CHAPTER 154: LONG LOST LUST

The creature’s head was noble and intelligent, with eyes that held an awareness that went beyond animal instinct.

It watched them approach with calm patience, occasionally preening its feathers with a beak that could have easily crushed stone.

Mounted on its back was an elegant carriage, secured with harnesses woven from what looked like silver thread. The carriage itself was crafted from pale wood and decorated with intricate carvings.

Inside, plush seating and storage compartments provided comfort for the long journey ahead.

"The Swarafa are rare," Sigora explained, running her hand along the creature’s side with obvious affection.

"Only the major clans maintain them, and even then, each clan might have only two or three. They’re intelligent, loyal, and capable of flying for days without rest. This one is named Kaleth; he’s carried me to the Council Grounds three times before."

Jorghan approached cautiously, extending his hand.

The Swarafa, Kaleth, lowered his head, allowing Jorghan to touch the soft feathers. Up close, he could feel the warmth radiating from the creature, the subtle thrum of magical energy that enhanced its natural capabilities.

"Beautiful," Jorghan murmured.

"And useful," Sigora added with a smile.

"The journey to Dewura’tt would take two weeks on foot. Kaleth will have us there by nightfall."

They climbed into the carriage, Sigora moving with practiced ease despite her eight-foot height, Jorghan following more carefully.

Inside, the space was surprisingly roomy, clearly designed to accommodate tall elven frames comfortably.

Sigora took the reins, connected to the harness through the carriage’s front opening, and with a gentle command in the old tongue, Kaleth spread his massive wings.

The takeoff was smoother than Jorghan expected.

One moment they were on the ground, the next they were rising, the powerful downbeats of Kaleth’s wings propelling them upward with steady grace.

The settlements shrank below them, the desert spreading out in all directions, and within minutes they’d reached cruising altitude.

The view was breathtaking.

From this height, the desert was a tapestry of colors, gold and amber and rust, with darker patches where rock formations broke through the sand.

Occasionally they’d pass over settlements, tiny from this distance, their inhabitants likely looking up in wonder at the Swarafa passing overhead.

Jorghan settled into the cushioned seat across from Sigora, who’d relaxed the reins now that Kaleth had established their flight path.

The bird knew the way to Dewura’tt; he’d made the journey many times before.

For a while they sat in comfortable silence, each lost in their own thoughts, watching the desert pass beneath them.

The gentle rocking motion of the carriage was soothing, and the sound of Kaleth’s wingbeats was rhythmic and constant.

Finally, Sigora spoke, her voice carrying warmth that went beyond mere friendliness.

"I’m proud of you," she said simply.

"For what you did. How you protected the settlements, how you stood against impossible odds and won. Your father would have been proud too."

Jorghan looked up, meeting her eyes, those warm brown eyes that had shown him nothing but acceptance and support since she took him in.

"You think so?"

"I know so. Ser’gu was many things: a warrior, a leader, and sometimes too stubborn for his own good, but above all, he was someone who protected those he cared about. No matter the cost to himself."

Her smile was soft, tinged with old memories.

"You’re like him in that way. The bloodline gave you power, but your heart decided how to use it."

"The bloodline almost consumed me," Jorghan admitted.

"During the battle, especially after I absorbed all that essence, there were moments where I wasn’t entirely in control. Where the instinct to kill, to destroy everything threatening my territory, was overwhelming."

"But you came back from it. You had the control. Understanding that power is a tool, not a purpose."

She leaned forward slightly.

"And you made that choice while exhausted, injured, and pushed beyond any reasonable limit. That takes strength beyond just physical capability."

Jorghan felt warmth spread through his chest at her words, at the genuine pride and affection in her voice.

"Thank you. For everything—the training, the support, the family you’ve given me. I don’t think I could have done any of this without you."

Sigora’s expression shifted, something playful entering her features.

"Oh? So you’re saying you needed me?"

"Well, I—" Jorghan caught the teasing tone and grinned despite himself.

"Don’t let it go to your head. You’re already tall enough without your ego adding extra height."

"Tall?" Sigora’s eyebrow arched.

"I believe the proper term is ’statuesque’ or perhaps ’majestically proportioned.’"

"Right, because eight feet of bossy elf mother wasn’t intimidating enough, we needed to add ’majestic’ to the description."

"Bossy?" Sigora laughed, the sound rich and genuine.

"I prefer ’assertively maternal.’ Or ’confidently directive.’"

"You tackled me to the ground during our first training session and sat on me until I admitted you were right about my stance."

"And I was right, wasn’t I?"

"That’s not the point!"

They were both laughing now, the easy banter feeling natural despite the significant height difference between them. Sigora’s eyes sparkled with amusement, and Jorghan realized, not for the first time, just how beautiful she was when she let her guard down like this.

The laughter faded gradually, but the warmth remained. Their eyes met and held, the air in the carriage suddenly feeling charged with something beyond just friendly affection.

"You know," Sigora said softly, her voice taking on a different quality, "I didn’t expect..."

"Didn’t expect what?" Jorghan asked, his own voice quiet.

"Didn’t expect you to become so important to me. To—" she paused, seeming to choose her words carefully, "—to me personally."

Jorghan’s heart rate increased.

They’d been dancing around this for years—the attraction, the connection that went beyond master and student, aunt and nephew. But neither had been willing to acknowledge it directly, to cross that line.

"Mother, I—"

"You don’t have to say anything," she interrupted gently.

"I know this is complicated."

"I don’t care about any of that." Jorghan’s voice was firm.

He stood and moved to sit beside her instead of across from her.