Seraphina Frostscale's Arc

Chapter 7 of 11

The crater was sealed, but the poisoned north still bled its stale, dead cold. Seraphina rode the black winged cat toward the ice queen's den. Draven sat behind her. Valxara flew beside them, her dark wings slow. Seraphina had mastered the shift on land and in air. But she had never held dragon form long. If the beast tired her out mid-flight, it would take the reins back. She needed to learn endurance, and only one place was cold enough to teach it. The den rose from the snow ahead. Frost coated its stone walls. Ice spikes jutted from every ledge. Glaciana Frostborne stepped out to meet them. The ice dragon queen had taught Seraphina to grip the beast through feeling instead of fear. Now the queen studied her student with pale blue eyes. "You want to hold the form," Glaciana said. "Not just wear it." "I can't fly far," Seraphina said. "The beast wears me down and pulls me back." "Then shift," Glaciana said. "And do not let go." Seraphina lifted the pendant at her neck. The center stone woke. Light ran down her arm. Her scales spread. Bone stretched. Wings tore from her back. She rose into the freezing air and climbed above the den. At first she held. Then the beast surged. It clawed up through her chest and dug at her grip. Her wings faltered. She dropped a length before catching the air again. "Draven," she called down. "Here," he said. He stood on the snow, watching. His steady voice was her anchor. She fixed on it and pushed the beast back. But the effort drained her. Her fire ran low. The beast pressed again, harder, and this time her hold cracked. Her wings locked. She began to fall. Glaciana's voice cut through the wind. "The pendant. Finish it. Wake the light inside you." Seraphina had never dared. She gripped the pendant with one claw and poured her will into it. The stone blazed. Ancient magic answered from deep in her blood, light and cleansing, sealed away since her birth. It rushed up and met the beast. It did not fight the beast. It cooled it, the way ice cools fire, and made it hers. The clawing stopped. Her wings caught. She hung steady in the cold air. She flew a slow circle over the den. Then another. The beast stayed quiet under her. She held the form as long as she wished, and her fire did not fade. When she landed, Draven caught her arm. Valxara watched from the ridge, still and grim. "You held it," Glaciana said. "The light is awake now. It will not sleep again." Seraphina looked at her hands as her scales drew back. She could hold the shift now, for as long as she needed. But the woken light burned in her chest like a second heartbeat, and she did not yet know how to shut it off.