Secret Dragon

Chapter 20

Wyvern

As the cold started to creep closer, I could hardly sit still. It had begun to snow, light and playful, and it felt like Flurris was welcoming me home. The wind carried music. Lutes, drums, and voices echoed across the icy cliffs, and the palace shimmered in hues of soft blue and silver. Lanterns carved from crystal lined the walkways like stars brought down to earth. Snow fell gently, not in blizzards or tempests, but in delicate, laughing flurries — like the kingdom itself was celebrating.

For once, there was no tension waiting in the air. Only joy.

I stood beneath the towering arches of my rebuilt childhood home, dressed in flowing white and silver. The silken cape trailing behind me bore the crest of Galvan — the dragon of balance — entwined with the snow lily of Flurris. Cadmus stood beside me, regal in rich gray and gold, the perfect complement to my frost and moonlight. The coronation wasn’t a political demand. It was a gift.

My parents passed their crowns not with reluctance, but with pride. The gathered nobles cheered as Cadmus and I were named the rightful rulers of Galvan — and honored heirs of Flurris. A new age, bridging fire and frost, had begun. Snow-dancers twirled in the grand courtyard, their dresses trailing crystallized petals. Dragon-shaped ice sculptures lined the gardens. Wine flowed from frozen fountains, and laughter warmed the cold night air, but after a while, I slipped away. Drawn by something quieter than the music — my mom’s laugh. Soft. Rare.

I followed the sound through the gardens and past the outer overlook, my footsteps silent on the snow. There, beneath the hanging boughs of the ice-fruit trees, I found them. They didn’t see me, and I didn’t interrupt.

Dad stood close to Mom, brushing a snowflake from her cheek with a reverence that made me stop breathing. The years melted away from their faces. They were just two dragons—two souls-who had chosen each other through exile, heartbreak, and hope. Mom spoke first, her voice barely above the wind.

“You could’ve walked away, Hollis. Everyone told you to. Even I did.” Dad chuckled, low and rough with memory.

“I’m not known for listening. Especially not when it comes to you.” Mom’s gaze dropped to the snowflake pendant around her neck — the one that had once marked her banishment. Now, it gleamed like a crown.

“There were years I thought the bond was gone. I wasn’t a dragon. I wasn’t... anything.” Dad shook his head slowly.

“You were everything. Even when we had nothing.” She smiled through the mist in her eyes.

“When Frost came back to me, I thought I’d feel whole again. But I realized I already was. You made me whole.” He leaned in and kissed her, soft, unhurried. A kiss full of years, hurt, and healing.

I turned away, blinking quickly. That moment wasn’t meant for me. But it filled my chest with something glowing and quiet. Love, when chosen, was the strongest magic of all. I found Cadmus waiting near the edge of the garden, leaning against a frost-marble archway, watching the snow with a small smile. When he saw me, he straightened, and I went straight to him without thinking, twining my fingers with his. He squeezed my hand gently.

“They’re still in love,” he said softly.

“They chose to be,” I murmured, resting my head against his shoulder. Above us, the northern lights shimmered in soft ribbons of green and blue, trailing across the sky like whispers. And as the celebration carried on behind us, I let myself believe: I could have that too. I already did.

The morning came too quickly. Sunlight stretched across the frozen plains in quiet gold, casting long, soft shadows over the palace walls. The celebration had faded into memory, but its warmth lingered. Cadmus and I stood at the gates, dressed for flight. My parents were the last to approach. Mom pulled me into a hug, her arms cool but comforting, her smile bright and tearful.

“Lead with your heart, my starling,” she whispered. “You were born to.” Then Dad, steadier and gruffer, crushed me in a hug that stole my breath.

“Show them the strength of the North,” he muttered into my hair. “And if you ever forget who you are, remember who raised you.” I laughed softly as I stepped back, blinking fast. My throat ached, but not from the cold. I turned to Cadmus. His gaze met mine — steady, quiet, full of promise. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to my forehead.

“Let’s show them what fire and frost can do,” he whispered. We shifted into our dragons, wings unfurling like banners in the wind. As we rose into the sky, I looked back one last time. My parents stood together, hands clasped tightly, watching us soar. Snow trailed behind me like a veil, and the mountains of Flurris fell away beneath the clouds.

For the first time, I didn’t just hope I was ready.

I knew I was.