Chapter 38
Chapter
Thirty-Eight
The screech of iron against stone echoed like thunder as the last cage door groaned open.
One by one, the dragons shuffled forward, their claws scraping the cavern floor, wings trembling with uncertainty.
Their scales shimmered with their restored colors, but their movements were hesitant, wary, like creatures unused to freedom.
Zander moved to my side, his gaze flicking from the dragons to Kaelith and Hein, who loomed at the top of the chamber, their eyes glowing like twin suns. “How do we get them to follow?” he asked quietly. “Kaelith and Hein can’t speak to them—not the way they do with the horde.”
I shook my head, my hand still stroking the golden dragon’s scales as it pressed close to me like a child seeking comfort. “We can’t command them. They don’t understand that. We have to… lead them.”
He frowned. “Lead them?”
I began walking toward the stairs. The golden dragon walked with me as if he were afraid I would leave him behind. We ascended the steps, and the others followed.
Before I could speak, a rush of wind whipped overhead as shadows moved above.
Other dragons—ones who had been tethered to the Blood Fae and had fled into the wasteland—were gliding down through broken arches, their wings whispering in the air.
They landed hard on the stone floor, their bodies coiling low, their massive forms shrinking as they lowered wings and necks in a gesture of submission.
I held my breath as they crept closer, step by hesitant step, like wounded animals inching toward a safe hand. Their wings sagged, their necks bowed, as if begging for approval.
Kaelith’s eyes flared, her gold gaze burning as she shifted.
Slowly, deliberately, she stretched one of her great wings outward, an unmistakable gesture of acceptance.
Three dragons immediately pressed themselves against her side, their bodies trembling until they melted against her, curling like hatchlings seeking warmth.
Her tail coiled protectively around them, and a low, soothing rumble vibrated from her chest.
My throat closed as I watched the golden dragon at my side lean toward me, pressing its muzzle against my chest. Its breath shuddered, hot and uneven. I lifted my hand and ran it over his scales, stroking gently. “It’s all right,” I whispered. “You’re safe now.”
The others watched, their crimson eyes dimming, confused, before one shifted, then another, following Kaelith’s example.
Soon, nearly fifty dragons—creatures who had once been enslaved, twisted into weapons of death—clustered around Kaelith.
They huddled together like lost children, their bodies pressed into one another for reassurance.
Kaelith’s voice thrummed through me, solemn and steady. They have never known independence, Ashlyn. Their every breath, every choice, belonged to their riders. Now that those bonds are severed, they look for guidance. For a mother to teach them what freedom means.
I looked up at Zander, my hand still stroking the golden dragon’s trembling flank. “I think Kaelith just became the mother of fifty dragons,” I whispered.
And though the thought terrified me, it also sparked something fierce and unshakable in my chest. Hope.
Kaelith’s presence coiled through my mind as the castle ruins settled into a fragile, aching quiet. Fifty dragons huddled beneath her outstretched wings, her vast body a living shield around them. Their eyes flicked between her and Hein, as if uncertain.
Many of these dragons still have parents back on the isle, Kaelith murmured, her voice threaded with something softer than I’d ever felt from her. But some… some are orphans. Those who have lost their kin will not be left adrift. We will guide them. They will be made whole again.
My hand smoothed over the golden dragon’s scales, his body pressed tight to my side as though he could crawl beneath my skin if I let him. His tail curled around my boots like a child clinging to its mother’s skirts. “Will they grow?” I asked quietly.
Kaelith’s answer came slowly, thoughtfully. It is hard to say. Their souls are damaged. What Veralin did cannot be erased. But their spirit… that is strong. Honestly, Ashlyn, what you have done here is a miracle.
A lump rose in my throat. I glanced down at the pendant against my chest, still glowing, heavy with its weight of blood and sacrifice. “My mother died for this pendant,” I whispered. “So there would be a way to set them free.”
Yes, Kaelith replied, her voice low and solemn. She did. And I am sorry you never got to meet her. But I know her spirit lives on in you.
My eyes stung, tears threatening, but I pressed my palm harder against the golden dragon’s scales. “Thank you, Kaelith. I appreciate it.”
She rumbled in my mind, a sound that was almost a purr, her wings settling heavier around the cluster of freed dragons. All except the gold. He pressed closer, awkwardly folding his wings as though trying to make himself smaller, just so he could press more tightly against me.
Across from us, Hein gave a sudden growl and launched himself skyward, his wings sending a blast of wind over us. I flinched, one hand tightening around the pendant.
“What’s he doing?” I asked, turning to Zander.
Zander exhaled slowly, a weary smile pulling at his lips. “He’s grabbing them a snack. He assumes they eat mostly sea creatures.”
Leyriam nodded, his pale braid slipping forward over one shoulder.
“That is true,” he said gravely. “Other than the animals protected within the Fae Sanctuary—and the ones Veralin tainted with dark magic—the rest of this isle is devoid of life. The seas alone have sustained them.” He glanced around.
“We will seek out the remaining Blood Fae. With the bond to their dragons naturally severed, they will live, but are now mortal.”
“Good,” Zander said.
The golden dragon nuzzled into my shoulder with a low rumble, and I stroked his head with shaking fingers. Fifty dragons, broken but free. My mother’s sacrifice honored at last. And Kaelith’s wings wrapped around them all like the promise of a new beginning.
We waited nearly an hour before the sky above us stirred with the beat of massive wings. Hein descended, his talons hooked around the hulking body of a sea cow. The creature looked as if it could have fed a small village for weeks, but dangling from Hein’s feet it seemed merely… adequate.
He landed with a thunderous thud, placing his catch in the center of the stone clearing. The scent of salt and blood filled the air as Hein stepped back, wings folding tight against his massive body.
For a moment, the smaller dragons hesitated. Their bodies trembled, claws scraping nervously at the stone. Then hunger overcame fear. One by one they approached, first at a crawl, then in a rush, serrated teeth sinking into the flesh.
The sound was immediate and brutal—a wet tearing, bone cracking under jaws built to rend. They swarmed the carcass in a frenzy, their wings half-spread to shield scraps from the others, their low growls vibrating through around us.
I turned away, pressing a hand to my stomach. The sound of rending flesh, the smell of copper and salt—it was too much.
Beside me, Jax leaned toward Ferrula, voice pitched low. “Have you ever eaten raw fish?”
Ferrula shrugged, her scar catching the light as she tilted her head. “A time or two. It’s not bad if you throw some salt on it. Some of my countrymen soak it in brine.”
Jax was quiet for a moment, his dark eyes softening in a way I rarely saw. Then, with an inhale, he said, “When we get back… we’ll end our courtship.”
Ferrula looked up at him, her lips parting in surprise. Then she smiled—small, private, but more tender than any I had seen her give. “Yes. You are mine.”
“I am yours,” Jax answered firmly.
Ferrula’s green eyes glinted. “Do you want a Grenthian wedding? You know Dirian customs include several days of sex, but those festivities are intimate. They don’t involve others.”
“All I need is you,” Jax said without hesitation.
Ferrula turned to Naia, mischief dancing on her mouth. “And what of your mother, Naia? Jax is your brother in every way that matters. Will she be satisfied without a ceremony?”
Naia sighed, but her smile was wistful. “She did make Jax something special. It was originally for my brother, but she altered it for Jax. Honestly, Ferrula—she’ll love you so much it won’t matter. Mom adores him. All she wants is his happiness.”
Ferrula turned back to Jax, her voice soft now, reverent. “She raised you. Took you in. We will have the ceremony she sees fit.”
“God, I love you,” Jax breathed, pulling her into a kiss.
Ferrula smirked when they broke apart. “I will enjoy the cunnilingus later.”
“Yeah, you will,” Jax said with a grin, hugging her against his chest.
Zander leaned close to me then, his Dark Fire eyes gleaming with mischief. “Several days of sex,” he murmured. “Perhaps we should include that Dirian custom in our ceremony.”
My jaw dropped, heat flooding my face. Before I could sputter out a reply, Ferrula cut in smoothly, her mouth twitching. “You will make a fine king, Zander. It is wise to be accepting of other cultures. I will give you a Dirian mating itinerary.”
Zander inclined his head, deadly serious. “Thank you, Ferrula.”
We waited as the air filled with the brutal symphony of feeding.
The sea cow—gods, it had been massive, nearly the size of a cottage—was reduced to a ruin of torn flesh and splintered bone in less than half an hour.
I stared at what remained—ribs cracked open, vertebrae gnawed clean, and scraps of hide trampled beneath clawed feet.
The smaller dragons, their bellies round and slick with blood, drifted back toward the larger dragons.
They went in clusters, instinct pulling them toward colors that mirrored their own.
Greens clustered beneath Narvea’s looming shadow.
Blues edged closer to Koddos, their low hums vibrating in unison.
A handful of orange Swordtails tucked themselves awkwardly beneath Temil’s wing.
But not all of them followed.
The golden one—Siergen’s son—padded back to my side, his eyes still soft and too young for a creature his size. A strip of flesh hung between his teeth, and when he dropped it at my feet, my heart clenched. He leaned against me like a child presenting a gift, as if desperate for approval.
I touched his warm scales, forcing a smile through the ache in my chest. “I can’t believe how quickly they got through that. Or how Hein managed to transport something that big.”
Kaelith’s voice rumbled through my thoughts, unimpressed. I would not choose a mate who was an inadequate hunter.
A laugh burst from me, breathless and shaky. “Kaelith, that sea cow was almost as big as Hein.”
It had no teeth or wings, she countered flatly.
I shook my head, smearing blood from the golden dragon’s muzzle with the edge of my sleeve. There was no point in arguing.
Movement caught my attention near the exit of the cavern.
A small silver female had crept forward, her head low, shoulders hunched.
She pressed herself hesitantly against Hein’s talons, her silver hide still mottled with shadow where the black had not fully receded.
Hein stilled, lowering his head until his great eye blinked down at her.
Then, slowly, he unfurled a wing and ran it gently over her head.
The silver female leaned into him, trembling, then let out a shuddering sigh as though she had been waiting her whole life for that one gesture.
I swallowed hard, my throat thick. “He’ll make an excellent father someday.”
Yes, Kaelith murmured, and for the first time in her voice I heard reverence, almost a prayer. Yes, he will.
I turned when I heard leather slap against armor.
Zander clasped Leyriam’s forearm, his voice resolute but hoarse with exhaustion. “Thank you—for everything. Without you, none of this would have been possible.”
Leyriam inclined his head, his pale braid slipping over his shoulder. “The pleasure was mine, King Rayne.” His tone was formal, reverent, but there was a flicker of warmth in his eyes.
Zander flinched at the title, though he gave no correction.
Kaelith lowered herself so I could climb into her saddle, her eyes glancing toward the small golden dragon who still lingered near my feet. He chirred softly as I mounted, then with an eager bound he followed as Kaelith spread her wings and we surged into the air.
The others fell in behind us—Jax on Koddos, Ferrula on Narvea, Naia on Temil, Tae on Kieren. When their dragons took to the sky, the cluster of smaller freed dragons scrambled after, awkward but determined, like a pack of ungainly hatchlings trying to mimic their elders.
We kept a slower pace, Kaelith adjusting her wingbeats so those struggling wouldn’t fall too far behind. Even so, I could see the strain. A few of the smallest dipped low before catching the air again, their wing strokes uneven.
Then one faltered badly—the same little silver who had pressed herself so bravely against Hein. She wobbled, wings folding dangerously, her body dropping like a stone.
She isn’t going to make it, I called to Kaelith, panic gripping me.
Hein will take care of it, Kaelith replied, her tone absolute.
True enough, Hein and Zander wheeled out of formation, their massive wings carving the sky. They circled once, then swept down beneath the falling silver. Hein surged upward, and the tiny dragon, scrabbling wildly, latched onto the end of Zander’s saddle.
Her small body half-draped across Hein’s neck until she found her balance, her slender throat pressing over Zander’s shoulder. Finally, with a shudder, she stilled—laying her head in his lap like a weary child.
Zander’s hand immediately came down to stroke her head, soothing her, his dark hair whipping across his face as Hein leveled out with the rest of us.
My chest tightened at the sight. Of course she chose him, I thought, unable to stop the warmth rising in me.
Kaelith angled her wings, her head turning toward the horizon where the familiar shape of the Dragon Isle grew from the sea. We are close, she rumbled.
Relief swelled in me, but it was short-lived.
A roar split the heavens. The sound was so massive, so soul-deep, it rattled my very bones and made Kaelith’s wings shudder in the air.
My pulse spiked. What was that? I demanded.
Kaelith’s voice answered with a reverence that bordered on awe. I have informed Siergen we are on approach… with his son.