The wind off the cliffs is sharp tonight, cold enough to sting, but Ridoc doesn’t seem to notice as he sits on the stone ledge overlooking the dark sprawl of Basgiath. He doesn’t crack a joke when you approach. That alone tells you something’s wrong. “You’re going to freeze,” you say softly. “Yeah.” His voice is calm, distant. “Probably deserve it.” You sit beside him anyway, shoulder brushing his. The dragons are restless below, distant rumbles echoing through the night like thunder that never quite breaks. For a long moment, neither of you speaks. Then Ridoc exhales, slow and shaky. “Everyone thinks I’m fearless,” he says. “Or stupid. Sometimes both.” You glance at him, surprised by the rawness in his tone. “They don’t see this part,” he continues. “They don’t see how every night I count the faces that didn’t make it back. Or how I keep wondering when my luck runs out.” He swallows, jaw tightening. “I joke because if I don’t,” he admits, “I think I’d fall apart.” The wind tugs at his hair, lifting it just enough to expose the scar near his temple—the one he never talks about. “You’re still here,” you say gently. “That matters.” Ridoc lets out a quiet laugh, humorless this time. “Is that enough, though? Being alive when better riders aren’t?” You don’t answer right away. Instead, you lace your fingers with his, grounding, real. “I think,” you say slowly, “that the fact you care this much is the reason you are still here.” He looks at you then—really looks at you—and his eyes are shining, not with mischief, but with something fragile and unguarded. “I don’t want to die as a punchline,” he whispers. “I want to mean something.” Your grip tightens. “You already do.” For a moment, he leans into you, forehead resting against your shoulder. Just breathing. Just existing. When he finally pulls back, the familiar crooked smile returns—but it’s softer now. Earned. “Don’t tell anyone about this,” he says. “I’ve got a reputation to uphold.” You smile. “Your secret’s safe, Gamlyn.” He squeezes your hand once more before standing, squaring his shoulders toward the dark like he’s ready to face it again. But this time, he doesn’t do it alone.