She tried to straighten out, to level her wings the way she had seen Korin do. But her body refused to cooperate. Instead of gliding forward, she pitched backward, her tail whipping over her head as she somersaulted through the clouds.
No! No! Wrong direction!
She roared in frustration—and sound didn’t come. Instead it was a massive symphony of ice and fury. A stream of frost shot out from her jaws in a glittering spray, crystallizing the clouds around her into delicate frozen sculptures that shattered in her wake.
Beautiful. Terrifying. Mine.
Something was changing inside her. Not just her body—her mind. Her thoughts were sharper now. Clearer. More focused. The terror was still there, but it was being swallowed by instinct.
Spread your wings. Feel the current. Let the wind carry you.
Sol listened.
She stopped fighting her body and started feeling it instead. The way the air moved beneath her wings. The way her tail could shift to change her direction. The way her claws could tuck or extend to affect her speed.
And slowly—painfully, awkwardly, gloriously—she began to fly.
Not well.
Not gracefully.
She wobbled, dipped, and nearly crashed into a passing cloud. But she was moving forward. She was staying in the air.
And then—for one perfect moment—the wind stopped fighting her. It cradled her instead. Slid beneath her wings like silk. Cool and sweet against her scales, a pleasure she had no human word for.
I'm flying. I'm actually flying!
A sound escaped her—half monstrous roar, half animalistic laugh—and more frost burst from her jaws, painting the sky with ice crystals that sparkled like diamonds.
She was power.
She was. . .
escaping.
The thought hit her as she glanced over her shoulder and saw them coming.
The two dragons in the distance. One from the south—gold and black, wings beating furiously, golden eyes blazing with desperation.
Korin.
And one from the north—black and silver, larger than the other, those terrible moon-bright eyes fixed on her with an intensity that made her scales prickle.
Pyrran.
They were coming for her.
Both of them.
And they looked like they wanted to eat every inch of her.
And then her body betrayed her. Heat bloomed low in her belly—sudden, unwanted, entirely wrong. It spread through her scales like wildfire licking through dry grass, pooling in places she refused to name.
Mmmm.
Her wings faltered.
Her breath hitched.
