Chapter 39
Chapter
Thirty-Nine
The wind still roared in my ears as Kaelith curved her wings and dropped into the clearing on the Dragon Isle.
She landed a cautious distance from the massive golden figure waiting ahead.
Siergen stood like a monument of fire and dawn, his scales blazing in the moonlight, his sheer presence making the earth itself hum.
The others descended behind us, their dragons settling into the clearing with varying degrees of grace. The smaller, newly freed dragons landed close to those they had clung to in the sky, pressing their trembling bodies against colored flanks as though the contact might anchor them.
The riders remained mounted, every one of them tense, hands firm on reins as their dragons instinctively raised their wings just slightly—creating protective arches for the smaller ones to lean against. The huddle that formed was not of warriors but of frightened children seeking shelter, every eye fixed on the colossus of gold before them.
A low murmur brushed through my thoughts, not Kaelith’s voice but another’s, deeper, older. I knew it was Siergen.
You risked your life to save the dragons. You risked Kaelith’s.
His gaze seared into me, eyes like twin suns. I nodded once, my throat tight.
His mind pressed deeper. My son looks to you. He will not approach me. I must touch him to reconnect him to me, and to the horde.
What do you want me to do? I asked silently.
Bring him to me.
I slid from Kaelith’s saddle, boots striking the earth with a jolt.
It wasn’t easy to move through the throng.
The freed dragons loomed taller than me even at their smallest, and though they shifted uneasily to let me pass, the press of scales and wings made the air feel claustrophobic. Still, step by step, I pushed forward.
The small golden stayed tight at my heels, his claws clawing the grass, his breath quick and uncertain. When I broke into the open, only a few feet from Siergen’s towering bulk, the young dragon froze. His trembling head lifted, golden eyes staring wide at the true leader of the horde.
I turned back, reaching out to brush my hand against his snout, my fingers smoothing over scales still warm from flight. His breath gusted against my cheek, shaky and raw.
“Siergen,” I whispered aloud, my voice carrying into the silence. “What is your son’s name?”
The golden titan lowered his massive head, grief and pride radiating from him in equal measure. Ria wanted to name him Namiren.
My throat tightened, the name heavy with love and legacy. I pressed my palm more firmly to the young dragon’s muzzle. “Namiren,” I said softly, “meet your father. This is your home.”
The little golden dragon whimpered once, then took a single step forward.
Siergen moved with a slowness that belied his size, every step measured as though afraid the earth itself might break beneath him. His scales blazed like a second sun as he drew closer to Namiren.
The young dragon shivered violently, his small wings twitching, claws scraping the earth. Then—hesitantly—he lifted his head. When their noses touched, the trembling stilled.
Namiren leaned closer to me, pressing his flank against my side as if to anchor himself, but I felt it—he was listening. Communicating with his father in a way only dragons could.
Siergen’s head turned toward me then, and the look in his eyes nearly broke me. Pain. Fury. Shame. All woven into the golden fire of his gaze.
I did not know he had been harvested from his mother’s body, his voice thundered into my mind. He was too underdeveloped to live.
I swallowed hard, laying a hand against Namiren’s warm scales. “Veralin was one of the most powerful fae alive,” I whispered. “But he used that power only to enslave those around him.”
Yes, Siergen growled, his mental voice edged with sorrow. I have made the connection with my son. I can see his mind… it is completely undeveloped. His body is that of an adolescent, but his magic—his magic is fully formed. The next few years will be trying for the horde.
I pressed my cheek against Namiren’s neck, my throat aching. “But you can help him?”
We will help them all, Siergen answered. His gaze swept the cluster of dragons huddled beneath Kaelith’s wings and against the flanks of their chosen riders. We must contain their magic while they learn and heal.
I stroked Namiren’s scales, feeling the pulse of his heart beneath my palm. “Kaelith said their souls are damaged.”
Yes, Siergen admitted, his voice reverent and raw. In truth, I never dreamed this was possible. What your mother did—what you have done—is a miracle.
I exhaled shakily, bitterness slipping into the air between us. “Yeah, but my grandfather is the one who put us in this place to begin with.”
He let his power control him, Siergen rumbled. His wings shifted, blotting out the sky for a moment. It can happen to any being with magic. Even a dragon.
The weight of his words sank into me.
The air stirred then, heavy wingbeats breaking the stillness. Two dragons landed at the edge of the clearing, their bodies tense, their eyes wild with a desperate kind of hope.
Siergen’s gaze flicked to me. They are the parents of one of the younglings huddled near Koddos.
I turned in time to see a small blue dragon lift its head from beneath Koddos’ protective flank, its wide eyes locking onto the pair that had just arrived. The sound it made—half cry, half roar—split the clearing in two.
Koddos lowered his massive head until his nose nudged the little blue dragon tucked against his side. The youngling’s eyes flicked toward him uncertainly, then toward the two larger dragons. A deep rumble rolled from Koddos’ chest, coaxing, encouraging.
The small dragon inched forward, talons dragging grooves in the earth. Its wings trembled, but when Siergen stepped in front of it and lowered his great head, touching his snout gently to the youngling’s, the trembling eased.
The air seemed to hold still as the young stretched its neck toward the newcomers.
The smaller of the two adults—a vibrant emerald whose scales shimmered in the moonlight—let out a shuddering cry before rushing forward.
She curled her long neck around the smaller dragon, her body trembling as she pulled it against her chest. The other adult pressed his massive head alongside hers, their tails twining, their wings dropping low to shelter their child between them.
The emotion in their eyes was undeniable—relief, grief, love so intense it cut through every barrier in the clearing.
Siergen turned his blazing gaze to me. This will take some time, Ashlyn. Your dragons must remain here until the reintegration process is complete. And since the younglings are more comfortable with you and the members of your squad, we will need you to stay as well.
“Of course,” I whispered, stroking Namiren’s golden muzzle as his eyes closed, weariness finally tugging him into slumber.
The night wore on. The air grew heavy and still, the stars wheeling high overhead. At Siergen’s request, I remounted Kaelith and settled against her warm neck, though sleep pulled at me only reluctantly.
Tae was the first to give in, curling against Kieren’s side, his hand still tangled in the dragon’s rope as if he might be called to rise at any moment.
One by one, the others followed—Naia resting beneath Temil’s wing, Jax sprawled against Koddos’ armored flank, Ferrula seated upright until her eyes drooped closed.
I don’t know when I finally drifted off.
When I woke, pale light spilled across the clearing. My muscles ached from the awkward sleep, but what startled me most was the absence—the cluster of small dragons had thinned. Most were gone.
Jax and Ferrula stood near the center of the clearing, speaking quietly as Koddos and Narvea walked in slow, patient circles with two unclaimed dragons trailing them like nervous shadows.
And there, at Hein’s massive talons, the little silver female lay curled like a coiled ribbon, her flank rising and falling in deep sleep.
What’s going on? I asked, my voice echoing through the bond as my eyes found Zander where he stood beside Hein.
Zander’s mind brushed against mine as I stretched out the stiffness from sleep. Hein was standing beside me with Zander seated comfortably.
They’ve been busy while you slept, he said through our bond, the words warm against my mind. Out loud, he added, “Siergen has offered to allow Jax and Ferrula to have their wedding here. On the Dragon Isle.”
I blinked at him, sitting straighter in Kaelith’s saddle. “What? We can’t have non-riders here.”
“There will be only one non-rider,” he said gently. “And she’s already been given permission to visit for the ceremony.”
It hit me like a lightning strike. “Jax and Naia’s mother.”
Zander nodded. “Yes. Naia has gone to fetch her, and to gather supplies.”
“They’re doing it now?” My voice cracked upward, caught between disbelief and laughter. “Who is going to officiate?”
“There is only one who has the authority to allow this,” Zander said, his mouth curving.
My breath caught. “Siergen.”
“Yes. He says he owes Thrall Squad everything.” Zander’s gaze softened, his thumb brushing against my knuckles. “He’s also extended the same courtesy to us. You and I will need to have a royal wedding for Warriath, but he wants to give us a private ceremony here, with our squad at our side.”
For a moment, I couldn’t breathe. I pressed my lips together, fighting the sting in my eyes. “That’s… amazing.” I looked away quickly, staring toward the dragons as they shifted in the clearing. “Are we waiting for the last of the parents?”
Zander followed my gaze, and he knew exactly who I meant. The little silver, still curled beneath Hein’s talons, her flank rising and falling steadily.
“No,” he said softly. “The dragons that are left have no parents. Hein and Kaelith have… adopted the little silver.”
My throat tightened. I reached out through the bond, my mind brushing Kaelith’s. You have a daughter.
Her response coiled around me like a warm breath of flame. Yes. She too was harvested from her mother before birth. But she survived. We have named her Loretha, in honor of your mother.
My chest squeezed so tightly I had to press a hand against it, tears threatening again. “Thank you,” I whispered aloud, both to Kaelith and to Hein.
Loretha shifted then, as if she’d heard her name. Hein lowered his great head to her, protective and proud. Finally, the clearing felt… whole.
The rush of wings broke across the clearing as Cordelle and Riven descended, their dragons kicking up leaves as they settled. A heartbeat later, Temil’s orange wings cut through the air, and Naia guided her dragon into a careful landing.
But she wasn’t alone.
An older woman clung to her from behind, arms wrapped tight around Naia’s waist. Her hair was streaked with silver, her eyes wild yet alert, scanning every shadow of the isle as if danger might spring from it.
Naia dismounted first, helping the woman slide carefully to the ground. Before her feet had even settled, Jax was running across the clearing. He caught her up in a crushing hug, his broad shoulders shaking as he whispered something against her temple.
“Come here,” he said hoarsely, pulling her toward us. His eyes gleamed as he motioned to Ferrula. “I want you to meet Ferrula.”
I slipped down from Kaelith’s back, the others dismounting to follow. Soon we were all clustered close, forming a circle around Jax, Ferrula, and the woman who had clearly given him his steady strength.
“Everyone,” Jax said, his voice thick with pride, “this is Naia’s mother. Her name is Rayleen, but I call her Momma Ray.”
We all murmured greetings, nodding our respect. But Rayleen’s eyes didn’t leave Ferrula.
“You must be my son’s bride,” she said softly, her voice both warm and weighted with emotion.
Ferrula straightened, her scar vivid against her cheek. “It is my pleasure to meet you.”
Rayleen’s lips trembled into a smile as she reached up and cupped Ferrula’s cheek. “No, sweetheart. It is mine. You have brought so much happiness to my children. They both love you.”
Ferrula’s throat worked; her usual sharpness softened into something vulnerable. “And I them.”
Rayleen turned, motioning to Temil with a spark of mischief in her gaze. “My daughter’s dragon was kind enough to transport some items for your ceremony. I have outfits for both of you… if you like them.”
Ferrula’s eyes narrowed, suspicion flickering. “How would you have something for me?”
Rayleen’s smile deepened. “I made a dress for Naia. But she wants you to have it. I’ll make her another.”
Ferrula blinked, caught off guard, before glancing at her soon-to-be sister-in-law. Naia’s grin was wide and certain.
“Thank you,” Ferrula managed, her voice husky.
Naia shrugged. “We’re family now, Ferr.”
With that, she jogged back to Temil and tugged a rucksack down from the saddle. She rummaged inside and pulled out a carefully folded white garment; the fabric catching the fading sunlight.
“Go into the bushes and change,” Naia ordered, thrusting it into Ferrula’s hands. “I’ll escort you out when it’s time.”
She handed Jax the bag with a smirk. “You’re getting married in five minutes.”