Chapter 16

SIXTEEN

U nderstanding hit Falkor like a physical blow. He knew too well what it meant to be a child without protection or hope. Before he could second-guess himself, he moved to the tree’s base.

“Together then,” he said, holding out his hand.

Briar’s eyes widened slightly, but she stepped forward without hesitation, placing her smaller hand in his. Their fingers intertwined naturally, and Falkor’s world exploded with sensation. Energy surged through him, different from anything he’d experienced.

His fire magic merged with her enchantments, creating something entirely new. The tree’s glow intensified, pushing back the encroaching ice in a wave of warmth and light.

“Our magic,” Briar gasped, turning to him with wonder in her eyes. “It resonates. I’ve never felt anything like this.”

Neither had he, but before he could respond, the temperature dropped dramatically. The dark spirit, enraged by their success, focused its assault on Briar. Ice raced up her legs with frightening speed, threatening to encase her completely.

“No!” The roar that escaped him was more dragon than human. Without conscious thought, he channeled his power, concentrating it into a precise blast of dragon fire. The flames melted the ice without harming Briar, freeing her from its grasp. He pulled her against him, wrapping his cloak around them both.

“I won’t let it take you,” he growled, surprising himself with the fierce protectiveness in his voice. The words emerged unbidden, raw with an emotion he wasn’t ready to examine.

Briar looked up at him, snowflakes melting on her cheeks. Her eyes searched his face, and he found himself unable to look away. “Why did you really come?” she whispered.

The question caught him off guard. He should step back, maintain distance, but his body refused to move. “I...” The words stuck in his throat. How could he explain what he didn’t understand himself?

A particularly violent gust of wind interrupted the moment, reminding them of the danger. The constant magical exertion had taken its toll on them both. Falkor guided Briar to a nearby alcove sheltered from the worst of the storm. As they caught their breath, he noticed a nasty gash on her arm where an ice shard had caught her.

Without hesitation, he tore a strip from his cloak. “Hold still,” he murmured, carefully cleaning snow from the wound before binding it.

“You don’t have to do that,” she whispered as he worked.

“Yes, I do,” he replied softly, his touch lingering perhaps longer than necessary. Their proximity allowed him to study her face—the determination that burned in her eyes despite her exhaustion, the gentle curve of her mouth even when worried, the light dusting of freckles across her nose that he hadn’t noticed before. She met his gaze steadily, and for a moment, Falkor felt attraction in a way he hadn’t experienced in centuries.

“I grew up in an orphanage,” Briar said suddenly, breaking the charged silence. Her hand came to rest on his where it still held her arm. “It wasn’t always easy. But everyone here...” she gestured to the ice-covered buildings around them, “they’ve given me a home.”

Falkor listened, struck by the emotion in her voice. Something in her words resonated with a deep, lonely part of him. Before he could stop, he found himself speaking of his own past.

“My mother,” he began, the words feeling like shards of glass in his throat, “she made sure I never felt at home anywhere. Especially during the holidays.” He clenched his fists, remembering Morganna’s cold eyes and cruel smile. “Every Christmas became an opportunity for her to demonstrate her power, to remind us that love was weakness.”

“Us?” Briar asked gently, her fingers intertwining with his.

“My sister and me. Evangelina.” The name tasted bitter on his tongue. “We haven’t spoken in... a very long time. I couldn’t protect her then. Couldn’t protect either of us.”

“You were a child,” Briar said softly, her free hand coming up to touch his face. The gentle contact startled him, but he leaned into it. “You didn’t fail anyone.”

“I’ve spent so long avoiding others,” he admitted, surprised by his own openness. “It seemed safer. Easier than risking...” He trailed off, unable to finish the thought.

“Maybe it’s time that changed,” Briar suggested, her voice gentle but firm. She was so close now, her warmth seeping into him despite the bitter cold.

The darkness surged without warning, wrapping around them like liquid shadow. The temperature plummeted further, and Falkor’s breath caught in his throat as he felt the spirit’s presence invade his mind. This wasn’t just darkness—this was every nightmare he’d lived through, every moment of isolation he’d endured, given form and voice.

“Poor little dragon,” the spirit whispered, its voice an exact match for his mother’s cruel tone. “Still so desperate for connection. Still so pathetic.”

Falkor staggered, his hand slipping from Briar’s as memories crashed over him like ice water. He saw himself as a child, huddled in a dark corner while Morganna’s magic turned their home into a frozen wasteland. Saw Evangelina’s tears as their mother mocked their attempts at celebrating Christmas. Felt again the soul-crushing loneliness of centuries spent believing he deserved nothing better.

“You think she’s different?” The spirit’s laugh sliced through his mind like broken glass. “Look how easily she touches you, speaks sweet words of understanding. Just like the others who claimed to care before they saw what you really are.”