Dragons Beneath Restless Skies

Chapter 1

Do dreams make a sound when they shatter? Or do they fade in everlasting silence?

A persistent thread of fear crawls down my spine, its sinister voice telling me I’m about to find the answer.

No. My plan is tight. My fear is unfounded. It’s also incredibly resilient, but I can handle its irksome presence, as long as I don’t let it guide me.

Almost one year planning. Attention to every detail. I got this. I’m sure I got this.

Nobody knows I’m taking the Trial today. I don’t want my brother asking why this time will be different. Such an innocent question. Such an infuriating question.

I don’t want to see Laristella’s fearful face telling me I shouldn’t risk my life.

Mayara, your place is here, she’ll say.

Yes, working at her restaurant. How convenient.

I grab a chunk of coriander and toss it in the gallonfish stew, then inhale. The scents of herbs, seasonings, and fish steam up and hit my nose. Comforting. Filling. Perfect.

Too perfect.

I add an extra pinch of salt and some more carrots, stir, and take another sniff. Good enough.

The first time I heard that nobody made gallonfish stew like me, I was flattered.

For a couple of years, I was quite proud of myself, except that at some point, the patrons started complaining when I wasn’t around.

I swear, the assistant cook can’t smell anything.

Or taste. Laristella herself has no idea how to properly flavor her so-called family recipe.

This restaurant is not my place. It was how I survived, how I made sure my brother survived. It’s not my destiny.

And it’s why I decided I would no longer be irreplaceable, and started messing up the stew—just a little, but enough for people not to notice when it’s me or someone else making it. That way, nobody will throw a fit when I leave.

Perhaps even Laristella won’t mind my absence. As for my brother, he’s old enough to earn his keep, and has been getting faster and faster at cutting vegetables and cleaning fish. This is not his place either, but it will do for now. His dreams can still wait.

Unlike mine. Today is my last chance.

A tremor runs through me.

Unfounded.

I got this, and this time, there’s no way I’ll fail.

It’s ridiculous that twenty is the oldest they’ll accept, and I wonder if they think we’ll wither like rosemary, but it’s not like I can argue against their rules.

Twice I have failed this Trial, the memory of those moments sitting in my gut like rotten fish. Two wasted years. But I learned from my mistakes.

And yet my heart’s a simmering pot, ready to overflow.

“Are you all right?” My brother stares at me, knife in hand, as he pauses chopping some shallots.

I look at his fingers holding the wooden handle and can’t shake the image of his small hands when he first started to help in the kitchen. Five years younger than me, Kaio was a little child when we came to Dracolius City. We were starved and soaked from the rain when Laristella gave us shelter.

At least a thunderstorm was the only thing that came from the sky that evening.

“Mayara?” My brother’s voice snaps me back from my daze.

“What?” I mutter.

“You’re taking the Trial, aren’t you?” His voice is quiet.

I could deny it or give him an excuse, but we’re alone in the kitchen, and I suppose he’ll soon find out the truth. “Yes. In a couple of hours.” I force a casual tone, not wanting him to realize how much I care.

He shrinks his shoulders. “You… didn’t say goodbye.”

The last two times, I told him what to do when I joined the Sky Academy, prepared him for when I left. This time, I did none of that.

“I’ll be close and come visit. It’s not like I’m abandoning you.”

He chops some shallots, and when I turn back to the stew, he asks, “Are you afraid you’ll fail?”

His words echo inside me, amplifying that persistent, fearful voice I’ve been trying to smother. Still, I muster the most nonchalant tone I can. “No. And fear doesn’t change anything. I’ll let Foros decide.”

“Laristella says we should put flowers by his statue.”

“She says many things. You think the god of luck helps whoever honors him the most? Then it’s no longer luck and would go against his nature.”

He sets down his knife. “Maybe you can increase the odds?”

“Yes. With actions. By preparing.”

Curiosity—tainted with a hint of sadness—settles in my brother’s eyes. “You think you’re prepared?” Is he upset that I might leave or worried that I might fail?

Before I can come up with a reply, the door opens, and Laristella’s face pops in, her arms busy with plates. “Prepared for what?”

My mind was so distracted that I didn’t even smell her approaching.

Unwilling to discuss my decision with her, I give her a pleasant smile. “The last batch of stew is ready, and I have to leave early.”

Her dark eyes pierce me. “For the Trial?”

She obviously heard me, so there’s no point evading the truth. “Yes. And I have to go.”

I dash to the pantry, then up the rickety, narrow wooden ladder leading to the tiny room I share with my brother.

Laristella’s steps follow mine, and, from downstairs, she yells, “You still want to get killed?” Pity laces her voice and twists my stomach.

I crouch by the trapdoor, far enough that she can’t see me. “Sina can replace me, and Kaio will keep working. He can pay for his room.”

She sighs so loud I hear it from up here. “Mayara, I’m worried about you, not the stew.”

“I’ll be fine.” I kneel and look down. “No need to worry about me. It’s not like you’re my mother.” Perhaps that was unkind, but it slipped.

“Lucky you. At least I worry.” Her words surprisingly manage to poke an old wound I thought had healed. I always tell myself it’s already healed.

“I’ll be fine,” I repeat, perhaps with less certainty in my voice.

She shakes her head and walks away, and I exhale in relief, then glance at the box with my clothes. Will today be the day I finally pack?

The alternative is to live here forever, in this dingy, small attic, lit by a too-small window.

This room was once my salvation, my shelter, and yet as the years passed, it felt smaller and smaller and smaller.

Suffocating. And so close to the roof. When we first came here, I could barely sleep, wondering what would happen if flames hit us.

Like all buildings in Dracolius, Grease & Spice is covered with fireproof, compacted earth, a fact that only made me picture a clay oven.

Whenever the warning bells rang, my entire body trembled as I dreaded being roasted alive.

Even then, I managed to look calm enough to convince my brother that there was nothing to fear.

He believed me—and I had no companion in my dread.

But in our ten years in this restaurant, either our building was spared, or the fireproof roof worked.

This was a good shelter for two children.

Laristella was even kind enough to open a window for natural light to come in, with exterior metal shutters, of course.

Kaio and I were safe when things could have been so much worse.

Still, panic fills my lungs when I wonder if the rest of my life will be contained within these walls.

I toss my plain kitchen headband in my box with my personal trinkets, then take out a black crocheted band with red rhinestones, and pull back my hair.

I like how the dark thread disappears against my black locks, so that the red dots pop.

Looks are the least important thing at the Trial, but I want to feel like myself.

My white linen dress is comfortable enough, but I take it off and put on a clean, gray one that doesn’t smell so much like gallonfish stew. Oh, I won’t mind never smelling—or eating—it again.

The officers in the Sky Academy gave each applicant a paper with a day and a time. I’m supposed to get to the training grounds at three in the afternoon, and it’s still barely two, but there’s no point waiting here, marinating in anxiety and anguish.

Today is the last day of the Trials, and my time is the last slot, but I tell myself it doesn’t mean anything. Doesn’t mean I have bad luck or that Foros is singling me out or trying to ruin my chances.

Plus, of all the gods, I pray the most to Vigorlu, for strength. That is something I can control.

I go down to the kitchen, pat my brother’s shoulder, then walk outside, into the perpetual ocean breeze.

From the narrow cobbled street, I look down at the Claw Bay and the ships docked in our port.

My chest still knots when I see the approaching vessels, an echo of the pointless hope that used to eat me from the inside. Time has mercifully corroded it.

Now, when I look at the docked ships, all I see are merchants bringing gold, precious stones, food, and spices from other kingdoms. I no longer try to find a face I’ll recognize.

A scent of wings catches my attention, and I look up at the sky above the bay.

From among the clouds, Auranius descends, gliding towards the city and his lair, his beige skin glinting in the sun, his gigantic wings casting a shadow on the water.

My breath stills as I hear the subtle whoosh above me.

I’ve seen our dragon protector hundreds of times, and every single time I’m taken by a pang of wonder and awe and admiration.

And yearning. I want to glide in the sky, feel the wind on my face, look at our city from above. How can a want be so overpowering that it hurts? Oh, it’s dangerous, they say. Because they don’t know what it feels like not to fly, they don’t understand the constant pain.

What hurts more is the unfairness of it all. Why should I, who wants to join the Sky Academy like I crave air, be denied? Meanwhile, they take in every idiot who applies.

I step harder onto the stone path towards the training grounds as I watch Auranius land on top of the hill by the academy, as if waiting for me.

Splendid and impressive, he’s the largest and most powerful dragon in the world, guarding us from certain extermination—except when he sleeps.

But when that happens, the Sky Guard resists.