Without mother knowing – is that even possible? – Castile occasionally visits Nerine from Hyaline. The coast lures him from the hills and the caves, thickened with father’s scent, intrigue him. Oftentimes he hopes to catch glimpse of Lior, wanting to fill the uncertain gap of this dragonborn sense. There are days that his body shifts bit by bit, but he doesn’t know how and doesn’t know when. It startles him. Seeing claws instead of hooves, scales instead of hair, still frightens him, but he masks his surprise behind a look of placidity. If there is one thing he has acquired from his parents, it’s concealing his emotions behind a curtain of shadowed impassivity.

But to Isobell, his darling sister, he doesn’t bare a cold front. To her, he is an open book, a truly loving brother. She sees a side of him that no one else has.

”Darling girl,” he says tenderly as he slips from the tall grass to touch her, gliding his muzzle across her lithe body before taking a step back to look at her. ”My sweet Isobell, you are looking more like mother every day.” His heart patters against his chest. He could never deny the love he has for her, the protective shield that he bares for her. His eyes – one silver, one gold – steady on her gently and he smiles at her. Their bodies touch then, his head craning across her neck in a deep embrace. ”Is there something you want to tell me?” He had noticed the questioning in her voice when she said his name. Not yet lifting away from her, he asks, ”Or is there an adventure you wish to take?”