfort. “It’s an old injury.”

  The moment lingered.

  Then the man nodded. “Oh,” he said simply. “That explains it.”

  The woman’s expression softened. “That must be difficult,” she said. “Thank you for saying something.”

  Relief flooded through me so swiftly I almost staggered. My chest loosened, the pressure I hadn’t even realized I was carrying beginning to ease. For so long, I’d braced for awkward silences, for sidelong glances, for pity or dismissal. But here… they just nodded. Accepted. Moved on. I didn’t know what to do with that kindness, except cling to it.

  And that was it.

  They moved on—asking where I came from, how long I’d been traveling, and why I smelled so strongly of humans.

  “I’ve lived among them for years now,” I told them. “I sang for them. Traveled across the continent.”

  A few eyebrows lifted, but not in judgment. Just curiosity.

  And just like that, I was part of the conversation.

  They didn’t press. They didn’t probe. They simply accepted it—me.

  And that quiet grace did something to me. Settled a part of my spirit I hadn’t realized was still braced for rejection.

  They weren’t looking for a flawless dragon.

  They were just looking at me.

  And for the first time in years, I let myself take a deeper breath—even if I couldn’t smell the fire curling behind me.

  I was here.

  And maybe… just maybe… I could stay.

  A new pair entered the room then, their presence undeniable. The male moved with precision, his posture effortlessly commanding. His skin was pale, like stone touched by starlight, and his short dark silver hair was swept back in deliberate angles. Sharp, electric-blue eyes flicked across the room with surgical focus, cutting through distraction. He was wiry—not large, but every inch of him thrummed with controlled energy, like a thunderstorm trapped in human skin.

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  Beside him was a woman as radiant as sunrise over ice. Her ivory skin glowed with a soft luster, and her long, pale blonde hair flowed like moonlight down her back. Bright golden eyes glimmered with quiet intelligence and strength. Everything about her radiated calm power—a presence that soothed even as it awed. Light clung to her like it belonged there, as if the world itself wanted her seen.

  Aria noticed them instantly and waved them over. “Vaerik! Illara!”

  I watched them approach, captivated by the unspoken bond between them. The way their steps stayed in perfect rhythm. Their hearts beat in sync—steady, harmonious, like a perfectly practiced duet resonating in my ears. There was a quiet communication in their expressions, something intimate and wordless. I felt something stir in my chest, a sense that I was witnessing something… ancient and enduring. Something I feared I might never have.

  And then—

  “I see they’ve caught your attention,” came a familiar voice just behind my shoulder.

  I jumped, a small gasp catching in my throat. I hadn’t heard him approach. Not a footstep. Not the shift of air around him. Nothing.

  It was rare for anyone to sneak up on me, especially another dragon. My ears were too sharp, my senses too attuned. But Vesk? He was suddenly there—close enough that I could feel the faint stir of his breath, the subtle hum of his magic brushing the space between us.

  “I didn’t hear you,” I murmured, glancing at him out of the corner of my eye.

  His lips curved slightly. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

  I looked back at him, meeting those deep ocean-blue eyes—and again, it happened. The sound of his voice lingered in my mind, smooth and low, like a melody threaded through winter air. Enchanting. I didn’t understand why it affected me the way it did, only that it made something inside me pause, listen, and want to hear it again.

  He followed where my gaze had been and added in a lower, more reverent tone, “That’s my eldest brother. Vaerik. And his mate, Illara.”

  I turned my eyes back to them as they crossed the room, perfectly in step, their connection so apparent it was like listening to a harmony that only two dragons truly in tune with each other could sustain.

  “They haven’t left each other’s side in years,” Vesk continued softly. “Where one goes, the other follows. Always.”

  Aria stepped up beside me and gently touched my arm, drawing my attention. “Elle, come meet them.”

  I followed her toward the pair, and as we neared, both Vaerik and Illara turned their full attention to me. Their gazes weren’t cold or judgmental—just curious. Assessing.

  “Vaerik, Illara, this is Elle,” Aria said brightly. “She arrived just last night, caught in the storm. Thor and I brought her in. She has no sense of smell. An old injury. So she doesn’t react the way most of us would.”

  Illara stepped forward first, her expression softening as she studied me. “You’re a sound dragon, aren’t you?” she asked, her voice a smooth, golden tone that somehow reminded me of bells in mist.

  I blinked, surprised by her perceptiveness. “I am,” I said.

  Illara’s eyes lit up with interest. “I’ve never met a sound dragon before. They say your kind can shape silence and shatter stone with your voices. Do you sing?”

  A small, nervous smile tugged at my lips. “I do.”

  “Would you sing for us sometime?” she asked, not pressing, just quietly hopeful. “I would love to hear the gift of a sound dragon firsthand.”

  I glanced toward Aria, then to Vesk, and finally back to Illara. “Maybe,” I said softly. “Maybe I will.”

  Vesk stepped forward then, joining the small circle. He stood close again—always close—and the nearness of him was something I was still adjusting to. His presence had weight. His voice, when it came, pulled at my attention like a magnetic current.

  “I had the privilege of hearing her sing earlier,” he said, his voice low and full of something I couldn’t quite name. “It was… stunning. I’ve never heard anything like it.”

  His words caught me off guard, stealing my breath for a moment. I looked at him, trying to read the depth behind his tone. There was sincerity there. And something else.

  Illara turned to me with wide eyes. “Now I really hope we get to hear it.”

  I gave a soft, bashful laugh and dipped my head. “We’ll see.”

  Vaerik’s voice cut through the quiet with calm directness. “How long do you plan to stay, Elle?”

  The question was simple—but Vesk shifted beside me. I heard the catch in his breath, the tension lacing suddenly through his stance. His heartbeat spiked, just for a second, and then steadied again.

  Confusion prickled at my senses. That same strange energy again—like he was holding something back.

  I hesitated, looking at the three of them. I hadn’t expected the question, hadn’t prepared for it.

  “I… don’t know,” I said slowly. “I hadn’t really thought about it yet.”

  The truth was, I had forgotten what it felt like to be among my own kind. To be seen without suspicion. To be accepted even when I couldn’t return the unspoken messages in the air. And now that I’d felt that warmth again, I wasn’t ready to let it go.

  “I think… I’d like to stay for a little while.”

  That made both Aria and Vesk smile, something quiet and genuine in their expressions.

  Vaerik gave a small nod, then said, “If you want to stay, you’ll need to be tested.”

  I blinked, taken slightly aback. “Tested?”

  Vesk stepped in smoothly, his tone calm and measured. “It’s something we do with all newcomers who wish to remain here. One of the three of us usually handles it—most often Vaerik. It helps us understand your strengths, your weaknesses, and your character. It’s not just about fighting ability—it’s about trust.”

  There was no threat in his voice, just honesty. Expectation. And maybe something else, too.

  I nodded slowly. “Alright. When?”

  Vesk’s smile deepened just slightly. “How about tonight?”

  I nodded. “Tonight works.”

  As I said the words, I glanced toward him again. His posture eased, a subtle tension unwinding from his frame. He looked… satisfied. Like a quiet certainty had settled over him. I couldn’t read the reason behind it, but something in the way his eyes softened, the angle of his shoulders shifted—it felt like the answer he’d been hoping for.

  Before I could puzzle it out further, Aria stepped beside me and gently rested a hand on my back. “I’m so glad you’re staying,” she said softly. “You belong here, Elle. I can feel it.”

  Illara nodded with quiet certainty. “So can I.”

  Their words struck something deep in my chest. I didn’t have a reply—not one that would do the feeling justice. But then, just as Aria stepped slightly away, I caught a flicker of something in her expression. She turned her head slightly, her eyes drifting toward Vesk, and for a breath, something unreadable passed between them.

  A look.

  Curious. Considering.

  I didn’t understand it—but it stuck with me.

  And for a moment, I wondered if all of this—the welcome, the warmth, the smiles—was too good. Too easy. I had spent so long being other. Forgotten. Alone. Was it really possible that I could belong here? That they could accept me so quickly?

  A part of me whispered that I shouldn’t trust it. But another part—quieter, aching—hoped it was real.