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The drachen, ignoring the dragon at its back, spots its chance.

It stretches toward me, thinning itself out, becoming a blade of shadow aimed straight for my heart.

Not today, you creature of blighted darkness.Calling my flames with every inch of my flesh, I wrap myself in fire like a second skin.

Kaida’s roar splits the sky, and the world ignites in a blaze of fury and fire. Ice and snow melt with a hiss, and the sky is suddenly bright with even more light as a fireball the size of a warship rockets toward me.

Oh shit. That’s bigger than I thought it would be.

There’s a moment of worry, but I’m too far in to back out now. I mirror his attack with a snap of my wings and a sweep of my arms that sends only a Lark-sized fireball barreling to meet the first one.

The drachen is struck from both sides. With an eerie shriek, the creature twists and writhes. It shoots out from between our conjoined inferno, morphing from its physical body into phantom form. Now nothing more than an oozing black shadow, the creature glides away, out of sight.

Still very much alive. But so am I.

ChapterThirty-Two

The chill of the night wraps around me like a cloak as three dragons’ powerful wings slice through the sky. After the drachen left, Nailah returned, bringing the black dragon with her. Beside us, he flanks our flight, a brooding shadow with scales that drink in the starlight.

I don’t know where he’s been or what he’s been doing since I last saw him in captivity. And I don’t know how he was captured and enslaved for the second time. But I want him to know he’s always welcome in Tirene. I transmit that thought to the black dragon, painting a picture of the capital.

He pauses mid-beat, the air humming with the weight of his gratitude. With a nod-like gesture that’s comically human, he banks northward, disappearing into the heavy night.

My mind wanders back to my time at Flighthaven and the day I fed the dragons with Sterling. The time I inadvertently connected with the black dragon. Then later, when I learned he’d escaped.

Mygist. Out of nowhere, the name comes to me. Not identical to how it happened with Cailleach, when the ancient power radiating off him caused his name to appear in my head. No, Mygist is the name I’ve chosen for the black dragon.

Every dragon deserves a name.

Minutes stretch into hours. We press on, and I use the time to recount the visions from the valley to Bastian. After a while, we settle into a comfortable silence.

After a short eternity, there’s a familiar pulse in the air. The warm buzz of dragon minds that marks the edge of Tirene. The palace comes into view ahead, its spires piercing the night with a glow that fends off the darkness.

Relief floods through me. The lights grow brighter, beckoning us closer. It’s funny how this place, once foreign and filled with hidden threats, has become something like home. Maybe it’s the high walls and majestic dragons that prompt that feeling of safety. Or perhaps it’s the way the people inside have accepted me, flaws and all. Well, some of them.

But as I think of Sterling—the way his eyes soften when they meet mine, or how his lips curve into a secret smile just for me—I realize it’s not the stone or the magic that anchors me here.

Home isn’t a place. It’s a person. And I belong with Sterling.

Hope lives here among these towers and dragons, even with the ever-present threat of the drachen.

A ripple of emotion stirs in my chest. Not mine, but Dame’s. She reaches out from her hidden den within the mountains to welcome me back.

I return her greeting while making a silent vow.

Your babies will be safe. I promise.

As we start our descent into the fire paddock, I push away the whispers of worry that cling to the corners of my mind. For now, I let myself enjoy the happiness that flares bright within me, guiding me down to the place and the person I’m starting to call home.

Kaida’s wings beat the air with a rhythmic thud, slowing our descent into the paddock. I lean forward, whispering words of thanks into his scaly ear as his massive claws touch down on the warm stone ground. The night is cool, but the stones still retain the day’s heat, reminding me of the sun’s relentless gaze.

We dismount, and just one weary attendant shuffles out to greet us, his eyes weighted with sleep.

“Can you please fetch them some water? And something to eat. They’ve had a long flight.” I nod at the attendant who scurries away, leaving us to tend to the dragons ourselves.

Though the dragons often hunt for their own food, the dragontenders supplement their diet.

With the now content dragons munching on fresh meat, Bastian and I head toward the king’s wing. Despite the late hour, the palace is alive with activity, and the air buzzes with tension. Maids dart by with laden trays, and squires hurry with messages clutched in their hands.