The veil was as the veil had always been—a haze of mist between the worlds. Except, much had happened in the course of a few short seasons. Gilchrist raised his snout and sniffed the air. A grin stretched the scales of his lips.
Yes, much had happened since he saw the birth of the prince. Although the lad didn’t know what it meant to be their savior, he would soon enough. There was still time.
Ahmbra fluttered to the ground. Her flying skills improved with each day. Upon her back rode the queen. He shuddered to recall how he’d watched in horror as she sacrificed herself. Blue flames had engulfed her body and her screams had made his ears bleed.
But then the goddess Verdaine had held her like a mother her sleeping child and brought her to them. She’d laid the stricken queen upon the ground at Jinnipher’s talons.
“Heal her,” the goddess had commanded. “Your future and that of your prince requires it.”
That first night, Gilchrist and Ahmbra had taken turns watching over the Eleri, while Jinnipher healed the woman with her tears. Each teardrop blossomed on the queen’s pale skin, like a night-blooming rose in summer. Every consecutive blossom blended with the next until the savage burns were no more.
When she woke, a fortnight or so later, her eyes were haunted, her expression one of great sadness.
Gilchrist had done his best to comfort her, as had all the darathi vorsi, but she mourned the loss of her family and her homeland. It took many seasons before gaiety entered her smiles. He held each one of them in his heart, cherished like a gift.
And now he hoped his news would lighten her sorrows even more.
The young darathi giggled as only the innocent could and fluttered her wings. “We found more grazing pastures beyond the fifth canyon.” Ahmbra’s eyes glittered with excitement. She and the queen had been scouting for new places where they might have a better chance of survival. But Gilchrist was reluctant to leave this place, where he caught glimpses into his home world.
“Come now, old dragon, what has you vexed this morning?” The queen stroked his long neck and his scales rippled at her touch.
“Look.” He indicated the veil that separated them from Aelinae. “The Darennsai. She’s come.”
Aislinn gasped and put a hand to her chest. “Rhoane.” The whispered name traveled on the breeze across the canyon. “Can you see him?”
“Aye. He is well.” Gilchrist watched Nadra place the child in an old man’s arms and send them through a glimmering doorway. That was the last he saw of the princess, but he knew, wherever the Great Mother had sent her, she was safe.
Tears streamed down Aislinn’s cheeks to drip from her chin and plop upon the dusty ground. And there, at her feet, tiny green tendrils sprang from the terrarae. They sprouted to slim stalks, getting thicker with each breath she took until a bed of white roses bloomed before her.
Ahmbra gasped and looked to him for an answer. For the first time in his long life, he had no explanation of what was happening.
Aislinn clapped her hands and danced around the flowers. Her long hair flew behind her like a dragon’s wing. Jinnipher joined them, as did several of their brethren, snorting fire from their snouts and flapping their wings in long-awaited jubilation. The Darennsai had come at last and soon, when the Prince of Dragons wore the Crown of Awakening, they could return to Aelinae.
Thank you for reading Rhoane’s story! I can’t wait for you to meet Taryn. Find out what happens when Taryn returns to Aelinae, unaware of who she is or the power she possesses. Nothing will ever be the same for Aelinae, or Rhoane.
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