She should have been afraid. Terrified. Screaming.
But she wasn’t.
Even with her heart pounding, even with every instinct telling her she was staring at death incarnate, she felt no fear.
Only wonder.
The dragon blinked slowly. Elowen dared a step forward. Then another. “H…hello.”
The dragon tilted its head, as if trying to understand. Or maybe…as iflistening.Elowen swallowed hard. It did not offer an answer, but the air between them feltcharged, like a struck bell still humming.
A sudden low growl trembled through its chest. The sound rolled across the clearing like distant thunder, making the air vibrate. The movement was not a threat, but an instinctive recoil, a memory of fear that lived in bone.
When she continued to step closer, she watched the body of the beast tighten as if ready to strike. She quicklytook a step backward and carefully sunk to her knees, the stone still close to her chest, as a gesture of safety and submission.
“I won’t hurt you,” she whispered.
The dragon growled, low and quiet in warning. Its tail curled protectively near its haunches, but its gaze never wavered. Heat radiated from it in slow waves, distorting the air the way flames warped the horizon. Its breath rolled across her skin like warm wind from an ancient forge, carrying the scent of smoke.
And Elowen understood, it was afraid, too. Not of her, but of what she mightdo, what her people had done before. This creature, this majestic, powerful thing—was a survivor. A relic of the old world. Unwelcome.Misunderstood.
Just like her.
She watched the dragon’s eyes flicker to the stone in her hand, and she suddenly had a foolish, wild thought, that the dragon had left it for her, along with the rose still hidden in her home.
She didn’t know how long they sat there in silence. Minutes, maybe hours. But eventually, with the sun lowering, she stepped back, placing the stone back where she had found it.
The dragon followed her movement with his eyes but didn’t pursue.
“I can’t bring it, but I’ll come back,” Elowen said softly, her voice barely a breath. “And I won’t tell them. I promise.”
Nine
He knewit had been a mistake. He was too close. Too curious. Too trusting.
Even now, nestled deep within the forest, he could feel the echo of her gaze etched into his scales like a spear logged between his scales. Ahuman’seyes were wide, soft, unafraid.
He’d seen that look before, long ago, just before the sword came down.
He paced the perimeter of the trees, restless.Fool,he snarled inwardly.He hadn’t meant for her to catch him.
He was only meant to watch. Like he always did. From a distance. Unseen, unknown. That was how he had survived when the rest of his kind had not. But the girl with the lake-colored eyes was not like the rest, and that frightened him more than a sword. Not because she was different, but because hewantedto believe in that difference.
He shouldn’t have left her gifts. The rose. The stone. And yet…watching her cradle them, cherish them, had twisted something tender and long-dead inside him. Something he could not name.
He ground his teeth together, breathing hard through his nose. Smoke curled around him as heavy as the shadows. The trees trembled faintly with the rise of heat in his skin.
Let them come,he told himself.Let them see what’s left of the dragons.
He would raze her village if he had to. Turn their crops to ash. Crush their stone houses beneath his claws. He’d promised himself, long ago, that he would never let another human take anything from him again.
And now he’d shown himself. Forwhat? A scrap of kindness from a strange girl with trembling hands?
He waited, crouched and coiled like a predator, golden eyes unblinking as the hours bled together. But no torches came. No men with spears. No screaming. Just…birdsong. Dawn.
A trick,he thought.They wait until she returns. Until I come again.
The hours crawled. Hunger gnawed at him, but he didn’t leave. His wings twitched. His tail lashed slowly through the loose dirt. Still, the forest remained untouched by human footfall.
