The flight was long.
Longer than I wanted it to be.
Every muscle in my body felt the weight of the hours we'd spent in the sky. My wings strained with each beat, the wind dragging against my scales like it was trying to pull me down. I could push through it—I always did—but even dragons had their limits. I wasn't invincible, no matter how much I liked to pretend otherwise.
Every now and then, I felt her.
Lyra's hand would slide down from her spot between my shoulder blades, her palm pressing against the muscles beginning to tighten and ache. Just the heat of her skin against my scales helped. Her warmth wasn't like mine—mine came from the storm inside me, from lightning and fire and fury.
Hers was different. Steady. Soft. Comforting.
She was trying to soothe me, even without words.
I didn't feel cold—lightning burned too hot for that—but it was more than just temperature. I was missing something. I was missing home.
The Fire Nation. The charged air, the scent of embers, the constant pulse of heat. My homeland didn't just give me strength—it kept me balanced. Being away from it for this long, I could feel the hunger in my bones. The dragon within me stirred restlessly, aching for flame.
But we couldn't turn back. Not yet.
We had work to do.
The relics had to be found.
The darkness—whatever it was, whoever was behind it—had to be stopped before any of us had a future to return to. This wasn't about kingdoms anymore.
This was about something bigger. Older.
And maybe… something ancient.
My wings dipped before I forced them higher again. I couldn't let the weariness win. Not while she was riding with me. Not while that little girl slept between us, trusting us to carry her somewhere safe.
I just hoped we got there in time.
And that whatever waited in the floating mountains… wasn't worse than what we'd already survived.
The sun was setting, draping the sky in hues of blood-orange and molten gold. It should've been beautiful.
Instead, it felt like a warning.
We'd just crossed into the Air Nation's borders. You could feel it instantly—the shift in the wind. It didn't blow from one direction here; it danced, twisting and coiling unpredictably, like it had a mind of its own. I adjusted my wings, syncing with the rhythm instead of fighting it. The air here was alive—untamed, watching.
I narrowed my eyes toward the horizon.
The floating mountains loomed ahead now, vast and suspended in cloud-veiled majesty.
We were close.
Too close, apparently.
Out of nowhere, something cut through the sunset—fast, silent, deadly.
An orange blur shot from the sun's glare like it had been waiting there all along, blending perfectly with the fiery sky. I barely twisted in time, a growl rumbling in my chest as its claws scraped across my flank.
Shit.
Lyra's arms tightened around me, the little girl tucked securely between us as I veered sharply to avoid a second strike. The dragon that had ambushed us looped around with terrifying speed, its long body slicing the air like a blade.
Then I felt it.
A sharp, burning sting at my shoulder joint—followed by a jolt that ripped through my entire wing. Pain flared white-hot.
I roared, lightning surging beneath my skin as a bolt embedded deep into the muscle.
A crossbow.
They had snipers.
A coordinated ambush.
"Guess that's our welcome party," Revik muttered dryly.
I growled low, thunder crackling between my teeth.
They wanted a fight?
Fine.
I'd show them exactly what a pissed-off lightning dragon looked like.
The skies trembled as wind screamed through the floating cliffs. The orange dragon circled again—graceful, precise, powerful. Her slender body moved effortlessly with the current, every shift of her wings a lesson in control.
She wasn't attacking recklessly. She was testing us—measuring speed, strength, reaction. Like a predator calculating the exact moment to strike.
Tadewi.
The youngest dragon of the Great War, now the revered elder of the Air Nation. Her name carried weight. Her winds, legend. She'd fought long before I was born and survived battles that turned entire kingdoms to ash.
We couldn't afford to underestimate her—not for a breath.
As I adjusted my wings to counter, a low rumble shook the clouds.
Muir shifted.
He came soaring in from below, sapphire scales flashing in the dying light, a snarl vibrating through the air as he threw himself into the fight.
Good.
Maybe together we could give her pause.
But I wasn't holding my breath.
Tadewi didn't fear dragons.
She taught fear to the rest of us.
She charged—no hesitation, no wasted movement. Her wings folded tight as she dove, claws outstretched, aiming straight for my throat. I twisted midair; Muir intercepted, his tail slamming into her flank just enough to throw her angle off.
It was enough.
Barely.
I dipped low, banking under a jagged cliff edge. Lyra and Revik caught on instantly. Lyra's wings flared open as she leapt from my back, clutching the girl close. Revik landed beside her mid-flight, steadying their descent onto the floating cliff.
Good. Get the child out of danger.
I shot upward again, wind roaring in my ears, lightning searing through my veins.
Tadewi turned to face me, her eyes burning like molten gold.
Alright then, Elder.
Let's see if the new generation can stand toe-to-toe with a legend.
Wind tore past like blades.
The moment I rejoined the fight, Tadewi was already there, waiting—like she'd predicted exactly where I'd rise. The air itself moved with her.
Her claws raked across my side; shallow cut, sharp sting. I twisted, countering, but she was gone—vanished into the updraft, spinning through the sky in a blur of copper and flame. The winds screamed in her wake.
These were her skies.
Her element.
And she moved through it like water—graceful, untouchable, terrifying.
I'd fought dragons. Brutal ones. Cunning ones.
But none moved like her.
She didn't fight the air—she was the air.
An arrow sliced past my face, close enough that I felt the heat of its friction. Another nicked my brow. I snarled, turning sharply, spotting the archer crouched against Tadewi's spine—reloading fast, precise, practiced.
They weren't just passengers.
They were part of her rhythm.
Each movement mirrored hers—an extension of dragon and rider, mind and muscle working as one.
A second bolt whistled past, striking my shoulder and glancing off my scales. Close. Too close.
Muir and I moved in tandem, circling, forcing her to divide her focus. Muir went high, drawing ice, while I dropped lower, letting the wind pull at my wings instead of resisting.
The trick was to listen—to feel the rhythm beneath the chaos. The more I yielded, the more sense the wind began to make. Chaotic, yes, but not random.
Tadewi wasn't just reacting. She was anticipating—reading the currents before they even formed.
But now… so were we.
We weren't winning. Not yet.
But we weren't losing either.
One of the archers drew a bead on Muir—too open. I roared and fired a crackling burst of lightning close enough to sear the air beside them. The flash startled them just long enough for Muir to dive and swipe at Tadewi's wing joint. She rolled with it, using his own momentum against him, twisting gracefully midair and slamming her tail into his side.
He grunted, wings faltering for a heartbeat—but he stayed aloft.
Damn, she was good.
But we weren't done yet.
Lightning surged along my spine, the storm within me waking in full. The air tasted of metal and rain, thick with electricity. Tadewi's eyes narrowed, catching the shift—recognizing it.
The next clash wasn't going to be about endurance.
It would be about dominance.
She spread her wings wide, the gust so fierce it shredded the clouds apart. The world opened beneath us—peaks, rivers, and storms colliding below like a battlefield carved from the sky.
She roared once, ancient and commanding, her voice shaking the very air.
And I roared back, thunder answering thunder.
Lightning arced between us—pure white and gold—splitting the dusk in half.
And as the sky erupted around us, I realized this wasn't an ambush.
It was a test.