The meeting broke apart slowly.
Not because we had nothing left to say — but because there was too much.
Plans needed forming. Leads needed chasing. Research needed gathering. And over all of it loomed the same unspoken weight pressing against every thought:
Two days.
I stepped out of Tadewi's dwelling before anyone could stop me, the door curtain whispering shut behind me as the wind caught it.
The refugee overlook was quieter now. Late afternoon light had softened into gold, spilling across the sea in fractured ribbons. Air Nation children chased wind ribbons strung between posts, their laughter bright but fragile — the kind of laughter that came after loss, not before it.
I leaned against the carved railing again, folding my arms loosely.
The storm inside my chest hadn't settled.
It had only split.
One path led toward Forever Twin Falls.
Toward Raiden.
Toward answers I wasn't sure I was ready to hear.
The other path wound backward — toward the Earth Kingdom.
Toward the prison.
Toward a relic buried so deep it had grown roots.
And tangled through both paths like barbed wire—
The traffickers.
The girls.
The promise I'd made to bones that could no longer hear me.
My jaw tightened.
I didn't have the luxury of choosing one fight at a time.
I had to prepare for all of them.
I returned to my quarters as the sun dipped lower.
The room Tadewi had given me was simple — woven mats, a low table, an open balcony facing the sea. No excess. No distraction.
I preferred it that way.
The door curtain closed quietly behind me, and I stood in the center of the space for a long moment, letting the silence settle.
Then I moved.
Preparation grounded me.
It always had.
I knelt beside my travel pack and began laying out what I'd need — not for battle… but not unarmed either.
Twin daggers — black steel with a faint purple sheen. Balanced perfectly for close combat. The gift Raiden had given me.
A short blade strapped at my thigh — easier to draw if grabbed from behind.
Throwing knives tucked into my belt lining.
No armor.
Armor would signal distrust.
Weapons could be hidden.
I paused, fingers resting on the dagger hilts.
Meeting Raiden wasn't like meeting an enemy general.
It wasn't strategy alone.
It was history.
Trust broken.
Trust lingering.
Something far more dangerous than hatred.
Behind my ribs, Kagutsuchi flickered thoughtfully.
You prepare as if for war, he observed.
"I prepare as if for truth," I murmured.
Njord's presence rolled quieter beside him.
Water meets lightning in many ways, he said. Some destroy. Some reshape.
I didn't answer.
Because I didn't know which this would be yet.
When I finished packing, I moved to the cliff's edge — the place I always seemed to find myself these days.
Night had fallen fully now, lanterns blooming across the capital like floating stars reflected in the canals below.
I rested my forearms against the railing and closed my eyes.
Then—
Carefully—
I reached inward.
The thread was still there.
Thin.
Fractured.
Unnatural.
I brushed it lightly.
No words came this time.
No echo.
Just presence.
Awareness.
Like touching the surface of deep water and feeling something move beneath it.
He was alive.
Aware.
Moving.
The sensation sent a strange, unwelcome warmth through my chest.
I pulled my awareness back quickly.
"I'm doing this because I need answers," I whispered to the night.
The wind didn't argue.
I wasn't alone long.
The wind behind me rustled softly.
"I thought I might find you here," Tadewi said.
I didn't turn.
"Is it that obvious?"
"To someone who listens more than watches," she replied.
She joined me at the edge, hands folded into her sleeves as she looked out over the sea.
"You've decided," she said.
It wasn't a question.
"Yes."
"You will go."
"Yes."
Silence settled briefly between us — not disapproval… but contemplation.
"Then you must go prepared," she said. "Not just with weapons."
I glanced at her. "Meaning?"
"Raiden will not meet you as a prince," she said calmly. "He will meet you as something else. You must decide which version of yourself stands across from him."
I exhaled slowly.
"That sounds dangerously like emotional advice."
"It is survival advice," she corrected gently.
She studied me then.
"You still believe he can be saved."
It wasn't accusation.
It was observation.
I didn't deny it.
"I don't know what I believe," I said quietly. "But I know he's not fully gone."
Tadewi nodded once — like she'd expected that answer.
"Then be careful," she said. "Because hope can be weaponized just as easily as fear."
With that, she left me alone again.
Her words lingered longer than I liked.
I tried to sleep.
I really did.
But my thoughts betrayed me.
They always did when decisions loomed.
So I trained instead.
There was a quiet sparring platform carved into the cliffside below the refugee camp — wind-worn stone, open sky, no witnesses.
Perfect.
I moved through blade drills first — precision cuts, low sweeps, reverse grips. Muscle memory steadied my breathing, sharpened my focus.
Then shifting.
White iridescent scales rippled across my arms as I summoned partial dragon form — claws extending, strength multiplying, senses sharpening.
I launched into aerial maneuvers from the cliff edge — wing bursts, dive recoveries, midair pivots.
Not for spectacle.
For control.
If Raiden lost control at the Falls…
I would need to counter lightning with sky.
Fire with speed.
Corruption with instinct.
I landed hard back onto the stone platform, chest rising and falling steadily.
"You're going to exhaust yourself before the meeting," Muir's voice called lazily from the shadows.
I didn't even startle.
"How long have you been there?" I asked.
"Long enough to confirm you overthink when stressed."
I snorted softly, retracting my claws.
"You spying or supervising?"
"Neither," he said, stepping into lantern light. "Just making sure you don't go off on your own."
I rolled my eyes.
"I'm not going to go alone."
"Good," he said. "Because if Raiden so much as breathes wrong—"
"I don't need rescuing," I cut in.
He smirked faintly.
"Never said you did."
He leaned against a stone pillar, watching me quietly for a moment.
"You trust him?" he asked.
I didn't answer immediately.
"I trust the bond," I said finally. "Not the corruption."
Muir nodded slowly.
"That's fair."
He pushed off the pillar then.
"Just remember — whatever happens at those Falls… you won't face it alone."
I watched him leave, warmth settling faintly in my chest.
Not romantic.
Not dramatic.
Just loyalty.
And right now… that mattered just as much.