The sun had begun its slow descent, painting the sky in shades of gold and crimson as Serelyth and the small fleet of dragons cut across the skies. The flying ships ahead moved at steady pace, sails glowing in the twilight, but it was the dragons who truly owned the heavens. Their cries echoed against the mountains, a chorus of freedom and power.
Lira held firmly to the reins, her body moving instinctively with Serelyth's powerful wingbeats. The bond between them had grown so natural that she barely needed words—just the pulse of emotion, a flicker of thought, and Serelyth responded. Each tilt of her wings, each rise and dive, matched Lira's will as though rider and dragon were one being.
Patricia flew beside them on her copper dragon, grinning wide, her hair whipping around her face as she shouted over the wind:
"Lira, look at them! The hatchlings are learning mid-flight!"
