Fifty Eight
Rohan
I go to my dragons, what’s left of them, and grieve. I don’t show it physically, but they can feel it.
We lost too many, and the weight of being unable to save them is eating me alive.
Solia purrs sadly, and I grit my teeth as my hand runs over her head.
“I know.”
She and her brother have never once separated since they were younglings. And now she has to try and live a life without him.
“We’re here,” I tell her as Vex, Hedoric, Hakkon and Magnus come over to her, sharing their grief. Wounds and all.
They purr with her, eyes closed and they curl around us, their heat a knowing comfort that sinks deep into my bones.
“We will be home soon,” I tell them, making sure to stroke them all. “We will rebuild, but we will also remember.”
They growl softly, and I leave them to rest, walking over to where the other Dragonbonds are.
“We’ve lost many,” Varan says, and we all nod.
We did, not only some of my dragons, my people, but also my Keeper of Beasts.
The grief of losing Calian is a mix of sorrow and rage that I cannot let myself be lost too. It hurts.
Cuts deep.
But my people need me now so I shove it down.
“I hate that we have to send them to Morana here,” Sigrid frowns. “It feels wrong.”
“It does,” Durruk agrees.
“Maybe we could get port stones?” They all turn to look at me. “And the dragons could come with us?”
“And how would we do that?” I ask.
“Ask your uncle.”
I frown. “Don’t call him that.”
“Your brothers then?” Varan asks.
“Or that,” I grumble.
He shrugs. “Either way, you could ask them, and we can take them home. Where they belong.”
I look at them, and then over to the dragons that have been unmoving, then to the ones I can’t see within the Enclave and then over to Niyah.
“I’ll ask,” I say, because I don’t want them here, either. My dragons deserve to be home when they’re sent to Morana. Or maybe my remaining dragons will send them off in their own way.
“What do we do with the Firehorn clan? Or what’s left of it?” Sigrid asks.
I sigh, folding my arms.
“I don’t know. We can wait and see if a Dragonbond is made at the next Blessing, or we can welcome them into our clans.”
“Can we even trust them?” Varan mutters.
“We will never know that until it’s too late.” My eyes go to Alara as she works with her sister, helping the injured. “But they deserve a chance.”
“And the dragons?” Durruk asks.
“The same. They can join us or go back to The Glade, or even go back to clan Firehorn and await a new leader.”
They nod, and we stand there for a while, watching over our people.
“We’re finally free,” Varan says on a sigh, and I look over at Halen, still under Drogonah’s claw. Still unconscious.
“We will be when we leave here.”
“You would kill him? Your father?” Durruk asks.
“He isn’t my father, he’s my mother’s rapist, my clan’s pain, and my dragon’s heartache.” I turn to him. “I would kill him a thousand times over.”
He nods. “I believe you.”
“Good.”
“And your dragon?” Durruk hedges, and I immediately tense.
“You won’t touch—”
“Calm down, Rohan, he doesn’t mean anything by it,” Sigrid nudges Durruk with a shoulder. “Right?”
“I don’t want to kill your dragon, Rohan.” He shakes his head. “I just can’t believe it.”
“You need to believe it, he isn’t the only extinct one.” As if on cue, a dragon flies overhead, and my heart speeds up as she lands with an almighty thud just off to the side, shaking herself out.
“What the…” Sigrid begins.
“Stay here, she’s friendly.” I pause. “Kind of.”
Drogonah growls, and some of the other dragons do too as I make my way over.
“Escor!” Alara shouts, and the smaller dragon ignores her, bouncing over to Herja, chest puffed out.
Fuck. Not again.
“Escor, what happened to Celeste?” I ask.
Escor ignores me and prances over to Herja, who swats him away.
Drogonah lets out a huff, and my eyes snap to him.
So he thinks that’s funny now?
His purple eye comes to mine and he looks away quickly.
Caught you, you bastard.
I turn to Herja who watches my approach, and when she swats Escor away again, he finally goes over to Alara after she calls him.
I stand before her and take her in.
My mother’s dragon.
I can’t believe it.
“It’s really you.”
She purrs, but there is underlying pain there. No. Agony.
I look her over, noting the scars, the open wounds on her belly, her wings tattered and broken in places that I can’t even imagine how she flew to begin with.
“Fuck,” I say, hands running down my face. “Herja…”
I don’t know what to say.
How can I make this better?
Her snout bumps my nose and she lowers herself to the ground gently.
I know that must have hurt with her underside, but she does it anyway, tail curling around and coming up behind me.
“When I couldn’t find you, I thought you were dead, but he had you, didn’t he?” I look back at Halen, and Drogonah curls his claws around him more. “I’m sorry.”
She purrs, nudging me with her tail and I step closer, hand coming to her face.
“I’m so fucking sorry you were in there.” She nudges me again, her tail tightening and I can almost feel my mother with her.
Herja pulls back, and lifts her claw forward, uncurling it slowly.
Eggs are placed gently on the ground, and I go to them.
They’re dirty, cold, but they are all intact.
I look up at her.
“You got them?”
Purr.
“Herja…”
She stands, eyes scanning around us and then they lock with mine.
My fists clench. “This is goodbye? Already?”
She rumbles a tired purr, and my heart pounds.
I shake my head.
“You can stay. With us. You can rest, heal up. You can—”
She rumbles again, cutting me off and my head bows.
“But I just got you back.” My voice croaks, and I clear my throat. “I just found you again.”
She comes forward, curling around me and I place my hand to her chest, feeling her dying heat.
She held on for this long, and now she wants to go on her own terms.
“Okay,” I tell her, moving back until my hand is on her snout, my throat thick with emotion at how cold she is. “Okay, Herja.”
She looks over my shoulder, nodding, and i follow her gaze to Alara, who nods in return.
Herja rumbles, this one pained, and my gaze locks with hers.
“Say hello to my mother for me,” I say softly, stroking her snout.
She purrs, and nudges me before stepping back, looking over me one last time before she takes to the skies on her scarred wings.
“May Morana guide you,” I say into the wind.
“Where is she going?” Alara asks softly, coming to my side and placing her hand in mine.
“Home,” I say, throat tight as I watch her fly away in the distance. “She’s going home.”