The bond between Seraphina and Pyre evolved in ways she hadn't expected.
What had started as a connection—a presence in the back of her mind—had become something far more intimate. Now, when she closed her eyes, she could see through Pyre's vision, feel the wind beneath the dragon's wings, taste the air as it rushed past her scaled snout. And Pyre could do the same—could feel Seraphina's heartbeat, could sense her thoughts as they formed, could share her memories and dreams as easily as breathing.
It should have been disconcerting, having another consciousness so intimately entwined with her own. Instead, it felt like coming home.
"Your bond is stronger than any I've seen," Kestrel observed one morning, watching as Seraphina and Pyre moved through a training exercise that had once been impossible for her. "At this rate, you'll be able to fight as one entity by the time the Conjunction arrives."
"Is that good?" Seraphina asked, catching her breath after the exercise ended.
"It's powerful. But it's also dangerous." Kestrel's expression was serious. "The stronger the bond, the more devastating the loss if one of you falls."
Through the bond, Seraphina felt Pyre's reaction—a ripple of acknowledgment and acceptance. We will not fall, the dragon said silently. We will face what comes together.
"We'll be careful," Seraphina said aloud.
"You'd better be." Kestrel moved to the weapon rack and selected a new blade—lighter than the ones she had been training with, its edge gleaming with a faint blue light. "This is for you. Dragon glass forged in Pyre's own fire. It will cut through anything—even Voidwalker flesh."
Seraphina took the blade, feeling its weight, its balance. It was beautiful, deadly, and somehow right in her hand. "Thank you."
"Don't thank me yet. You still have to learn to use it properly." Kestrel raised his own blade. "Ready?"
She nodded, and they began.
The training was brutal, but Seraphina welcomed it. Each cut, each block, each moment of exhaustion was a step toward being ready for what was coming. And through it all, Pyre was there—steady, supportive, pushing her when she needed to be pushed and catching her when she needed to rest.
In the evenings, they flew.
It was during these flights that Seraphina felt most alive, most herself. Soaring over the mountains on Pyre's back, the wind rushing past her face, the world spread out beneath them like a tapestry—these were the moments when she understood, truly understood, why the Dragon Lords chose this life.
Why Kestrel had devoted himself to training generations of Dragonbound.
Why the Queen had ruled for three centuries despite the weight of responsibility.
Because there was something magical about this—about the bond between dragon and rider, about the freedom of the sky, about the knowledge that together, they could do anything.
One evening, as the sun set over the mountains, Pyre spoke to her through the bond.
You are afraid, little flame.
It wasn't a question. Through their connection, Pyre could feel her fear, her uncertainty, her growing dread as the Conjunction approached.
I am, Seraphina admitted. I don't know if I'm strong enough. I don't know if any of us are.
Strength is not measured by the absence of fear, Pyre responded. It is measured by what you do despite it. And you have already proven yourself more than once.
But the Voidwalkers... Seraphina's thoughts drifted to her visions, to the glimpses she had caught of what lay beyond the barrier. They're more terrible than anything we've faced. How can anyone stand against them?
Not anyone. You. The Sleeper chose to speak to you for a reason, little flame. Your blood is the key to the barrier, but your heart—the bond we share—that is the key to something greater.
What do you mean?
Pyre was silent for a moment, her massive wings beating steadily as they soared through the darkening sky. When she spoke again, her voice was gentle.
The barrier was sealed with sacrifice. But sacrifice takes many forms. Valdren gave her bond, her connection to her dragon. But you... you have something she did not.
What?
A dragon who chose you. Not because the Binding demanded it, but because she wanted to. Pyre's consciousness wrapped around Seraphina's, warm and protective. I chose you, little flame. And that choice makes our bond different from any that came before.
Different how?
In ways you will understand when the time comes. Pyre banked, turning them toward the Citadel. For now, trust that we are stronger together than either of us could be alone. Trust that when the moment comes, we will know what to do.
Seraphina wanted to ask more, but she could feel Pyre's reluctance to continue. Whatever secret the dragon was keeping, she would reveal it when the time was right.
For now, all Seraphina could do was prepare. Train. Grow stronger.
And hope that when the Conjunction arrived, she would be ready.
The weeks continued to pass. Four months became three. The stars drew closer to their alignment, and the barrier continued to weaken. Small breaches began to appear—not as dramatic as the one Ashford had created, but significant nonetheless. Each one had to be sealed with Seraphina's blood, each one left her a little weaker, a little more drained.
But she persisted. She had to.
The world was counting on her.