As Talon lay beside me, fast asleep, I opened my eyes and studied his face. I reached out and gently stroked his hair, careful not to wake him. I had pretended to fall asleep, but the truth was, I hadn't slept at all.
I couldn't believe I had finally encountered Vera.
The fight had been eye-opening—terrifying in the quiet way that settles into your bones after the danger has passed. There was no way in hell I could ever lower my guard again. Not now. Not ever. I needed to analyze every word, every reaction, every shift in behavior of those around me. I was certain now that one of Vera's greatest weapons was manipulation—the ability to possess, to twist, to wear someone else's body like a disguise.
I had known something was wrong the moment Lira threw Lina's decayed body at my feet.
I had sensed it then. The wrongness. The disconnect. But Eriu's rage surged inside me, drowned out my reason, and stripped away my restraint. That was why I couldn't let go of Lira, even as she clawed at my hand. The pain didn't matter. What mattered was the fear—fear that I had lost control.
The tears I shed weren't just grief. They were doubt. The moment I started questioning whether I was strong enough to carry all this, my will shattered. I was grateful—so grateful—that Talon snapped me out of it when he did. I needed that push. That harsh reminder.
I faced Vera. I protected Avion.
And I felt it—her power weakening.
Faith. Influence. Devotion.
The more beings turned toward Eriu, the weaker Vera became. It wasn't brute force that would defeat her—it was belief. That realization settled deep within me, heavy and unavoidable.
I needed to speak to Lira.
When I finally woke, Talon was sitting beside me, carefully checking the places where I'd been wounded. My skin was already healed, but his eyes searched anyway, sharp and attentive.
The first thing I asked was to see Lira.
He resisted at first, his jaw tightening, his wings twitching in irritation. But I told him it mattered—that I needed to fix this. Eventually, he relented and led me to her, though he stayed close, just out of reach.
Lira sat stiffly, her body turned away from me. Her eyes were downcast, heavy with guilt… and something else. Pain. Lyca knelt beside her, tending to her wounds in silence.
I asked Talon to give us space. Reluctantly, he did—though I knew he was listening.
I started softly. "Lira… you're strong. Stronger than you realize. I'm glad you didn't let Vera take you completely."
She didn't respond.
I swallowed and continued. "I'm sorry if I hurt you. I never meant to take Aron away from you. If I had known how you felt, I would have—"
I stopped.
The words caught in my throat because the truth scared me.
Would I have stopped myself? Even if I'd known? Even now, my thoughts betrayed me. He belongs to me.
Lira finally turned to face me, bitterness sharp in her eyes.
"Sienna… you can't even deny it. All gods are the same. Greedy beyond measure. You give endlessly—but you also want everything in return. Aron. Talon. The Sea King. You want them all."
The words struck like a slap.
Because they were true.
I wasn't a saint. I was human. And Eriu magnified everything—my compassion and my flaws. I forced myself to speak anyway.
"I'm sorry," I said quietly. "I'll be more careful."
That was all I had.
For a long moment, Lira studied me. Then her expression softened.
"You don't have to pretend," she said gently. "I see it now. It's not all you."
She understood.
And just like that, the weight between us eased.
The days that followed in Avion were calmer—lighter. Talon even brought Nori and me into the skies, letting us see Bestia from above. Other days, he took me alone to meet avian travelers—hawks, doves, pelicans—human in form, radiant in pride, endlessly enamored with their own beauty.
Talon and I still clashed. That never changed.
We argued. We challenged each other. We refused to see things the same way. But we learned how to bend without breaking. Our fights ended in kisses, in shared laughter, in silent understanding. Still, I noticed something troubling—since Vera's attack, Talon flew less and less.
That wasn't like him.
It was time for me to move on.
I told Nori to prepare. Then I told Talon the truth.
He didn't take it well.
"Stay," he pleaded. "I can take you anywhere and return here after."
"Talon," I said gently, "we talked about this."
He exhaled sharply, defeated. "Then at least let my birds watch over you. I just need to know you're safe."
I nodded. If I hadn't, leaving would have been impossible.
He offered to take us to Mariner's Bay himself. I could feel his irritation—his resentment—though he said nothing.
When we landed, he pulled me into his chest without warning and pressed a soft kiss to my forehead.
"I'll miss you," he murmured. "Call me if that obnoxious, greedy seaweed gives you trouble. I'll come steal you back."
And with that, he was gone—refusing to wait for Rocco, unwilling to see him at all.
Nori and I watched as Talon disappeared into the horizon where sky and sea kissed.
Then the ground beneath us trembled.
Mariner's Bay rose from the ocean, domes unfolding like petals. Pietri and the merchildren rushed forward, their faces brighter, healthier than when I'd last seen them. Nori stared in awe at the glittering treasures stacked throughout the city.
They hugged me tightly. I hugged them back—relieved, grateful.
But something was wrong.
"Pietri," I asked, my heart already racing, "where's Rocco?"
"The king chief had to leave urgently," Pietri explained. "An underwater disaster—some of our people were put in danger."
My chest tightened.
Why weren't they worried?
Why was I the only one who felt this dread curling in my stomach?
Pietri tugged me gently toward the city. I motioned for Nori to follow—her mouth still hanging open in wonder—but my thoughts were elsewhere.
I could only hope Rocco was safe.