Page 27

“I’m…” Senaria moistened her lips. “I’m sorry about your dr agon…Lassa.”

“All of us are lost and needing to find someone.” Magda’s eyes had closed and her voice faded. “What matters is who we must become on that journey. Don’t fear the change.”

Senaria’s eyes grew watery. She held the old woman’s hand but stared at me, inhaled when I did; we both understood. Magda’s time was draining away, and the savagery in regret ripped through me, that I was unable to fix this, had not fixed it in time for Magda to die in Lassa’s embrace.

But Lassa’s fledgling had been murdered during the Chaos, and her mate had died on the fighting field. Her grief had never assuaged enough for her to return to Magda, although the dragon had visited a few times before Tova disappeared.

Tova had been close to Lassa, a surrogate daughter.

I leaned forward, placed my palm against Magda’s forehead. Magic warmed my fingers, flowed like a soft caress against Magda’s skin.

Her breathing evened out, slowed, grew faint. The maid went out to find the boy, bring him in—Magda’s great, many-great grandson. She’d been fighting during the Chaos, a warrior and dragon lord with a long life, none of which she regretted.

When the boy sobbed quietly, Senaria put her hands on his shoulders and offered support.

I turned back to Magda. “Magda Stormchaser, daughter of Orm. Valliant dragon lord, chief among us, your courage gives us strength. Your heart is a light that leads the way. Your deeds will be celebrated in the hall of the warriors. As the sun sets before the dawn, as we part ways one last time, know you will see the house of your ancestors. You will see your mother and father, all those you have loved and lost. You will take your place at Orm’s table.

Know that the light welcomes you. That your life begins anew… ”

The woman breathed in, a faint rattle in her throat. Slowly, her exhale left like a dream escaping, and I said, “Know you will soar above the clouds on a dragon’s back, Magda Stormchaser. For the brave shall live forever.”

It was close to dawn when we reached the stone house I called home.

I led Senaria inside, waiting while she glanced around.

Her exhaustion was palpable. Her eyelids were heavy over the bruised shadows in her eyes.

I wrapped a blanket around her shoulders, turned to stir up the embers in the fireplace.

Warmth spread, but she was too restless to remain still, the way I often was.

Taking her hand, I led her outside. I’d built the house on a high ridge.

The view calmed me—soft, misty hills in shades of purple.

Lights glimmered while Dangira shone in the distance.

The Phaidros River was a silver ribbon, widening to meet the Pelagios Sea.

And there, on the pale horizon, the dragons danced in the breaking light, gliding inky silhouettes against the fading blues.

“How do you manage it?” she asked. “Offering solace and hope during such sadness?”

“Magda has never regretted her life. Or the choices her dragon made. ”

Senaria turned to stare with bleak eyes.

“When I held Magda’s hand, I was in her head.

I felt the grief, the love and the loss, and knew it was my fault.

Because of the things I’ve done. So tell me how you do it.

How you survive the pain and guilt. How you put the broken parts back together and make it right. ”

A strand of her hair tangled with the breeze and I captured it, smoothed it behind her ear. “What you are feeling is what every bonded person in Faded Lands feels because the dragons have gone silent.”

Her chest lifted on a jerking breath. “You’re saying I’ve caused this pain for everyone?”

“Not intentionally. But you alarmed the dragons and need to reassure them.”

“By facing their judgment?”

“I’ll be with you.”

Her voice wavered. “Because you are cursed?”

“You must be strong, Senaria. Stronger than most men. Cut out whatever tenderness or love you have left inside. When you love, the fear of loss sets in and your strength wavers.”

The blood remained on her forehead. With the breeze, her hair continued to tangle around her face, freed from the braid. The air carried a mix of lavender and bergamot—her scent. I would recognize it anywhere.

“So, you love…no one?” she asked.

“I am cursed not to love.”

“How sad.” She pulled the blanket tight around her shoulders, turning back to the distant view of dragons. “I want to protect Nikias. To protect Bogo. Magda said I needed to change, but I don’t know how to do it. Be different.”

Her words left me uneasy. “Change is always a struggle.”

“You say you’ll protect my brother, and it’s selfish not to believe you.”

“Trust can be hard.”

“I don’t want to be a curse, Kion Abaddon.” Turning, she brushed two fingers against the silver medallion I wore. “How can I get my sins removed from this anchor around your throat?”

“Do what the dragons demand. Train and prove your worth.”

A ghost of a smile skimmed her lips. “Your obligation, apparently.”

“There are skills you must learn. A trial of endurance and strength. What men and women do to become dragon lords.”

“Like Magda?”

“Yes.”

After a moment, she murmured, “I’m sorry about your father. Dying on the Plains of Celandine. Your family. What the dragons did to you afterward.”

My attention drifted back to the sight that had always soothed me: a dragon’s dance with dawn. Near the horizon, the moon hovered, along with the blue orb of the Malice Moon, relentless, flying closer.

Senaria stood silent, breathing, waiting for the sun to rise high enough behind us, above the mountain peaks. Chasing the deep blues, purples, pinks from the sky .

The dragons banked, circled one last time, then flew toward the horizon—and Senaria turned too, away from the view, and walked toward the stone house.

Somewhere along the way, the blanket fell from her shoulders.

She left it behind, unnoticed.

I picked it up and followed her.