“Yes.” Valen’s gaze drifts, distracted—like he’s chasing a thought miles from here. “And for reasons no one has been able to explain, their eggs have remained dormant for thirty years.”
Lyra, who has been poking at the fire with a stick, suddenly sits up straighter. “Okay, wait—so the rumors are true?” She glances between Thane and Valen. “There really haven’t been any hatchlings in three decades?”
Thane nods. “Yes.”
“So what happens if they never hatch?” she asks, her voice sharper now.
Thane’s gaze flicks toward the fire. “You’ve already seen it.”
A chill curls down my spine. More Shadow Forces. Stronger. Smarter. Deadlier. Just like at our village. These haven’t been random attacks. They’ve been escalating.
And no more dragons.
Lyra sets her plate down and rubs her hands together. “So let me get this straight—these eggs have been dormant for around thirty years, which means the wards haven’t been properly reinforced in that entire time. And now, suddenly, we’re dealing with stronger, deadlier enemies?”
Thane nods. “Yes.”
“But why now?” I ask. “Why did the eggs stop hatching at all?”
Valen exhales, his eyes settling on the fire. “No one knows why.”
Lyra scoffs. “And everyone’s just . . . what? Hoping they hatch on their own?”
Thane glances at her, his gaze sharp but not unkind. “Scholars at the capital have been studying it for years—trying to figure out what changed. Why the hatchlings stopped.”
She huffs but falls quiet.
I chew slowly, thinking. “If the Guardians protect dragonkind, wouldn’t they know why?”
Valen shrugs. “Perhaps. But they don’t share their secrets freely.”
The fire crackles, the wood shifting slightly in the heat. For a long moment, none of us speak.
Then Lyra sighs, tearing off a piece of bread and popping it into her mouth. “Alright, well, I hate this mystery. Someone should demand answers.”
Thane snorts. “You can be the one to do that—but they may turn you to ash for even asking.”
She grins. “Maybe I will. I can be very charming.”
“Enough storytelling for tonight. I’m for sleep,” Valenannounces suddenly.
The logs in the fire snap, sending tiny sparks into the air. The glow dances across the clearing, flickering against the dark silhouettes of the trees that surround us.
Even in summer, the mountain air is cool. A distant wind howls through the peaks, weaving its way between ridges like something ancient and restless. I wrap my arms around myself now that it’s just me by the fire.
The others have already turned in—Lyra retreating to our tent with a yawn, Valen slipping into his.
But I can’t sleep. I’m too alive. Too wired with anticipation.
Tomorrow, I will stand on the edge of Velkar’s Descent. Tomorrow, I will finally meet Calryx. But tonight, I sit here alone, watching the fire curl and shift, heat licking at the cool night air.
Then—footsteps.
I don’t have to look to know it’s him.
Thane steps out of his tent, his movements quiet, deliberate. He doesn’t ask—just lowers himself onto the log beside me, his presence settling into the space like it’s always belonged.
For a long moment, neither of us speak. The firelight dances across his face, casting sharp shadows along chiseled cheekbones, making his eyes seem darker, more unreadable than usual.
