The sky looked like it was on fire—molten orange, streaks of crimson bleeding into the distant horizon.
I stood at the cliff's edge with Revik beside me, the little girl tucked against his side. Her wide eyes followed the chaos above, where dragons collided in a storm of power and fury.
Raiden. Muir.
And the massive orange dragon whose wings sliced the air like knives.
Tadewi—that was her name, according to Revik.
The wind here was wild—alive. It shifted without warning, unpredictable as lightning. And Tadewi moved through it like it was hers to command. This was her sky, and it obeyed her like a loyal beast.
Raiden and Muir were powerful, but she was something else—seasoned, graceful, terrifying. She didn't fight for dominance. She simply was dominance.
They weren't winning. Not ye
