I laugh. Because it’s all I can think to do. Ronyn still exists.He still lives.
“He wants us to bow before him,” I breathe to the group, but no one moves. No one even registers I’ve spoken.
“Today, mortals. Bow to Tarrakai, Ender of Kingdoms, before you become ash on the wind,”the dragon rasps down the tether.
Finally, I look to Kael. His eyes are fixed on the beast before us, and his face beams in awe. Slowly, the man who bows to no one, drops to his knee.
“To Ronyn, the first god metal archer of Aevryn, and Tarrakai, the most powerful dragon in the known realms,” Kael breathes, awed.
“All realms, all dimensions,”Tarrakai corrects tersely, as if Kael’s insulted him.
Kael suppresses a laugh, but stays kneeling.
The rest of us follow, bowing to the dragon with reverence. With ancient recognition of what this means.
Dragons are real.
I’d swear this image was conjured by a Venomshade, if I weren’t able to hear the truth of it in my mind.
“I can’t believe my Starsdamned eyes,” Correk stammers.
“I’m gonna say this one last time: what the fuck, Kael?” Daelen mutters under his breath, still holding his sword in Tarrakai’s direction.
“Tell the mortal with the pointy piece of tin that I’m hungry, and I’ll use the weapon to pick his bones from my teeth if he doesn’t put it down and bow,”Tarrakai grumbles.
Kael’s mouth breaks into a smirk, and he huffs a laugh. “Put down the sword, Dae, or Tarrakai will use it to pick your bones from his teeth,” Kael taunts, and the blood drains from Daelen’s face.
“I want Ronyn back,” he huffs petulantly, and Tarrakai huffs a steamy breath through his nostrils that drench the air in a cloudy mist.
The others stumble back, but I cut through their panic. “He’s still in there. We can hear him… through the tether,” I explain, though my voice sounds wistful, ungrounded.
My knees nearly give out with relief.
“Ronyn’s still there?” Seren clarifies, eyes wide in raw emotion. And the air fills with gasps from the others.
I nod and she breaks from the group, slowly approaching Tarrakai, her hand outstretched.
Tarrakai lowers his head, dropping onto his belly in submission. Seren glides her hand between Tarrakai’s nostrils tenderly, stroking the beast.
“Old blood. You were once allies of my kin, despite how it all ended. I like this mortal,”Tarrakai acknowledges through the tether, nuzzling into her hand like a kitten.
I make to question him about the Veilborn, how it ended between them and the dragons, but Daelen begins approaching, too, hoping to make peace with Tarrakai. But the beast works his jaw, opening it into a cave of jagged teeth built for destruction, and snaps it in Daelen’s direction.
Daelen stumbles back, falling on his ass.
Therion suppresses a laugh, though the shake of his frame gives him away. “Probably wise not to approach the most powerful dragon to ever exist across all realms and all dimensions, Dae,” Therion taunts.
“Shedid!” he counters, incredulous, pointing at Seren. He throws his hands in the air as if he’s hard done by, and I can’t help but snort a laugh at his expense.
But Seren ignores him, keeping her eyes trained on Tarrakai. His golden eyes fix on her, too. “Lady Sylvaine told me myths of the dragons. That the dragons themselves still walk among us,” Seren breathes, in that eerie way she does when she can hear the song of the wind and the stories of the elements. “That there were old tales in distant lands that many cast aside as bedtime stories for children. But perhaps, they’re true,” she murmurs the words, tone distant, not talking to anyone in particular. But we all lean in, edging toward her, like the very lilt of her voice is an incantation that hypnotizes.
“What stories, Seren?” Therion pushes, closing the space between them.
“Stories of Melders—mythic creatures who could take the form of both flesh and beast. Who could wear the skin of man and dragon, melding flesh and fire, scale and sinew,” she breathes the story like a sacred prayer, entrancing us.
“What in the fuckin’ Stars?” Merrik mutters under his breath, but Kael raises his hand, silencing the murmurs that take off between us.
“You’d do well to listen to this, mortals. The old blood speaks truth,”Tarrakai’s impatient grunt pushes down the tether.
