Kyra

Kyra pulled the crumpled poster from her pocket and spread it slowly, delicately across her lap, as she would a precious rice-paper scroll. The bold, black print grated on her eyes: “Public Exaltation Today!” But everyone knew what it really was. The Skydancer couldn’t understand how she got here from where they began. They were so happy…teardrops splashed on the notice…

---

Yora had been the first to befriend her when she came to the Shrieking Wilds. It was clear that, though born in the clan, he was a bit of a loner himself, so she accepted his hospitality as a fellow outsider. His emotions were intense, running boiling or frigid, and her even, rational demeanor tempered his outbursts. They came to rely one upon the other, Mirror and Skydancer. They were inseparable.

They fell in love.

The rest of the clan were friendly enough, but she couldn’t help but notice how conversations changed whenever Yora joined her, and when they attended gatherings together, greetings were short and did not linger. She was never offered an explanation and she never asked for one. She trusted Yora as he trusted her. No clan squabbles or grudges would come between them.

Was it only last season? In the cold of winter, when the weather forced everyone indoors, she noticed a change in Yora’s behavior towards her. She wrote it off as cabin fever. She was understanding when Yora braved the chill at odd hours. She knew how he craved activity, how he valued his independence. She didn’t ask questions. Perhaps she should have….

---

…It was an accidental encounter. A little stir-crazy herself, Kyra had donned a cloak and gone walking in the deep snow, in the deep night. Yora had gone out earlier. With no path in mind, the Skydancer found herself near one of the many entrances to the Shrieking Wilds, dense and evergreen even in winter. She would have turned back, should have turned back she thought later, but a distant light in the underbrush caught her eye. She identified it as torchlight and crept forward to investigate. That is how she discovered Yora, surrounded by crates, making deals with smugglers.

As the initial shock wore off, she acknowledged to herself the appeal for a dragon of Yora’s temperament. To an independent loner, she mused, even the danger it entailed would provide a warped excitement that would attract the Mirror.

The crates nearest her position hid her from view. One of them was still open, packing straw spilling over its brim. By stretching her long neck, Kyra could peer over the edge…What she saw sent her running back to her lair, never mind the noise. She didn’t look back.

When she reached the hollowed tree they shared, Kyra stoked the fire and collapsed onto the edge of their bed. She shook her head as though she could erase what she had seen.

Yora was helping to smuggle dragon eggs out of the clan! Kyra rose from her seat, donned her cloak again, and went out into the night.

When she returned, Yora was tending the fire. A pair of hot toddys stood on the table, steaming. He rose to embrace her, but she stopped him by reaching for one of the drinks on the pretense of warming her hands.

“I was restless and went for a walk.” She crossed to the fireplace to avoid making eye contact. She sipped the toddy. “This is warm. Thank you.”

He shrugged and swiped his own drink off the table. It wasn’t unusual for them to spend time together in companionable silence, but now it merely increased Kyra’s tension. She felt she would vibrate out of her skin.

“Yora, I saw. I saw you and I saw what was in the crates.”

The Mirror paused before he responded. His gaze was impenetrable. “Oh. That was you was it? For a spy, you aren’t very quiet.”

“Yora! It was an accident! I didn’t know you were there!”

The silence was heavier with each passing moment as they sipped their drinks to keep from saying what they knew had to be said. Finally, Yora spoke. He sounded tired.

“So, did you inform on me?”

“On you?! Yora, no!!...I told them I thought there were smugglers in the woods. I didn’t mention you.” Her last sentence was spoken into her mug.

The Mirror stood tall as he set down his drink and faced her, proudly, coldly. “Are you leaving, or shall I?”

When Kyra just stood there, speechless, Yora grabbed his cloak from the table and was gone. At least he didn’t slam the door…

---

…Kyra thrust the execution notice from her as she rose and went to the window. She had been a fool to think the smugglers would take the fall for Yora, that the clan would stop before the contact was discovered and brought to justice. She couldn’t reconcile Yora the egg smuggler with the Yora she had shared her life with. Somehow, he was both. And soon he would be gone and she knew she would not stay.

She had nothing to say to the smuggler. But she wouldn’t, she couldn’t pretend that their time together didn’t mean something. That he didn’t mean something to her. He meant everything to her. She couldn’t free him from the consequences of his actions, his choices. But he didn't have to die alone. She could still be there for him. So she would.

---

She stood tall in the front of the crowd, tears streaming down her face. Perhaps he made eye contact, she wasn't sure through her blurred vision. He knew what she had done, but he also knew what he himself had done. And she needed him to know that she would never leave him willingly.

Perhaps if the Gladekeeper was merciful, she would take Yora, wild, untameable Yora, into her heart. Kyra had never prayed to the Gladekeeper before, but for Yora, she would.

Behind Kyra's lair, high on the bamboo cliffs of the Reedcleft Ascent, stands a shrine of sorts. In the center, balanced on its tip, a long shard of broken mirror points skyward, its shape a lightning bolt. To each side is a potted plant: a cactus and a rose bush. The plaque at its base reads: