Chapter 47 Rhea #2
Aurelia giggles in my arms, seemingly delighted by what she's done. Her fist waves in the air as the last of the golden light dissipates.
The clearing falls silent. Where hatred boiled moments ago, stunned gratitude now reigns.
A voice brushes against my mind, familiar yet distant, like a song heard from another room. From the sudden stillness that falls over the clearing, I know everyone else hears it too. Dragons and riders alike freeze in place, faces tilted skyward.
—My children... my beloved children...
It's Heratrix's voice, but faded, a whisper stretched thin across time.
—For a millennium, you were lied to. I was never the only female dragon.
There are many. My daughter, the impostor you followed, took what was not hers, broke what should have remained whole.
Some betrayed me willingly, serving my daughter for power and privilege.
Yet I forgive them all. Now you must follow the rightful king, the descendant of the original king from centuries past. The man I made a pact with.
Murmurs ripple through the crowd. Vaylen stiffens beside me.
—This king is not Craven Stonefall, whose ancestors stole what was not theirs. The throne belongs to Vaylen Everett Stormsong, last of the true royal bloodline, and Omneira when he was needed to defend the realm and restore the balance.
Vaylen's face pales. I reach for his hand, finding it trembling slightly.
—Serve him with honor, rebuild what was broken, and heal Embernia together.
Her words tremble with effort, each syllable a struggle to manifest.
—I will always be with you, in the wind, in the fire, in every element that binds dragon to rider. The female dragons have returned from their curse. Welcome them, then look to the Flametop Mountains. The eggs my daughter stole will hatch under their care. Embernia will be whole again.
The voice fades like mist in morning sun.
—Remember... love is the greatest magic of all.
With that final message, she's gone, her sacrifice so complete that only this echo remains.
Dakar steps forward, mouth quirking into that familiar half-smile.
"High Prime, Omneira, true king… ain't you collectin' titles faster than wyrm-shit piles up?
Gonna need bigger leathers to fit all them fancy words.
" He winks at me before clapping Vaylen's shoulder.
"Your Highness," he adds with an exaggerated bow that makes everyone laugh.
Prime Wavecaller's tall frame goes rigid with indignation. "You dare question the Goddess herself? Her voice blessed us all with truth, Cloudwalker. I suggest you hold your tongue even to jest."
The crowd shifts uneasily, their gazes alternating between Vaylen and the baby in my arms. The awe in their eyes makes me uncomfortable. High Prime was hard enough, now the man I love must be king.
Dakar raises his hands in mock surrender. "Right, right. All hail King Stormsong. Guess I'll be practicin’ my bow for court." He looks at Vaylen. "Think I can get away with short sleeves at royal functions?"
I can't help but smile. At least someone still sees Vaylen as himself, not some mythical lost king anointed by the Goddess.
Phoebe steps forward. "Wait, but what did Heratrix mean by the female dragons have returned from their curse?"
As if answering her question, the horizon darkens. I turn, my breath catching as hundreds of shadows rise from where the Screechclaws had retreated as Heratrix fought. They blot out the sun in waves, their massive forms unmistakable.
Dragons. Thousands of female dragons where only harpies had been.
Their scales catch the sunlight—ruby, gold, amber, sapphire, and what looks like pearl—their colors far richer than the males'.
They wheel through the sky, soaring impossibly high then diving with abandon.
Joy radiates from their bodies. The sound of their triumphant roars shakes the very ground beneath our feet.
—Sisters. Mates. Friends. Lost for so long, Zephyros exclaims.
Vaylen explains further so all can understand. "They were cursed by Vestra, transformed into harpies and given only bloodlust, no memory of who they'd been."
Phoebe stares skyward, her mouth hanging open. "It's impossible... it's magnificent."
Dakar throws his hands up. "What other wyrm-shit surprises you got hidden, Your Majesty? Please tell me we're done with world-shaking revelations for one day." He slumps dramatically. "My poor heart can't take anymore."
I laugh, feeling the weight of exhaustion pulling at my bones. "For once, Dakar, I completely agree with you. I need about three days of sleep before I can process any of this."
Aurelia yawns against my chest, her fingers curling into fists.
Suddenly, a realization hits me like ice water. This baby, this miracle child in my arms. Is she mine now? Ours? Fucking hells, I'm not ready to be anyone's mother. I can barely keep myself alive most days.
I look at Vaylen, now apparently the King of Embernia, and feel panic rising.
What does this make me? What does any of this make us?
Vaylen steps closer as if sensing my panic.
His fingers brush Aurelia's tiny head. She coos happily, her eyes blinking closed.
I clutch her tight despite my fears. I don't know what the future holds, but right now, I just want to close my eyes and pretend the world isn't remaking itself around us.