They are the ones whose souls desire freedom. They are those who can both destroy the world and allow it to flourish. They are dragons. Dragons dancing in fire. But the flame is not deadly, but bountiful.
The story of Dayraena of House Gelarion, rid...
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𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘉𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘖𝘭𝘥 𝘝𝘢𝘭𝘺𝘳𝘪𝘢 Chapter VIII ᵈᵃⁿᵍᵉʳ
On her second day in Qohor, when the rumor of the silver-haired dragon rider had spread to every nook and cranny, Raena realized the gravity of her current situation. And that gravity lay in the spellcasters' insatiable interest in the Valyrian guest. It was as if they had never seen a dragon rider in their undoubtedly very long years of life, extended by magic. It was disappointing, but also pleasant, because they treated her with respect, even awe, in the city. She had never met such a reaction before, and when she did, she felt twofold.
And now, walking around the palace and meeting the respectfully bowing servants, she was more and more overcome by anxiety. It was as if everything that was happening was not real, just a game, and people were actors forced to play different roles. It can't be that everyone treats you with deference, it doesn't fit the rules of the world, such hospitality doesn't exist.
Or has Dayraena just never encountered it, so it's strange to her?
Leaning on her cane and feeling like an old lady because of it, she stopped and leaned against the wall, shifting her weight on her healthy leg, her eyes looking through the arches into the modest courtyard where trees with seemingly sweet fruits grew. The sun flooded the small garden and made it illusorily magical: overly bright leaves, large fruits, grass unusually green, unnaturally smooth. Shaking her head, Raena looked again at the seemingly divine place before her.
Deception, everything is deception..
Her lips tightened in frustration, and she mentally appealed to Mayrea and Daemon to hurry and find her. She'd sent the letter, they should be in Qohor by the next morning, and they wouldn't waste the night sleeping, knowing her sister, she'd be on her way right away. That was a good thing.
Feeling excited at the beginning of her stay in the city of warlocks, now replaced by suspicion, Dayraena noticed another oddity. Goranario, whose palace she was currently staying in, is an incredibly powerful mage, so why couldn't he heal her leg immediately? What was he waiting for, why was he making her walk with a cane? To keep her in the palace longer? The thoughts had been swirling in her head for hours, but the realization never came, no matter how hard Raena thought about possible ulterior motives. It was as if something was bothering her, fogging her mind. But she was only consciously aware of it, guessing at something, and then that thought was gone, replaced by more useless ones.
Her leg, which had been tingling with pain a few hours ago, was no longer sore, but she didn't dare to lean on it fully. The cane clattered clearly and loudly, echoing unnaturally in the long and, as it seemed to Dayraena, endless corridors. There really were endless. No matter how long she wandered, no matter how hard she tried to memorize the path from her room, it was no use. New rooms and twists and turns grew out of nowhere, leaving her perplexed and angry. Confusion and sticky anxiety spread through her body, Raena felt like a cornered animal. And what was also strange was the disappearance of people. No sorcerers, no red priestesses, no servants. There was dead silence, with only the tapping of a cane against the quartz floor.
