The unruly beast in question was a newly submitted creation: a three-headed beast, with a lion’s head and body, a goat protruding from its back, and a tail which ended in a snake’s hissing mouth. Despite having wings, it didn’t seem to have the ability for flight. 

Incomplete, was Hermes’s first thought. He detested the sight of it. What madness had gone through the researcher’s mind to have devised such a distasteful concept? It was but an amalgamation of three, if not four, creatures. How did the anatomy even work? Did he not care that the manner with which he had fused the poor creatures may have left them in agonizing pain? Creations did not speak, but their eyes spoke clearly. When Hermes looked at it, he could not bear to see its misery. 

Perhaps that was why, the moment they released it into the wild, it wreaked havoc so massive that not even their binding magick could contain it. 

“We cannot subdue it.” One of his staff, who had suffered an injury to his shoulder, panted. A physicker was seeing to his wounds. He hissed when the curative magick worked its way through torn muscles and blood vessels. Hermes glanced at him, then at another colleague who was already taken away on a stretcher, groaning from a deep cut on her flank. 

His staff grunted in pain, then sighed. “Hermes,” he went on, half breathlessly. “We must undo it. That beast will not serve a purpose for Eitherys.” 

Purpose…

Truth be told, the question had crossed his mind upon his initial evaluation of the creation: what purpose had the researcher thought of when he designed this concept? A guardian of sorts, perhaps? Or had he simply wished this amalgam—this…khimaira—would offer balance in the ecosystem? Despite Hermes’s misgivings regarding the creature’s design and purpose, the creature yet lived, and for Hermes, that was enough reason for him to give it a chance. So to bring it to Lethe the moment they set it free just because they could not control it left a disgruntling taste in his mouth. 

Hermes refused. With the collective effort of Elpis’s best mages, they managed to capture the khimaira and brought it to a cage inside Ktisis Hyperboreia, where Hermes toiled in search of a way to tame it. Yet try as he might, the beast thrashed and howled and breathed fire from one of its heads. Once, it attempted flight only to come crashing down before it could reach half the height of its glass cage. 

One afternoon, the chief overseer came to his work station by the khimaira cage. “I see you’re still working on it, Hermes.”

“Chief overseer!” Hermes hastily rose from his seat, silver mask askew and hair disheveled. He had been reading reports and methods on how to tame the creature and, at some point, fallen asleep on his desk. He corrected his mask but left his hair alone. “How can I help you, sir?” 

“I would like to introduce you to someone.” 

Hermes looked on in curiosity as the chief held out his hand to the woman behind him. 

“Good day.” She dipped her auburn head. “My name is Leirion. Pleased to make your acquaintance.” 

The first thing he noted about her was her sharp eyes. They shone blue, like the farthest reaches of the sky on a clear cloudless day. Then he noticed her face, which was soft yet dignified. She looked to be a woman of strong principles, who would not bend down for the sake of appearances. But the softness of her edges made her seem approachable, and Hermes couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps she was more easy-going by nature. Finally, his gaze fell on her lips, curved into the most enchanting of smiles.

For a moment, time went still, broken only when the chief overseer cleared his throat. 

“Ah, apologies.” Hermes stammered, words stumbling one over the other, as he reached for her held out hand and grasped it in a firm shake. “Hermes. Pleased to meet you.” 

Apparently, the chief overseer had asked her to see the thrashing khimaira. An accomplished beastmaster like her might have an unconventional trick or two up her sleeve, he said. 

“Would you mind taking her to see the creature?” the chief overseer asked. 

Hermes didn’t—or, not really, though truth be told, he had wanted to find the solution himself. But perhaps it was time he realized he needed help. He had thought of seeking help, but the majority of the facility researchers would rather see the creature be undone. One less worry for them, wouldn’t it? So, swallowing his own sense of failure, Hermes led Leirion and the chief overseer to one level above to where the khimaira was resting inside its cage. 

“Ah, I see you’re finding it in its rare peaceful moments.” Hermes remarked the moment they reached its cage. 

The creature dozed on the sandy ground. Water constantly flowed into its basin while food was given regularly in the form of hefty meat twice a day. No shrubberies dotted the cage—less fuel for the fire it would breathe. 

Hermes stared at the sleeping creature. The people never quite understood. Even a violent being such as the khimaira had moments where it was a docile creature striving to live. It was not a mindless monster whose only purpose was to create chaos and destruction. It was alive, so who were they that they could arbitrarily deem it unsuitable for life? 

Leirion stepped forward and held a hand to the cage. Hermes watched her profile—watched her lips move in a language he didn’t know. Funny; he’d always thought he was well-read. Never had he known that there was a language he was not at all familiar with. 

Leirion finished her chant. They waited, but nothing seemed to change. Then one by one, Hermes noticed the khimaira opening its eyes—all six of them, from the lion, the goat, to the snake. It looked at them lazily. 

Hermes meant to reach out to Leirion, to brace themselves should the khimaira charge, but the woman only raised her other hand. She never broke eye contact with the creature. Hermes noted the moment the khimaira took notice of her, when its hackles began to rise and a deep growl rumbled from within its throat. 

His heart clenched, more for the khimaira than Leirion herself. They were safe; the glass cages were unbreakable. He'd heard how beastmasters could command any beasts with a single word. If this woman did anything to hurt the poor creature— 

Fast like a bolt of lightning, the khimaira charged. The glass panes trembled under the force of its weight. Hermes fell a step back in surprise. Standing on its haunches, the khimaira had its claws dug into the other side of the glass, its fangs bared in a vicious snarl. But Leirion stood her ground, undaunted in the least. 

She murmured under breath and Hermes saw the khimaira jerk. Its body snapped back, its heads screamed the most unnatural, guttural of screams. 

Stop… 

Leirion's chant continued and the khimaira thrashed in its cage. It swirled on the ground in confusion before bashing its body against the glass again and again. It screamed without stop. Then it whipped its head up. No exit lay there but still it took flight once more only to fall on a heap when its wings failed to carry its body. 

The khimaira shrieked in pain and Hermes jerked Leirion away from the glass. 

“Stop!” He screamed, yelled, pleaded. “Please…” 

The chanting halted. Inside the cage, the khimaira whimpered. 

Leirion looked at him wide-eyed, and he realized he still had his arm on her shoulder. He let it go, then shuffled back. He stood between her and the cage. 

“I'm sorry,” he quietly added, eyes averted, “but you're hurting it.” 

Silence ticked, broken only by the khimaira's painful wheezes and groans. Hermes expected her to storm away, to scoff and sneer like everyone always did. They never understood. They made these concepts and put them to the test, but when they found it lacking in performance, it was so easy for them to cast it aside and undo it. To kill it. As though these were not already living beings with their own wants and needs. 

Hermes didn't expect Leirion to understand, so it stunned him when he noticed her face breaking into a small, contrite smile. She bowed her head. 

“Forgive me. I should have explained the procedure beforehand,” she said. “I was merely attuning to it, you see. Attunement is the first step in our mastering of beasts. It allows me to understand a creature's thoughts and communicate my intent, though on the rare occasions where the procedure is forcefully administered, it may inflict great pain on said creature. In the case of your khimaira, however, it was less a forceful administration and more a…” She paused, searching for the word. “…a complex, labyrinthine mind. I could not find a hook to hold.”

“Does that mean your attunement failed?” the chief overseer asked. 

Leirion whirled around. “Yes, unfortunately. Apologies. This is my first time attuning to creations still under observation.” She bowed again. “Perhaps, it would be best for you to ask for my superior.” 

Hermes felt the chief overseer glance at him. He looked away. 

“Why don’t you try again?” he heard the overseer say. 

Another glance—this one from Leirion—and another pause. “I shall be more careful.” 

The chief overseer called him over. With great reluctance, Hermes left the front of the cage. He felt Leirion’s uneasy glance as he passed by her. He could not bear to meet it, so he dipped his head and joined his mentor’s side. 

A warm hand met his stiff back. “I understand your feeling,” the chief overseer murmured, “but I implore you to watch her work. She is unlike the beastmasters you might have heard. Had I sought her superior instead, he would have deemed your khimaira unfit and told you to bring it to Lethe. But Leirion holds a similar level of regard to living creatures as you. If there is anyone who would not give up on a defective concept, it is her.” 

Hermes bit his lip. Before them, Leirion held her hand to the glass cage again. Her lips moved in those foreign enchantments and Hermes saw bright golden light spread from her point of contact throughout the entire cage, encasing the khimaira in beautiful gilded runes. He stared, transfixed, and it seemed the khimaira did too as it watched ribbons of light weave and dance all around and above it. 

Leirion’s chanting stopped, then she said, “I will begin.” Hermes braced himself. 

What came afterwards was not the violent thrashing that had overtaken the khimaira previously. Her spell came out in a soft melodious voice. Like a song, or a lullaby. It tugged Hermes’s heart, and he could see the khimaira perking its ears to listen. The creature pivoted toward Leirion, its gaze no longer enshrouded in malice but curiosity, if he could call it that. The khimaira rose to its feet and stalked toward the edge. It sat on its haunches right in front of her, its three heads swaying in rhythm with Leirion’s singing. 

“May I enter the cage?” her voice cut through the trance. 

What—

“I think it is starting to trust me.”

Wait—

Before neither Hermes nor the chief overseer could stop her, Leirion had skipped around the cage to the sealed door on the other side. Was she mad? Hermes was already halfway around the cage to stop her when she undid the seal and entered the cage.

Hermes’s breath caught on his throat; he waited, still as a statue, as the khimaira slowly turned its attention to the woman who just entered its domain. One pounce—that was all it would take for Leirion to receive a grave injury and the khimaira to break out of its cage and wreak havoc once more. But the song never lifted. Even as Leirion approached the towering beast, her enchantment rolled off her tongue, mesmerizing it into submission. 

She stopped before the large creature. It was easily three times her size and yet she stood not one yalm away. And she smiled—that enchantingly beautiful smile, so soft and comforting, as though telling him, telling the khimaira, that everything would be alright. She held her hand out to the creature, and part of Hermes imagined the khimaira would swipe it right off her limb, but it didn’t. It— 

The khimaira actually bent down to meet her hand. A soft golden glow emitted from her touch, and instantly, the khimaira fell on her lap. Like a docile cat; the lion seemed to purr under her touch, even the snake curled around and nudged her cheek. Hermes had never seen anything like it. 

The song fell away, but the gilded runes remained on the cage. 

The chief overseer joined his side. “Marvelous.” Even he was left breathless at the sight. 

“I’ve always wanted to have her here, you know,” he went on. “Instill some morale into our staff, adjust their way of thinking that even faulty concepts have hopes to be salvaged. But the Akadaemia has a vice grip around her, ‘tis not easy to poach her.”

“Poach…” Hermes couldn’t help but scoff at the choice of word. 

His mentor joined in his mirth. “Would you not like that, Hermes? To have her as a colleague you can trust.”

He couldn’t say. Perhaps? But even were he to give an answer, it would still hinge upon her own decision, so what could he say? Hermes remained silent as he watched Leirion now sitting on the ground with a khimaira three times her size dozing on her lap. 

***

Leirion returned to Elpis for a time after that. It took a while before the khimaira was truly ready to be released into the wild. The golden runes apparently had helped calm the cacophony of the khimaira’s mind and assisted her in locating the “hook” to attune, while her “song” was a method she had devised in placating an unruly beast. Once Leirion had completely attuned to it, they finally brought it out to the fields, and Leirion remained as the khimaira’s translator until the beast was fully adapted into life. 

It was indeed an incomplete concept, as Hermes had initially deduced. Upon the chief overseer’s offer to give her a place as an Elpis researcher, Leirion had asked if she would be allowed to attune to some of the beasts under observation. Before she made her decision, she claimed, though Hermes reckoned she had wanted to test her own theory regarding the khimaira’s complexity. Apparently, attuning to some of the other creatures didn’t give her as much trouble as the khimaira, and hence their conclusion that the khimaira might have been a hastily put concept. They might have been successful in subduing this current creation, but the researcher would still need to refine its design. 

“I do not fault your desire to give it a chance at life,” Leirion said. 

Having spent the past months together, Leirion had taken to walking with Hermes after her job was done. Unbeknownst to her, he enjoyed their time together. She had such a brilliant mind and was encompassingly kind. He never felt the need to hold back his thoughts. Every time he conveyed them, she would listen, intently, as though what he spoke mattered. 

But now the conversation had steered into the topic of the khimaira, and Hermes felt the edges of his heart folding in on itself. 

“You have a kind soul that few possess. I understand your desire to protect it.” 

“But?” he asked. 

“But I would rather you prioritize your own safety and everyone else’s.”

Hermes pursed his lips. “Even if that means killing it off?”

Leirion paused. “No,” she said. She crouched down. Hermes looked over his shoulder and found her crouching before a flower—silver in its stalk with petals that bloomed a grayish hue. Hermes averted his gaze. He hated the flower, but Leirion was stroking the soft petals. “No, what I meant was that if ever you find yourself in a similar predicament, you should swallow your pride and ask for help.”

He blinked and she grinned at his confusion. “I’ll be working here starting tomorrow.”

Oh. 

Leirion gasped. “Hermes, look!” 

And he did, and he saw how, for the first time, the Elpis bloom glowing a bright yellowish color, almost as bright as the solar disc that now shone on their backs.

“This is the first time I’ve seen it change colors,” Leirion went on. “It’s so pretty.”

Hermes choked on air. How could a man hide his thoughts in a field of flowers that detected emotions? But at least his momentary surprise had taken Leirion’s attention off the flowers. Now he needed to find a way to hide his mortification. 

“Are you alright, Hermes? Were you really that surprised?” She paused, then grinned. “Or is it that you’re happy?” 

The wind picked up. One of the petals tore free and danced between him and her. He caught sight of the yellow swiftly turning into pink and red. He choked again. 

“Hermes!” Leirion cried and leaped to her feet. “Seriously, are you alright!? We should find you something to drink—” 

He should get her away from here. Mortification be damned; he couldn’t have her notice how the field around them was turning yellow to pink and red. He grasped Leirion’s hand and dragged her away. 

Halcyon.

Hermes had come across the name in an ancient crystal tucked in the deepest corners of Anamnesis Anyder: a one-of-a-kind creation whose origins eluded even the scholar who had recorded her sightings. It was said that the avian creature had taken to create a nest on a small island out in the western seas. The crystal noted how her breath had the ability to calm the wind, assuring safe passage for sailors that crossed its realm—although as far as he knew of recent recounts, across the past several centuries the bird was more inclined to tear ships asunder. Seeing the bird dipping her long neck down for Leirion to stroke, Hermes wondered if she had not only been protecting herself. Leirion’s previous task might have been related to the change in the bird’s demeanor—if the rumors were to be believed. 

“Have you bonded with her?” Hermes asked as he continued to marvel at the legendary creation. Each golden plume glinted under the light. Her elegant tail flowed in beautiful tendrils of feathers, like a river cascading down from her back. Her sturdy legs supported her enormous body, each ending in thick, sharp claws that seemed ready to tear the world apart. Yet her amber eyes were gentle and soft as she purred into the hand of her apparent master. 

Leirion, on her part, did not act as though she were a master. She glanced at Hermes with a surprised look on her face. “Oh no, she only let me ride her as a show of her gratitude for helping solve the conundrum with the fishing village.”

Hermes would bet the bird would not have let just about anyone to ride her, even if they had solved a centuries-long problem between her and the people. 

Leirion held out a hand. “Would you like to pet her?”

“What—”

“You’ll let him pet you, yes?” she asked the bird, who seemed to nod. Then she grabbed his wrist.

“Wait—Leirion—”

Unheeding his protests, she pulled him to her side and held his hand out to the bird, palm-up. “Let her come to you,” Leirion whispered before stepping back to give him room. 

His wide-eyed stare whirled toward her, but his friend, the Traveler and holder of the fourteenth seat at the Convocation of Fourteen, only nodded encouragingly. Hermes’s heart thundered within its cage. He gazed at the bird, whose flaming eyes bore into him in scrutiny, as though it were assessing his worth. 

Hermes racked his brain for any scant information he had gleaned from the crystal all those years ago, but he could not remember the scholar denoting any sort of temperament. In fact, if he recalled correctly, the scholar had only been able to gaze at it from afar. Mayhap they hadn’t dared move closer, or the bird might not have allowed him to. Regardless, Hermes could imagine two scenarios playing out in the next several seconds: either the bird would tear him from his innards with those sharp claws and burn him into cinders—or she would allow him to touch her. He hoped for the latter, but whichever it goes, he would not tear his eyes away from her. 

She looked so beautiful, so majestic… 

When Halcyon leaned her head down, Hermes’s breath was caught in his throat. 

A heartbeat later, the bird had closed her eyes and pressed the crown of her gilded head against his palm. 

Exhilaration spread from his breast all the way to the tips of his fingers in shivers of contained jubilance. He did not move; neither did the bird. Then his hold shifted, just a fraction. Her feathers whispered softly against his skin. 

A heartbeat later, the bird moved away, the softness of her touch lingering on his hand. 

“I was hoping you could help me assess her,” Leirion began. “Whether it would be possible to allow for easier air travel outside the city. You know teleportations aren’t always safe.”

Hermes blinked then. Slowly, he regarded his friend who had come to stand beside him. 

“You want to make a concept like her?” he asked. 

Leirion nodded with no trace of doubt or apprehension marking her features. 

“Leirion, she’s a legend, almost a myth. Not even the archives know who made her!”

“That’s why I’m asking you.”

He was shaking his head. “It would take years. I don’t have the skills—”

“Says the expert in avian creations?” 

He looked at her, and saw, from the earnest glint in her sky-blue eyes, that she was serious. Hermes swallowed past his nervousness. 

He would not lie and say the logical, researcher part of him was not intrigued by the proposition. Who wouldn’t? To achieve such greats and recreate a legendary creation not even catalogued in the archives… While he cared not for the acclaim that might offer, he could imagine the pride and satisfaction it would bring, at the knowledge that he had contributed something worth noting to history. 

Yet another part of him quivered in fear. To undertake such a venture would mean countless trials and errors and failed experiments. Could they not just let the bird be—to let it be known as the only one of its kind, its existence shrouded in mystery; for her beauty to remain, untarnished by poor imitations of her regal presence?

But Leirion was still looking at him imploringly. Hermes had to close his eyes and sighed. 

“I will… try to evaluate her specifications, but I do not promise it will be the same creation. You ask for air travel, and air travel you shall have.”

Such was how Hermes began toiling on a secret project unknown to the other staff members of Elpis. True to his word, he didn’t quite copy Halcyon’s exact specifications into this new concept. It would still be a bird, with similar golden plumage, but it would be smaller—much smaller—allowing for easier, and safer, rides. It had shocked him when he measured the precise length and breadth of Halcyon. To think the entire span of her wings was almost half as tall as Ktisis Hyperboreia, the tallest tower in Elpis. How Leirion had managed to ride the bird was a mystery to him. She would be but a small speck in the midst of that field of golden feathers, and the vast wingspan would have allowed the bird to travel swiftly with nothing short of her plumes to hold on—but perhaps, being buried between Halcyon’s massive shoulder blades was enough to secure her safety.

Hermes’s research took several decades. He designed the new concept so meticulously that it bordered on insane perfectionism. But such was how it should be. Why should he deem a research complete if it would only yield subpar results? And when it failed to meet his demands, he should bring it to Lethe for its aether to be unbound?

He scoffed. Such travesty.

While a researcher would be allowed to modify designs on a case-by-case basis, ultimately, when a creation was deemed unsuitable for life, they would be unmade, and the researcher would start anew. 

And so, he would not fail. No, he could not! 

When Hermes was finally ready to release his concept, he went to Noetophoreon in the early morning before anyone woke up. In his hand was an intricate golden whistle, one end of it forming the head of the firebird it would summon. Bringing the whistle to his lips, he blew, and a shrill, high-pitched sound pierced the dark skies. 

He waited with bated breath, heart thundering in his chest. His design was flawless. The bird would come, and it would fly. 

He waited for another heartbeat before the golden whistle began glowing strikingly bright. In front of him manifested a swirling sphere of similar luminosity. The light expanded, the ball unraveled. Then, with a keening screech that seemed to split the very heavens, a bird with fiery golden feathers broke from its cage of light, expanding its wings and ruffling its plumages in a show of brilliant, unbridled life. 

A tear escaped Hermes’s eye as the bird landed on the ground. It cocked its head, scanning its surroundings. Like a chick, Hermes thought, who had just broken from its eggshells. 

Hermes marvelled at the sight. Nothing seemed to be amiss at first glance. The bird’s wings seemed to work. The sturdy legs supported its body. Its glorious tail trailed from its back in three beautiful tendrils of golden feathers. Its thinner torso might allow for swifter travel, and the beats of its great wings would be enough to send unwanted parties off its premises. Hermes had even added protective scales around its chest as well as on its head, forming an elaborate armor of sorts. Its size might be miniscule compared to the real Halcyon, but it still towered over him by over twenty fulms. A much smaller, safer ride. 

All it needed now was a harness and then Leirion was safe to use it. 

These thoughts and options were running through Hermes’s mind that he hadn’t quite noticed when the firebird’s gaze fell on him. He jerked to a stop when he sensed hostility. He looked at the bird then, and found its blazing amber eyes—a twin of Halcyon’s—boring into him, scrutinizing him in every which way and wondering if he was friend or foe. 

Once again, Hermes found himself imagining two scenarios: would the bird burn him into cinders with the fire in its eyes, or would it leave him intact, deeming him worthy to live? He had done a last-minute tweak on the bird’s aggression level last night. He needed it to have the judgment to protect its master, and so had increased its hostility rate—though not so high that it would deem all creations to be a danger to itself. He should have had Leirion present. Had the bird turned out to be too hostile, she would have been able to subdue it with her beastmastery. But who was he to demand for Azem’s attendance?

He tried to recall everything Leirion often did. The woman used to work in Elpis and had been his partner on more occasions than he could count. He held out his hand, palm-up, the way Leirion had gestured him the first time he met Halcyon. He looked into the firebird’s eyes and quelled any fear that lingered in his heart. 

They could sense it, Leirion once told him, your fear. For especially dangerous beasts, it might make you easy prey. But for others, it would tell them you’re not worthy of their attention—which might be the safest option on most occasions, but for a beastmaster, that’s not something you’d want. 

So Hermes did as she’d once told him. He met the firebird’s gaze unflinchingly. He was a friend. He meant no harm. 

A lifetime seemed to pass in which man and bird were locked in this stalemate, until, at last, the firebird…cooed. A low rumbling sound originated from its throat. Curiously, it cocked its head at Hermes, then slowly leaned down. When it pressed its armored head against his palm, he released the breath he hadn’t realized he’d held like a deflating balloon. 

“Firebird.” He breathed, elatedly. 

It might be only his imagination, but he thought he noticed the bird’s eye twinkle in joy. 

He called upon Azem the next time he heard she was back in the city. Leirion joined him in Noetophoreon, dressed in their black robe instead of her traveling gear this time. Now that she was not a researcher of Elpis, her mask hung around her neck, revealing the beauty that always took his breath away. 

“You’ve finished it?” she asked. 

“Quite.” he took her to the other side of the lone tree, away from any potential prying eyes. When he grabbed the whistle from his pocket, her eyes shone bright. He smiled inwardly. 

Hermes put the whistle to his lips and blew. The whistle glowed, then the sphere appeared. Not a moment later, Firebird broke from its luminous cage and spread its wings with the same keening screech as when he first released it. 

It hovered in midair for a few more moments, each great beat of its wings enough to send their robes flapping about them. Leirion’s hair tore from its half-bun and whipped behind her, but the woman only laughed at the intensity of the wind. 

Firebird landed on the ground, ruffled its feathers, and gave an endearing caw. It leaned its head down and nudged Hermes’s cheek. He nodded at the other presence, and Firebird shifted its fiery gaze on Leirion. A moment of scrutiny was all it took before the bird let her pet it. 

“It’s magnificent.” Leirion was breathless, her rapture visible on the quiet grin on her face and gleam in her eyes. 

“It may not be an exact copy of Halcyon, but I hope you like it.”

“It’s perfect, Hermes,” she exclaimed. “What’s it called?” 

“Firebird, for now, but you are free to rename it as you see fit.”

“Me?” And again, her eyes grew wide like saucers as she looked at him in bewilderment. 

Hermes nodded. “‘Tis a gift.”

“A gift?” Leirion tilted her head. “Hermes, are you not submitting the concept to the Bureau of Architect?”

A wry smile tugged the corners of Hermes’s lips. “I have a… slightly different creation for that. A slight tweak here and there. Still meant for air travel, as you wished, but yours will be one of its kind. There will be no imitations of it.”

“Hermes…”

Ignoring the warmth spreading in his chest, Hermes stepped closer to her. He placed the whistle on her hand. “Just blow on this, and it will come to you. Though I suggest you bond with it first, so it recognizes you as its master.” 

Bonding with a beast was a skill specialized for beastmasters. During her stay in Elpis, Leirion had often used it while dealing with especially unruly beasts. It allowed her to attune to a creature, speak with it mind to mind, and understand the complexities of its thoughts and feelings. Having her here had been a boon to the facility, significantly reducing the amount of researchers giving up and unmaking their failed creations. Yet now a couple centuries had passed since she went on to take the mantle of the Traveler, and Elpis had slowly returned to how it once was, as though her mark had never been here. None of the beastmasters they had employed since her departure held her level of dedication. Should an attunement fail, they would deem the creature unsalvageable. Unless the rare occasions arose in which the related researcher would ask to be allowed to modify their concept, the creature would be brought to Lethe and be undone. 

Seeing Leirion now whisper the ancient words he could never speak and touch Firebird between its eyes, Hermes realized just how much he missed her. He missed the sight of her beautiful smile, the sound of her joyful laughter, the whiff of her scent that always smelled like citrus and pine. 

Like home. 

Now all he could hope for was a brief glimpse of her every time he went down to Amaurot, or her short visits to Elpis every other decade. What he would do to beg her to stay, to return to his side and accompany him in these long, dreary days. But he knew she took great pride in her work. He would not take that away from her, not even if he were thrown into the seventh hell. 

“Done.” Her beam shone like the radiant sun. “Firebird.” She tasted the word in her tongue. “I’ll call you Firebird, then. Will you let me test ride you, Firebird?”

The bird nodded reverently, then bent its knees. Leirion climbed to its back and settled herself between its shoulder blades. Magical harnesses manifested around her.

“You even made harnesses,” she said giddily. Leirion tested them, then found them secure. Then she looked at him, grin still in place, as she held out a hand toward him. “Come.”

Hermes blinked. “What?”

“Let’s fly,” she said again. “I doubt even through all the testing you’ve subjected it to, you haven’t actually flown on it.” 

She wasn’t wrong, and his heart constricted at how she knew him so well. 

When Hermes still hesitated, Leirion rolled her eyes. “You are not afraid of flying; I know that.”

It was Firebird who implored him next, looking at him with those doe-eyed amber pupils.

“See? Firebird wants you to ride it too. Come; just one ride around the facility?”

Hermes was never immune to her pleas. Not when she asked him to create a flying vehicle. Not when she asked him to ride with her. 

With an inward sigh, Hermes grabbed Leirion’s outstretched hand and climbed astride Firebird. He did not miss her giggle as he settled behind her. 

“Hang on tight.”