THE HEIR OF STORMS | Garrick Tavis

Chapter 28

The anticipation twisted my stomach, and the uncertainty about how Melhdor would receive me only added to the tension building in my shoulders.

When I first thought I had heard Melhdor in my mind and rushed to the flight field, the only thing that stopped me from descending into the valley was Garrick and Xaden finding me halfway there. After that, I had rethought what I had done—my recklessness—and the fact that if they hadn't stopped me, the dragons would have killed me for invading their home.

The truth was that I longed to see my dragon—my first dragon—so badly that it felt like my heart was breaking into even more pieces with each passing second. Since I had first heard him, I knew he had been nearby. After all, we were dragon and rider, and we couldn't stay apart from each other. The question was how Melhdor had managed to remain hidden all this time, and there could only be one answer.

The Empyrean.

Melhdor was older than any elder, more powerful than any elder, and definitely larger than any elder. He was just and loyal. Admirable. And, with the Empyrean's blessing, no dragon would have revealed his location to their riders, because everything they decided was law. All this time, I had to suppress my overwhelming impulse to rush to the valley just to see him, knowing that the missing piece of my soul was right there, just meters away from me—and entirely unreachable.

"He flew above the clouds with you," Azhar said, his voice echoing in my mind like a reverberation of a thousand shared memories. "And now he's waiting for you."

I closed my eyes for a moment, letting the memories flow. Six hundred years. Six hundred years since I last saw him, since I left the world I knew to save him.

As we neared the entrance to the cave, the air around me thickened, laden with ancient magic and a familiar energy that enveloped me like an embrace. The scent of damp earth and cold stone mingled with the unmistakable fragrance of Melhdor, a scent I hadn't encountered in centuries. My heart raced, a mix of anxiety and excitement at the thought of seeing the dragon who had loved and waited for me for so long.

Azhar made a gentle movement, landing smoothly before the cave's entrance. The darkness ahead was deep and impenetrable, but something inside me urged me forward. "I'll stay here," Azhar said, his voice full of understanding. "I'll follow you when you're ready to leave."

I nodded, a lump forming in my throat.

"Thank you, Azhar," I said, touching the scales between his eyes. "I love you. I'm your rider, now and always, and—"

"Keep your human sentimentality to yourself," Azhar interrupted. "Riding Melhdor will give us an advantage in battle. Every second you waste on feelings is a second lost in the fight. Go."

I nodded. With a hesitant step, I entered the cave.

The interior was vast, more expansive than the common caves scattered across the hills, and was illuminated by a soft light that seemed to emanate from the ground itself. The rocks bore the marks of time—worn, covered in ash and blood. Melhdor had been hungry.

I wrinkled my nose at the smell of ash and dead flesh, following the sound of wings rustling.

And then, I saw him.

At first, I was frozen in place, absorbing the sheer magnitude of the dragon lying beneath the cave's ceiling, as if he were part of the rock. A massive wall of white scales and spikes, colossal and imposing, gray in the dimness.