Epilogue #2
When they saw the female dragons, their faces gave way to awe, then something like religious fervor. Some fell to their knees, weeping. Others stood frozen, unable to reconcile the magnificent creatures before them with the histories they'd been taught.
Still, they resisted surrendering the eggs.
They were their purpose, their legacy. Even as the truth unfolded before them, they clung to their familiar duties.
It wasn't until the female dragons grew restless, their patience wearing thin as they called for their unborn young with thunderous roars that echoed through the mountains, that the guardians relented.
Now reports come from across Embernia of hatchlings taking their first flights, their keening cries of joy carrying for miles as they test newfound wings under the watchful eyes of their mothers.
It's a rebirth, not just of dragons but of truth itself, a wonder I still find hard to believe most days.
I dust off my hands. "I want to see these new eggs. Is there anyone who can show me where they are?"
Dakar shields his eyes, scanning the busy workers before his gaze locks on a woman mixing earth and straw in a large wooden trough, her hands commanding water to flow through the mixture with perfect control.
"Oi! Merrycreek!" Dakar calls out. The woman looks up, pushing a strand of hair from her forehead with the back of her wrist. "Her Majesty wants to see those eggs His Majesty went to check on. Mind showing her the way?"
I roll my eyes to the sky while Phoebe smirks. I can't wait until this joke gets old to Dakar. I'm not anyone's majesty.
Merrycreek nods, wiping her hands on her apron. "Of course, Skysinger Wyndward. It's not far."
I turn to follow her when a squeal erupts behind me. Aurelia wriggles frantically in Dakar's arms, her little face scrunched in determination as she twists free and drops to the ground. Her legs pump furiously as she toddles toward me, arms outstretched.
"Rea! Go! Go!" she insists.
I glance at Dakar, who shrugs helplessly. "Girl knows what she wants."
I scoop Aurelia up, settling her on my hip. "All right, let's go see the dragon eggs."
I follow Merrycreek along a narrow path winding through summer-tall grass. Aurelia bounces on my hip, her tiny fingers pointing skyward where Zephyros glides above us, his silver scales sending winking lights in our wake. She squeals, the joy in her sounds pure and unrestrained.
"Yes, that's Mr. Grumpy," I tell her, adjusting her weight as we navigate a rocky section of the trail. "Can you say Zephyros?"
"Zef!" she attempts, her little face scrunched in concentration.
Zephyros's deep voice rumbles through my mind. —More eggs means more hope for my sisters. Some still search for their clutches.
I tilt my head up to look at him. —Do you think all the eggs will be found?
—Perhaps not all, he admits, banking lazily on a thermal current. But every discovery brings joy to those who have waited too long.
Aurelia stretches her arms toward the sky, her body arching with unmistakable yearning. Her eyes track Zephyros's every movement, her tiny hands opening and closing as if trying to catch the wind itself.
—We will fly tonight, little one, Zephyros promises, his voice gentler than I ever heard before she came into our lives.
I smile, realizing I no longer feel the pang I once did when he calls her that. I was his little one before, but now that title belongs to Aurelia. There's no jealousy in my heart, only gratitude that she has him to protect her as he has protected me.
—You've spoiled her with these nightly flights, I chide him affectionately. She refuses to sleep without her ride now.
—Dragons need sky, he responds simply. Even the smallest ones.
Aurelia claps her hands. "Fly! Fly!"
"Later," I promise, kissing her honey-colored cheek. "First, we see the eggs."
The path grows steeper, curving around the mountain's base. Merrycreek leads us to a narrow fissure in the rock face, nearly invisible among the shadows and scrub brush.
"King Stormsong is inside," she says, gesturing toward the opening.
I thank her as we enter. The fissure widens into a torchlit tunnel, rough-hewn with recent tool marks. The air grows cooler as we descend, smelling of earth and stone. Aurelia presses closer, her eyes wide at the dancing shadows.
"It's all right, brave girl," I murmur against her curls.
The tunnel branches twice before opening into a cavern where Vaylen stands with two scouts, gesturing at the narrow entrance.
"We'll need to widen this passage significantly," he tells them, his deep voice echoing off the stone walls. "Start tomorrow with a team of Skydunes. The eggs must be transported safely. I want carts with padding, nothing that might cause damage."
Aurelia squeals when she spots him, nearly launching herself from my arms.
Vaylen turns, his serious expression melting into a smile that transforms his face. His blue eyes sparkle in the torchlight as he crosses to us in three long strides.
"There are my girls," he says, taking Aurelia as she reaches for him. He rubs his nose against hers, earning delighted giggles. "Did you come to help me with important dragon business?"
Behind him, I see the eggs, nearly thirty nestled in shallow depressions, their shells iridescent in the dim light. Larger than the ones we found before, these shells shimmer with hints of emerald and sapphire.
"The mountains still hold surprises," I say, running my fingers lightly over the nearest egg. Its surface pulses with warmth beneath my touch.
Vaylen sighs, bouncing Aurelia gently. "We need a better way to alert the dragonesses. I hate the thought of their young waiting a moment longer than necessary."
"If only we had more Weavers or more bonded riders who could communicate directly and across distances," I agree. We can send Boltgrams all over the realm, but who will dare approach the dragonesses to deliver the news.
Zephyros and I have been serving as liaison between humans and dragons, but we can't be everywhere at once. The dragonesses have scattered across Embernia, rebuilding their interrupted lives, so the task only grows more complicated.
"Zephyros can spread word to the dragonesses nearest us, at least," I say, "though the message will take time to spread."
Vaylen finishes giving instructions to the scouts, his voice firm but kind. With Aurelia perched on his shoulders, we make our way back through the tunnels toward daylight.
Emerging from the cave, I shield my eyes against the brightness.
The world unfolds before us in breathtaking splendor from this vantage point.
Below, our camp stretches across the valley floor, a patchwork of tents, half-built structures, and organized activity.
Workers move like ants, purpose in every step as they rebuild what was lost.
Beyond them, the prairie blooms with wildflowers in splashes of indigo, gold and crimson against emerald grass. The Flametop Mountains rise majestically, their jagged peaks softened by tendrils of mist.
Above it all, the sky opens in an endless azure expanse where a dozen dragons soar. Ribbons of clouds stretch across the horizon, painted gold and rose by the afternoon sun.
"Beautiful," I murmur.
"Indeed," Vaylen replies, his voice reverent.
I look up at him to find he's staring at me, not the landscape. His eyes hold the same reverence as when he gazes upon dragons in flight.
"I wasn't talking about the view," he says softly.
I can't help but smile, warmth blooming in my chest. He cups my face, thumb brushing my cheek. His lips meet mine in a tender kiss that speaks of patience and certainty.
"I love you the way dragons love the sky," he murmurs against my mouth. "Endlessly. Inevitably."
"You're getting poetic in your old age, Your Majesty," I tease, though my heart flutters traitorously at his words.
"Since you clearly don't think I'm all that young anymore," he says with a glint in his eye, "why don't you finally say yes to my request?"
I look away, watching a pair of dragons—one male and one female—circle each other in a graceful aerial dance. Part of me wants to say yes, wants it with a ferocity that startles me. But another part still rebels, still treasures the calm I've fought so hard to keep.
"I need more time," I whisper, knowing it's the same answer I've given for months.
"Marry me, Rhealyn Wyndward," he says.
"I'm already yours. Marriage is just a formality."
Vaylen shakes his head, his fingers gently tilting my chin up.
"It's not just formality. It's promising in front of everyone that we're building something lasting together.
" His eyes soften. "When I was a child, I had nothing that was truly mine.
No family name worth claiming, no legacy, no certainty.
Now I want to stand before Embernia and claim you.
And I don't mean I want you to be my queen, but my partner.
The woman who chose me despite knowing all my flaws.
" He kisses my forehead. "Is that so terrible? "
The thought of being queen terrifies me. Not the responsibility. I've shouldered enough burdens before. It's the scrutiny, the expectations, the endless stream of people watching my every move, waiting for me to fail.
I once craved power, imagining how sweet it would taste.
Oh, how different the reality proved to be!
Power isn't freedom. It's constraint disguised as choice.
Each decision ripples outward, affecting countless lives.
I've learned to pause before speaking, to consider consequences beyond my immediate desires.
Every time I face a choice, I make sure to pause to remember my past mistakes in order to avoid any hasty judgments and the belief that my pain justifies whatever action I wish to take.