No, my brother wouldn’t believe anything I said. I could only hope that my father might see reason.
By morning, Gyrak faltered. Ronan stayed silent, his face pale and drawn. He refused to speak to me. He offered a strip of dried meat from his pack, avoiding my eyes.
The black beast glided on updrafts, wings trembling in the breeze. A young dragon could make the four-day trip—but a return flight with no rest had never been done.
As the day wore on, we sank lower. Gyrak’s talons skimmed the water, cutting silver ripples across the waves.
I ground my jaw tight. We were too far from Radaan to turn back, too distant from Draconia to push ahead. No land between us—only sea. We had no choice but to fly.
When night fell, cold pressed into my skull until my head throbbed. Ronan’s water supply had dwindled to its last few drops. His reckless flight from home was catching up. Gyrak panted, steam gusting from his nostrils, each breath ragged as he fought to stay aloft.
“Brace yourself!”
I blinked, headache blurring my thoughts as I grabbed the saddle’s edge. The stars flickered on a still, glassy surface. No storm churned above. What would impede our flight?
Gyrak dropped like a stone, crashing into the sea. I screamed, nails biting into leather. Ronan yanked me tight against him as seawater surged up our legs. The dragon flailed, wings sprawled, struggling to stay afloat.
Cold punched through my dress and soaked into my boots. Panic scraped its claws across my throat. Gyrak huffed, curling his wings, dipping his head to the black water.
Never in our known history had a dragon landed in the sea. Fear of the dark abyss was as much a part of them as their scales or flames. Gyrak shuddered beneath us, and Ronan slumped forward, his forehead resting against my shoulder.
“He needs to rest.”
Heat prickled across my skin, feverish. I ignored it. The water below my boot looked endless and cold. Resting his wings wouldn’t help if he couldn’t take off again.
Would we die here? Stranded with a waterlogged dragon?
Ronan sagged into me, his breath warm and shallow. I bit my cheek. I would keep watch. They had to rest. Even if I hated them for it—right now, they needed me.
A distant wail pierced the silence. I jerked upright, rubbing my eyes. My brother’s chest weighed against my back. The sound had cut through the dark—sharp, eerie, not wind, not waves.
Another cry followed—high and thin. My heart stuttered.
I slapped Ronan’s thigh. “Wake up!”
He jolted, gripping my shoulder. I twisted, scouring each direction. The sea was empty. The sky untouched. Dawn barely kissed the horizon. There wasnothing.
“We need to go! Now!” I slammed my fist into Gyrak’s side. The dragon groaned, shifting, weariness making him sluggish. His nostrils flared as he sniffed the water.
The call rose again—closer. Beneath us.
My heart lurched to my throat, panic flooding my veins with icy terror. I pounded my fist into Gyrak once more. His massive wings snapped open, slapping the sea. Too heavy. Not enough lift.
The shriek shattered the air, deafening. I clutched onto Gyrak, fingers scrabbling across damp scales. Ronan cursed, fire sparking along his palms. His flames lit the water in flickers, but the inky depths below stayed black, endless.
Gyrak thrashed. His wings pounded. His neck stretched, desperate to take to the sky.
This was why dragons avoided the open ocean.
A swell rose around us. The sea heaved in a towering wave. My scream choked in my throat, dead before it could break free. The beast blocked out the stars—colossal, white-fanged. Moonlight glinted off jagged teeth.
Ronan shouted. Fire burst from his hands, flaring into the beast’s cavernous maw as it closed in.
“Fly, Gyrak! Now!”
I slammed my palm against his scales. A jolt of raw power surged through my arm. The dragon shrieked, twisted, claws ripping through briny spray. His talons found the monster’s face, raked toward a black, glistening eye.
A shark? Or whale? No. Something worse. Bigger than anything I’d seen.
