Control suited him. He didn’t like surprises. But here, in Draconia, the rules were different. He’d rushed here, leaving Fallione scrambling to keep pace. No amount of preparation could replicate the rhythm of this place.
“The dragons’ song wakes the island,” I said, stepping away from Mother to stand beside him. “Some say they were the first to sing the world into being. This is a homage to that lore.”
Wind surged through the landing. My skirts whipped against my legs, pulling taut like sails. I looped my arm through his, and he rested a palm on his belt, tucking my hand in close. Mother raised her eyebrows at my move, but let it go, staring back at the sunrise.
“I didn’t know they sang,” Kallias murmured.
Argos drew in a deep breath, scales shifting over muscle as his chest expanded, his attention locked on the orange halo as it climbed.
“Only for the Awakening,” I whispered, barely above the low hum surrounding us. “This song marks the beginning. Riders spend it with their dragons. It will happen every dawn until all the dragonlings hatch.”
“Then the festival ends?”
“Not until the first flight and feeding.”
He gave a rough grunt, tension slipping from his posture as he turned back to the sunrise. In Radaan, Fallione could guide him. Here, he required more than an advisor. He needed someone who belonged to this place. A partner.
A queen.
I tightened my grip on his arm. Heat curled through my chest. My parents stood beside me, and Kallias let me hold him. For a breathless moment, everything felt aligned.
The dragons’ voices rose, reaching higher. A shrill, piercing cry cut through the harmonies as the sun finally breached the sea. Their breaths staggered, one after another, a ladder of sound. The stone beneath us trembled with their song.
Argos braced himself, talons carving shallow grooves into the cliff’s edge. His muscles tensed, shoulders locked.
New daylight shimmered on the water, wavering like it strained to break free.
Kallias shifted beside me, glancing toward Argos.
I smiled.
He didn’t know what came next. But I did.
“Brace yourself. This is my favorite part,” I called over the rising crescendo.
The sun broke free of the horizon, a sliver of light cracking beneath the burning orb, lifting it from the sea. Argos’ head snapped skyward. His neck shuddered, and a bone-deep bellow tore from his chest, sharp enough to split the sky.
The cry echoed across the island. Every dragon answered. For three full breaths, the only sound on Draconia was the raw, wild scream of dragons.
Kallias tensed beneath my hand, but he tracked Father, now climbing onto his dragon’s back.
With a thunderous snap of his jaws, Argos silenced himself and tipped off the landing in a steep, headlong dive.
Roars fell quiet in unison. Then came the thunder—wingbeats crashing like drums as leathery sails punched into the air.
I craned my neck toward the Nest, pointing. Kallias followed my gesture. Kalepsi leaned far over the edge, morning light gilding her golden horns. Her massive head stretched skyward, hunger to fly tugging her from the clutch she refused to leave. She released a guttural roar that rang like an echo from another age.
Dragons burst from rooftops, cliff edges, beaches—rising in wide spirals around the Spire. Their paths narrowed with altitude, the sky becoming a whirl of iridescence, a storm of rainbow-scaled bodies flashing by.
Wind ripped through my dress, and my cheeks ached from grinning. With the landing’s edge beneath my feet, the dragons soaring past so close I could taste the heat off their wings—nothing matched it. It set every part of me alight.
Riders hugged their dragons’ spines, molded tight. No wavering, no faltering. They ascended together, one purpose, one breath.
Argos led the spiral skyward, streaking toward the faint stars clinging to dawn.
Then, with a final roar, he curved into a sweeping arc and plummeted. Even Tsunami followed, slicing through the sky in a narrow line. They dropped together, zipping past the Spire like a falling star. Wings snapped open with a deafening crack, just before they hit the rooftops.
Muted cheers spread across the island, celebrating their rise and return.
