I had a wonderful time in Bolivé.
Aron never once brought up anything that might weigh on my heart. He stayed by my side, filling my days with warmth and light, as if his sole purpose was to make sure I smiled. Sometimes I felt like he was quietly guarding me from my own thoughts—steering conversations away from anything heavy, anything painful. I appreciated it more than I could ever say.
If my life weren't so complicated—if Eriu hadn't tangled herself into my existence—I might have chosen to stay. Bolivé was gentle. Its people were accommodating, kind, and even the most difficult among them were bearable. I didn't compare it to the other kingdoms; that wouldn't be fair. Each land bore its own scars, its own struggles.
I helped harvest corn beneath endless skies, bundled fragrant stacks of hay, and checked the grazing fields to make sure everyone had enough. True to his word, Aron welcomed the birds as if the rift between him and Talon had never existed. No tension. No resentment. Just quiet respect.
My favorite moments were when Aron took me to the prairies and ponds—wide, open spaces where the wind carried our voices and nothing felt rushed. Those were the moments when we truly talked. I told him about the creatures I had met along the way, but the one that caught his attention most was the snake.
He was clearly unsettled by the thought of it coming close to me.
I reassured him that the snake had never harmed me, that I had kept my guard up the entire time. The tension left his shoulders then, and he finally explained why it worried him so deeply. I told him I understood. He let out a long sigh and shifted the conversation back to his plans for Bolivé.
Watching him speak about his kingdom—calm, steady, dependable—made my heart stutter. He was reliable in a way that felt rare. Almost flawless. And standing beside him like that made me feel undeserving somehow.
He sensed it immediately.
Without prompting, he reminded me of his vow—of what mattered to him, of the choice he had already made.
That was when I knew it was time to move on.
After a full day wandering the prairies, watching the sun melt into the horizon, I finally told him.
"Aron… thank you for taking care of me while I was here. You and your people showed me nothing but generosity and warmth." I looked out over his kingdom. "I wasn't wrong, was I? So much love goes into you. I hope you remember that—especially when you doubt yourself."
He smiled, already knowing.
"You've decided it's time for your next stop," he said gently. "I won't stop you. In fact, I'll come with you—at least until you and Nori reach Avion safely."
I blinked, surprised. He had read me effortlessly, as always.
Before I could object, he continued, his voice steady and sincere. "Sienna, don't feel guilty. We all have paths we need to walk. If it were up to me, I'd follow you wherever you go—but responsibility still matters. Just know this: when you need me, I'll be there."
The day we left, all of Bolivé gathered to see us off. Their smiles lingered, their gazes knowing. They understood what I was to Aron, and the acceptance I felt from them wrapped around me like a blessing. It made me want to protect them all the more.
In my heart, a darker thought surfaced—if this kingdom had nothing to do with me, maybe Vera would spare it.
But their king was bonded to me.
The journey toward Avion was grueling. The gentle prairies gave way to jagged terrain, steep climbs, and thin air that burned my lungs. Aron and Nori made it easier—steady hands, patient pauses, quiet encouragement. Aron navigated the path effortlessly, as if he had walked it a thousand times before.
A reminder of how long he and Talon had been friends.
And how fragile that bond now felt.
I tried to laugh it off. "You really should've given up on me ages ago. I'm not worth costing you a friendship like that."
Aron stopped walking.
He turned to me, eyes sharp. "Sienna, don't ever say that again. Talon and I will handle this the way we see fit. Fate brought this to us—and we'll face it."
Nori remained quiet, her attention stolen by the breathtaking heights around us.
When the climb grew steep, Aron pulled me up without hesitation—steady hands, unyielding strength. I finally asked the question pressing on my chest.
"You didn't have to come with me."
"I did," he replied simply. "I wanted you to see that Talon and I will always treat each other with respect—even if we love you the same. I wanted you to stop tormenting yourself. Trust that you'll know what you want when the time comes."
We reached the aerie as dusk painted the sky gold.
Talon wasn't there—neither were the other birds. We waited until the sound of wings split the air. A powerful landing followed, and Talon appeared, arms full of vibrant fruit.
"I knew you were coming," he said smugly. "Brought you the sweetest ones."
He glanced at Aron—no hostility, just rivalry worn thin by familiarity.
"Thank you for bringing her here safely," Talon said, serious for once.
"You're welcome," Aron replied smoothly. "She holds half my heart. I needed to see her safe."
Talon bristled. "She was never yours."
They bickered—sharp words, familiar rhythms. And then I realized… they weren't fighting.
They were being themselves.
I laughed.
They both stared at me, startled. Aron stepped forward and pulled me into a quiet embrace, breathing me in one last time.
"I'll see you soon," he murmured. "Remember the whistle."
Then he turned and walked away.
Talon wrapped his arms around me from behind as we watched Aron disappear down the mountain path.
And just like that, I was moving forward again.