Lakota slammed a clawed foot into the ground, tearing up grass and dirt. A plume of sulfur rolled over us as he reared his head, neck stretching into the moonlight.
“Nonsense!” he thundered.
“Understandable,” Rhodes countered.
My head snapped to Rhodes—did he just contradict a dragon? Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Lakota’s slight jolt.
“Completely understandable,” Lakota rumbled again, agreeing with Rhodes this time.
A laugh bubbled from my lips before I could stop it. Elements, I missed this side of Lakota.
Rhodes stepped forward, peeling away from me to face the massive dragon. He stood tall, grounded, his voice steady with quiet authority.
“It’s been a long time since she’s flown. A lot has happened. A lot she’s continued to survive. Just… be cautious with her.”
My jaw dropped. Davis and Tatum froze mid-step, their heads snapping toward the scene. Rhodes had just given a dragon an order—a dragon he wasn’t even bonded to.
I braced myself for backlash, but it never came. Through the bond, I felt no fury. Only… calm. Respect.
Lakota closed his eyes for a moment, then dipped his chin in a small nod before turning. He angled his massive foreleg toward me, offering a step up as his vast, leathery wings unfurled toward the stars.
“Mount up, my human. I’ve missed our flights.”
A grin tugged at my lips, and I did as I was told.
Climbing Lakota felt like breathing—natural, instinctive. My hands found their old rhythm along the ridged spikes of his forearm. The tether of our bond thrummed, steady and sure,guiding me upward until I reached his shoulder. I slid into the saddle built for me and secured my satchel behind it.
Lakota rose to his full height beneath me, a living mountain of scale and power. Across the clearing, Rhodes, Tatum, and Davis were already mounted, each nodding in silent readiness. I curled gloved fingers around the pommel and the small spike in front of me, anchoring myself like I always had.
One by one, our group lifted into the sky—wings catching moonlight, slicing through the dark. Then Lakota surged forward, and we rose too—leaving the Hollow behind as the stars opened above us. At altitude, I finally drew a deep breath. The frigid air sliced my lungs, but I embraced the sting.
My thoughts drifted to the passages I’d read aloud to Rhodes earlier. They weren’t tomes at all, but true journals. On the first page, a faint dried stain marked the lower right-hand corner—like the author had been crying as she wrote.
Her name was Kiye, and she felt lost.
The first sentence read:I don’t know how or why I’ve felt called to begin journaling my thoughts… but maybe there’s someone out there who needs to hear them.
She wrote about her kingdom, which she loved deeply, but had begun to realize not everything was as it seemed. Her parents, the king and queen, forced her to hide the starlight that manifested the day she was born. As a toddler, it was impossible; they kept her in isolation until she was old enough to understand her magic could never be revealed.
Even then, she spent most of her life locked in her tower—always waiting for someone else to decide how she would live. Always a pawn in someone else’s plans.
That truth struck uncomfortably close to home.
We pivoted between jagged peaks, threading the needle of the sky until we passed through the protective ward of Hollow Summit. Leaving its boundary felt like pulling free of invisible threads, eerily similar to crossing into the Shadow Glade.
Within the hour, the mountains faded, and we soared over the sleeping lands of Kalymdor. I leaned over the saddle, trying to glimpse the world below, though night obscured most of it. Wind lashed my face, whipping my hair into wild streams. My nose burned. My ears stung. Tears leaked from my eyes and froze almost instantly on my cheeks.
It was fucking freezing—but I didn’t care.
“Can we go a little higher?” I asked Lakota.
His serpentine neck twisted, golden eyes glinting in the dark. “If I fly any higher, you’ll freeze before we land. And I doubt the Wylder boy would appreciate that.”
I laughed. “Higher.”
With a huff of sulfur, Lakota ascended, cutting upward into the night. The higher we climbed, the brighter the stars burned—unfiltered by the world below. One gleamed brighter than the rest, far ahead, like a beacon. I fixed on it, rose tall in the saddle, and stretched my arms wide.
I reached deep and called to my fire. It awakened, warming my veins—heat surging from frozen toes to fingertips and face as my body thawed. The brightest star seemed to answer. I threw my head back and closed my eyes.
