The evening light stretched long across the Auri Plains, turning every blade of grass to molten gold. The air hummed with the sound of distant crickets and the low, restless sigh of the wind as it swept through the hills. Here, far from the bustle of the highlands and the echoing cliffs of Akana, the land lay open and endless; rolling seas of tall grass broken only by scattered groves of acacia and wildflowers. Rhoden crested a ridge at sunset, feathers dusted with sand, plumage tousled by hours of wind. Patrol had been uneventful, no storms, no travelers, only the silence of wide country and the company of his own thoughts. He didn’t mind. He liked the quiet. Out there, above the plains, he could see the curve of the horizon, and the shimmer of the mountains far to the east. But something had caught his eye earlier, a glimmer in the fields of rolling hills. When he’d flown lower, he saw it wasn’t water, but a stretch of flowers, bright and thick as a woven carpet. Flame poppies, sapphire lupine, even strands of pale windblooms of the valley, their petals trembling like sighs beneath the air. He thought of Viper at once; her careful fascination with every growing thing, the way she always seemed to listen when the wind whispered secrets others missed. By the time he returned to their usual camp, she was there, sorting dried leaves into neat piles, humming softly to herself. Raider had gone patrolling, leaving the two of them alone with the long quiet of dusk. Rhoden landed with a low sweep of air, folding his wings carefully. “Evening, healer,” he said, his grin small but genuine. “Still at work when the sun’s half asleep?” Viper looked up, her expression brightening. “You’d know about that. You disappear with it and return when the stars blink.” He chuckled. “Someone’s got to keep an eye on the horizon. But,” he tilted his head, as if weighing his words, “I saw something you might like. Towards the shore, near the valleys. A field. Flowers as far as the eye can see. Thought you’d want to see them before the wind carries them off.” She blinked. “Now?” “Unless you’ve got somewhere better to be.” His eyes softened. “Come on, Viper. The world’s quiet tonight.” She hesitated only a moment before packing her satchel and following. They traveled as the sun sank low, its last light scattering across the plains in red and amber streaks. Rhoden led at an easy pace, occasionally glancing back to make sure she kept up, not out of doubt, but habit. When the land began to slope down, a faint perfume met them: sweet and smoky, like nectar warmed by fire. Then the plains opened. Before them spread a wide valley, carpeted in orange and crimson blossoms that swayed with the wind like a living flame. The light pooled in it, golden and soft, so that for a moment it looked as though the whole world burned. Viper stopped, breath caught. “Rhoden… this is beautiful.” He smiled, not proud but pleased, as though the sight belonged to her more than to him. “Told you I had good taste in scenery.” She laughed. “And here I thought you only had taste in trouble.” “Trouble has better stories,” he said with a wink. “But this,” he swept a wing toward the valley, “is for you.” They walked down among the flowers, the scent clinging to them, the petals brushing their legs like warm rain. Rhoden plucked one between his teeth and offered it to her. “For your next potion,” he said. “Or a crown, if you’re feeling royal.” Viper took it, tucking it behind his ear instead. “You look ridiculous.” “Good,” he said, smiling wider. “I was afraid I looked serious.” The wind rose, and for a time they said nothing, just stood watching as the day bled into twilight. Fireflies began to wink through the grass, and the plains turned to a dreamscape of flickering gold and silver. Rhoden’s voice came softer now. “You know,” he said, “I’ve seen a thousand sunsets from above the clouds. None of them look like this.” Viper turned to him. “Maybe it’s because you’re not alone this time.” He met her gaze, eyes bright in the fading light. “Yeah,” he murmured. “Yeah, maybe that’s it.”