Eirin tried calling Feya more than ten times, her pleas echoing in the vast, open sky, but her tiny, ever-present companion didn't appear. No shimmering dust, no mischievous giggle, no familiar tug on her hair. Feya was gone, and Eirin, adrift on a nest in the sky, felt a fresh wave of terrifying isolation wash over her.
Eirin gnawed at her fingernails, the habit more noticeable, more violent than usual. The sound, a faint clicking against the rushing wind, was a small, desperate rhythm against the vast silence of the sky. Anxiousness, cold and sharp, clawed at her insides. Feya's continued silence, her alarming absence, chomped at Eirin's heart, a deep, unsettling fear for her little companion's safety.
"Who are you calling, dear child?" Leva's voice, telepathic and soothing, resonated in Eirin's mind, pulling her from the edge of her mounting panic.
