Page 122 of The Last Dragon
The cave breathes around us—low gusts curling through the stone like whispers. I stack the driest branches in a shallow pit, striking stones until the spark catches. It grows fast, shadows leaping across the strange wall of bones. Nida sits cross-legged, paper balanced on her knee, charcoal scratching against it as she begins to sketch the twisted spine and split tail.
“This creature…” she mutters to herself. “It’s not just big—it’sold. But the split tail? That’s new. Nothing in any of the known species has that.”
I crouch beside the fire, eyes flicking between the bones and her focused face.
“You think it’s a mutation?”
“Maybe. Or a hybrid,” she says, not looking up. “Either way, it’s not in the records.” She pauses, then adds quietly, “That means no one’s survived long enough to record it or study it.” The fire crackles louder than before. I stare into the flames, jaw tight. We might be the first to find this thing. Or the last.
“Anything in your old book?” I ask.
She shakes her head with a deep sigh. “I left it. It’s with Eryca.”
Damn.
“I wonder if Grogol knows about this,” she reflects.
“The Stonetail that killed Raumen seemed regular.” The words slip out before I can stop them, and a sharp ache coils in my chest. Raumen. My head throbs. Images flash—his twisted legs, the blood pooling beneath him. I squeeze my eyes shut.
Shut it off.
“I doubt Grogol knew this thing existed,” I add. “Maybe not even Augustus knew.” But even as I say it, something twists in my gut. A sliver of doubt. Grogol lied about there being only one dragon left. Lied to us, to all of us. And hundreds died. We followed his command into slaughter, thinking we were ending a war. If he knows—if these things still exist—then I can’t even imagine what he would be capable of if he let these things roam free. I glance at Nida as she sketches, her hands steady but her face pale in the flickering firelight. Stray curls cling to her cheek, her brow furrowed in focus. She doesn’t speak—just draws, breath slow, eyes sharp. Calm. At least on the outside. I have no idea what she’s like on the inside. I wish I did. Perhaps I’d know what to do.
A warmth stirs in my chest that has nothing to do with the fire. I envy her calm—or maybe I just want to be close to it. Maybe I just wanther.I look away before I’m caught staring. This isn’t the time. We’re half-starved, half-dead, hunted. We’re sitting inthe ribcage of a monster. A monster I secretly beg the Divines we won’t encounter.
CHAPTER 42
Nida’s been scribbling the fossil in front of her for roughly an hour. She analyzes it well, noticing details I would never think of. I sit beside her, watching her draw lines and write notes, sometimes walking back and forth, helping her transfer the shapes of the skeleton into her notes. She’s more interested in the head than any other part. It’s larger and more dense. When she’s done with the last intricate lines, she traces her fingers over the drawing.
“It’s almost like a mixture between a Stonetail and a Redsnout. See that extra vertebrae? Redsnout trait.” She gestures toward the fossil embedded in the wall, circling her finger slowly through the dust-laced air.
“Do you think this could be a descendant?” I ask, leaning over her shoulder and studying her sketches and scattered notes.
She shrugs. “Maybe. But this thing could be thousands of years old.” She flips back and forth between pages, furrowing a browin concentration. “This thing could’ve contributed to The Great Burn.”
A chill creeps under my skin as I turn back to the fossilized skull, taking in every jagged tooth and fractured bone. If creatures like this still existed, humanity wouldn’t stand a chance.
She folds her notes and stands up, shoving them into her pocket. A soft wind pushes the uneven red waves out of her face, now shorter than before. Something in my chest jolts when her amber eyes catch mine. Then she quickly looks away and crosses to the far side of the cave.
Whenever I look at her, it feels like time completely stops. And at this very moment, I can finallylookat her. Soft, fiery curls playfully caressing her cheeks. She’s beautiful. There hasn’t been a moment I’ve denied it.
Itried. I tried to shut my feelings off. But I feel alive whenever I look at her. I don’t want this moment to stop. I would give anything to return to the rooftop and tell her what I desire.
Her.
All I desire is her.
She meets my gaze again, and my heart rumbles in my chest, trying to find a way into hers. Time completely stops.
A loud bang resumes time, and murky dust clouds my vision, filling my lungs. The cave quakes with a roar, and rocks tumble. I wave my hands in the air, blowing away the dust, and I cough out the residue. I scan the fallen rocks, looking for Nida, but there’s no trace. The dust slowly settles, and a large pair of red claws appears next to the fallen stone. I immediately grab my crossbow from my back.
Redsnout.
How did it get here? I glance upward—the higher the cave climbs, the deeper the dark. Could there be an opening above? Or corners I failed to see?
I take cover next to a nearby boulder, searching for a pair of black plated leathers behind the beast. But all I see is a trace of blood on the ground near the talons. My heart sinks.
Nida.
