The night over Kenash was a sight in Noah’s eyes. It was hard for the man to describe sights as beautiful, pretty, ugly, or other descriptive word. Sights, in his eyes, were just sights and didn’t pull or tug on his heart in anyway. He supposed the most beautiful sight in his eyes was that of the natural world. He wasn’t far from the wilds, all he had to do was venture outside the city’s limits, but at what cost? He had forged a relationship here that had kept him afloat. If Noah was one thing, it was supremely loyal, and Verena had done something he couldn’t fathom not repaying. The thing was, how long was he supposed to repay her?

Noah asked himself, as he stood off to the side of the road, how deep the relationship between him and Verena ran. Just how much was he willing to sacrifice and give for someone who wasn’t his bondmate, someone he would never consider to be his bondmate. Already his heart and bond had been broken two times, there were scars that he didn’t think could be repaired. The scabs were there, a constant reminder to what he believed to be his own failures. It was what he did; he was naturally self-loathing because the bond was supposed to be unbreakable, he was supposed to hold and keep it, cherish it like nothing else. Had he disrespected and hurt his bondmates enough that they sought to hurt him in return, letting go of the leash he so willingly put into their hands?

The thoughts were heavy on the Kelvic’s mind, heavy like the looming moon above as it weighed down on the city through clear skies. For some reason, though it wasn’t full, the moon appeared bright, out shining the stars. Perhaps it was just he who was focusing heavily on the alabaster celestial body, or perhaps he was thinking of Leth and how him and Syna seemed to never part. Reaching into himself, Noah believed he was jealous of the gods above in the heavens. They were immense, had so many obligations, yet still managed to form a bond more taut than the one he shared with two humans, a Benshiran woman and a Ravokian man.

Long ago, Noah had a dream about the Ravokian man named Caesarion, dreamt of reliving their night of burning passions in the tent on that fateful eve. His first bond was forged in the fires of passion, lust, care, and love. The heat reinforced it, made it strong, made the silver gleam like nothing he had seen before. Yet, despite this, the bond was broken, the silver cord shattering like the most fragile glass in a china shop. Vividly he remembered the heartbreak and how his breath caught in his chest, how the ache was physical and how the tears came to his burning eyes instantly. No broken wing, scarred leg, or other physical injury could compare to the break of a bond and his heart all at the same time.

Instantly the doubts filled his mind and swiftly he fell into his own depression. It didn’t help he was rendered crippled for a time due to a foolish venture out into the Bronze Woods. He was forced to seek out the care of a female doctor, a doctor named Devi, and he only snuck away from her when he was able. Returning to his apartment in Syliras, he was then forced to lean upon another human, the Benshira named Elann. He wasn’t allowed to fly, he wasn’t allowed to be free, and all the while he had to deal with the ache in his newly torn heart. He wrote a song about it, telling of his thoughts and telling how heavy he felt, how he felt it was his own fault because an explanation had not been given to him. It was abrupt, blindsiding, crippling like a normal injury.

Noah was alive now, he knew that, and felt as if he could survive anything but another bond being broken. He could take a knife to the chest, an arrow to the arm, a broken wing, or a chipped beak, but his heart couldn’t take anymore. He refused to have it take anymore.

The breezes of night came at his back, pressing and swelling against him. The winds were moodless but his god was in the area, his god was in the winds, his breath was speaking into the Stormwarden’s ears. Distracted, Noah did not hear the man approaching him, didn’t feel the presence until he was directly upon the Kelvic, his hand pressing at the eagle’s shoulder. Instantly the Kelvic jumped, stepping forth, whirling, and throwing his perceptive eyes like daggers at the man. Just as quickly, the look softened in realization and recognition.

The heart in his chest throbbed and his lungs filled with air only to sputter it out between his lips, jaw slightly ajar in disbelief. Noah took another step back. His own thoughts and dreams were too powerful, he believed, they manifested Caesarion there before him. It was just an apparition, he thought, but no, it wasn’t. There, looking at Caesarion, his eyes fleeted across the man’s facial features, took in the parts of his body, noting that he still was taller than the Kelvic. His jaw rose, setting, tensing, as he looked at the man. The emotional eagle was torn between a sense of desperation, anger, and joy.

Noah didn’t shrink as he had done the last time they might. He wasn’t put off, but the heaviness of his thoughts bore down on him with a great weight. He stood straight, his hard gaze set on the man but his face was soft overall.

“Caesarion,” he whispered into the air.

Noah pressed himself to speak more, pressed himself to ask the hundreds of questions on his mind but the more he thought on them, the more emotionally divided he became. No emotion would buy the other out but all he wanted to do was to feel the man’s touch once again.

“Why are you in Kenash?” he asked. “You left me, why are you here?”