by Jodi Meadows
There were the facility buildings where Ilina’s parents and the other keepers used to work. There was the beautiful drakarium where LaLa, Crystal, and dozens of other small dragons used to live and play. And there—not far from the main structures—were the ruins.
They looked the same as the last time I’d seen them, that day in the sanctuary when Hristo, Ilina, and I had discovered the shipping orders that started all of this. It seemed so long ago; I’d lived a lifetime since then. But as I landed, shaking the earth underneath me, a familiar hum wrapped around the back of my thoughts.
I, the human part of me, dismounted the Drakontos celestus and approached the tall, broken arches. These ruins were smaller, more modest than either of the sites I’d visited on Anahera, but coming here felt like coming home. These were the first ruins I’d ever seen, ever wondered about.
Spindly arches, crumbling towers, still lit with glowing blue noorestones even after all these centuries. I’d never been allowed to explore the ruins before, because Mother worried I’d hurt myself, but now there was no one to stop me.
The Drakontos celestus came along, sniffing the air and stretching her—my—wings.
At last, I stood before one of the great towers, all white and glowing and studded with noorestones. An electric hum vibrated the air between my palm and the smooth stone.
Before I could touch it, another hum filled the sanctuary: crickets singing and birds settling in their nests. Strange. The air was cooler, the world dimmer, and the shadows cast by trees were lit with tiny crescents.
Heart pounding in my throat, I looked up, straight into the impossibly bright sun. I didn’t need to squint or look away; my eyes didn’t even water. Not since becoming a dragon.
Nevertheless, the sight made me gasp. The first moon was more than halfway across the face of the sun. The eclipse had already begun.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
I HAD NO TIME FOR DESPAIR.
As the ground lurched under my feet, I slapped both hands against the tower wall and screamed, “Please, Darina!”
I didn’t know what I expected. A soft, beautiful figure to come striding out of a glowing white background, asking if I had enough love in my heart? Or a voice from nowhere and everywhere, ready to make a bargain with me? Or something else entirely?
Instead, I plunged into the white-blue between place, fire crackling around me, and came face-to-face with myself. Or, at least, she looked like me, down to the shade of her skin and the tilt of her nose and the texture of her hair. No scar, though, and she held herself differently, with a confidence that wasn’t just a layer of her mask.
There were other differences, too. While I wore a tattered hunting dress, smeared with red dirt and damp with my own blood, she wore a billowy gown that might have been sewn from the night sky; it was black and strewn with stars and darkdust and faraway galaxies. And where I was filthy and sweating, my hair all windblown and wild, she looked freshly scrubbed, her black curls tight and gleaming.
We stared at each other, both evaluating, until finally I said, “Are you Darina?” It seemed presumptuous to wonder if the goddess of love might take on my appearance to talk with me, but I’d reached through the ruins to make this appeal; why wouldn’t she appear to me with a face I recognized?
She laughed. “Do you really think you’re worthy to look upon your goddess, in any form?”
Blood flooded up my throat and cheeks, but I didn’t let the insult cow me. “The Fallen Gods gave me this task. The least they could do is have a conversation.”
Her smile showed teeth.
“And you aren’t me.”
Now she laughed. “No. Not at all. But I’ll give you a hint.” Great black wings flickered into view behind her, stretching wide.
“Drakontos celestus,” I whispered. My twin across time.
“You look like me. As a dragon, I mean.” She shrugged, but now that I knew who—what—she was, I could see where her movements weren’t quite human. “I thought it was only fair that I took on your appearance.”
I couldn’t argue with that. “The eclipse has started.”
“Yes. And the Fallen Gods will rise.”
“How can I stop them?” Surely, more than anyone, she could understand the need to keep the gods here. She—her bones—had been away from the Fallen Isles for so long, and now she was back. She had just as much reason to want them to stay.
“Why do you think you’re supposed to stop them?” The first dragon shook her head. “I told you before: the Great Abandonment was set into motion the day I died.”
“I thought—”
“You thought if there was a last dragon—a new me—then the greatest calamity would be averted?” She smiled again, all teeth. “Tell me, when Tirta took on your title, was she a true replacement?”
“No.” The word came out as a growl. “But you can’t compare me to her. The gods chose me.”
“The gods chose you because you were in the best position to do what needed to be done. They chose you because the Luminary Council chose you, and we both know the Luminary Council chose Tirta, as well.”
“That’s not comforting.”
“Dragons aren’t meant to be comforting. Something you’d know if you paid more attention to your dragon instincts.” She gave me a moment to think about the time I’d nearly blown up the Lexara Theater, or the way I’d almost lost control in the Red Hall. “Anyway, you can’t stop the Great Abandonment. It’s happening. Look up.”
Though we were somewhere deep inside the between place, when I tilted back my head, I saw the first moon had already covered most of the sun. Only a narrow crescent remained.
The first eclipse was nearly total.
Darina would rise within minutes.
“But if I’m not supposed to stop the Great Abandonment, what am I supposed to do?” Fear clutched at me.
“What are you willing to do?” asked the first dragon.
“Anything.” Hadn’t I already declared that, back in the empire?
“Will you let go?”
“Of what?”
“Anything.”
The way she said it sent shivers through me, but I looked at the sky again—sunlight was barely squeezing out now—and I nodded. “I’ve known for almost two decans that I’d have to let go of my human self,” I whispered. “‘It is sacrifice that enables change.’ I accept that. And I’m ready.”
“You’re still thinking like a human.”
“But what else is there? If I become fully dragon, I give up my family and friends. I give up a future with the boy I love. I give up everything I ever wanted, and I do it for them. To save them. To make sure they have family and friends and a future.”
The first dragon merely tilted her head.
And then I knew.
It wasn’t my humanity they needed, but the part that had never been mine to begin with. The chosen part. The dragon part.
“Do you know what that—”
“Yes,” she said. “I know what it means.”
No more power over noorestones. I could deal with that. I’d lived most of my life not being able to affect noorestones, although the way they burned away my anxiety . . . I would miss that. No, it was the other part that ripped open my soul.
My connection with dragons. With Kelsine and Hush and Lex and all the others I’d met and loved. And—mostly—with LaLa. My sweet dragon flower, who’d saved me over and over again. Who gave me joy and laughter and love.
She was my heart. How could I give up my heart?
“You need to decide,” said the first dragon. “The first eclipse is nearly complete.”
“What if I say no?” My voice was rough. “What if that’s too much?”
“The gods rise either way,” said the first dragon. “You can say no, and what’s left of the people of the Fallen Isles will drift across the ocean until they die. Or you can say yes, and you’ll be given another chance. Not with the Fallen Gods. No. If you live, you’ll see them in the sky. But y
our people will find a new home.”
“Will she still know me?” The question came out tiny. Pathetic.
“I don’t know.”
“This is part of my soul,” I whispered. “I can’t just rip it out. I can’t just stop being what I am.”
“You were willing to give up your humanity. Is giving up your dragon soul so much worse?”
“Yes.” The word was a sob. “I’ve always loved dragons. I always wanted to be a dragon. From the moment I was born, my heart beat for them.”
“That doesn’t have to change. Look at your friend Ilina.”
I grabbed at my chest, choking on my own tears. All I could think about was LaLa, my perfect little dragon. Her shiny gold scales, her sweet eyes, and the way she snuggled on top of my chest at night so that our hearts beat together. She’d saved me today, back on Anahera. Though she’d been in the throes of horror and grief, she’d sensed my danger and risked herself to rescue me. Then she’d guided me to the dragon bones, knowing I’d understand her. And when I couldn’t go on, she’d grabbed me by the fingers and dragged me. A tiny gold dragon the size of a ferret, and she’d pulled me the rest of the way.
Our bond was everything to me.
She was everything.
“It wouldn’t be a sacrifice if you didn’t have to give up something precious.”
“I know.”
“You’ve always been willing to give up pieces of yourself for the betterment of others. Your voice, your freedom, your life. But there’s one thing you’ve never compromised on.”
Dragons. Fighting to ensure their freedom and safety.
She was right. It was the only sacrifice I could make that would truly matter.
“It’s time to decide,” she said.
“Can I say good-bye?”
“There’s no time.”
I wanted to collapse and cry, but she was right. The first moon pinched off the last of the sunlight, and everything went dark.
“It’s all right to be sad.” The first dragon hugged me. “It makes you human.”
My whole body trembled with sorrow and fear and all the uncertain days that loomed ahead of me. “I thought dragons weren’t meant to be comforting.”
The first dragon scoffed. “Don’t be silly. No one tells a dragon how to be.”
I wasn’t ready, not nearly, but then we were hurled out of the noorestone space, and I was in the dragon sanctuary once again. I stood where I’d been before, my hands pressed to the tower wall, but now every single noorestone was black, burned out, and my body buzzed with energy. Fire.
It was in me now.
But first . . .
The drone of bugs filled the cool air, and dawn seemed to shine from every horizon: from across the sea, from the abandoned city, and from the immense Skyfell Mountains. But above, stars glittered during full day.
And the sun— That was incredible. A halo of fire encircled the black moon, and strands of light arced out into ghostly filaments. I’d never seen anything like it before, this phenomenon of night during the day, and a glow on every horizon. I could have stared up forever, just being amazed, but before I’d had my fill, the island lurched and began to rise.
This was it. The last moments of the Great Abandonment.
I pulled myself away from the ruins and ran for the Drakontos celestus, but she was me and I was her, so it took no time at all to find my way between the wings, and then I launched into the sky. My final flight.
A horrible crack rent the air, Darina rising, but I kept flying up and away, into the sky, watching for the moment the sun started to reappear.
And then it happened.
A bead of bright white pierced the edge of the eclipse, and sunlight poured back in.
I imagined all the eclipses before this, how triumphant this moment must have been. The return of the sun. The victory of light over dark.
But this was no ordinary eclipse. For a few moments, the moon had taken away the light. But now that the day was back, we’d lost something else.
I looked over my shoulder, toward the place where the Fallen Isles had been just moments before.
Now, there was nothing but empty ocean, dotted with tiny vessels struggling to stay upright as waves rose up, unimpeded by land. No homes. No islands. No gods.
And one more eclipse.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
THE SECOND ECLIPSE BEGAN BEFORE THE FIRST WAS even finished.
To everyone else, all the survivors on the ships and rafts and dragons, it must have been a terrifying sight. A moment of victory. The day returning, only for darkness to claim the sky once more.
But when I looked up, I saw two moons crossing the sun, its light like scythes through their darkness. The effect was eerie. Beautiful. Ominous.
Below me, waves crashed into one another, the whole ocean adjusting to the absence of islands. Did Apolla see a difference in the empire? Did the other continents and islands around the world notice?
Just as the first dragon had said, the gods were gone. They’d held on, waiting until totality was almost over before vanishing. Maybe that was Darina’s doing; maybe the goddess of love knew how much I needed those last moments to take in the truth and absorb the magnitude of this sacrifice. I’d think about that later, if there was a later.
First I had to find my dragon.
I had to reach her, hold her, promise that I still loved her more than anything in the world. Before our connection was forever muted, I needed her to understand what she meant to me and how my heart would never heal from this.
The moons moved across the sun’s face, but there was still time. There was. If the gods hadn’t left until the instant the sun came back, then I had that long, too.
I touched my heart, pounding in time with the Drakontos celestus, and searched the sky for a tiny golden dragon. One among thousands.
When I reached, hundreds of dragons reached back. I could feel them all—titanuses, maiors, ignituses, and sols. A thousand smaller species sparked in my mind, their souls open in greeting, and for a moment I was stunned. Shocked. Overwhelmed by the number of dragons all turning their minds toward me.
They soared through the sky, roaring at the darkening sun, skimming through the water where the gods used to be. Others carried people still, circling as though lost without land to navigate by. And more just flew higher and higher, dropping back down when the air became too thin to breathe.
Oh, no.
They were trying to get to the stars. They were trying to get to their gods.
I ached for them, and maybe I should have stopped to explain how humans had ruined everything, but I couldn’t stop searching. LaLa was out there somewhere, and our time was short.
Through dragons’ eyes, I saw ships all across the water, packed tight with people clutching anything stable just to stay upright; the sea shifted madly beneath them, rolling with the loss of the islands. Water roared in grief, just as loud as the dragons.
Then I saw the fleet where I’d left Aaru and the others, sailing east like I’d ordered. Hristo and Ilina were hugging each other, both crying, while Mother and Zara stood at the rail and stared out at all the nothing. Gerel and Chenda struggled to create some kind of order out of the chaos, calling out instructions and working together like they’d been born for this day.
Aaru, too, was busy, tapping with Safa and the other Idrisi girls, but the silence was gone. The gods had taken their gifts up into the sky. Now great waves rolled unimpeded across the ocean, ready to swallow the ships whole.
Light shifted as the moons slipped across the sun; the first was almost gone, just a dark blot on the edge of a yellow crescent. And swiftly, that blot vanished, leaving only the second.
Finally, through the tangle of dragon minds—all their grief and shock and determination—I found LaLa. She and Crystal were nuzzling Kelsine, comforting their friend after all she’d been through, but when LaLa sensed me reaching for her, she didn’t hesitate. She shot into the air, flapping as hard as her tiny
wings would take her.
I surged toward her, my heart pounding wildly with hope. I’m coming, I thought. I’m coming.
My wings were huge, and I could fly faster than any other dragon on Noore. Even so, time was short, and no matter how I willed the space between us to fold and bring me to her sooner, the world wouldn’t move just because I asked.
Wings straining, lungs heaving, I flew for her, and she flew for me. I could feel her, pushing harder than she ever had in her life, just as determined to reach me in time.
Ocean rolled beneath, and the sky darkened around, but my heart was an arrow pointed straight for LaLa. Even as light squeezed around the second moon—long enough for me to make out ships in the distance—I strained my entire body, human and dragon, to get to her before the eclipse was finished.
Everything went dark.
I flew faster.
Even now, I could feel her pulling closer, her wings beating frantically, her heart racing. We could find each other in the dark, my precious dragon flower and me. We could.
“LaLa!” I called. There was only one last thing that mattered now, and that was holding her.
Light glowed on every horizon, shining off the edges of the angry ocean. Stars gleamed overhead, and the halo of sunlight shone around the moon again, eerie and awe-inspiring.
How long was totality?
How long did we have left?
A tiny cry sounded in the distance: LaLa.
Her voice pierced my heart, and we were close—so close—I could almost feel her in my arms. I could almost hear her throaty purr and smell the smoke on her breath.
I flew, sensing the weight of the moons overhead, and the sunlight beginning to bend around the curve, and this all-horizons dawn starting to shatter. There wasn’t enough time. There’d never been enough time, but I hadn’t listened to the first dragon’s warnings.
LaLa called out again, and a small burst of fire shone in the distance.
Moments. There were but moments before the sun returned. I had to do it now—now—but I hadn’t reached LaLa yet. I hadn’t said good-bye.