Chapter 30 Oct 7, 2025 Mira leaned forward over Liorith's neck, breath catching as the dragon lifted from the stone with a rush of silver fire. Behind her, wind exploded like a curtain torn from the world. Above Caerborn's spires, the sky spread wide and sharp, clouds curling like brushstrokes over the mountains. No fanfare. No audience. No command. Bastian rose beside her, Vharok launching upward in a snarl of dark flame. The two dragons curved upward at the same time, instinctively aligned, wings cutting through the morning air like swords through silk. Mira's fingers curled tight into the reins, but not from fear. Liorith didn't need direction. She was humming beneath her, each beat of her wings pulsing through Mira's legs and chest like music. They weren't flying for the academy. Not for the instructors. Not even for each other. This was freedom. She glanced sideways. Bastian was grinning. Actually grinning - not smirking, not sneering, but something real. Wind whipped his dark hair back, and a streak of dried blood still curved beneath one cheekbone, but he looked alive in a way Mira hadn't seen before. "You keeping up?" she shouted. He tilted his head, feigning insult. "Are you?" She laughed. Then dove. Liorith dipped instantly, a silver streak curling downward like she was chasing her own tail. Mira's breath punched out of her, half scream, half joy. Vharok followed, Bastian whooping as they dropped through a gust, smoke trailing behind them like ribbons. The wind between them was wild. But neither pulled away. Liorith twisted left. Vharok spun right. Then together, they rose again, meeting midair in a sharp spiral that should've thrown them apart. But it didn't. Mira leaned forward, urging Liorith to match the beat. Her dragon answered without hesitation. Bastian was already there. They looped around one another - not fighting, not performing - just flying. Just being. The sky held them like it had been waiting. The stone towers of Caerborn shrank beneath their wings. The cheers, the whispers, the muttering nobles - all vanished. Only the wind remained. "Think they're watching?" Bastian asked, his voice barely carrying over the current. Mira smiled. "Let them." Vharok narrowed in close, his wing brushing Liorith's. The silver dragon didn't growl. Didn't snarl. She simply held her place. Mira could feel the calm through the bond, a rare, soft contentment that settled behind her ribs like warmth. "She's not biting you," Mira noted, eyebrows lifting. "Yet," Bastian muttered. "Maybe she's saving me for later." "Smart girl," Mira teased, patting Liorith's scales. "She knows feeding needs timing." Bastian rolled his eyes, but didn't argue. Their dragons climbed higher, past the banners, past the bell towers, until even the mountains seemed far beneath them. The cold thinned the air, but it didn't steal Mira's smile. Up here, there was no proving. No survival. No audience grading every move. Up here, they chose. At the highest peak, the sky opened in every direction - blue stretching out like a secret, clouds rolling slow and soft beneath their feet. Mira eased Liorith into a steady hover. Bastian did the same with Vharok, the two dragons gliding parallel, neither breaking rhythm. For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Mira glanced at him, her voice low. "So... what happens now?" Bastian shrugged, eyes still on the sky. "I guess we finally figure out how to live instead of just getting through it." Then he added, "With you, I mean. If you'll let me." Mira blinked. "Was that a proposal?" "No," he said dryly. "That was a poorly phrased compliment. Don't get excited." She huffed a laugh, but her heart beat faster anyway. The wind was louder now, rushing past them in pulses. Liorith tilted her head slightly, as if giving permission. Vharok growled under his breath but didn't pull away. Mira didn't need another invitation. She leaned across the air. And Bastian met her halfway. Their lips met in a soft collision, warm and steady in the freezing sky. Mira's hand slipped against his shoulder, fingers gripping the leather of his sleeve. His palm braced behind her neck. No more hiding. No more pretending they weren't already something. His mouth moved with hers, slow at first, then deeper. Mira didn't care if they tipped sideways. Didn't care if they plummeted, even. This moment - this kiss - it didn't belong to the Academy. It didn't belong to the dragons. It belonged to them. The wind tangled in her hair. Their noses bumped once. They broke apart only to laugh, breathless, foreheads touching. Below them, Caerborn shimmered - proud, ancient, changed. Above it all, they stayed suspended, held in silver wings and stormfire smoke. They kiss mid-air, breathless, laughing against the wind.