Chapter 34 - Calliope

When I was a child, I recall asking my grandmother about the dragons.

I was afraid of them then, huddled beside her in our tiny cottage as their shadows passed over Essenborn, massive wings briefly dimming the sun like storm clouds.

"Ah, little one," she would say, drawing me closer to the hearth's warmth, her fingers combing gently through my hair. "You're right to fear them. They are terrible things—ancient and powerful and proud. But they are beautiful too, in their way. Like watching a storm roll in over the mountains. Seeing the first flash of lightning split the sky. And their power, it is much like ours, if you just look at it closely enough."

Her voice would grow distant then, her eyes taking on that faraway look that meant she was traveling through her memories. I leaned in, waiting for the story.

"I saw two of them fight once, when I was just a girl, stealing on the streets of Eldran. Oh, yes, laugh all you like, little one—it’s true. Your old grandmother has lived quite a life. Dragonlords, they were, feuding over territory or gold or whatever it is such creatures fight about. The entire city stopped to watch. We all stood dead still, watching them battle over the waters of the Great River, locked in combat in the air. How could we not?"

I would lean in closer, forgetting my fear in the warmth of her embrace, in the magic of her storytelling. "What was it like?"

"Like nothing else in this world, my dear. They moved like dancers, made of fire and fury. Their scales caught the sun like jewels—one gold as dawn, the other deep as midnight. When they clashed above the city, the very air seemed to shatter. Their fire painted the clouds in colors I'd never seen before and haven't seen since." She would pause then, lost in the memory. "It was terrifying, yes. But oh, Calliope … it was magnificent. I will never forget it, not for all my days.”

"Did anyone die?" I would ask, both dreading and needing to know.

Her arms would tighten around me. "Many did. That's the nature of those creatures, sweet girl. They bring death as surely as they bring wonder. But that's why we have our own magic, isn't it? To survive them. To endure. It is how someday, we’ll achieve balance with them. I’m certain of it.”

I didn't understand then—how something could be both beautiful and deadly, how fear and wonder could exist in the same breath. I wish my grandmother was here. Wish I could share this moment with her, this terrible magnificence. Wish I could tell her she was right about so many things—about magic, about survival, about the strange beauty that lives alongside fear.

But she is gone, like so much else I've lost. All I have left are her stories, her wisdom, the echo of her voice in my memories.

And now, as the dragons descend toward us like harbingers of doom, I hear that voice again, clear as if she were standing beside me: Watch closely, little one. There's nothing else in this world quite like it.

Time seems to speed back up all at once, a rocketing pace, as I am wrenched back to the present.

The night splits open as sound tears through Millrath, a roar more ancient than stone, louder than dragonfire, resonating in my chest like the toll of a vast, unseen bell. The words I’m about to say to Arvoren—words I’ll never get the chance to speak—freeze in my throat as darkness falls over us, massive and inescapable.

I look up through the broken dome of the sanctum, my breath caught in my lungs.

A dragon, larger than any I’ve ever seen—bar one—descends from the mountain shadows. Its silver scales gleam blood-red in the fractured light, and it moves with a chilling grace, muscles rippling beneath that scarred armor as it cuts through Millrath’s defenses like a sword slicing through silk.

My heart stutters. Those golden eyes, blazing with a fury that belongs to a creature far older than us all, are somehow … familiar.

I barely have a moment to process the thought when Arvoren shoves me hard, his voice edged with fear.

“Run! Now, Calliope—get to the lower levels!” His face is a mask of desperation, the regal authority he wears like armor shattered in his eyes.

But I can’t move, transfixed by the sight before me. That arch of the neck, those patterns of scars across its chest, the glint of its teeth—an ancient, dreadful familiarity settles in my bones. I know this dragon.

Ulric. Arvoren’s brother.

The shock slams into me, leaving me numb, my heart thundering even as realization settles, thick and undeniable. Of course he’s here. Of course he’s leading the charge. Somehow, I never expected to see him in the flesh, this phantom of a man who plagues my husband so.

Beside me, Arvoren curses loudly. He shifts in a single, searing surge of power, his human form vanishing in a burst of smoke and heat that stings my skin. One heartbeat, he’s next to me; in the next, he’s airborne, launching himself toward his brother with a roar that shatters the night like broken glass.

I watch, breathless, as they meet in a clash of scales and fire. Claws rake against scales with the high-pitched ring of steel on steel, their bodies a blur of movement as they twist and snarl through the air. They clash again and again with the force of storms colliding, and I feel each impact reverberate through the ground below me. The air is thick with the smell of sulfur and charred earth, of old blood, as they exchange attacks that leave scales glistening and cracked, fire casting an eerie, shifting glow across the castle walls.

The red and green flames light the night, filling it with colors I don’t have words for, painting the castle towers in a grotesque beauty that chills me to the core. I feel a sick fascination watching them, brothers who are also enemies, their forms mirroring each other in deadly symmetry as they rise and dive, their roars reverberating across the city.

A blast of green flame from their fight streaks toward the battlements, too close. I throw myself to the ground as heat sears past, my skirts singeing as the fire blasts the walls in a spray of molten stone.

The impact jars me hard. Reality snaps back into focus around me. I push away the terror-fueled trance that had me frozen. Heart pounding, I scramble to my feet and stagger toward the castle’s winding stairwell, needing to get below, away from the chaos.

At my back, Arvoren roars his unadulterated fury, his fear, into the vast, broiling night.

The inner halls are a swarm of soldiers and refugees—it’s hard to tell the difference anymore—all trying to escape, every step echoing with the metallic clatter of my chains against stone. It’s so hard to run with them. The air is thick with smoke, dust, and the mingled cries of the wounded, punctuated by the clash of steel and the roar of dragons overhead.

In the frantic rush, a guard catches sight of me, struggling to push past the throngs.

“My Queen!” he shouts over the din, reaching for my arm. “You need to get to—”

The wall beside us explodes inward with a shower of stone and wood. I’m thrown back, slamming hard against the floor as dust and debris rain down around us.

Stars appear everywhere, blinking in and out around me. My head swims, ears ringing. I see the guard lying beneath a broken beam, his outstretched hand lying still, eyes wide and glassy.

Survive, howl the women who haunt me, my ancestors—my mother, my grandmother, all that they sacrificed for me to be here now, to be living. Survive, survive, survive, survive.

I push to my feet, disoriented, the weight of my chains dragging heavily with each step as I lurch down the corridor. The hallway opens up into a broad balcony that overlooks the inner courtyard. Just as I reach it, another crash shakes the stones beneath me, sending me stumbling forward. I grab on to a pillar, steadying myself, and turn back toward the gaping hole in the castle wall.

Through the jagged breach, I glimpse the deadly, tangled forms of Ulric and Arvoren, scales flashing as they claw and tear at each other. Their bodies twist in the air, monstrous wings beating furiously. Suddenly, Ulric’s massive jaws snap around Arvoren’s neck, the snarl of his rage reverberating through me, primal and raw, shaking my bones. Arvoren struggles, but Ulric’s hold tightens, pulling him down toward the castle walls.

The balcony trembles under my feet, a tremor running up through the stone. Cracks spread across the floor, winding up the walls with a sound like splintering ice. I barely have time to gasp before, with one final shudder, the floor buckles and collapses beneath me.

Instinctively, I lurch forward, hands grasping for anything solid as my footing drops out. For one heart-stopping moment, there’s only empty air. Then my fingers find a support beam, and I cling to it desperately, the rough stone tearing into my hands. My feet dangle over the void, the chains wrapped around my ankles pulling me downward, their weight relentless. I grit my teeth and hold on, every muscle burning with effort as the beam shudders and cracks above me.

Below, Millrath spreads out in a chaotic landscape of flames and shadows, the city’s streets a river of fire and ash, thick smoke smothering the skyline. My arms strain with the effort of holding on, and I feel the beam shifting beneath my fingers, groaning under the strain. Stone dust rains down around me as splinters snap free, tumbling down into the night.

Above me, the night darkens with the shadow of a dragon. It’s Ulric. His silver scales glint coldly in the firelight as he hovers, his massive wings blocking the flames below for a heartbeat. His gaze settles on me with a terrifying stillness, and his mouth opens, fire gathering in his throat, green and blindingly bright.

My heart seizes, panic surging as I twist and kick, trying to free myself, but the chains bite into my ankles, catching on the broken stones of the collapsing wall. The beam under me creaks, barely holding, as Ulric rears back, the inferno growing in his mouth, ready to strike. The air around me thickens, blistering with heat.

Suddenly, in a flash of red scales and fury, Arvoren slams into Ulric from the side. A roar shatters the night as they collide, red and silver scales flashing as they twist and snarl, locked in a brutal spiral. Ulric’s flames streak past me, grazing the stones, so close the heat sears my skin and singes my clothing. The gust from their clash sends me swinging wildly from the beam, my hands slick with blood and grit as I cling to it, each heartbeat louder than the one before.

Arvoren circles back, his golden eyes locked on Ulric with feral intensity. But Ulric lashes out with his tail, catching Arvoren across the chest, and Arvoren spirals down, losing control as he struggles to regain altitude. My heart pounds as I see three more dragons banking toward him, their forms shadowed against the flames. They close in, hemming him in with merciless precision. Arvoren fights back, his roar filling the night, but he’s tiring. I can see blood streaking his red scales, each beat of his wings more strained than the last.

“Arvoren!”

The scream tears from me, raw and desperate, only to be swallowed by the storm of flames and the clash of wings above. He’s faltering; I can’t reach him.

The beam cracks again, and I slip, my fingers scraping against rough stone, losing my hold inch by inch. The chains bind my ankles, adding impossible weight as I dangle over the inferno below. My arms shake with exhaustion, and I feel myself slipping, the jagged edges of stone tearing into my hands. The city below is a nightmare, flames licking at the shadows, the streets a churning underworld of soldiers and ash and blood.

The beam finally gives a groan of surrender and begins to split beneath me. In the moment before I fall, I know: this is it. My hands grasp frantically, scraping for anything solid, but there’s nothing left to hold onto. With a final crack, the beam snaps, and I’m falling, the chains pulling me down into the empty air, nothing between me and the ground but the dizzying plunge into smoke and fire.

In that moment of weightlessness, I feel a strange clarity: maybe this is freedom, after all.