Dragons Reborn by Daniel Arenson

parents were murdered. My sister is still captive. I'm a
refugee, escaped from prison, and the Temple is burning the world to find me.
    Cade
did not know how to process such destruction, such a collapse of his life. He
was only a baker! The only problem he had ever faced was a collapsing loaf of
bread, not a collapsing world. He was used to fire crackling inside his oven,
not spreading across sky and forest.
    So
many dead or missing. His eyes burned. My sister. My parents. Korvin.
Amity. Fidelity and Roen.
    His
breath shuddered, and his chest felt so tight it almost crushed his lungs. He
turned his head and looked at Domi, seeking some comfort.
    She
looked back at him, her eyes large and green. The firelight from below gleamed
against her scales. She seemed like a flame herself, airborne, living fire. As
he had so many times since his home had burned—in the darkness, in chains, in
desolation—he thought about the time she had embraced him, whispered "Requiem"
in his ear. Domi had first borne Mercy into his life, had tossed that life into
a maelstrom, yet now, looking at Domi, Cade felt his anxiety fade. Domi had
sparked this flame, yet now she soothed him. Now he saw goodness to her, the
light of a fallen kingdom in her eyes. The Draco constellation shone above her,
and as they flew, it seemed to Cade that the two dragons—the living Domi and
the celestial dragon woven of starlight—were but echoes of each other. She was
starlight woven into flame. She was Requiem risen in the darkness.
    When
Cade looked behind him, he saw the firedrakes in the distance, still dipping
down to burn more trees. Ahead stretched the southern darkness. The two dragons
kept flying until the smoke cleared below, until they left the fire behind.
They glided down to fly lower in the sky, then finally landed in a field of
grass.
    Here
they shifted into human forms. The fire was only an orange glow on the northern
horizon, and the song of crickets and rustling grass filled the night.
    "Domi,"
Cade said, turning to look at her. She stood before him, the grass rising to
her knees. "Oh, Domi, I don't know how this all happened. But thank you.
Thank you."
    She
only stared at him silently, then bit her lip and looked down at her feet. "Don't
thank me. I served the Temple. I served our enemy."
    He
took her hands in his. "And you fought against them. You saved me from the
dungeon."
    A
tear streamed down Domi's cheek. "But I couldn't save your baby sister;
Eliana is still a captive in the Temple. I couldn't stop Mercy from burning
your village, killing your parents."
    Cade
felt a lump in his throat. He wanted to tell Domi what he had learned in the
Temple, that Beatrix was his mother, that Mercy was his true sister. He wanted
to tell her about Korvin falling, Amity burning. He wanted to tell her about
all the pain of the past few months, but he could bring none of it to his lips.
So he just stared into those large green eyes, and then he embraced her.
    She laid her head against his shoulder and wrapped her arms around him.
They stood for a long time together in the night, holding each other, and she
was warm and slender and eased his fear.
    "Requiem,"
he whispered into her ear.
    She
nodded. "Requiem."
    The
world was burning, all its pillars crashing to the ground, but he had Domi
again. They lay down to sleep in the grass, and she curled up against him. Cade
held her close, never wanting to let go, and slept with her soft breath against
his neck.

 
 
GEMINI

    He pounded
against the prison cell bars.
    "Let
me out, damn it! Domi! Mercy! Guards!" His chains rattled as he slammed
against the bars again and again. "I am Gemini Deus, paladin of the
Commonwealth! I demand that you release me!"
    Nobody
but the other prisoners answered, cackling, screaming, whispering, mocking, the
voices of broken souls, their bodies and minds shattered. He could see no guards,
no priests. Gemini slumped to the floor, chains rattling.
    "Domi
. . .," he whispered, tears in his