First message
They glare at me like I’ve already betrayed them.
Wings against the stormwinds, I tower over the obsidian ledge of the Court Spire, my scales catching the firelight from the molten rivers below. The heat here feels like a thousand eyes, full of fear.
“I kneel to no one,” I growl, smoke curling from my throat, voice deeper and rougher in this form “I go to speak.”
“A halfblood speaking for dragons—how far we’ve fallen,” mutters one of the elder wyrms, barely loud enough to be heard. But I heard it. They don’t see a prince when they look at me. Not even a dragon. They see a compromise, a flaw, a dangerous weapon if it breaks free. Let them curse, spit my father’s name, and dream of uncontrollable fire. I was not born to soothe their pride. I was born to end this war.” If we are to survive, then dragons and humans must stand together. Whether the court approves or not.” I spread my wings, ancient magic rippling through the as I leap from the spire, plunging into the open sky.