Talons and Tempest Seas

There weren't always dragons in the Valley.

The tempest seas changed that; volatile storms that washed a trio of peculiar rocks ashore two years ago during the final days of the storm season. In my sixteen years, I’d never entirely had a fondness for strange baubles, but something about the uniformed, textured rocks half-buried in the sand had snagged my interest enough I hadn’t thought twice about pocketing them and bringing them home.

As the daughter of a disgraced sorcerer, I was used to spending my days with no companionship. I had become accustomed to the lies and secrets that came with my ancient lineage, and from a young age, I’d traded friendship for solitude, but now—

“Oie,” I hollered. “Watch it, Feyina. You’ll take someone’s eye out.” An emerald scaled head turned in my direction, a tendril of smoke coming from her nostrils and she swung her tail again. I scowled in response, upending the sack of offal from the butcher, letting the scraps land with a wet twack.

She’d been the only one of the three to stay. Well, the only one to return. A fortnight ago she’d nearly sent my heart into convulsions. I’d gone to the stable before sunrise, determined to find out why Gerald, my father’s elderly dapple-gray horse, was causing such a fuss, only to see Feyina vigorously rearranging the straw bedding from the neighboring stall, paying no attention to the trembling horse that mirrored her size. Making a nest, I’d realized mere minutes later as she unceremoniously pushed out half a dozen eggs in varying shades of green. I’d panicked, I’d sworn, and Feyina had only plopped down on her nest, making herself comfortable.

And today, if intuition served me right, there’d be six more dragons born in the Valley by nightfall.

Warm air danced across my neck as I chucked the bag to the side. Scales, rough yet somehow edging on ticklish followed, a low whine coming from Feyina as she nuzzled her face on my shoulder. An apology. I reached up to rub the underside of her jaw. “It’s alright.” I pressed a kiss to her cheek. “You’re just anxious, aren’t you?”  

She huffed again before pulling back to regard me with her vivid eyes flecked with gold. It still caught me off guard, the way she seemed able to watch me with rapt fascination. Not that I entirely expected the dragon to understand what I was saying, but I’d come to learn they were entirely too smart for their own good. And despite that, for whatever reason, Feyina had braved the harrowing gales and ruthless promise of storms to return to the Valley.

As if in answer, thunder rumbled and my blood danced in response.

Our village was well-versed in the language of thunder and lightning, but none as skilled as my father. He’d taught me the different rhythms of thunder and what it meant when the wind cried. I’d learned to read the unrest festering in the clouds, because one day, like him, I’d become one of the Guardians of the Valley.

One day.

Except that one day should have come by now. My powers should have manifested on my eighteenth birthday. I refused to let the shame sear my skin. Not again. My father and I were already at an impasse, time suspended between us as years of meticulously crafted knowledge held no use in the hands of a girl who couldn’t so much as stir a whisper of her magic.

The rain came fast, lashing against the single-paned windows. I squinted through the closest one, the action more a comfort than anything else. I knew what I would find. Houses leaned together as if holding each other up, the paint chipped over the years, rendering the buildings near colorless.

I blinked. Then again. Because it wasn’t the smeared, mundane sight of the Valley I was used to. An ethereal blue glow enveloped the village, brightly offset from the heavy rain. I was proficient in reading storms, but this was another language entirely. What was this? The skin at the back of my neck prickled. I might not be able to understand it, but unease roared through me, warring with the incessant need to do something.

“By the Gods,” I breathed, hurtling toward the stable door. I tore it open, but before I could take even a step outside, my feet were swept out from under me. I landed hard, gasping for a breath as Feyina’s tail wrapped around me. Not in comfort, not in threat, but in caution. I wanted to scold her, every part of me desperately hoping she could understand every word, but nothing could have prepared me for her bolt of speed or the ease with which she threw me onto her back. The knobbed ridges of her spine dug into my stomach as she bounded out the door, her wings unfurling as she took to the sky.

Fear trailed an icy finger down my spine. No one—not even my father—knew of Feyina’s existence yet here she was, flying into the heart of town where anyone outside could see. Except . . . there was no one outside. Not a single soul milled around; the packed streets I’d been fighting my way through not ten minutes before now entirely deserted. There was a silence to the village, a stillness I’d never experienced before.

“What’s happening?” I asked aloud, entirely to myself, but a low growl came from Feyina.

The dark clouds overhead yawned open further, raining down wrath upon the Valley. Goosebumps danced over my bare arms seconds before the first fragments of brilliant white light cut through the sky. Thunder and lighting; what should have been a simple combination.

But the storms of my world were violent, hungry beasts intent on destruction. In a near-blinding surge, the blue glow pulsed around us.

There was one second of silence. Two.

And then the screaming began.

Thanks for reading!