"Seraxes!" I yell, but she pays me no mind. Her eyes are pinned on the newcomer and her fangs glisten in the sunlight. Despite being the smallest dragon present, she's ready for a fight.
Drexel, Artax, Corvex, and Syrinx form a half-circle, their ferocious gazes fixed on the Black Dragon, who doesn't seemworried by being outnumbered in the slightest. I thought Artax and Drexel were large, but they pale in comparison to this dragon of ancient days.
"What do we do?" I ask Thrane, who is now standing shoulder-to-shoulder with me. He, too, seems at a loss for words which is very much unlike him.
"What can we do?" he responds, extra sass unnecessary. "What can we do against dragons? If we dart for them, the black beast will simply turn us into pillars of salt if he feels threatened."
"He's magnificent," Atlas murmurs beside me. "Never in all my wildest dreams did I think I'd lay my eyes on a black dragon."
As if the creature heard his whispered reverence, his head snaps our direction, eyes on us as he stomps forward. He doesn't seem malicious, only curious. But each step he takes, rattling the ground, is a declaration of ill-intent and Seraxes is having none of it. She breaks rank and darts between me and the beast, roaring in warning. The black beast roars in response, the blast knocking me off my feet. Still, Seraxes doesn't yield her position.
I scramble to my feet and rush to her side. As I get there, the black dragon bares his teeth only to snap his jaws closed once he sniffs the air. Something shifts. His demeanor changes. But it's then I realize his eyes aren't on me. He's staring at Atlas behind me. He moves closer so I throw a shield around me and Seraxes, but he's not interested in us at all. He circumvents us and trots to Atlas.
Atlas doesn't flinch, nor does he move, even when the people in the stands above him scatter. He throws his hand into the air and I expect his shadows to make an appearance, but nothing happens. He doesn't look concerned, he's so enamored by the dragon that he matches the beast's movement. He walks forward until they're upon one another.
"Atlas!"
He reaches, cupping his palm until the dragon nudges his enormous muzzle against him.
Did the black dragon just… choose Atlas?
Twenty
Atlas
He claimed me. I can sense it in my bones. The connection swells in my soul. This black dragon came to Draaksten to find… me. But why? They're all supposed to be dead.
There's a good chance I'm dreaming and all this is not actually happening. So I reach my hand up with reverence. When the magnificent creature doesn't move, I rest my palm against his rough scales and tears well in my eyes at the grandeur of this moment. This is real. Not some dream or figment of my wild imagination. There's a dragon in Tronovia and he's allowed me to touch him.
If one of my brothers asked me to explain how I feel in this moment, all I could tell them is how insignificant yet wholly seen I am in the dragon's presence. If I don't sound foolish enough, when I drag my hand across his snout, I can confidently declare I know this dragon. Or at least, something deep within me recognizes him. But that's not possible.
Time slows.
Everyone fades.
The dragon turns its head for me to look into one of his purple eyes. He blinks and my head snaps upward, a vision flashing in my mind.
I see a woman. A woman with long black hair flowing in the wind. She looks up at me and smiles sadly. Her vibrant violet eyes are filled with tears. She reaches for me – no, not me, for the dragon. I'm in his memories. I feel her hand and the power humming beneath her fingertips feels oddly familiar.
"To the end of all things," she says, her voice soft and broken.
Her black and silver armor is splattered with blood, her tan face scratched and bruised.
The dragon's memory shows me what appears to be a battlefield. Billows of smoke. Bodies everywhere. Fire and ice. Dragons fighting in the darkened skies. And in the distance, a demon king swinging an enormous double-sided axe at Celestials in golden armor.
"Together, Vidarr." The woman's voice echoes, drawing the dragon's focus. "One last time."
The woman suddenly transforms before me. Her beauty fades, replaced by a beastly form. Fangs, long fingernails, black spidery ink trailing up and down her arms and neck. Black wings sprout from her back and her shadow swirls around her.
It's Nox.
Making her –
My head snaps back into place, the vision gone. I fall to my knees with a heavy gasp and gaze up at the dragon before me. My breathing is uneven, fragmented. An unsettling fear stirs within me.
"You're… you're Naya Valanor's dragon," I whisper with a rasp that makes my voice not sound like my own. "You're Vidarr the Destroyer."
I quickly scan his body for the markings he was said to have received during the war one thousand years ago and sure enough, across his chest are two deep scars.
