Chapter 4

Axton had always been good at ignoring things he couldn’t deal with. Until now.

The sting of failure clung to him like a parasite, burrowed deep, gnawing away at his resolve. He lost himself in mindless tasks, scrubbing cauldrons, sorting volatile potions, tending to the queen’s exotic creatures. Anything to keep from thinking. But it didn’t matter. No matter how hard he worked, no matter how much sweat dripped from his brow, the weight pressing down on his chest never lightened.

And Pyretalon would not leave.

The bastard was always there, watching, hovering, refusing to move on. Pyretalon could have soared higher, taken a post worthy of his skills. But no, he chose to stay shackled to Axton, wasting his time protecting a man who didn’t deserve it. Every time Axton saw the gryphon wave off another promotion, his gut twisted like a blade had been driven into it. Pyretalon should be flying free, untethered, not weighed down by an anchor like him.

And yet, despite everything, Pyretalon had stayed. He had seen Axton fail, watched him choke in the test, his magic misfiring, hands trembling, mind locking up like a rusted door. The way Olas cleaned up his mistake made it look like it was child’s play, something even a mage of his skill should succeed in. The gryphon had witnessed it all, every humiliating moment, every painful crack in Axton’s carefully built walls. And still, he stayed.

It wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair. Because Axton didn’t just need Pyretalon. He wanted him.

Gods, did he want him. The safety in his presence. The power in every deliberate movement. That untouchable confidence, so foreign to Axton it felt like something out of legend. And Pyretalon, that smug, feathered bastard, he knew, or at least so he thought. And worst of all? He flaunted it.

It wasn’t subtle. The slow, deliberate stretches in front of him, the way muscles flexed beneath fur, the way his tail flicked just right, revealing far too much. It was the way he adjusted his stance whenever Axton’s gaze lingered, his heavy balls swaying, a silent, infuriating challenge in those golden eyes.

Axton had nearly shattered a shelf of potions the day Pyretalon caught him outright. His smirk, that insufferable knowing smirk, was burned into Axton’s mind like a brand. A taunt. A promise. A challenge he was too much of a coward to accept.

“Axton, watch out!”

The gryphon's powerful beak seized his robe, yanking him back just before he could tumble headfirst down the stairs. His stomach lurched, but it wasn’t just from the near fall, it was the sudden closeness, the heat of Pyretalon’s body against his, the sheer weight of him holding Axton steady.

“You all right there?” Pyretalon asked, his voice was rough but laced with something softer beneath it. His golden eyes flicked over Axton’s face, measuring, assessing. “Because if you crack your skull open, I am not explaining that to the queen.”

Axton jerked free, heart hammering. “You’re fussing again.”

“I’ll fuss if I want,” Pyretalon retorted, his wings shifting slightly, a habitual gesture of restless energy, “Better that than letting you turn into a stain on the stairs.”

“I didn’t need your help,” Axton lied, the words bitter on his tongue. “I was just… distracted.”

Pyretalon’s ears flicked forward. “By what?”

“It’s nothing,” Axton snapped. “Just, drop it.”

Pyretalon gave a low, knowing hum. “Oh, so we’re still pretending. Thought you’d be a little braver by now.” His smirk stretched, golden eyes gleaming with amusement. “Don’t tell me you’re still sulking over… earlier?”

Axton’s entire body burned. He knew exactly what Pyretalon meant. That gods damned smirk. That deliberate display.

“I said I don’t want to talk about it, Pyre.” he blurted, voice too sharp, too desperate.

The gryphon let out a long-suffering sigh. “Bottling this up is only going to make it worse—”

“It’s my choice, Pyre!” Axton snapped, stepping back, fists clenched. “You don’t get to decide what I want to deal with!”

Pyretalon studied him, something unreadable flickering in those gold eyes, before sighing and letting the matter lie.  

They soon reached the tall wooden doors of the library, relics from a time before gryphons and humans united. The mosaics across the heavy panels depicted robed wizards and knightly figures receiving fire from the gods. Axton, as always, noted Bahamut’s absence from the depiction. Pyretalon grunted as he shoved his way through, his wings twitching in irritation. “You’d think, given how often I come through here, they’d widen this damn doorway by now.”

Axton smirked, despite himself. “Heritage, Pyre. Some things are… priceless relics.”

“Priceless relics belong in a museum,” Pyretalon muttered, finally slipping through with a frustrated flick of his tail. “Instead, I get to look ridiculous. Don’t ask me how Lyra fits.”

“She’s smaller.” Axton gestured to his own waist. “Here. Around the—”

“I’m not fat,” Pyretalon rumbled, his tail flicking behind him. “And if you’re that interested in measurements, then why not find yourself a tool to measure me then.”

Axton shrugged. “Never said you were. But there’s no denying you’re—”

“Pure muscle,” Pyretalon interrupted, puffing his chest out like the cocky bastard he was. His voice dipped, slow and smug. “And don’t you think for a second I haven’t caught you admiring that muscle more than you let on.”

Axton wanted him, gods damn it, he wanted him so badly he ached with it.

And Pyretalon knew it, of course he would.

Axton’s face burned. Too many times, he’d pictured putting that warrior’s build to work… on him. He turned away quickly, fixing his gaze on the library instead, trying to steady himself in its familiar comfort.

The library spread out in a grand circular hall, shelves towering overhead. Chandeliers filled with mana crystals offered golden, soothing light. Various patrons, from humans in scholarly robes to gryphons sporting reading glasses perched precariously on their beaks. Despite expansions meant to accommodate winged citizens, many gryphons still had to stoop or sidle around. The musty perfume of aging parchment mingled with the faint tang of arcane wards. Axton exhaled, letting that grounding presence settle his thoughts.

A flicker of green among the higher shelves caught his eye, a gryphon librarian was rifling through some tomes at the very top, what really caught his eye was how the distracted scholar was perched at a precarious angle. Before he had time to process it, she let out a startled yelp as she leaned too far and lost balanced, her lion-like paws scrabbling at slick wood.

A shrill cry echoed through the library. “Look out!”

“Axton!” Pyretalon barked, wings flaring and knocking the mage out of the way.

Axton reacted without thinking. He dropped the books in his arms, adrenaline spiking. “Feather’s Grace!”

The falling gryphoness slowed midair as if she was as light as a feather. A moment later, she touched down on the polished floor, blinking in relief. Her bright green feathers ruffled as she let out a shaky laugh.

“Whew! That would’ve been a real fowl-up if you two weren’t here,” she said, smoothing her robe with a dramatic flourish. Axton recognized her instantly it was Lyra, Pyretalon’s mate. Her voice rang with cheery enthusiasm, a small grin forming at her beak. “Thanks for the soft landing. I’d say that was the most graceful crash I’ve ever had, though that’s not saying much.”

Pyretalon folded his wings, stepping closer. “You all right, Lyra? I’d rather not find my mate splattered on the ground.” His teasing lilt couldn’t mask the genuine concern.

Lyra flicked her tail, eyeing the high shelf she’d tumbled from. “Could’ve been worse. Maybe next time I’ll request a ladder. Or better yet, someone tall, strong, and overbearing.” She shot Pyretalon a grin.

Axton bent to retrieve his books, but the easy banter between them made something twist inside him. The casual, natural way they fit together was enviable.

“Honestly, I can’t keep my eyes on your tail all day,” Pyretalon said with a faint smirk. “Even if it does demand attention.”

“Shame, because I love being the tail-end of your priorities,” Lyra teased, bumping her flank against Pyretalon. “But I suppose we wouldn’t get much done that way.”

Pyretalon rumbled low in his throat. “We’d get something done, just not what we came here for.” He nipped at her ear affectionately before glancing toward Axton. “You good there?”

The mage dusted himself off, still reeling from the earlier stumble. Once again, Pyretalon had jumped to his rescue. He forced a small smile. “Thanks for that,” he muttered. “I should pay more attention.”

“Think nothing of it, Ax.” Pyretalon rolled one broad wing across his chest in a casual shrug. “You did just save my dear Lyra from a nasty fall, so let’s call it even.”

“That was quick thinking, sugar!” Lyra bounded closer, nudging Pyretalon into the nearest shelf. A light purr rattled in her throat as she bumped her forehead against Axton’s. “You and those magic fingers have reflexes like a gryphon. Guess you’re my knight in shiny armor.”

Axton tried not to press back too eagerly against Lyra’s affectionate nuzzle. A faint blush crept up his neck. Pyretalon’s gaze flicked between them, his expression unreadable.

“What were you doing up there in the first place?” Axton asked, clearing his throat. “I thought you knew this library inside and out.”

Lyra’s ears flicked in mild embarrassment. “I misjudged the distance, that’s all,” she said with a small laugh. “One minute I’m sure I can reach the top, the next I’m flailing like a gryphet.”

A passing human grinned. “Weren’t you practicing those steps for that festival routine?”

“No one asked for your commentary, Lisa!” Lyra squawked, sticking out her tongue. “I’d have landed just fine if you hadn’t made me laugh.”

Pyretalon scoffed, flicking his tail. “Dance moves? In the middle of a workday? Is that what passes for librarian duty these days?”

“I have my reasons,” Lyra said airily. “And even if I had gotten hurt, there’s a priest of Sartren on staff. She’d have healed me in a blink, assuming I didn’t just flop into your arms first.”

“I’d rather not risk you flopping at all.” Pyretalon said, his tail flicking.

Lyra let out a long sigh, though her eyes sparkled. “Yes, mother-Henning again. If you start clucking, I’m leaving.” She cast a mischievous glance at Axton. “Makes me wonder if we should fit him in a frilly apron, don’t you think?”

Axton usually would’ve gone along with the joke, but Pyretalon’s sharp glance made his stomach flip, not in fear, but something far more complicated. A part of him wouldn’t mind Pyretalon pinning him to the ground, but not in front of everyone.

“I…uh, I think I’ll pass on that.” he managed.

Lyra’s ears perked, and she flicked her tail with exaggerated innocence. “Oh, he’s blackmailing you again, isn’t he?”

“I would never,” Pyretalon said smoothly, lifting his beak in feigned offense. “I simply remind him of his responsibilities.”

“Uh-huh.” Lyra shot Axton a sly look. “That’s what he said last time, right before pinning you over a dropped quill.”

Axton sputtered. “That was…he startled me!”

Lyra gasped, placing a talon over her chest in mock scandal. “Oh dear, Pyre, you startled him? Just swooped in, pressed him to the ground, and whispered something commanding in his ear, huh?”

Pyretalon tilted his head, his tail flicking lazily. “It’s not my fault he reacts so well.”

Axton’s face burned. “That is not what happened!”

“Riiight.” Lyra tapped her beak, pretending to think. “That explains why you just… melted underneath him.”

“I—” Axton choked. “I did not melt!”

Pyretalon exhaled in amusement. “But neither did I feel any resistance though.”

Lyra grinned like she’d won a bet. “Exactly. Which means it wasn’t pinning, was it? Sounds more like a mutual agreement.”

Axton groaned. “Oh, for the love of the gods—”

“Oh no, don’t stop now.” Lyra purred. “I love when you get all defensive. You make it so easy.”

Axton scowled. “Easy? You—”

Pyretalon stepped past him with a knowing look, his tail brushing just barely against Axton’s hip. “You do make it easy.”

Axton stiffened, his thoughts tangling like an ensnared spell, caught between wanting to flee and wanting to stay lost in the moment.

Lyra just hummed, flicking her tail as she led the way forward. “Come on, boys. Let’s get those books before Axton passes out from blushing too much.” She quickened her pace to match Axton’s. “What brings you to my domain? Don’t tell me you two just popped by to bask in my radiant presence. You on a book run for the queen or something?”

A tired sigh slipped from Axton as he rubbed his temple. “More or less.” He held up his notes. “Her Majesty wants these for research. Not exactly a recreational visit.”

Lyra’s ears drooped dramatically, her beak forming an exaggerated pout as she tried to nip at his hat. “Ugh, work, work, work! Haven’t you heard of breaks? Or better yet, dancing with a clumsy librarian?”

A dismissive wave of his hand deflected her playful advances. “Wish I could blame someone else, but apparently, I’m the queen’s errand boy today.”

“Then I’ll blame the queen,” Lyra huffed, flicking her tail at Pyretalon. “But don’t think you’re off the hook, featherbutt. Let’s see that list.”

She hooked a foreleg around Axton’s arm, guiding him to a low-slung desk meant for gryphon use. Scrolls, ledgers, and a gryphon-head-shaped inkwell littered the space in an organized mess.

Eyes scanning the parchment, Lyra’s expression grew more exasperated by the second. “Let’s see… ugh. ‘Advanced Runes and the Lost Tongues of Eld'…riveting.” She flipped the parchment. “Oh! ‘Dissertation on Leyline Fractures in Pre-Arcanic Civilization’…a real page-turner, I’m sure.”

A slow, deadpan stare was directed at Axton. “Tell me, sugar, did the queen request these books to study, or to punish you?”

The mage rubbed his temple harder. “Feels like both.”

A quiet huff of amusement came from Pyretalon. “If she truly wanted to punish him, she’d make him read them aloud.”

Lyra snorted, flipping to the last title. “Oh no, it gets worse, ‘A Comprehensive Examination of Celestial Concordances in Post-Ethereal Transmutations’…Axton, do you even know what half those words mean?”

A miserable grunt was the only reply. “Unfortunately.”

Lyra let out a dramatic sigh, shaking her head. “You poor scholarly fool.” She handed the list back with an almost pitiful look. “At least let me get you something interesting while you suffer through this. Maybe ‘Forbidden Alchemy: What They Don’t Want You To Know’?”

The flat look Axton gave her was all the answers she needed. “I am not getting banned from the royal library.”

A low chuckle rumbled from Pyretalon. “Shame, that one actually sounded interesting.”

“Fine, fine.” Lyra lifted her wings in a lazy shrug. “But if I see you passed out drooling on ‘Celestial Concordances,’ I reserve the right to draw on your face.”

With a reluctant smirk, Axton tucked the parchment into his satchel. “Duly noted.”

Lyra’s eyes flicked back to the parchment. “Hmm. These titles aren’t exactly fun reads.” A claw traced over the spines of a nearby shelf as she continued, “No wonder the queen wants them. I’ll jot down the shelf numbers so you can find them easily.”

A half-smile finally cracked through Axton’s exhaustion. “Thanks.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll keep you entertained while Axton toils away,” Pyretalon chimed in, settling himself on the floor, his tail curving protectively near Lyra.

A quirked brow and flick of an ear followed. “You’re not going to shadow him like usual?”

Stretching his wings before neatly tucking them, Pyretalon gave a casual shrug. “He’s safe in the library. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Besides a librarian falling on him?” Lyra grinned, not missing a beat.

A soft chuff of amusement came from Pyretalon. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“I’m standing right here.” Axton scowled.

Ignoring him entirely, Lyra tapped her beak in thought. “You never heard about the biting book, did you? Sunk its teeth into a scholar’s rear. He still walks funny.”

The flick of Pyretalon’s ears betrayed his interest. “Oh? Let’s hope that’s not on the queen’s reading list.”

Golden eyes shifted toward Axton, studying him for a beat. “We’re not dealing with any biting tomes, are we?”

“Not that I know of.” Axton adjusted his satchel. Though if one wanted to devour him whole after today’s failures, he wouldn’t exactly complain.

After finishing her notes, Lyra handed them over with a lazy flourish. “There you go. Unless Her Majesty wants even more dull reading, you’re all set. Anything else?”

The parchment was tucked away quickly. “No, that should be enough.”

As he turned to leave, a gentle wingtip brushed his arm, halting him.

“You’ve been off today, Ax. Something’s gnawing at that squishy mage brain of yours.”

The mages shoulders tensed from the gryphon’s observations.

“We’re here if you want to talk, you know.” she added.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” The words came sharper than intended, and he regretted them instantly.

Lyra studied him for a second, then pulled back. Pyretalon’s gaze darkened slightly, but he remained quiet.

“We’re only trying to help.” she murmured.

A long breath escaped him, shoulders slumping. “I know.” He forced his voice level. “But I’m fine. Really. Let’s just…drop it, okay?”

A tense silence stretched before Lyra sighed dramatically, flicking her tail. “Fine. No prying. But since you’re here, mind checking on the local construct? It’s been complaining about feeling ‘off.’ I’d rather it not goes from a con-struct to de-struct if it suddenly snaps and tries to kill me.”

“Can that even happen?” Pyretalon asked with a nervous chuckle.

Axton ran a hand down his face. “I’ll investigate it if I have time. Just… don’t get your tail in a knot. I can handle it.”

Lyra beamed. “Aww, thanks, Ax!” She blew him a playful kiss before nudging Pyretalon’s side. “And try to feel better, sugar. If you need me or this big featherhead—” she waggled her brows “We’ll be right here. Just don’t let the queen work you into the grave, or I’ll start calling you my personal library knight.”

A brief nod was all he could manage before turning toward the towering shelves.

Behind him, Pyretalon’s low rumble and Lyra’s quieter, concerned purr followed.

Axton ignored the knot in his chest and focused on the books.

Because thinking about anything else only brough him pain.

** * * * * * *  **

The sharp clicks of their native tongue whispered through the library, mingling with the rustle of parchment and the occasional creak of shifting shelves. To anyone else, the gryphons’ hushed conversation would have seemed like idle chatter. To Axton, it was unmistakable.

They were talking about him.

He curled his fingers into a fist.

His chest tightened as he forced his gaze down at the books before him, their spines lined like silent sentinels, their titles cold and unfeeling. The failed mage, the pathetic student, the one who had lost to a gryphet while the rest of the world forged ahead. He couldn’t even step foot in a library without being watched, managed, hovered over like a child. They didn’t think he was capable, because he wasn’t.

His jaw clenched.

Nivra would never have tolerated this. By his age, she had already stood against demons, undead, and dragons. She stood toe to toe fighting alongside legends like that of the paladin Arcturus and the red dragon Veledar. She had turned losing battles into victories. Learned from the greatest arcane minds like that of his father and became everything Lumara needed. A leader, a hero, a legend, all before she even took the throne officially of her kingdom.

And what has he done? Lost to a gryphet. Axton scowled, the books around him a mocking chorus of failure. A condescending reflection of his master. Skywing and Voidwing had chosen to befriend Olas, but Axton couldn’t see how.

His fists tightened until his knuckles turned white. A librarian passed by, murmuring something about watching out for any biting books, but the words barely registered.

Cold guilt seeped into his veins.

Lyra and Pyre weren’t his enemies.

The blue tiger gryphon had always been overbearing, always dominant, but never cruel. Everything he did, he did for Axton’s well-being. And Lyra? She had never abandoned him. Never turned away when he needed someone to listen.

They deserved better.

Everyone did.

The construct was a testament to unnatural precision, returning books with methodical efficiency, each movement calculated and exact. Unlike its humanoid or spherical counterparts, this one bore the shape of a gryphon.

That alone should have been an alarm bell. It had been found deep in his father’s lair. Axton knew what that meant.

The construct turned, metal plating whirring into place, the blackened visor where its eyes should have been flickering with a faint, artificial glow.

"Axton. What is the purpose of your presence?" No warmth. No hesitation. No soul.

Axton crossed his arms. "Lyra was complaining about you, Wing."

The metal gryphon rotated with a smooth, seamless motion, settling onto its haunches with a whisper of gears. "Acknowledged.”

Axton let his eyes flicker over the construct’s form. It was roughly the size of a natural gryphon, its head level the same as his. Instead of wings, it bore two segmented extensions, capable of projecting hard-light constructs.

At its chest, a ruby mana stone pulsed, a reservoir of imprisoned souls.

The steel was cold beneath Axton’s touch, the engraved runes sharp and precise. Whatever Wing had been designed for, one thing was certain, it had been made to kill.

"Mug examined my internals earlier this week." Wing reported. "Since that time, I have experienced... inefficiencies."

Axton frowned. "Mug?"

"Correct." The visor flickered briefly, a lavender question mark flashing before returning to neutral. "Skywing’s weapons officer. He claimed it was ‘research related’."

Axton groaned, running a hand down his face. Of course it was. "And you let him? Why?"

"I was not programmed to deny non-hostile requests from authorized personnel."

Axton sighed, that tracks. Mug could talk a fire elemental into setting itself on fire just to see what would happen.

"He was insistent." Wing added.

"Yeah, that sounds like him. You know the saying about Mug."

The visor pulsed again. "I do not."

"Don't trust Mug," Axton muttered. "And don't let him near fire. The little kobold likes to watch things burn."

"This is an exaggeration."

Axton chuckled dryly. "No, Arcturus caught him watching a man burn once. Mug just stood there, laughing."

A beat of silence.

"Noted." The construct tilted its head. "Do most kobolds exhibit pyromaniacal tendencies?"

"Just Mug."

Axton traced the runes across Wing’s intricate plating, fingers brushing over the hidden divots he had studied endlessly since its discovery. Horrors or not, constructs fascinated him.

A metallic click echoed.

Gears shifted. Plates folded inward.

Inside, a maze of intricate mechanics revealed itself. Clockwork precision, a marvel of engineering.

"See anything?" Wing inquired; the voice devoid of anything but pure function.

Axton narrowed his eyes. Something was lodged in the gears.

With a flick of his wrist, he muttered a spell, summoning a ghostly, translucent hand. The spectral fingers plucked a tarnished coin, wedged tightly between several cogs.

The moment it was removed, the construct whirred back to full efficiency, gears spinning smoothly once more.

A slow smirk crept onto Axton’s face. "Good as new. Guess you shouldn’t let questionable Kobolds inside you, huh?"

Wing’s head shifted precisely six degrees to the left. "Statement acknowledged. This is an experience I will seek to avoid in the future."

Axton chuckled, slapping a hand against the metal plating. "Wise choice."

"Efficiency restored," Wing reported. "Your own inefficiencies remain unresolved."

Axton froze, "What?"

"Your heart rate is elevated. Your speech carries noticeable fatigue. Your movements are imprecise." A pause. "Conclusion: you are unwell."

A slow exhale left Axton’s lips. "Ah."

"Greetings, Lyra."

His stomach dropped.

Axton whirled, only to find Lyra inches away, grinning ear to ear.

Axton had barely stepped away from Wing’s whirring form when Lyra appeared, grinning like she’d been there all along.

“Axton was assisting me in identifying why I should not permit strange kobolds to manipulate my internal components.” Wing reported.

Lyra laughed outright, circling the construct with an amused flick of her tail. "That’s always a lesson worth learning."

Before Axton could question how long she’d been watching, she swiped a wing against Wing’s side, then smacked his flank for good measure.

“Well, say what you want, big guy, I’m just glad you’re still standing.” A smirk tugged at her beak. “Wouldn’t want you breaking down in the middle of my library.”

The polished steel of Wing’s head turned toward her, unaffected. "My structural integrity remains intact."

Axton rolled his eyes, tucking the coin into his pocket. “Nothing a little maintenance couldn’t fix.”

Lyra’s gaze shifted to him, warm, filled with unspoken meaning. “See? You’re great at something.”

He scoffed, flipping the stamped gryphon coin between his fingers. “All I did was pull out a stuck coin, Lyra. Hardly an accomplishment.”

"Doesn't have to be grand to be worth something, sugar."

She fell into a step beside him as he moved toward the exit, voice purring with the kind of patience that grated at him.

"You think too much about the big victories. But patience, Axton. Things happen when they’re meant to.”

“Lyra—”

A coo cut him off.

"Which reminds me, sure you don’t wanna do some puzzles later?"

Axton sighed. “Not really.”

She ignored him. "A halfling merchant was passing through earlier. Guess what he was selling?"

She fluffed up, pausing dramatically before beaming like a fledgling given a fresh kill.

“Big old red dragon puzzles! Isn’t that great?”

Her tail flicked as she swooned. "Almost as great as that pretty one they were all talking about. Crimson Sky, was it? Oh, he’s something wonderful.”

Axton rolled his eyes. “Should Pyre be worried?”

Lyra squawked indignantly, slapping him with her wing. "Heavens, no!"

Then, in the next breath, she sighed wistfully, eyes flicking up as if picturing something far too indecent for public conversation.

"But would I let that dragon do as he please if such an unlikely situation were to arise?"

A shiver ran through her, her flank trembling in delight.

"Oh, absolutely."

Axton forced himself not to react, hiding the fact that he knew that dragon personally.

Most likely, if he said anything, Crimson Sky would either make good on her fantasy… or claim he wasn’t a slut. Hard to predict that dragon.

Lyra stopped at a nearby shelf, pushing in an extended drawer with a nudge of her talon. She turned back toward him, her beak still curved in an easy grin.

“So, Axton, I know you’re in a hurry, world on your shoulders, very human of you.” She paused, eyes soft, unwavering as her wing pulled him close in a firm, grounding embrace. “Think about what you’ve got.” Her voice dipped lower, quieter. “People who care about you, more than you realize. And sometimes?” A knowing hum rumbled in her throat. “You gotta let things happen.”

Axton inhaled through his nose, gaze dropping to the list of books and unfinished errands in his hands. “I’ve been letting things happen for years, Lyra. Yet it feels like nothings changed.”

Her ears flicked back. “Waiting’s hard,” she admitted, voice softer now, more measured. "I know." She held him a second longer, just enough to let her words sink in. “I remember how it was. Years of not knowing, of wandering, figuring out my path. Some nights, I felt so lost…”

The warmth of her feathers settled around him, her beak pressing lightly against his cheek before she pulled back, ruffling her crest.

“But look at me now.” A flourish of wings, a slow spin on her paws, and then she stood tall, looking every bit like the gryphon who had come into her own. “Everything’s exactly how it should be,” she declared, flashing a proud grin over her shoulder. “You just aren’t done waiting yet.”

“So think about it.” She cooed, brushing up against him. “And maybe you should find the courage to say something you’ve been meaning to for a while.”

His brow arched. “And what might that be?”

Lyra’s beak parted into a mischievous smile. “Oh, don’t play dumb.” A firm wing swatted his side.

“Lyra, I’m serious.”

Her expression flickered, as if she didn’t quite believe him. But then she chuckled, nudging him along. “Alright, keep your secrets.”

She let out a soft, knowing hum. “Just go talk to Pyretalon, alright? He’s a big fluff ball of worry over you, and I won’t have it.”

Axton grimaced, guilt creeping in. “I figured he is.”

“And while you’re at it, have a real conversation.” Lyra said with a look. “I’m sure he’d be more than happy to show you the ropes.”

“In what?”

She only laughed. Then, as if suddenly remembering something, her eyes sparkled. “Oh! And someone told me tomorrow was your birthday? Why didn’t you say so?”

Axton stopped dead in his tracks. His stomach lurched, heart hammering for reasons he didn’t quite understand. That wasn’t something he told just anyone. “W-who told you?”

She gasped, feigning innocence. “Oh, just a little birdie.”

Axton groaned, face-palming. “Pyretalon.”

“Now, I didn’t say that.” She grinned. “But why do you hide it? Everyone loves a party!”

“Not me,” he muttered.

“Why not?”

“Because then they’d want to meet my parents, go to the party, and—” He hesitated before finishing. “My mother is… private. Very selective about who she lets in to visit.” He let out a half-hearted laugh. “Cross that line, and she can be as angry as a dragon.”

Lyra gave him a blank stare. “No offense but she sounds like a bitch.”

Axton choked. “Don’t let her hear you say that.”

“Oh, I want her to.” Lyra said firmly, nodding to herself. “And if we can’t go to her party, then we’ll throw one of our own.”

He waved a hand dismissively. “You don’t need to do that.”

Lyra ignored him. A wing curled around his shoulders, pulling him against her chest. “Nonsense! I’ll talk to Pyretalon. We’re making this happen.”

“Lyra, you—”

His words died as the bubbly gryphon began listing everything she could plan, going on about what a great time he was going to have. And to his surprise, it actually cheered him up.

By the time they’d gathered the books and returned to Pyretalon, the tiger gryphon was draped across Lyra’s desk, his wings tucked close, his tail lazily flicking against the stone. A deep yawn parted his beak as he clacked it shut with a soft snap. “Miss anything?” Pyretalon rumbled, his voice husked from drowsiness.

“Nothing much.” Axton smirked. “Just Lyra deciding to throw a party.”

The gryphoness bounded to their side, beaming. “One you’ll never forget,” she purred, nudging Pyretalon. “And I bet you can help with that… can’t you, stud?”

Pyretalon’s golden gaze slid to Axton, something dark and knowing flickering beneath the exhaustion. “Possibly.” He caressed his chin, talons tapping against his fur. “Though we have a few errands left to do, don’t we?”

Axton rolled his eyes but grinned. “You know what? I think I can handle the last few on my own. Feel free to… surprise me.”

Lyra leaned close, whispering something into Pyretalon’s ear.

His ears twitched. Then, a slow, wolfish grin spread across his beak. “Oh?” His eyes raked over Axton. “Yeah. I bet that can be arranged.”

Axton swallowed. “Should I be worried?”

The gryphon circled him, brushing against his side before nuzzling into him with slow, deliberate affection.

“Nonsense,” Pyretalon purred. “I know for certain it will make your day.”