Extraits

Once the ceremony was over, Rickard watched as Rowen shifted into the most beautiful and glorious white and scarlet dragon. Everything about her was perfect. Her wing span, her delicate neck, her shimmering scales, and her silver eyes.

If only he knew how emotional the sensation of being free to fly in the air was for her. She'd spent countless hours trying to shift into her Dragon form, to no avail. After years of trying, she'd given up and forgotten her dream to be a true Dragon.

Her dream had come true. She could manipulate fire. She could fly. Now, she wondered what else she could do.

The Red Dragon gained speed and flew beside her, and vivid image of it picking her up from the ground returned.

Then, there was the world beloved that came from his lips. What did he mean by that?

Rowen now remembered. That one word made her lose control and shift into a dragon again.

Now, how to change back?

CHAPTER 1

The gods were not on his side on this day. White cords of lightning stretched across the darkening sky as Rickard fought the gusty winds of the Wastelands in a feeble attempt to catch up to the Red Dragon. A roar emerged from his gut and out of his mouth, sending flames into the air. Full of anguish and pain, it seemed to rumble the ground below. Still, it was to no avail.

The Red Dragon had Rowen, and he was too fast, too strong, and more powerful than any Dragon Rickard had ever fought.

As Rickard watched her be swept away by the Red Dragon, his mind raced. Defeated, Rickard hovered in the air and tried to follow them with his eyes as they vanished into the gray storm clouds.

No.

Rowen slipped from his fingers. Nothing about this day was good. Not one bit.

The pain that burned in his chest was nearly debilitating. There was no way he could chase after them—not with the injury he’d suffered at the Dragon’s sharp red talon. So, helpless, and with frustration overwhelming every emotion, he was forced to let her be taken.

The prophecy never said it would happen like this. There were too many factors he didn’t account for. Perhaps all would be well—maybe this was as it should be.

He could only hope. He wasn’t one to leave his fate in the hands of anyone but his own.

Then, he remembered something—perhaps the only thing that could help him save her.

The map.

He flew to the dusty burnt-orange dirt that spread across the entire valley of the Wastelands. With arms wings outstretched, he shifted back into his human form and despite the gash at his side, landed with grace.

He spat blood onto the ground and wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve. The once stunning mermaid looked more like a beggar woman as her dark skin had dried out to a texture similar to parchment. She and the young human man stood near his dear old foe. A foe who never even knew they were in a race for the same treasure.

“Captain Elian Westin,” Rickard said, crossing the distance between the two. Blond hair and bright gray eyes. He was Rowen’s father all right. They even shared the same complexion, which was fairer than any Dragon in Withrae.

He would have never believed that the two were bound by blood if Nimah hadn’t told him. He still grappled with that fact and had yet to make sense of it. The pirate was connected to this prophecy somehow. He just couldn’t figure out how exactly.

Not yet.

The mermaid lifted her sword to him, rushing forward with a feral growl and fire in her fierce green eyes. He shot her a glare, and pushed her aside with one arm. She stumbled backward and landed on her bottom. The young man glanced down at her, held his hands up in surrender, and stepped away.

Smart lad.

Rickard stood a few inches taller than Elian, and with one hand, and the strength of his Dragon blood and that of his ancestors, he lifted the older man by his collar and narrowed his eyes. What he saw within those gray eyes that mimicked the sky before a storm was shocking, almost enough to make him lower the pirate back to the ground and leave him be.

There was such pain and torment in his eyes. Not just physical. Something deeper was buried in the human man’s heart. Not only did he look older since the last time he’d seen him, but Elian was weaker.

Visibly so.