The forest was alive with the sound of snapping twigs and the distant cry of hawks, but Zekar's mind was elsewhere. He crouched low in the tall, golden grass of the Druvkaur outskirts, his bow pulled tight, the string humming against his ear. A massive stag stood forty paces away, its antlers wide and regal, grazing in a patch of sunlight.
It was a clean shot. A shot Zekar could make with his eyes closed.
But as he took a breath to steady his aim, the image of silver-white hair shimmering in the moonlight flashed before him. He felt the phantom warmth of Emery's shoulder against his. His fingers slipped. The arrow whistled through the air, striking a tree trunk a hand's breadth above the stag's head. The beast bolted, disappearing into the thicket in a blur of brown and white.
Zekar cursed in Drk, standing up and dusting the dirt from his leather trousers.
"Dra vaarn," [1]Ryker said, stepping out from behind a cedar tree. He wasn't even pretending to hide his amusement, his own bow slung casually over his shoulder.
"Vaar'kael ven'thal, vel'draan dor'flesh ael'hun, vaarn dra'thal shael'staar. Dûr niir kael shaal'ven dra, dra'khar? Aal shaal'ven dra shyr'maal ven'vael aal Velanthri sil'kaur?"[2]
Zekar shot his twin a glare that would have withered a lesser man. "The wind shifted."
"Vael shir nar'vaan shael'kaar sen'raen." [3]Ryker countered, walking toward the tree to retrieve the stray arrow. He plucked it from the wood and tossed it back to Zekar. "Admit it. You're gone. You're already thinking about the sunset and that girl. Tell me, do you plan to bring a Velanthri Verya[4] back to our home? Mama will need to buy more tea and less meat if a girl like that is coming to dinner."
Zekar caught the arrow and shoved it into his quiver. "Sha nar'draa ael'gest. Sha draa'len ael'thaar. Niir e'laan shael'ver dor'thong, aal ma'syr vel'kaar dor'Empyr nar'thal ven'muurn vael'beir."[5]
"Is that what we're calling it now?" Ryker grinned, nudging Zekar's shoulder. "Language lessons? I didn't know the Druvkaur alphabet required so much staring at a girl's mouth."
Zekar shoved him back, harder than necessary, but he couldn't stop the heat rising to his ears. "Quiet, Ryker. Or I'll leave you to explain to Baba why we're coming home empty-handed."
They continued deeper into the forest, moving toward the higher ridges where the air grew thin and the earth turned to dark, volcanic stone. As they rounded a jagged cliffside, the smell of burning sage and old smoke filled the air.
A group of Druvkaur elders stood in a semi-circle around a stone altar, their dark skin painted with ash. They were performing the "Vaer'khal—the fire ritual. Small tongues of flame danced in their palms, rising and falling in sync with a low, rhythmic chant that seemed to vibrate in the very ground.
The twins slowed their pace, offering a respectful nod as they passed. One of the elders, a man whose skin was as wrinkled as a dried plum, looked up. His eyes weren't just red; they were a milky, glowing crimson.
"Vael'raen dra'vyr,"[6] the elder rasped, his voice sounding like grinding stones. "Vel'kaar Ael'khyrr nar'draa shael'raen ven'thir. Sha dra'len shael'shyr ven'thaal. Dra'kael voran vel'kaar, aal dra'kael ven'ash."[7]
Zekar kept walking, his lip curling in a slight scoff. "Prophecies," he muttered to Ryker once they were out of earshot. "They've been talking about the Great Winged One since the stars were young. No one has shifted in three hundred years. Those who try just burn themselves from the inside out."
"Baba says the magic is still there," Ryker said softly, his usual teasing gone. "It's just sleeping."
"Let it sleep," Zekar replied. "I'd rather have my bow and my feet on the ground than a pair of wings that will turn me to cinders."
By the time they reached their home, the sun was beginning its descent, painting the Druvkaur sky in bruised purples and deep oranges. Their duplex was modest, smelling of roasted meat and the cedarwood Baba used for his carvings.
Baba was sitting on the front porch, polishing a piece of dark wood. He looked up as the twins approached, his sharp eyes immediately landing on their empty hands.
"The forest was quiet today?" Baba asked, a knowing tilt to his head.
"Zekar was quieter," Ryker joked, though he went inside quickly when Zekar raised a fist.
Baba stood and gestured for Zekar to stay. He waited until Ryker was out of sight before reaching into a small leather pouch at his belt. He pulled out a necklace—a simple cord of braided sinew holding a shard of dragon-glass. The glass was black, but when the light hit it, a vein of deep, crystalline red shimmered in the center.
"This belonged to your grandfather," Baba said, his voice low. "And his father before him. It is a shard of the first fires."
Zekar looked at the sharp stone, his breath hitching. "Why are you giving this to me now?"
"Because a Skald[8] does not miss a clean shot unless his heart is already captured," Baba said, a rare, gentle smile touching his rugged face. "In our tribe, we do not have many riches. We have our fire, our pride, and our mates. When a man of Druvkaur finds the one who makes his blood sing, he gives her the glass. It is a promise that his flame will never burn her, only keep her warm."
Zekar took the necklace, his fingers brushing the cool, sharp edge of the glass. The dragon-glass felt alive in his palm, pulsing with a faint, steady heat that matched the rhythm of his own pulse.
"I do not know if she... if a girl of Velanthri would want such a thing," Zekar murmured, his mind picturing the delicate lace and silver of Emery's world.
"Then you do not know the girl," Baba replied, clapping a heavy hand on Zekar's shoulder. "Beauty is fine for the sunlight, Zekar. But when the night comes, everyone seeks the fire."
Zekar clutched the necklace tight, the sharp point of the shard digging into his skin. He didn't care about the pain. He looked toward the west, where the Gem Stream lay hidden beyond the trees. The ache beneath his shoulder blades flared again, stronger this time, like a restless power straining against its cage.
He wouldn't miss his shot tonight. He had a gift to deliver, and a promise to keep. As the first stars began to peek through the twilight, Zekar turned and headed toward the forest, the dragon-glass hidden against his chest, glowing with the heat of a hunter who had finally found his prize.
[1] ENGLISH:You missed
[2] ENGLISH: Danger itself, wrapped in human flesh, just missed a standing target. Should I check your eyes, brother? Or are they still clouded with white hair and Velanthri silk?
[3] ENGLISH: The wind hasn't blown since sunrise.
[4] Female/Girl
[5] ENGLISH: She is not a guest. She is a teacher. I am learning the tongue so we can move through the Empire without being treated like mute beasts.
[6] ENGLISH: The blood stirs,
[7] ENGLISH: The Great Winged One is not a ghost of the past. He is a shadow of the future. The tribes will be one, or they will be ash."
[8] Man/Male/Boy