"The Dawn that Rose from Fire"

Day 11 of Novel November- Alenyah summons Berin and the Stoneborn

Chapter 8

(Please Read Previous Sections before this one)

Alenyah held her composure until she was clear of the Harmonies.

Outside, sunlight spilled across the horizon, gold catching on the edges of her crown until it flared like a halo. She descended the marble steps to the street below. Fey’ri bowed as she passed, but she moved through them like a shadow — single-minded, her destination already chosen.

The city hummed with life. Parents and children stirred from their cottages of thatch and Ironwood; merchants opened their shutters; farmers led their teams toward the fields — fields that would soon be barren if she failed. Wind chimes hung from every eave, their tones bright and hopeful in the morning air. For a moment, Alenyah wished it could stay this way — simple, safe, untouched.

Once, she had believed the Fey’ri were too far south to fear the wyrms or the dark that bred them. Now she knew better.

She followed the cobblestone path to the stables and summoned a courier. The young man hurried to ready his mount while she wrote her message in a firm, sure hand:

“I will go. Bring your party to Eirethan with all haste. The Vale is failing.”

She sealed the parchment, pressed it into the courier’s waiting hands, and watched as he spurred his horse into the mist. The sound of hooves faded like a heartbeat swallowed by fog.

The rest of the day passed in quiet preparation. It was a solemn thing — to make ready for one’s own death — but Alenyah did so with calm resolve. She met with the Harmonies once more and gave her final instructions for the days to come, brief though they might be. She sorted provisions, studied her maps, and compared routes she knew Kaelen would have charted.

When all was done, she sat at her desk and began a final letter — not to any living soul, but to the next Resonant.

She began with an apology: for not being there to guide them, for believing she was right. She urged them to listen carefully to the Song — not to the clamor of many voices, but to the true note beneath. You alone will hear it, she wrote. You alone can change it. That power demands discernment.

When her hand began to tremble, she paused, then signed her name and sealed the letter with the mark of her house.

Her final line was simple:

“May your chords rise where mine falls, and carry our people to their crescendo.”

That night, Alenyah did not sleep in her rooms. She had rehung her robes in the wardrobe, changing into a simple tunic and pants, braided her hair into two plaits down either side of her head. Viewed by the ever watchful moon, she headed for the Fylgja dens.

Once full of litters of pups and gamboling hounds, the dens were silent. She could see the silhouette of Valka, curled in one of the empty enclaves carved into a large hill. The den had been filled with fresh straw and bedding, and the moonlight shone on the bones of Valka’s dinner. The Fylgja’s ears pricked up, and she raised her head as Alenyah approached, watching with dark eyes.

The pair regarded each other for a moment. Valka, holding her gaze, slowly rolled onto her side, inviting belly scratches. Alenyah tried not to laugh. A beast the size of a horse rolling belly up was not the norm. Her ears flopped, and her tongue lolled as Valka panted at her.

The Fey’ri strode forward and dropped to her knees, scritching with both hands. Valka’s massive tail thumped a beat in the darkness. They sat in companionable silence for a while till Alenyah spoke.

“I think they’ll be here tomorrow. Berin…and Kaelen.” Valka rolled upright, huffing softly in disappointment. Alenyah smiled, reaching out to cradle the hound’s enormous head between her palms. She bowed her own until their foreheads met. The deep rumble of Valka’s contentment vibrated through her chest.

“Will you come with me?” she whispered.

Valka drew back just enough to look at her, then chuffed and pressed her muzzle against Alenyah’s shoulder — an answer plain as words.

Alenyah laughed, falling sideways into the warm curve of Valka’s flank. The sound startled the night birds from their roosts, but for once, the world did not feel heavy.

They slept together under the unblinking stars and deep sapphire sky knowing whatever was coming, they were going to face it together.



Alenyah was in the western Ironwood Groves that morning when she received word of Berin and his party’s arrival. Her hands pressed flat against the bark, her eyes closed. Beneath the rough exterior, she felt the twisted strands of the Song, discordant and raw, coiling through the heartwood. She drew a slow breath and began to sing.

Her voice rose, clear and bright as glass bells in the wind. The Ironwoods shuddered, their branches sighing as the melody wound through them. She followed the Song downward, threading her will through the roots, coaxing the corruption to sleep. Sickly lichen peeled away like flaking paint, drifting into the late morning light.

For a moment, the forest stilled — clean, whole, at peace. But Alenyah knew it would not last. She had been working since dawn, pushing the blight back where she could, staving off the inevitable. Each tree cost her a little more of herself.

And, like always, she was alone.



“Singer,” a young boy sprinted through the trees from the city. Even so early in the morning, his cheeks and nose were dusted with dirt.“They come!”

Alenyah smiled at him, and Valka rose from where she had been a silent guardian all morning. Hand resting against her pelt, the Resonant and her Fylgja returned to Eirethan.

She met them before the hall. Berin and Kaelen rode in front, and she watched as her people pulled back from the Stoneborn making their way up the promenade. Tavern looked curious, gazing up at the sweeping roofs and swaying windchimes. Seth had his hood pulled up, staring down at his hands white knuckled around his horse’s reins. Foxran and Korith brought up the rear.

Alenyah drew a breath to speak, every inch the poised Singer before her council. The seven Harmonies waited behind her among the marble pillars of the Hall — a line of authority and expectation.

Then a figure leaned out from behind Berin’s shoulder, sunlight catching in her hair as she waved, grinning like a child caught in mischief.

Alenyah froze.

Her voice broke through the silence, sharp with disbelief.

“Althea?!”

For a heartbeat, no one moved. Even the windchimes seemed to still.

Then Althea laughed — bright, unbothered, entirely out of place — and slid off her horse before Berin could stop her.

“Alenyah!” she called, jogging up the steps as if she hadn’t just crashed a diplomatic arrival.

The Harmonies stiffened as one, their robes whispering like dry leaves. Tharion’s jaw tightened. “Who is this?” he hissed, though not quietly enough.

Berin winced and dismounted, striding after her. “Althea, perhaps let me—”

But the woman had already thrown her arms around the Resonant. “You didn’t think I’d miss this, did you?”

For a long moment, Alenyah stood frozen, caught between outrage and affection. Then, slowly, she returned the embrace. “You are supposed to remain in the Vale,” she murmured.

“I was,” Althea said cheerfully, pulling back. “But I’m very bad at doing what I’m supposed to.”

Wren’s expression from the steps was somewhere between scandalized and entertained.

Berin finally reached them and bowed slightly, trying to recover a fragment of ceremony. “Resonant Alenyah,” he said. “We bring greetings from the Rhea and the Stoneborn. And… apparently, Althea.”

A faint laugh rippled through the gathered Fey’ri. Even Tharion’s scowl faltered.

Alenyah looked over the group, her eyes meeting Kaelen. Last time they’d met, she had drawn a knife on him, but here he was. And his mouth was even quirked at Althea with amusement. At a loss for words, she gestured the Stoneborn to dismount and led them all into the Meeting Hall.

As they passed beneath the arches, Althea fell into step beside her, whispering, “You didn’t think I’d let you go face a wyrm without me, did you?”

Alenyah gave her a sidelong glance, half-exasperated, half-fond. “I was hoping.”



The Hall had been rearranged- the seven seats of the Harmonies now rested in a semicircle on Alenyah’s right, while another collection of chairs rested parallel on her left. She was painfully aware of her worn clothes, the lack of robes and crown- but she didn’t want them to see her as some ruler. Even now, that had been her mother’s place, and she did not want the scrutiny of the Stoneborn, those who had seen her leadership, comparing her to a ghost. She winced at her own thoughts, but straightened her spine and seated herself easily in her throne.

The two groups settled, eyeing each other warily, and Alenyah felt a pounding begin behind her left eye. She saw Korith give Tharion a small smile, who flushed in return. Althea’s feet barely touched the ground, and she thought the chairs seemed almost too small for the Stoneborn. Kaelen looked contemplative, but the others were clearly ill at ease. At least Seth had lowered his hood, she noticed gratefully. Foxran sat on Kaelen’s right, between her throne and his chair. Maybe he worried she would try to attack him again. Even days later, she was embarrassed by her outburst. The only consolation was that she had seen him reaching for a weapon he no longer carried.