There were things Eira feared when it came to Phei Ryujin Tiamat.
The cathedral hollow now buried under a black-white shroud of ice was not, by any stretch, was on her list.
She had run.
She had run because she was an Original Void-Ice Fairy, the living embodiment of the element seated in two forms: hers, and now his—his alone, a cosmic parasite that had just learned how to bite the hand that once fed it.
She did not run because it could harm her or freeze her like the Titans.
She had run because every instinct had screamed, in the same heartbeat the apocalyptic wave crossed the perimeter, that the boy at the center of the wave was no longer operating in any form of his element a fairy could survive at low altitude.
Even now—wave abated, hollow retracted into obedient stillness—she hovered at distance.
Not chosen by reason but by something older than reason.
