The following night, the Glade shimmered with amber ether lanterns strung between branches, casting warm light over the treetop walkways. Laughter echoed through the canopy as music of strings and wind filled the air, the rhythm of feet stomping in joyous, uneven tempo. It was the 36th eve of the Dawn Festival, and Elarion Glade bloomed not with flowers, but with celebration.
Flint, of course, was in his element. His plumes were flared wide, feathers polished, and his silver-blond crest swept perfectly back. He twirled, laughed, and spun between crowds with a mug in one hand and compliments flying in every direction. Even among the glowing decorations and swirling dancers, he was the brightest color in the festival's tapestry.
"Sweet moonsong, you look as radiant as Skyland's stars," he told a Nyx girl near the fruit stand.
"You told me that last festival," she teased.
"Well, it's still true," he replied, moving on as if he belonged in every corner of the Glade, until his eyes found her.
Across the celebration, Myri stood quietly near one of the ether flower lanterns, watching the crowd with a still, radiant face. Her green silk gown was simple, her horns decorated with only a thread of golden vine. For a moment, she looked carved from stillness.
Flint downed the last of his drink and slid through the crowd toward her.
"You showed up," he grinned.
She barely looked at him. "I said I'd think about it."
"Yeah, well, glad you did." He nudged her gently. "You clean up beautifully. Not that you don't always, but tonight? You're glowing like a fresh bloom."
She chuckled with a light blush on her cheeks.
Flint leaned over, brushing off the excitement from the crowd, and offered a hand. "Wanna join the floor room?"
Myri hesitated for a bit… then smiled faintly and placed her hand in his.
He twirled her once, twice, and laughter finally broke from her lips, a sound like water finding sunlight. They spun through the clearing, and for a while, it was almost as if any problem just faded from her shoulders. A magical moment, as time around them slowed with the glimmering of the Etherlight candles following their rhythm and the ether blowing in tune with their steps.
But then, as she slowed, her gaze flicked up, beyond the music, beyond the laughs, beyond where the Alborian leaves shivered as if something deeper was calling. Her smile slowly faded as the music grew distant to her ears.
She slipped away toward the edge of the platform, near the small bar of driftwood and leafstone, her expression dimming from joy to distress. Flint followed, eyebrows furrowed.
"Hey," he said, nudging her elbow. "You were smiling just a second ago. Come on. The forest's not dying tonight."
She shook her head, staring into her cup. "I don't know, Flint. It just… doesn't feel right."
He scoffed, leaning against the railing beside her. "Is this about the blooms again?"
"It's not just the blooms," she whispered. "It's in the air. It's in the roots. I can feel it. The Ether's… shifting. Like it's holding its breath."
Flint tried to joke, "Maybe it's just nervous for your big solo dance performance?"
She shot him a glare. "Can you not, for once!?"
His smile faltered. "I'm just saying, we're finally getting a break from all the gloom. This festival's for us. For celebrating and relaxing from all the hard work."
"It's not a break!" Her voice cut louder than she meant it to. "Everyone's laughing. Dancing. Drinking. Like nothing is wrong. Like the roots aren't whispering warnings." Her voice slightly rose, cutting into the music. "This festival was meant to remind us of our duty. And look at them... it's become another excuse to pretend."
He held his hands up, trying to calm her down. "Alright, alright. I get it, I get it. I know something may be wrong, but just for tonight, can't you let it go? We can deal with the issues when they show up. But right now…"
"Right now?" she cut in. "Right now, you're only fighting the silence between one girl's bed and the next."
Silence fell between them.
Then, softly, she added, "I shouldn't have come."
"Myri!" he called, holding a hand up as if attempting to grasp her.
But she was already turning, vanishing into the crowd and out of his sight.
Flint stood still for a moment, feathers sagging slightly. He watched the crowd blur around him.
Then came a voice like honey slipping between tree bark.
"Well, that looked painful."
He turned and groaned. "Oh no. Not now."
A sly figure strolled beside him, sipping from a carved cup, eyes glinting beneath her auburn bangs. She flicked one of her long, furred ears toward him with a teasing smile, her fox-like tail wrapping around him with care.
"You know, I always wondered if anyone would ever tell the great Flint no," she cooed. "The great Flint, tamer of hearts, champion of charm, denied after a single dance? Tsk."
"Ivy..." he muttered.
"Yes darling?"
"Stop" Flint said with a flat tone.
She plucked a fruit slice from behind her ear and nibbled on it with theatrical grace. "Oh come on. I'm here to cheer you up. If she ever falls for you, it might kill her from the shock. I'd be doing Skyland a favor by keeping you distracted."
Flint rolled his eyes. "Not in the mood
She chuckled low, placing a hand on his chest. "You sure? You don't look like a warrior tonight. You look like someone trying really hard to pretend he doesn't care."
He shot her a look while clenching his jaw, but she'd already slipped her fingers around his chest.
"Let me do what I do best," she purred in his ear. "Remind you of what you do best."
His hand didn't push hers away. The rejection still lingered, raw and unresolved, emotions knotting tight in his chest.
And so, without another word, they left the platform together, vanishing into the soft glow of the Glade.
-break-
The wind rustled through Flint's treehouse's woven curtains later that evening. The faint sounds of celebration, muffled laughter, and soft music drifted through the canopy somewhere below.
The beat had changed inside.
The weight shifting with a creak. A sudden, sharp gasp. Then there was a low, breathless laugh that was entangled with motion.
A thump against the bedding nest.
"Oh... so the tail is real," Ivy purred.
Flint lay sprawled among tangled sheets, sweat glistening on his chest as Ivy draped herself over him like a triumphant predator. In a slow, purposeful motion, she trailed one of his vivid orange plumes across his collarbone after twirling it between her fingers.
"You know…" she whispered against his throat, "for all your swagger, you really only excel at one thing."
His lips curled as he raised an eyebrow "Only one?"
With a sly smile, she moved her hips over his and pressed herself closer. "Alright. Two. But the first one is not talking."
Between laughter and exhaustion, he let out a long low breath.
Then her voice changed, becoming quieter and colder, her eyes observing him more closely in the shadows.
"You do know," she murmured, "she'll never look at you the way you want her to… right?"
His grin faded. His eyes strayed up toward the wooden ceiling beams, where the Etherlight flickered dimly through the cracks like stars, and he remained silent for a long moment. utterly quiet.
With a slow, knowing kiss, she leaned in and lightly touched his jaw. A light lick followed, trailing upward his ear.
"Lucky for you, darling," she whispered, already luring him back beneath the covers, "I'm not nearly as complicated."
As Flint's weight changed, she was forced into the cozy fur nest. His teeth sank softly into the bend of her neck as he growled low in his throat. A burst of breathless laughter escaped Ivy's lips as she gasped and curled her clawed fingers around his feathers.
The Glade's music floated through the branches bellow, accompanied by distant strings and a few distant drums. Like a second melody played covertly against the night's pulse, the rhythm of tangled limbs and muffled moans rose to match it above it, from Flint's treetop roost.
-break-
The morning light slipped through Flint's treehouse window, casting a golden stripe across his face. He woke up, tangled nude beneath the covers, stretching and groaning as his hand lazily reached to his side, only to discover that he was by himself. Just cold sheets and silence.
After letting out a breath, he ran a palm down his face and briefly covered his eyes with it.
"Huh," he muttered flatly. "So that's how it feels."
Letting his feathers settle, he sat up and looked again at the empty curve of sheets on the other side of the bed. Then he got up, put on his pants, and went outside into the daylight.
His bird like feet made a creaking sound on the treetop platform as he steeped into the early dew and gentle amber haze, the Glade remained silent. The canopy below him glistened with life emerging from sleep.
Flint descended silently from his treehouse, snatching a vine rope and sliding through layers of dappled foliage until he landed gently in the lush undergrowth of the forest floor. The smell of damp moss filled his nostrils, and ferns brushed against his legs. Shrouded in a thin mist that coiled around roots and shimmerpools, the Glade's lower level was silent.
However, beneath the dense canopy, the air felt unusually quiet, damp, and still.
And there, not far in the distance, was Myri. Her hands hovered over a small Ether-creature, a glider fox, as she knelt next to the edge of a shimmerpool. Like frostbite spreading through glass, black veins crawled across its translucent wings, causing them to tremble. Each of its faint but sharp cries pierced the forest's silence like a pinprick.
Myri's hands trembled while wisps of green Etherlight coiled between her fingers and the creature's mottled fur, but nothing settled. As if mocking her efforts, the corruption twitched and pulsed without ceasing.
She didn't look at Flint as he knelt next to her and approached slowly.
With his eyes on the dying creature, he asked quietly, "Is it going to be okay?"
She didn't answer.
"Myri…"
"It's not healing," Her voice was tight as she stated
Flint paused. "I can see that."
With a thinner-than-normal voice, she added, "I keep trying, but the Ether is resisting. It's like… the corruption knows how to hide now. Like it's learning."
She rose slowly, wiping her hands on her robe, holding back tears. Right after the glider fox whimpered once more, then went still.
Flint stood beside her in grimace. "I'm sorry."
"No, you're not," she said coldly.
Finally, she looked up at him. Her eyes were dry and red-rimmed with fatigue. "Flint, you don't give a damn. Not about this, not about the Ether nor the Ether Tree. You only care when it's fun for you."
He took a step closer to her. "That's not fair."
"You think this is about last night?" she snapped, raising her voice. "You think I care that you probably slept with someone else again?" She threw a hand toward him, gesturing at his whole stance. "Since when did you become into… this?"
Flint opened his mouth, but no words came out.
"I'm leaving," she said. "There's a group heading toward Caelarion Glade. They're calling for more druids and healers."
"You're going?" Flint asked, quieter now, the worry sleeping through before he could stop it.
"Yes."
"Alone?" He hesitated to even ask.
"With others," she replied sharply. "I'm done sitting here waiting and doing nothing."
Flint looked away. "Could be dangerous."
"I know." She glanced down at the still lifeless body of the glider fox, its tiny wings folded unnaturally beneath it. "But someone has to care."
The words hit him more forcefully than he had anticipated. His jaw tightened and his eyes moved.
"You're a Dawnbind.. one of the best," she said. "You're supposed to protect Skyland, Flint. But instead, you throw away your duty for lust and act like nothing's wrong."
Flint tried to speak, but the words remained stuck in his throat.
"You just Flint things up," she said quietly, her voice low. "You're not the Nyx I used to know."
She looked at him for a moment, then turned away in silence, her steps slow, heavy with something that felt more like sorrow than anger.
He reached out, unsure, as if trying to hold on to something already slipping away.
"Myri… I didn't mean to…"
She didn't stop. Her steps carried her forward, voice clipped and cold.
"You never do."
Then, without looking back, her final words landed like a dagger to the chest.
"Goodbye, Flint."
And Flint didn't follow.
He just stood there, staring at the place where she had been.
-break-
As the hours went by, the sun rose higher in the sky and began to trace slow gold lines across Elarion Glade.
Flint sat quietly on the edge of a high rail. As his eyes swept over the treetops, where shimmerpools glistened like strewn stars, the breeze rustled the feathers at his shoulders.
A blossom reed dangled from his fingers, long since gone out. He brought it to his lips anyway, drew nothing, and let the stem fall without a sound.
He hadn't moved since she left. Just sat there, quiet, and empty, thinking maybe if he'd said the right thing, it wouldn't have ended like this. But even that felt like a lie.
Then a sound came.
Hrooooom.
It cut through the trees like a blade, signaling someone approaching.
Then another followed, sharper this time, rising at the end.
Hroo-OOOM.
Flint snapped upright, feathers bristling. In one motion, he leapt from the rail and darted into the trees
The Heart Deck was packed. Rajak had already arrived with a bloody Kinitu scout in his hand. The young red-foxling trembled, his fur soaked and matted as he attempted to speak.
"Caelarion… Glade…" he rasped. "Under… attack." He rasped.
"What is it? Shadows?" Rajak asked, while few druids were kneeling next to the scout, forming a healing circle around him with their palms pressed together.
The Kinitu gasped and shook his head. "No. Even worse. This isn't like before. Not even corrupted ones… these things… they think while they kill. It's like… they…"
Flint took a step forward. "They're learning." His tone was sharp and low. "Where is the recently departing Druid squad?"
Flint felt a knot tighten in his chest as the scout's eyes locked with his.
Rajak looked at the guards nearby. "Prepare the Dawnbinds. We'll dispatch a team."
Without hesitation, Flint declared, "I'm going."
Rajak extended his hand. "No. Absolutely not! You're our strongest defence. We'll need you here if this makes it to the Ether Tree."
Flint took a step forward. His voice rose as he growled, "She's out there." His feathers crackled with sparks. "I won't just stand here and do nothing; they need my help."
Rajak puffed out his chest and moved to block his path. "Don't be foolish, Flint. What use are you to anyone if you charge in by yourself and die?"
Arcs of electricity danced along Flint's arms as his feathers flared. The atmosphere around him stiffened. "Move, Rajak."
Rajak narrowed his eyes, fists clenched as red heat shimmered off his hands, steaming. He didn't move.
"You're willing to throw everything away for one Nyx?"
Flint's eyes glistened as an electric current rushed through his body. His tone was firm and unyielding. "I'm not asking."
A long moment passed. Neither moved. Around them, the others stood frozen, breath held, as the air thickened with tension.
Finally, the steam hissed away as Rajak unclenched his fists and exhaled. "Fine. Five others go with you, or you dont go at all. And try not to get yourself killed out there."
Flint gave a single nod as Rajak stepped past him. The sparks along his feathers dimmed, but his gaze remained fixed in the direction she had gone.