Page 5 of A Court of Wings and Shadows

We stood there, quiet and unmoving, as the flames consumed him. Dragon fire was swift. Clean. Pure.

Within minutes, only ash remained.

Zander stepped forward and bent beside a cluster of simple stone pots at the edge of the dais. He picked one up, its surface worn smooth by time and grief.

“We will collect his ashes,” he said, voice still raw with emotion, “and they will be placed with the honored riders.”

He knelt and scooped the first handful.

We followed without question, kneeling around the blackened slab. One by one, we used our bare hands to gather what remained of Eilvin. The warmth still lingered, like the memory of his laughter, his stories, his quiet strength. We placed him into the stone pot, bit by bit.

Zander sealed the lid, then turned and handed it to Jax. “Place his urn on the wall,” he said, nodding toward the surrounding platform, “beside the last rider to fall. Here we have no rank. No royalty. We are all riders.”

Jax took the pot in both hands and gave a solemn nod. He climbed the stairs slowly, reverently, until he reached the wall lined with shelves, rows upon rows of urns. Each one identical. Each one sacred.

He found the empty space and slid Eilvin’s pot into it, nestling it beside the last fallen rider.

He rested a hand against the cool stone.

“Goodbye, my friend,” he whispered.

And then he turned and came back to us.

We returned to our dragons in silence, the weight of finality pressing into our hearts.

Outside the amphitheater, Makor stood still, his massive head bowed. Kaelith was beside him, the always-fierce Sentinel turned toward him, her long neck curved protectively. She didn’t speak, didn’t move, but her presence was a quiet comfort, her golden eyes trained on the snake-like dragon beside her.

Even the mightiest dragons mourned.

And in that moment, we were all just creatures learning how to say goodbye.

We mounted our dragons with the same solemnity we’d carried into the amphitheater. No one spoke. Kaelith crouched low for me, her eyes unusually somber, and I swung up onto her back, tightening the straps of my harness with slow precision.

Zander and Hein rose first, their powerful form cutting through the sky like a blade. The rest of us followed in staggered silence, the wind tugging at our armor as we flew back toward Warriath. The island shrank beneath us, becoming a memory carved into stone and ash.

We touched down in the Ascension Grounds just as the sun breached the eastern edge of the keep.

And that’s when I saw him.

Remy’s dragon, large, light-green with emerald eyes, was pacing the training field, its tail flicking in agitation. And beside it, my ex-fiancé stood in full rider’s uniform, lips pressed into a grim line, engaged in a heated argument with Major Ledor.

Zander slid from Hein’s back the moment the dragon’s claws hit stone, moving like the air had just been set on fire.

“What is going on?” he barked, his voice slicing through the tension.

Major Ledor turned toward him, his face unreadable. “Lieutenant Saulter was notified that a Thrall member lost their life in the last skirmish. He wished to pay his respects.”

Zander’s glare snapped toward Remy. “Were you told which one?”

Remy’s face was carved from granite. “No.”

Zander’s eyes flicked to me, where I stood beside Kaelith, the sea wind tugging at my braid. “As you can see, Ashe is fine.”

Remy’s voice was like ice. “No thanks to you.”

The entire training ground went still. The squads currently sparring in the rings fell silent, blades lowering, all eyes turning to the storm brewing between two men used to commanding attention.

“I wish to take command of Thrall Squad,” Remy said, stepping forward.