Page 62 of The Last Dragon (The Great Burn Chronicles #1)

T he bell tolls. Once. Twice. Three times. It’s the only sound that carries across the distance—aside from the sobs in the Great Hall. Today we mourn.

Names of the fallen cadets and their units are carved in the wood. Raumen’s name is in there. I stare at the ground in silence—Nida, Ilian, and Sam to my right, Eryca and Alex to my left.

But no Raumen.

I can’t tell if my heart is pounding in my chest or if I’m going numb. I can’t tell if I’m breathing or if it’s a lump forming in my throat. And nor can I tell if I’m giving up, or something in me is cracking.

We finally get to mourn.

We barely had time to process what happened. And it’s already been a week. A week spent dragging bodies, chipping Stonetail scales, and burying the dead.

It’s been a week since I’ve slept. Or ate. Or did anything. My mind was quiet, but my legs moved with every command given by the general. Or lieutenants. Or commandants.

There was no time to sit or cry or process.

But today, we finally get to mourn.

I lift my head after the fifth bell toll—the number of Divisions.

The number of Strongholds. The number of Divines.

And trace the name of my best friend in carved wood.

I blink harder in hopes that when I open my eyes, I’ll find myself waking up on the rooftop with Raumen sitting beside me, fresh bread in hand. But to no avail.

This is my reality now.

No Raumen.

No Pirlem.

No hope.

And in a few years, there will be no humanity.

Lieutenant Wain, along with Lieutenant Abern, hangs yet another carved board next to the fallen units and soldiers. A single word carved into it—Pirlem. After a month of waiting, we get to mourn the villagers.

Seeing it instead of having it in the back of my mind triggers something within me. Pain. Anger. Sorrow. Hate. I can’t tell. But all those feelings pull on something—something I don’t quite understand.

I flinch at a sudden soft brush against my knuckles, then my palm.

At first, I form a fist, but a soft, warm touch weaves between my fingers.

I glance down at Nida’s hand, now intertwined with mine.

Woven in a way like it’s meant to be there.

Like the bracelets on our wrists. I don’t resist it.

I meet her eyes—red, dulled from crying.

Her breath catches. I let go of her hand and stop a falling tear, my fingertips brushing against her hair.

I’m staring, but I know the look on my face isn’t what she expects to see.

My face feels like stone. Unmoving. A soldier.

But inside of me, there’s something far more dangerous that flickers.

Human.

At the signal, both the boards slowly descend—everyone standing, crying, screaming as they watch it reach the ground. But my attention shifts. Not to the boards, but to the one thing igniting this feeling inside me—the general.

When the ceremony is over and the boards burned for the Divines to reclaim them, my unit and I sit in a room that’s often empty.

It was used for storage—I’m unsure of what, though.

Now we’ve claimed it as a place to come together.

There’s a table in the middle, with books and some scattered maps Sam brought with him.

Even when we try to get away from our duties, Sam still brings his stuff with him.

Ilian sits on the floor, Eryca on a chair beside Nida, fiddling with a piece of paper, while I press myself against the wall.

We’re supposed to be back, working, training, planning, whatever the fuck General Grogol wants us to do—but an hour to grieve and then forget is not enough.

Not for us anyway.

“None of it makes any sense.” I sigh, tracing the map with my eyes from afar.

Eryca steps away from the table and approaches me. “Tell us what you saw,” she mutters, her voice thick with fatigue.

I shrug, my eyes drifting across the table. I catch a glimpse of the Redsnout chart—half-buried, almost forgotten—and then it hits me.

“It behaved differently,” I note, letting my mind drift back to the fight. My eyes dart to Nida. She pulls the chart out, and several scrolls tumble down from the table as she takes a closer look at the Redsnout anatomy.

“We are taught Redsnouts are aggressive in nature,” Nida says, her fingers tracing the edge of her lips as she analyzes the chart. “This one is anything but aggressive, at least not the way we know they should be, or the way it was during the expedition.”

“What do you mean by that?” Eryca sighs, struggling to keep her posture straight.

“What I mean is…” Nida lifts her head, eyes darting between Eryca and me. “This one pressed its wings low to the ground and barely moved its tail. It was like it was—”

“Defensive,” I interrupt, catching her thoughts.

She looks at me and gives a slow nod. “There’s only one dragon who prefers to be defensive.”

“Silverscale,” I murmur.

“Are you fucking with me right now?” Eryca throws her hands in the air. “You’re trying to tell me this thing is capable of switching behaviors?”

“Not only that,” Nida says, rummaging through the scrolls and pulling out charts of different dragons. Stonetail. Wingtail. Silverscale. Blightclaw.

“Its defense mechanism wasn’t unique to any of these dragons.

A Silverscale is defensive, but only if its wings are pressed against its body.

This Redsnout used its tail to protect vulnerable areas, too.

It’s like this creature knew what we would aim for.

” Nida places the charts next to one another, dragging her finger across the inked words and blood stains.

She points out the Stonetail’s jagged tail, the Wingtail’s ability to shoot straight into the air, the Silverscale’s defensive stance, and the Blightclaw’s habit of stalking its prey. The way the Redsnout was stalking us.

“It’s as if it’s intelligent,” I say, my eyes growing wide. “That explains it then.”

“Explains what?” Nida asks, narrowing her eyes as if she’s trying to read my mind.

I grit my teeth.“The Stonetail—it had pleading eyes.“I’ve never seen anything like that before.”

“Are you telling me that these creatures are able to feel ?” Eryca scoffs, but her disbelief turns into fear the moment I nod.

A sudden knock on the door startles Eryca. I approach it, and as I open it, I’m met with irritated golden eyes, framed by black, messy curls.

Alex.

“You’re late,” Ilian says as Alex pushes himself forward to one of the chairs by the table.

“Well, I didn’t exactly want to be here.” He forces a smile before turning it into a frown in the blink of an eye.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ilian barks. He gets up and takes a step forward, making himself bigger, his dark skin catching the faint glimmer of torchlight as his jaw tightens.

“I don’t know if you realize this, but whatever crap you’re pulling here is gonna get us killed.

” Alex lets out a sharp, humorless laugh, tilting his head like it’s all some sick joke.

“So, yeah, surviving the battle? Not gonna mean a damn thing. Might as well wave a red flag in front of the general’s face. ”

“If you don’t want to be here, then leave!” Ilian snaps.

“Another thing you haven’t realized.” Alex scoffs, swiping a knife from the table. “If I try to leave, I’m most likely dead. As if any of you are gonna just let me walk away knowing what I know.”

“Bullshit,” Eryca barks across the table, her dark curls bouncing as she jerks her head forward, jaw set in defiance.

“No,” I interrupt her, darting my eyes between them. “He’s right. At this point, I’m willing to take the head of whoever mentions this to anyone.” I glare at Alex, who’s playing around with a knife.

He takes a deep breath. “This whoever just happens to like his head, thank you very much.”

I turn to Sam, pressed into the corner, his eyes fixed on the map.

He looks distraught, though he’s trying hard to mask it.

A million scenarios must be racing through his head as he scrambles to piece together the contingencies.

Everything—the events of last night, Alex being here, to the lit candlelight.

Eryca catches me staring at Sam and turns to give him comfort Meanwhile, Ilian finally gives up on his argument with Alex.

“Sure,” Ilian says, returning to his map. “Anything for being on the winning side.”

Eryca’s gaze darts to me and then back to Alex, her eyes narrowing. “Wait a minute,” she says, her voice low. “What do you mean, knowing what you know?”

Shit.

Alex scoffs. “Wait, you’re telling me you haven’t told them?” He shifts his eyes between me and Nida, and a sinking feeling settles in my gut. I brace myself.

“Told us what?” Eryca asks.

“Don’t—” I blurt out.

“That there’s two Redsnouts. Yeah, the one that attacked the Third? It’s female. The other one is male. And these two didn’t tell you.” Alex scoffs, pointing at me and Nida, before I grab him by his crewneck.

“You little shit—”

“Hey, don’t blame me for it, you’re the one who got us into this mess.”

“If you kept your mouth shut—”

“Too late for that.” He grabs my arms, pushing them away from his neck. “Maybe you forgot that a unit shouldn’t keep secrets from one another. That’s how you get yourself fucking killed.”

Eryca slowly turns to us, her eyes narrowing as she shakes her head. “You knew,” she growls. “You knew and you didn’t fucking tell us!?”

“It was too much of a risk,” I say, closing my eyes as those words leave my lips.

“Risk?” Eryca exclaims. She scoffs, and I open my eyes to meet the betrayed look spreading across her face. “If you had told us there were two Redsnouts , we could’ve guessed more dragons were out there, and Raumen might still be alive!”

“I didn’t have a choice!” I snap.

“You always do!” Her voice is filled with rage. “And you made a choice not to say anything.”

“Eryca, it was just too dangerous,” Nida says, her voice soft. She places her hand on Eryca’s shoulder in an attempt to calm her down.