Chapter Text
Diana sighed deeply as she trudged along the windswept beach of Driftmark, her gaze fixed on the distant horizon toward the Stepstones. It had been three moons since her husband had departed for the campaign, and maintaining contact had become increasingly difficult. Ravens arrived every fortnight with news of the war—a request for supplies or fresh soldiers—but personal letters were nearly impossible to come by. The last raven from Daemon, now tucked away in her cloak pocket, was creased and stained from constant re-reading. Every word of his message was etched into her heart.
The salt spray from the sea mingled with the ache of her waiting, a weight that had become all too familiar. The horizon stretched endlessly before her, but the distance between her and Daemon grew immeasurable with each passing day.
A dragon"s cry pierced the air, drawing her gaze skyward. Vermithor and Seasmoke circled one another above, the smaller grey dragon darting and diving in playful avoidance of the bulkier bronze beast. Vermithor’s roars reverberated across the beach as he snapped at Seasmoke"s tail.
Suddenly, a deeper, more powerful roar filled the air. Diana looked up to see Vaghar, the ancient former mount of Queen Visenya, rising slowly from the cliffs behind High Tide. The massive war dragon’s wings beat in slow, deliberate strokes, sending gusts of wind across the shore as she gained altitude. Diana glimpsed silver curls—Laena Velaryon, perched atop Vaghar, barely discernible against the sky.
Diana had yet to grow accustomed to such sights. The dragons, with their immense power and raw potential for destruction, inspired awe. Their gleaming scales shimmered like jewels in the sunlight, and as they soared through the sky, they were both terrifying and beautiful. In their presence, she felt small, bound to the earth, while the dragons were forces of nature—untamable, born of fire and fury.
With a sigh, Diana turned and continued her trek. Her well-worn riding boots and hunting trousers made navigating the rocky outcrops that lined the beach’s edge easier. As she climbed a steep slope leading back to the keep, she halted abruptly at a peculiar sight.
Alycia, dressed in her riding leathers, with her hair pulled back into a tight braid, was making her way across the uneven terrain. Over her shoulder was a sack, which seemed to be leaking some kind of liquid as she struggled over the rocks. Instead of heading toward the keep, Alycia was moving in the opposite direction—toward the caves where the Velaryon dragons nested.
Since her husband’s absence, Alycia had increasingly distanced herself from the family. It had become common for the young princess to slip away from the keep for hours at a time, only to return for supper, where she would gorge herself before falling asleep early, clearly exhausted from her mysterious ventures. Despite Diana’s and Aelyx’s efforts to uncover her activities, Alycia remained tight-lipped.
Initially, Diana had considered punishing Alycia, barring her from leaving until she confessed her secrets. But Alycia had proven just as resourceful as Diana had been in her youth. When Alycia nearly broke her neck climbing out of a window at night, Diana had relented, fearing for her daughter’s safety. Instead, she had imposed a vow—never to leave the island and to attend every meal to ensure her health. It was a half measure, and Diana knew it. Her father would have used harsher measures, but Diana’s heart, though burdened with worry, was too soft for such strictness.
Furrowing her brow at her daughter’s strange behaviour, Diana called out, “Are you well, daughter?”
Startled, Alycia tripped over her own feet, a muttered curse escaping her lips. She fumbled with the heavy bag, casting a furtive look over her shoulder before hastening her pace. “I’m fine!” she called her voice tight.
“Do you need assistance?” Diana’s tone took on a wry edge as she observed Alycia"s hasty retreat.
“No, go away, please. I’ll see you at supper,” Alycia panted, her breath laboured as she continued up the hill.
“Alycia…” Diana’s voice took on a warning note, suspicion creeping in as she took a step forward, though she resisted the urge to give chase.
“I promise I’ll be there! I have to go; he prefers fresh pork!” Alycia’s words tumbled out in a rush, the last part barely audible as she realized her slip.
“Who? Alycia!” Diana"s voice sharpened, but the girl was already disappearing over the hill.
Diana sighed in frustration. Alycia’s stubbornness was testing her patience, and her nerves were stretched thin.
Rolling her eyes, Diana turned and made her way back to the castle, heading straight for her favoured parlour. The room, lined with towering bookshelves filled with rich texts, offered an escape from her worries. As she entered, she slipped off her coat and handed it to a nearby maid, who hurried away with a bow.
A booming bark echoed through the room, drawing a smile from Diana as Rose came bounding in, her tongue lolling out in excitement. Diana had arranged for their belongings to be brought from Dragonstone, Rose being among the most precious cargo. The hound’s belly was swollen with her final litter due to her advancing age and Diana’s wish to keep her companion healthy for as long as possible. Diana hoped this litter would continue Rose’s bloodline, loyal companions that had served her household for generations.
Though not dragons, Diana was proud of her faithful canine friends. She reached down to scratch Rose’s head before settling onto one of the sofas with a book in hand. Rose curled up near the fire, where a padded dog bed awaited her.
“Would my lady like me to fetch her slippers?” Yelena asked with a wry look, glancing at Diana’s windswept hair and sand-covered trousers. “And perhaps some refreshments?”
Diana waved her off with a mock scowl and turned back to her book. However, she was soon interrupted as Rhaenys entered, clad in riding leathers.
“We’ve received word from King’s Landing,” Rhaenys announced, holding out a parchment and dropping into the seat opposite Diana, seemingly indifferent to the possibility of dragon scent staining the rich fabric of the sofa.
Diana frowned as she set aside her book and took the small rolled-up parchment. She exchanged a bemused look with Rhaenys before asking, “What could they possibly want? The king has made his disapproval of our husbands’ venture very clear.”
Rhaenys merely raised an eyebrow and hummed in agreement as Diana read the raven’s contents. Diana"s laughter was caustic as she absorbed the news.
“His Grace has invited the Velaryons and all members of House Targaryen to his royal wedding with Lady Alicent Hightower in two weeks" time. Rather late notice, don’t you think? The rest of the invitations would have been sent out moons ago.” Diana spat, tossing the message onto the coffee table with a scowl. “Either he’s feeling guilty and trying to make amends, or this reeks of Hightower gloating. Either way, we need to consider our response carefully.”
“We both know how Daemon and Corlys would reply,” Rhaenys said, taking a sip of wine as she regarded Diana with expectation.
“Yes, but we are not our husbands. What will you do?” Diana asked, meeting Rhaenys’s gaze with calm resolve.
“House Velaryon has been spurned by the king enough these past years. We will not be attending,” Rhaenys replied with a bland tone, her eyes sharp and intelligent. “What about you?”
Diana fell silent for several long moments, contemplating the choice before her. Finally, she spoke with a thoughtful tone. “It offers me a chance to be there for Rhaenya. This will be most difficult for her.” She pursed her lips and tilted her head, considering. “It would also allow me to see firsthand what damage that Hightower serpent has wrought in my husband’s absence. I think we shall go, but only for the wedding. Any festivities afterward will have to proceed without the spectacle of our presence.”
“You do realize that all they will want to know is how the Stepstones conflict fares,” Rhaenys said, amused. “Those vultures are always eager for fresh prey. Do not provide them with one.”
“You underestimate me, Princess,” Diana replied with a wry smile.
“Or perhaps you overestimate yourself,” Rhaenys countered with a smirk.
*** Line Break ***
“What do you mean we have to go?” Alycia cried, her chest tightening as the weight of her mother’s words sank in. She couldn’t leave—not now, not when she was so close.
Diana sat in front of her, arms crossed, a frown tugging at her lips as she watched her daughter unravel into yet another one of her infamous tantrums. But Alycia didn’t care how she looked. Her entire focus was on the impossible idea of abandoning her project, the one thing tethering her to her Valyrian ancestry.
She. Could. Not. Leave.
Alycia"s breath hitched, panic clawing at her chest as if summoned by her frantic thoughts. A faint yet familiar cry came from outside through the storm’s relentless howl—a dragon’s call. Her heart leaped, and her head snapped toward the window, desperate for a glimpse of the familiar green eyes and jet-black scales that had filled her dreams for weeks.
But the storm outside obscured everything. Rain lashed the glass, and lightning split the sky, illuminating the blackness for just a moment before plunging the world back into shadow. No sign of him. No sign of the Cannibal.
Sȳndor, his name was Sȳndor. The High Valyrian word for Shadow.
Alycia had chosen his name soon after she began tracking him,
The disappointment hit her like a punch. She had spent so many nights sneaking out to his lair, hauling slabs of fresh meat stolen from the kitchens, coaxing him inch by inch to trust her. Last night, she had even dared to pat his snout—a fleeting connection that made her believe she was close to claiming him. She couldn’t abandon that now. Not when she was so close to proving herself.
Her mother’s voice broke through the pounding of the rain. “Alycia, you’re being unreasonable. We have to leave in a week. The king expects us at the wedding, and I will not have you acting like a child over this.”
Alycia’s blood boiled. “You don’t understand!” she shouted, tears of frustration pricking at her eyes. “I can’t leave! I—” She bit her lip, unable to confess the truth. How could she explain what claiming the Cannibal meant to her without sounding insane? That she wanted to ride into battle beside her father, to make him proud, to show him that she was strong enough, brave enough?
She might finally earn her place at his side if she had a dragon—her dragon.
Diana’s brow furrowed, clearly trying to make sense of her daughter’s frantic outburst. “What is so important here that you can’t leave for a few days?” she pressed, suspicion creeping into her voice.
Alycia’s gaze darted away, her mind racing for an excuse, but none came. The truth threatened to bubble up, but she swallowed it down, unwilling to give her mother any more reason to keep her grounded. She couldn’t lose the Cannibal. Not now.
Instead, she turned her face to the window again, her heart aching as another roll of thunder shook the sky. If she could just have one more night, one more chance to bond with the dragon… everything could change. She could finally be worthy.
But time was running out.
Feeling like the walls were closing in on her, she turned away from her mother, snarling, “Fine. I’ll go! Leave me alone now, please.” The lie felt like poison on her tongue, but she didn’t recant; she needed to get her mother out of her room.
Her mother sighed, eyeing her with interest, but in the end, she relented. Reaching out, she patted Alycia on the head, frowning when all Alycia did in response was flinch away, her gaze locked on the closed window of her chambers.
*** Line Break ***
Panting for breath, Alycia darted a nervous look over her shoulder as she struggled to traverse the narrow path she’d worn into the wilds of Driftmark on her many treks to the cave. The Cannibal had claimed it for who knew how long, and though the trail was etched into her memory, it was far more treacherous in the dark. Much more so than the many trips she’d taken during the day when the path seemed easier to navigate. Then, she had lugged heavy bags of fresh fish and red meats, bought with the pocket money her mother allowed her and her brother as a reward for their studies. In daylight, the task had been tiresome but familiar, almost routine. Tonight, it felt perilous.
The growl came suddenly—a low, resonant sound that made her heart leap into her throat. It wasn’t a growl of warning but one of recognition. The familiar rumble echoed down the cliffs, telling her Sȳndor was aware of her approach. The sound excited and terrified her and the adrenaline rush renewed her flagging energy. Her hands shook, and her breath came in ragged gasps as she pushed forward, struggling not to trip over the bushes and exposed roots of the few hardy trees that dotted the rocky island’s cliff faces.
Every step felt like a battle against the elements—the unforgiving terrain, the oppressive darkness, and the fear that gnawed at the edges of her resolve. Yet there was a thrill in it, too. She had bonded with the creature over her many visits, though she had never ventured this late before. The night added a new dimension to the danger she faced and to the strange connection she had begun to feel.
She could see the faint outline of the cave now, just beyond the next rise, where the rocky cliffs met the stars. Sȳndor was waiting. She swallowed her fear, willing her shaking hands to steady, and climbed the final stretch, each step bringing her closer to the mouth of the beast’s lair.
Without a torch, for fear of being discovered, Alycia squinted into the inky blackness of the cave. The night was suffocating, the shadows deep and impenetrable. Her heart raced, but she managed to call out in a steady voice, “Sȳndor? I have a treat for you, my friend.”
The answering growl seemed to rumble up from the very depths of the earth, vibrating through the ground beneath her feet. It wasn’t a sound of anger but a deep, primal acknowledgment. A shiver raced down her spine as she heard the unmistakable sound of massive footfalls echoing in the darkness. The ground seemed to tremble with each step, the thuds growing louder closer as her beast approached.
Her breath hitched in her throat when she saw the first flash of movement—two bright green eyes cutting through the black, glowing like embers in the gloom. Sȳndor’s gaze locked onto hers, and for a heartbeat, Alycia couldn’t move, rooted to the spot by the intensity of his stare.
First, his massive maw emerged from the darkness, sharp fangs glinting faintly in the moonlight as his nostrils flared, taking in her scent. Then, the rest of his black-scaled head followed, his long, sinewy neck coiling as he stepped into the pale starlight. He was enormous, his form both magnificent and terrifying, his scales gleaming like obsidian under the night sky.
Sȳndor"s breath came out in a low huff, warm and pungent, as he lowered his head toward her, his gaze unblinking. Alycia swallowed hard, her heart pounding in her chest, but she held her ground.
She’d come too far to falter now.
With a grunt of effort, she tossed the meagre offerings at his feet. They were scraps—leftovers she’d hurriedly stolen from the kitchens before slipping out of the castle, fleeing from her mother’s keen eyes and knowing glances. The bag held bits of cooked meat, hardly worthy of a creature as magnificent as Sȳndor, and as the dragon lowered his head to inspect the gift, she could already sense his displeasure.
His glowing green eyes narrowed, his massive nostrils flaring as he sniffed at the paltry offering. He let out a soft snort, then turned his gaze back to her, fixing her with a look that was almost… irritated. Alycia winced. She had never seen a dragon roll its eyes before, but if any could, it would be him. Yet, despite his obvious dissatisfaction, Sȳndor begrudgingly snatched up the scraps, swallowing the already-cooked meat—bag and all—with one sharp snap of his jaws. His gaze returned to her, still expectant, as though waiting for something better.
"Sorry," Alycia whispered in the common tongue, her voice barely audible. Her heart thudded in her throat as she cautiously stepped closer. Every movement was deliberate, her footfalls soft as if she were stalking prey—though instead of a fawn, she was approaching a creature more dangerous than anything else in Westeros. The smell of sulphur and fire clung to the air around Sȳndor, a reminder of his volatile nature.
She could feel the heat radiating off him as she closed the distance, her eyes never leaving his. The dragon watched her in silence, the weight of his gaze almost suffocating. She wasn’t sure what she expected, but she knew this fragile bond between them was delicate—built on trust- but with one misstep, he might easily decide to end their connection in a heartbeat.
Her fingers twitched, itching to reach out and touch the slick black scales that shimmered under the faint light. But she hesitated, her breath catching in her throat.
"Next time, I"ll bring you something better," she promised softly, her voice barely more than a whisper. She wasn’t sure if he understood the words, but she hoped he understood the intent. The silence between them stretched, heavy with unspoken tension, as Sȳndor stared at her, his massive head just inches away.
Then, slowly, the dragon huffed again, the heat of his breath washing over her, and for a moment, Alycia thought she saw something soften in those glowing green eyes. It still amazed her to be this close to the infamous wild dragon, who’d never once accepted a rider and seemed to take pleasure in devouring anyone foolish enough to attempt it. The tales of Sȳndor’s ferocity echoed throughout the realm, yet here she was, standing before him, her heart pounding with exhilaration.
For the past few moons, ever since her father’s departure, Alycia had been set on wooing the beast. She brought him fresh meats stolen from the kitchens; each visit was an attempt to win his trust. She would sing to him in High Valyrian, letting the melodic language wrap around them like a warm embrace until she lulled him to sleep. Once he was settled, she would pull out her books and drawings, pouring over the pages while Sȳndor rested, his massive form filling the cave.
She often found herself lost in her work, sketching the contours of his powerful body or the way the light caught the edges of his scales. With each passing day, she felt the bond between them grow stronger. He seemed to recognize her scent and her voice, and she cherished those small victories. The dragon had become a refuge for her, a place to escape the uncertainties of her life in the castle, a life now shadowed by her father’s absence.
“My mother wishes to send me away,” Alycia murmured in High Valyrian, the words sticking in her throat as emotion threatened to steal her voice away. As a single tear dripped down her cheek, Sȳndor’s gaze flashed, and he let out a low rumble of discontent. “I do not know when I can return. My uncle might make us stay with him and his new queen forever.”
The very idea made her shiver with disgust. The thought of being forced to live with the man who had married a girl who’d grown up at his knee mere months after breeding his previous wife to her death was more than she could bear. She could picture the lavish halls of the Red Keep, filled with laughter and feasting while she remained a reluctant guest, a pawn in a game of political intrigue.
Sensing her turmoil, the massive dragon reached forward with his maw, nudging her as gently as a creature of his size could. The force of his movement almost sent her sprawling to the ground, but she quickly reached out, gripping the sides of his jaw to steady herself. Ignoring the scent of fresh blood and rotting meat that clung to his teeth, she hugged him as tightly as she could. It was the first sign of affection the dragon had ever offered her, and it filled her with warmth amid the cold dread settling in her heart.
Swallowing hard, Alycia struggled to contain her emotions as she forced herself to stand tall in her riding leather, eyeing the dragon’s bare back with conviction. He had no saddle, and if she slipped, she would fall to her death. Yet, she had to try. The thrill of possibility coursed through her veins, mingling with the fear that twisted in her stomach. This was the moment she had been waiting for, a chance to bridge the distance between them in a way that would change everything.
“Calm, Sȳndor, serve me,” she crooned, her voice soothing as she walked around the dragon’s side, carefully observing his posture for any signs of aggression. His large, luminous green eyes flickered toward her, a mix of curiosity and uncertainty swirling within them. She took a deep breath, feeling the gravity of the moment settle upon her, and began to climb, using the grooves in his muscles and scales as footholds.
The texture of his skin was warm and rough beneath her fingers, and she felt the surge of power contained within his massive frame. With each careful movement, she navigated the spikes that lined his neck and back, pulling herself up with determination. Sȳndor shifted beneath her again, the dragon’s body rippling as he adjusted to her presence, his powerful muscles twitching in response to her ascent.
Settling between his shoulder blades, the spikes on either side of her acted as a makeshift saddle, keeping her anchored. Alycia took a moment to acclimate, keenly aware of how different it was from the moulded leather and cushions of her father and brother’s saddles. There were no chains to bind her, no reassuring straps to contain her—only the dragon’s instinct as he awaited her command.
“Calm, Sȳndor,” she urged as the dragon shook his neck, a gesture of discomfort, eying her over his shoulder with evident impatience. Clinging tightly to the spike in front of her, she felt the warmth radiate beneath her palms, grateful for her leather riding gloves that aided her grip.
His deep breaths jostled her, forcing her to adjust her stance, reminiscent of the balance required while riding a spirited horse. The power of his body thrummed beneath her, muscles rippling with each beat of his heart. Sȳndor shifted, wings rustling with primal energy, and she sensed the tension coursing through him.
Taking a deep, calming breath, Alycia closed her eyes and then declared, “Soves!”
With a low growl, the dragon prepared to take flight. She braced herself, heart pounding in anticipation. The moment he launched into the sky, the ground fell away, and the world below became a mere blur. The rush of wind enveloped her, whipping her hair back as Sȳndor soared higher, his wings beating strong and true.
Alycia screamed as they dropped from the cliff"s edge, plummeting toward the dark depths of the crashing waves below. She clung to the dragon’s spikes, her body fighting against the inertia to remain seated upon his back. Panic surged through her, but just before they hit the water, Sȳndor’s wings snapped open, and they levelled out, the tips of his claws skimming the surface as they flew across Blackwater Bay like a bolt of lightning.
The salt spray misted her face, invigorating her, and she could feel the power of the dragon thrumming beneath her, propelling them forward. The bay stretched out before them, a vast expanse of dark water illuminated by the moonlight, glistening like scattered jewels. She laughed, exhilaration flooding her veins as they raced over the waves, the wind a wild chorus around them.
Sȳndor’s muscles rippled under her as he turned sharply, banking low to the water’s surface. Alycia leaned into the turn, adrenaline coursing through her. This was freedom—raw and unbridled. With each beat of Sȳndor’s wings, she felt the weight of her troubles lift, the darkness of the castle and the looming uncertainty of her future fading away.
They soared high again, climbing toward the stars, and for a moment, it felt as though they could touch them. The night was theirs, and she was not just a girl from Driftmark; she was a dragonrider, part of something far greater than herself.
Below them, the tolling of bells echoed across the island, and flickering torches sprang to life as an unknown dragon began to circle the island. Alycia felt a rush of exhilaration mixed with a twinge of anxiety. Even knowing the trouble she was causing, she couldn’t bring herself to care. Instead, she held on tightly as Sȳndor banked, his wings spreading wide, and with a low growl, they descended, landing with a soft thud on the sandy beach just outside the high walls of High Tide.
As Sȳndor settled, his scales glinting in the moonlight, Alycia caught sight of the answering calls of Meleys and Seasmoke echoing through the night. Panic surged within her as the castle gates swung open, revealing a small retinue of Velaryon guards pouring forth. In the center of the chaotic scene stood her mother, her expression twisted in horror, flanked by Princess Rhaenys, whose features mirrored the same disapproval and concern.
“Alycia Targaryen!”
Alycia winced at the warning in her mother’s voice as she slowly climbed down from Sȳndor’s back. As she touched the sand, she felt a sharp twinge of pain; her muscles untensed with a low groan, and she could already feel blisters forming from being pressed directly against Sȳndor’s hot scales, even through her leather riding clothes.
“Mother, I—” she began, but the words caught in her throat as she met her mother’s fierce gaze.
“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” her mother snapped, taking a step forward, her voice a low hiss of fury. The guards shifted uneasily, glancing between the dragon and the agitated woman before them. “The danger you have put yourself in, not to mention the people of this island? A dragon is not a pet or a tool to be wielded at your will!”
“Of course he isn’t!” Alycia yelled, the fire in her veins igniting her words. But she stopped short as her anger set off a chain reaction. Sȳndor let out a puff of smoke, the hot breath curling in the air, and a dangerous growl rumbled from deep within his throat, each reverberation echoing with a warning. He advanced a step, his massive frame shifting protectively in front of her as if ready to defend her against the perceived threat.
Alycia"s heart raced, but she forced herself to remain calm. “Calm, Sȳndor. Serve me,” she murmured, trying to soothe the beast while holding her mother’s fierce gaze. “She means no harm.” The dragon paused, his glowing green eyes locking onto hers, the fury in his growl softening slightly as he sensed her resolve.
Her mother was pale despite the lines of fury that darkened her otherwise kind features. Hands clenched at her sides, the Royce woman stared at her daughter’s new mount with frustrated intrigue. Holding out her hand, she commanded, “Alycia, send him away and come to me. Now.”
“No!” Alycia replied, her voice stronger than she intended. “He’s not a beast to be sent away like some common hound. He is my friend.”
“Your friend?” Her mother’s voice cracked, disbelief etched into her features. “Alycia, you’re playing a dangerous game. What you call friendship is a gamble with the lives of everyone on this island. You have no idea what he’s capable of!”
“Neither do you!” Alycia shot back, feeling the adrenaline coursing through her veins. “You don’t know him like I do. He could have killed me, but he didn’t. He chose to trust me.”
The wind stirred the sandy beach, carrying the distant sounds of the castle—guards shouting, bells tolling, and the echoing calls of Meleys and Seasmoke overhead. Alycia"s gaze flickered to Sȳndor, who shifted slightly, his massive frame still poised, yet his demeanour softened as if he understood the conflict unfolding around them.
“Please, Mother,” Alycia said, her voice dropping to a pleading tone.
Diana sucked in a breath, the veins in her neck jutting out as she eyed the black dragon standing mere inches from her only daughter with concern. Finally, she looked at Alycia with firm eyes. “Send him away, Alycia, so we may discuss this without fear of being burned alive if your temper rises, and he tries to defend you. Now. That is an order.”
“But—”
Before Alycia could finish, Meleys, swift as the wind and ruby red, swooped overhead with a deafening screech, her wings beating fiercely against the night air. The vibrant colours of her scales shimmered in the moonlight, casting a momentary shadow over the scene below. It was only Princess Rhaenys’s firm call that stopped the she-dragon from diving toward Sȳndor, ready to defend her rider against what she perceived as a threat.
At the sudden proximity, Sȳndor snapped his jaw in warning, a fierce roar escaping him as he shot a burst of flame into the air, lighting the night sky with an orange glow. The heat washed over the humans standing nearby, forcing them to scatter, backing away from the intense warmth of Dragonfire, their eyes wide with fear and awe.
“No! Calm Sȳndor! Serve me!” Alycia cried, her heart racing in her throat, fear for her newfound dragon overwhelming any stubbornness that had once ruled her judgment. She could feel the weight of the world pressing down on her, the stakes climbing higher with each passing moment.
Sȳndor’s head swivelled, and for a fleeting instant, his glowing green eyes met hers, a silent question hanging in the air. Alycia’s breath hitched; she could sense the conflict within him. The fire in his belly churned, but she could also feel the flicker of understanding she had nurtured in him.
Swallowing hard, she fought to hold back her tears as she ordered, “Leave, go home.”
For several long moments that felt like an eternity, the black dragon eyed her, weighing her command against his instinct. Finally, with a shake of his massive head and one last territorial screech that echoed across the beach, he spread his wings wide, sending a gust of wind through the gathered crowd. With powerful strokes, he took off, soaring into the night sky and headed back toward his nest, leaving the humans behind to eye him with terror.
Almost as one, the crowd turned to Alycia, a single child standing before them, eyes wide with horror. Their gazes made her feel stripped of all protection, as if Sȳndor"s departure had left her utterly exposed. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she had no idea of the consequences that awaited her.
Gods help her…