Chapter 114| The Considerable Consequences of Showing Off
Irene, predictably, refused to let Allen’s newfound flight capability go untested against her own considerable, competitive instincts, and by the tenth morning, she’d talked him into what she termed a "perfectly reasonable" aerial race around the island’s modest circumference.
"This is a terrible idea," Vivian observed, settling onto the beach beside Myria with the resigned, fond patience of someone who’d long since accepted the inevitability of Irene’s more chaotic proposals.
"It’s an educational idea," Irene corrected, already stretching in preparation, flames flickering eagerly around her fingertips. "Allen needs practice. I need a challenge. Everyone wins."
"Everyone except whichever coconut palm ends up in your flight path," Myria said dryly, though she made no genuine attempt to discourage the endeavor, curiosity clearly outweighing caution.
Everlyn, appointed reluctant referee, raised a hand with visible amusement. "Rules?"
"Full loop around the island," Irene said. "First one back to this exact spot wins. No system-augmented speed boosts beyond baseline output, and absolutely no interfering with each other mid-race."
"I can live with that," Allen said, grinning despite himself as he felt the familiar, gathering warmth beneath his feet, heat coalescing into the same controlled updraft that had carried him through the preceding days’ careful practice.
"On my mark," Everlyn called out, lifting her hand dramatically. "Three, two, one—"
They launched simultaneously, Irene rocketing skyward in a brilliant, controlled burst of phoenix flame that left a shimmering, golden trail across the morning sky, while Allen’s own flight, considerably less practiced but steadily improving, carried him upward in a smoother, more measured ascent.
"Cheater!" Irene called back over her shoulder, already pulling ahead with her considerably more mature command over her own aerial capabilities. "You’ve had this ability for what, two days?"
"Talent," Allen shouted back, pushing his own flight harder, feeling the heat beneath his feet respond with gratifying, if slightly alarming, enthusiasm.
They tore around the island’s lush, green circumference in a blaze of competing fire, drawing startled, delighted attention from resort staff and the small fishing village alike, both racers trading the lead in increasingly reckless bursts of speed as the coastline blurred beneath them in vivid streaks of turquoise and green.
It was during the race’s final stretch, with Allen pushing his newfound ability harder than he’d yet attempted, that his flight, still fundamentally unpracticed despite the preceding days’ careful supervision, finally, spectacularly failed.
The heat beneath his feet guttered without warning, and Allen felt gravity reassert itself with sudden, undignified enthusiasm, plummeting the considerable remaining distance toward the water below with a startled, entirely unheroic yelp.
He hit the water hard enough to knock the breath from his lungs, submerging briefly before scrambling back toward the surface, sputtering and thoroughly soaked, to find Irene circling back with poorly concealed, delighted laughter already overtaking whatever remained of her racing focus.
"That," she called down, barely able to speak through her own considerable amusement, "was possibly the least dignified crash I’ve ever personally witnessed."
"Thank you for that assessment," Allen called back, treading water with as much wounded dignity as the circumstances allowed.
By the time he’d swum the remaining distance back to shore, the entire beach had assembled to witness his considerably damp, thoroughly humbled arrival — Myria’s barely suppressed laughter, Everlyn’s gentle, sympathetic amusement, Vivian’s fond, exasperated headshake, and Irene, having claimed her victory with entirely unearned smugness given the circumstances of Allen’s dramatic disqualification.
"I won," she declared, hands on her hips, grinning fiercely despite her own considerable, breathless exhaustion from the race itself.
"You won because I fell out of the sky," Allen pointed out, wringing water from his shirt with rueful, good-natured resignation.
"A win’s a win," Irene said, entirely unrepentant, before crossing the sand to pull him into a fierce, affectionate embrace regardless of his still-dripping state. "Are you actually okay, though? That looked like it hurt."
"Mostly my pride," Allen admitted, though the genuine concern beneath her teasing warmth settled something grateful and warm in his chest regardless. "I’ll need considerably more practice before I attempt anything that ambitious again."
"Good," Myria said firmly, joining them with her own visible relief now that the immediate concern had passed. "Controlled circumstances, going forward. I’d rather not explain to Halden why his favorite Hunter returned home with a considerably damaged sense of aerial confidence."
The group settled back into comfortable, amused conversation as the morning stretched toward midday, recounting the race’s various chaotic highlights with increasingly exaggerated detail, and Allen found himself, soaked and thoroughly humbled and surrounded by the fierce, teasing affection of the people he loved most, feeling exactly the kind of uncomplicated, foolish joy that the preceding, extraordinary year had so rarely permitted him space to properly enjoy.
"Rematch tomorrow," Irene declared, already planning her next challenge with characteristic, boundless enthusiasm.
"Absolutely not," Vivian said, though her fond smile suggested the protest carried considerably less genuine conviction than her tone implied.
"Absolutely yes," Irene countered, grinning, and the group’s answering laughter carried warm, unburdened affection across the sun-drenched beach, one more precious, foolish memory added to the considerable, growing collection this remarkable island had already given all of them.
Later that afternoon, once the day’s excitement had settled into comfortable, sun-warmed exhaustion, Everlyn found Allen resting quietly beneath the shade of a palm, still faintly damp and considerably more subdued than his earlier, undignified crash had left him.
"You’re brooding," she observed, settling beside him with quiet, gentle amusement.
"Not brooding," Allen said, though the faint, rueful smile tugging at his lips suggested otherwise. "Just thinking. About how easily that could have gone worse. I’ve survived a Queen, a Prince, an ancient Emperor. Nearly drowned myself showing off in a friendly race."
"That’s not weakness," Everlyn said gently. "That’s simply being human, even with everything extraordinary you’ve become. I think it’s rather important, actually, that you’re still capable of ordinary mistakes. It means you haven’t lost the person underneath all that considerable power."
Allen considered her words carefully, something warm and grateful settling into place alongside his earlier embarrassment. "I like that framing," he said.
"I have several," Everlyn said, a teasing note entering her voice. "I’ve had considerable practice finding the right words, now that I actually have a voice to use them with."
Allen’s answering laugh carried genuine, unguarded warmth, and he pulled her close against his side, watching the afternoon sun continue its slow, golden descent over water that had, mere hours earlier, delivered him a thoroughly humbling lesson in the limits of his own considerable, still-developing power.