Chapter 43: Sky of Fire and Memory
The sun crested low over the horizon, spilling molten orange across the jagged edge of Vaelora's Basin. Fate's boots scraped over stone as she climbed into Goldenia's saddle, her fingers stiff from the cold. Below, the basin shimmered faintly, ancient caves yawning in silence. She turned one last time to look at where they had slept, where the shadow had stood.
Where it had watched them.
Goldenia's body shifted beneath her. Muscles coiled, breath steady.
Are you ready? came her dragon's thought-voice—calm, maternal, tinged with that ever-present warmth that reminded Fate of her mother's hands pressing folded laundry.
"I think so," Fate whispered. She wasn't.
A gust of wind curled around the group as Saphira unfurled her wings. The others followed in tandem—Firnen, then Emeraldsa, then Lavendel. Rosavlyn circled last, her elegant pink wings catching the sun like glass petals. Thorn and Ares brought up the rear.
Don't grip with your knees, Goldenia reminded her. Trust me.
"I'm trying," Fate muttered, just as Goldenia launched skyward.
The ground fell away too fast. Her stomach lurched into her throat. Trees shrank. The river below became a sliver of light. Fate held her breath and pressed her body low to Goldenia's warm scales.
The higher they climbed, the more the world unspooled beneath them—ribbons of forest, glinting water, a patchwork of plains catching firelight from the rising sun. It was breathtaking.
It was also too much.
Steven was already laughing on Ares' back, circling them once in a wide loop before correcting his course. Beanca flew far ahead, perched like a sentinel on Solin's spine, her posture rigid. The twins—Joey and Chyna—rode in eerie synchronicity, their dragons arching in mirrored loops. They didn't even need to speak.
And Fate?
Fate clung to Goldenia's harness like she might fall out of the sky at any second.
You're not falling, Goldenia thought gently.
"I feel like I am."
That's just your old world trying to make sense of this one. Let go of it, just a little.
Fate loosened her grip. Not much. Just enough to feel the wind across her palms. It was cold—sharp and clean and alive. Her breath fogged the air behind her as they passed through a cloud and out again, drops clinging to her hair like morning dew.
She risked a glance down.
The Windbloom Expanse stretched below them in all directions—rolling grasses speckled with shimmergrass and wild blue blooms. The Thaltherian River twisted through the fields like a spell drawn in silver ink.
Everything felt ancient. Alive. Bigger than her.
She swallowed hard.
They were flying toward Dragon City. Toward the rebuilt legacy of the Riders. Toward a place with seven mighty districts, dragon sanctuaries, spell-towers, and a flaming Watchtower that never went dark. A home forged from four races and held together by faith and power and history.
A home for people who deserved to be Riders.
And she wasn't sure she did.
She stared at the horizon, blinking against the light. The sky ahead looked endless, washed in orange and white, cut by only the faint line of clouds above Beirland's distant edge.
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The Five Realms
FanfictionJoey Jackson, a quiet teen with a stubborn sense of hope, is haunted by the mysterious disappearance of his father during a supernatural fire at their family estate. When a shadowy figure emerges from the smoke-and a long-lost teacher delivers a cry...
