The Last Dragon Lord

VIII-5

Dark stood on the balcony of his family palace as a sea of dragons paid tribute to him. The crowd bustled with color, a mosaic of scales in the mountain valley below. They stood on the ground, flew through the sky, circled the palace to get a look at him.

This was his coronation.

He was the Dragon Lord.

It’s too soon.

I wasn’t meant to lead. Not yet.

Why hadn’t he been able to revisit more memories of his parents?

“No!” he cried. “Turn back time!”

But the crowd roared.

He felt a hand on his shoulder. It was Norwyn. The white dragon stared at him with cobalt eyes, and his mouth twisted into a frown.

“My lord, are you ill?” he asked.

Norwyn!

He hadn’t changed. Still white as a cloud, with piercing blue eyes like a calm ocean. His best friend, his advisor—the only one who understood him and his family, for he was more stoic than even them.

Dark embraced him. “I have waited a thousand years to thank you.”

Norwyn’s eyes widened. “Thank me for what?”

“You fought for me.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Norwyn said.

“You were the only one I could count on, and even in the farthest corner of my mind, I never doubted you, Norwyn.”

Dark remembered that this was a memory. He sighed and said, “I don’t know what got into me.”

“It’s quite all right.”

Norwyn stepped aside, and Fenroot led Dark’s parents onto the balcony. Alsatius was a shell of his former self, with a blindfold around his eyes. Some of his teeth were missing.

Smirnagond was covered with cuts, and she limped because all of her legs had been broken and the bones healed unevenly. Her mouth was sewn shut, and magical stitches glowed pink and purple, a subtle reminder that no spell could ever undo them. Looking into her fierce green eyes, Dark sensed both sadness and pride.

Dark growled at the sight of Fenroot. “You were supposed to be dead.”

But Fenroot didn’t hear him.

Dark rushed at Fenroot and slashed him, but his claws went through the silver dragon and no one noticed the attack.

Dark screamed and slashed at Fenroot again, but nothing. Dark stood heaving, wishing he could end Fenroot again and again. But then his eyes went to his father, who looked desperate and anxious.

“Has he begun his address yet?” Alsatius asked. “I want to hear the address!”

Alsatius groped around, but Fenroot helped him and reassured him.

“Where is he?” Alsatius asked.

“I’m here,” Dark said.

Alsatius re-oriented himself in Dark’s direction. “Ah, it feels good to hear your voice. I’ll never get used to this blindness. I would give anything to see again, just for a moment.”

“I promised you I’d find a cure,” Dark said. “I won’t rest until I do.”

It hurt him to make the promise. It had hurt even then, but it really hurt now.

Alsatius reached out his hand and touched Dark on the chest. “Show the world what you’re made of. Show the dragon race that its greatest days are ahead.”

Norwyn leaned in. “He’s right. We should get this over with, my lord.”

Norwyn glanced over the crowd, taking them in. Dark knew that Norwyn was strategizing, but he couldn’t decipher what the white dragon was thinking.

Dark inhaled deeply and then exhaled. He spread his wings and the crowd roared louder than he thought possible as he walked to the edge of the balcony and began his speech.