It’s a test oftrust.
And then—the shadow swallows the sun.
I do not hit stone. I do not meet my death. I slam into something solid. Something massive. Somethingalive.
Her.
Wings beat—once, twice—shockwaves rippling through the air, knocking the breath from my lungs. A roar splits the sky, and it is unlike anything I have ever heard before. It’s recognition.
It’shome.
My fingers grip the ridges of scales beneath me, my body molding instinctively into the curve of a massive neck. And in that instant—everything changes.
Magics rush through me. Not like wielding. This is older. Deeper. A current that has always existed, now awakened.
A presence pushes into my mind—not forceful or invasive, but undeniable.
And I know.
Souls recognizing one another.
And in this moment, everything I am—my past, my desires, my fears, my joys, my responsibilities—is known to Calryx. And everything that makesherwho she is—her past, the memories of dragon history—is suddenly known tome.
She has a mate—Skorren—a mountain-born dragon with blue scales and a voice like thunder. She raised hatchlings. Taught them to fly, to flame, to sing—before the eggs grew cold.
She has never bonded or fought in battle. She remembers the turning of ages when the dragons chose to partner with the lords of the clans to create the wards.
She remembers the Great Stilling.
And Iseeit—through her.
Cliffs bathed in moonlight. Skies once full of wings, echoingwith flight, flame, and song. And then . . . fewer. And fewer still.
They did not vanish. They simply chose less.
The dragons never stopped calling. But more and more chose silence.
They watched mortals turn bonds into trophies. Dragons into tools. Power into possession. So many stopped choosing. Stopped bonding.
Like they are again, today.
The sky grew quieter.
Calryx did not sleep through that age. Sheenduredit. She remembers when Velkar’s Descent thundered with dragon-song. When riders leapt in groups.
She remembers what was lost—and what was foretold. The Guardians told her to wait, to watch.
One day, the Spiritborn would come. And dragons would begin to choose again. Not because the world was ready—but because the Spiritborn was.
She has been watching me from the moment I was born. She knows the scent of my blood. She called meVirelyalong before I knew what the name meant. And still—she chose me.
I lock into place against her, every part of me fitting where it belongs. I’ve always belonged here. She’s always been here.
I just wasn’t ready to hear her before now.
“Virelya.”
A fire lighting in my chest, sinking into my bones, searing into my soul. I do not control her and she does not control me.
