Time blurred at this height.
The world below was no longer made of borders and names. No kingdom. No Lowly Quarter. No Hareef.
Just land.
Large cities.
Next small towns.
Then forests.
Then streams cutting through villages.
Then rivers twisting within the wild.
Then. . .only water. Endless and undisturbed. A gleaming sheet of liquid silver beneath her.
Is that. . .the ocean?
Sol had only ever read about it in one of her mother’s forbidden books. It had been a page-worn tome tucked in the back of a cabinet, brittle with age, and full of stories no Lowly girl was meant to read. The ocean was a myth to most in Hareef, especially since many had never traveled farther than the market stalls. But here it was now, unfolding beneath her.
A myth made real.
So. . .breathtaking. . .
And above her?
A vast sky stitched with glittering stars, veiled in cloud-lace, and kissed by moonlight.
Everything she’d ever known—every name, every rule, every fear—faded with each mile.
And the dragon?
Korin did not speak, but he didn’t have to.
His presence was language.
His silence was possession.
His flight was power incarnate.
Sol glanced up at him, squinting past the rush of wind that whipped her curls.
Where is he taking me. . .and why?
Korin’s golden eyes remained locked on the horizon. His dragon face was both brutal and enchanting. Terror and grace. Jagged, obsidian horns swept back from his skull.
Thick lashes—longer than she’d ever imagined a dragon could have—framed those molten eyes.
Captivating. . .
A second later, his nostrils flared, exhaling soft white streams of heat that ribboned into the wind.
Beneath his curved lip, she caught a glimpse of what still waited inside his mouth. Long, ivory fangs tucked behind his jaw like violent secrets.
She couldn’t see them fully—but she knew they were there, just beyond view, ready to rend bone from flesh.
Swallowing hard, she forced herself to speak. “Korin?”
