The Rider's Truth.

All that's to come.

Unedited. 

Chapter Twenty-Two - All that's to come. 

With our bags packed and dragons saddled, there was only time now to say our goodbyes. The Ithrall and Ashbourne Riders milled together, now no longer two separate groups but just Riders instead. It was how we were supposed to be after our studies were finished. Nethore was anxious to go. The Valacari estate provided no freedom in his mind. It was boring land and he didn't dare venture too far encase Acheron decided to pay another visit.

He didn't care that security had been upped, or that the Queen had brought in her own witches to meddle with the Seal's own dark magic. The only creature, in his mind, that was capable of protecting me, was him.

But he longed for the Ithrall academy, which was just sky and stone. I would be safe there. Dragons patrolled those skies and he believed that no witch could fly among dragons and not be noticed.

"This parting is not forever." Hale clasped my hands in both of his. His fingers were chilly, but gripped mine tightly. Sadness lined the crevices of a deceivingly young face.

"You can call if you want." I tried to keep the tightness from my voice. Hale wasn't dying, but I felt better when he was around; as if remembering how he supported me in those dark cells. He understood, but now I had Nethore. He understood too; better than anyone except for Hale. Nethore could see my memories and feel the phantom pain of the strikes against my face, my back. But he would never feel that for himself.

In this castle, Hale had no one like that for him. Locking him away from the memories would do him no good, because he would be faced with them once more. I was learning that slowly; keeping it in only hurt everyone in the long run. Keeping this pain a secret made it something to be ashamed of.

Hale turned, a smile rising as Nethore darted towards us. The prince did not stir as the wind from Nethore's great wings buffeted us. The dragon tossed his head impatiently, the saddlebags on his sides jingling.

The bond between us opened with a burst of light. Hale froze as Nethore forced that connection outwards so that it travelled along our connected hands and Hale could feel just a tiny fraction of what we felt. He flinched at the feeling, his fingers tightening further.

"If you need us Halerion, we come."

My jaw tightened, my chest squeezing at the honesty in Nethore's words. He had come on so much in the eight months I had been locked away. His speech was better and his mind so much wiser.

"Thank you, Nethore." There were tears in Hale's eyes. The strength of the bond – even the sliver that Nethore was using to convey the depths of his sincerity was enough to move the vampire's soul. To let him feel a tiny fraction of what it was to be a connected soul.

"Nethore can never say gratitude enough..."

"Thank you sounds better..." I cut in quickly, steadily ignoring Nethore's annoyed look for ruining his momentum.

"Nethore can never say thank you enough for what you did for her. For helping her back to me. For that, Nethore and Halerion are friends."

There were definitely tears now lining Hale's cheeks. "It's an honour to be called 'friend' by you, Nethore. It is an honour to live in the time of the Vidalin and to be their friend..."

His gaze cut back to me and the bond slipped back to where it belonged. Firmly between Nethore and I. Hale's expression tightened and his head bent, as if trapping his next words between the both of us.