Frozen

They all said the same thing . . .

You have returned to us.

Bless you . . . bless the drakon . . . bless its rider.

The voice had stopped speaking to her after the death of the white bird. The wailer had been grieving. The wailer was the drakon.

She was not alone. Never alone.

I have been searching for you, but now it is you who must come to me. Journey to the Blue. The Haven needs you.

It is time we are one.

Don’t resist your power. You have to accept who you are, Wes had told her.

She was part of the drakon. She was its familiar, its shadow. When the ice came, the universe was split in two, so that when the drakon was born sixteen years ago, it was split as well, its soul born on the other side of the doorway. The drakon had been looking for her ever since.

She had no heart.

Because she was the drakon’s heart, the drakon’s soul. She and the monster were one and the same. Torn from the other, lost, alone, and only complete, together.

She walked out to the deck, watched as the navy made its way toward the green island that held the doorway to the other world. This was why she had journeyed to the Blue, because the Blue needed her as much as she needed it.

“Nat—what are you doing?” Wes asked, running out to the deck where she stood by the railing, her arms outstretched. “You’re going to get killed!”

She stepped away from him, as she felt her power surge within her, wild and free, unchained; she let it wash over her, let it cover every part of her body and her soul, felt its fury and its delight at being unleashed. She did not cower from it, she did not hide from it, she let it run over her, take over her spirit, she accepted the force of its magnitude.

It scared and exhilarated her.

The awesome power within her, that had kept her alive, that kept her safe.

She was a drakonrydder. A protector of Vallonis. They had kept the land safe for centuries upon centuries. She was the catalyst for destruction. She had been preparing for this all of her life.

She knew now why she had given the stone to Avo, and in turn to his commanders.

She was drawing the RSA to the doorway, drawing its entire fleet there, its entire might to one location, so that she could destroy it. Her dreams had prepared her for exactly this moment. Everything in her life had led up to this, so that she could answer the call, could perform her duty when the time came.

Fire and pain.

Rage and ruin.

Wrath and revenge.

Valleys full of ash and cinder.

Destruction.

Death.

She had brought the war here, had brought the war to the edges of the earth, to rain vengeance on her enemies, to protect her home. This was what she was made for, this was her purpose, her calling.

She turned to Wes and blinked back angry, happy tears. “I know what I have to do now. You were right, Wes, I can fix this thing.”

Then Nat raised her arms to the sky and called for her drakon.

49

DRAKON MAINAS, ANSWER MY CALL. HEED MY WORD.

ARISE FROM THE DEEP AND VANQUISH OUR ENEMIES!

Nat was the drakon, she was its heart and soul, she was its master and its rider.

The sea parted, and a blackened creature rose to the surface. Its skin was the dull color of coal, rippling and studded with spikes. Its eyes were the same shade of green and gold as Nat’s, the pale green of summer grass, the gold of a bright new morning, and it carried the mark of the flame on its breast, the same one that was on her skin. Its massive wings fluttered and folded, a curtain, an umbrella. It was huge, almost as large as a ship, a wonder to behold, terrifying and beautiful.

“DRAKON MAINAS!”

“ANASTASIA DEKESTHALIAS,” he rumbled.

Her real name. Her immortal name that had come to her in a dream. Natasha Kestal was Anastasia Dekesthalias. Resurrection of the Flame. Heart of Dread. Heart of the Drakon.

The creature fixed upon Nat and Nat felt something inside her transform, as if she were opening her eyes for the first time. The world around her grew brighter, and the smallest sound resonated in her ears. Even her mind seemed to expand. She stared into the creature’s eyes and in a flash, the two of them were linked.

Nat’s chest burned; she could hardly think as a new and intense pain washed over her body.

What was it?

Fire. She was breathing fire.

She was made of fire, of ashes and smoke and blood and crystal.

She was burning, burning.

Nat could see everything the drakon saw, felt everything it felt, sensed its anger and its rage.

The drakon rose into the air and the sky exploded with gunfire and missiles as the ships targeted this new enemy, but the drakon was faster and flew higher.

Destroy them! Vanquish our foes! Rain death upon our enemies!

The drakon roared. It zeroed in on the smaller ships first, pounding their hulls, tilting them against the waves and rolling the men into the water. Its powerful wings sent tsunami-like splashes of toxic water onto the ships’ decks. The drakon used the black ocean as a weapon. The frigates swayed and bobbed, and soon toppled over. The black ocean became thick with smoke.

Nat watched as the drakon dove beneath the dark water, disappearing into the depths only to emerge a moment later beneath one of the ships—lifting it up above the waves and breaking it in half as if it were a child’s toy. With a mighty screech, it grasped another ship and tossed it high into the air. When it fell, it slammed it into another boat, sinking them both.

The surviving soldiers beat a retreat into their lifeboats, and other ships begin to follow.

We’ve won, Nat thought, as the armada scattered and ships began to turn away from the green island. But a fresh volley of gunfire exploded from the two massive supercarriers. Their guns fired in elaborate patterns, guided by computers that tracked, plotted, and anticipated the creature’s course as it dove and wound through the sky.

Hide, hide, Nat sent urgently, and the drakon rose upward, its ashen underbelly blending with the dark clouds. But the gunfire continued its relentless rhythm. Red and orange flares sparked through the smoke.

The drakon was nowhere to be seen.

Nat panicked until the creature reemerged. The clouds disappeared into steam as flames shot down from the sky, dissolving the fog like mist meeting the morning sun. The drakon’s fire lit the dark ocean with a light that the black water had not seen in a hundred years.

Its flame as bright-white as day, its wings tucked behind its back, the drakon descended like a bomb towards the middle of the nearest destroyer. Its fire engulfed the ship, and the air reeked of burnt plastic and molten steel. The ship collapsed into the waves, its hull crumpling like twigs before flame.

Another supercarrier released an array of missiles directly at the drakon. The creature rolled away, but the