Epilogue

Qadaire

Three Months Later

”Are you sure you want to do this?” Cassandra petted his feathers soothingly. “Rathym said he really wouldn’t mind making the trip.”

“No. I need to watch it burn.”

A few crows, too injured or old to fly on, greeted him like old friends. It was bittersweet. Generations of these birds had been his closest companions, his mentors, his friends, for so many lonely centuries. Without their presence, he would’ve given in to the darkness. It was good to see them again. There was a distinct lack of the clever black birds in the dragon kingdom, which he hoped to remedy somehow, so long as it didn’t disrupt the ecosystem.

The decrepit old mansion was worse for wear than in his memory. He held the jar of dragon’s breath under his lower left arm and slowed his wings, landing them on a sturdy branch of a dead tree. Cassandra clung to him as the branch swayed slightly under their pressure.

“I’ll be with you the whole time.” She kissed his nose.

He rose, dove down with a corkscrew spin, and landed in a run. Cassandra hadn’t been a fan of such acts of flight at first, but she’d kept asking him to do them until she grew to like the rush. She was perfect.

He gently touched her toes to the grass and grasped her hand in his lower right. She swiped her thumb over his and they silently walked until they reached the greenhouse.

His haven. It was full of useful seeds, beautiful seeds, old seeds. But they were tainted with magic from a dark creature, and there was no way to be sure how they would react to the soil without his magic for sustenance. Some might make it, but many would not. There were too many dangerous plants teeming with dark magic to leave it exposed.

He stopped Cassandra a few feet away and approached the building alone. He pressed his upper palms to the glass and thought of how grateful he’d been to find refuge in this place, so many times. Then he tipped a bit of dragon’s breath on the corner.

He was beside Cassandra before the lick of the flames reached him. They stood side by side, her head resting on his chest, his upper left arm around her shoulders and his lower clutching her hand, until the flames claimed every inch.

Their next stop was not as painful. After informing the other crows of their plan and helping secure their homes elsewhere, Qadaire lit the mad king’s mansion on fire. He watched it for a moment, holding his dearest dewdrop against his chest. He watched only long enough to know its contents would never bring harm to anyone again.

“A chapter closes,” he whispered into her hair. He kissed the top of her head. “I’m ready for a new beginning.”