Every morning at dawn, the sky catches fire.

It isn’t the work of dragons—thankfully—but the amber incandescence of a new day, reaching out over the valley with warm ribbons of light.

There isn’t much in terms of beauty here in Valles. Not with the walls that cut us off from the rest of the world. So every morning, I lie in the grass, watching the twin suns rise—one from the East and one from the West. They crop up slowly over Eldryst Peaks and Celestian Spire—two formidable mountains that face one another from across miles of land. The sun conquers them every morning, casting a gilded breath on the land below.

It’s like magic each time I see it, and every single time, I imagine what it would be like to reach out and feel that shimmering, golden warmth. But the sun doesn’t quite touch Valles the same way. Our walls are too tall, too imposing.

I wonder what it would be like to scale them freely. To see the world outside without fear of what might lurk around every corner. To bask in the glow of the morning sun the moment it kisses the earth.

All I can do from here is watch as the sun breaks through the morning fog. As it casts long, streaking rays down onto the fields below.

All I can do is imagine a world outside of Valles.

I’m admiring the hue today—an incandescent lavender—when something dark shadows the clouds above. It moves like a ripple of smoke, growing larger and larger as it passes through the gray, pearly shrouds.

It moves the way a ship moves over water, steady and buoyant. An implacable force, unstoppable in its nature.

A dragon.

I watch as it passes over me, cutting through the winds above with grace and skill. It veers past flocks of birds, dipping through the canopy of clouds, nothing but a dark, undefined shape from below.

I find myself sitting up, amazed by the sheer size of it. I wonder what it could be. Its silhouette is reminiscent of Draco Ignatia, but surely it’s not the right size. Could it be an Aquaria, on her way to the sea?

The beauty of its form calls to me like a siren’s song, and I feel my heartbeat answer. My pulse quickens with excitement at the thought of it. And then it breaks the clouds.

All of its fine, sharp edges come into view; its long, serpent-like body, its wings, wide and full like the sails of a boat, beating in unison against the wind gales. It’s hard to gauge the size from here. Is it a moderately sized dragon, like the ones back in the stables? Or is it large and distant?

I can only stare in awe and wonder what it must be like to ride one. To tear through the wind, thousands of feet above. To stare down at the world and all its delicate, moving parts. A world I have only seen from the ground. A world I only know from within these walls.

Stop it, Arla, I tell myself. That kind of thinking can only lead to trouble. Or worse.

Dragon riding is forbidden, after all. But I can’t help myself when I see one, elegantly sailing the air above. I can’t stop myself from imagining a world above the clouds, on the back of a Great Dragon.

To this day, I have never seen the Great Dragons. I’ve heard of them, of course—read about them in my father’s books. And if one were to show itself, it would be stupid to even try. No, not just foolish—fatal. But I can’t help the thought. I can’t help the appreciation for its beauty. I can’t help but love the creatures everyone else in this place seems to fear the most.

Someday.

Someday I’ll be a true Dragon Master. Someday.

“Daydreaming again, Arla?”

Darian eclipses my view of the dragon above. He stands over me, haloed in the light of the morning sun. A whip hangs limp from his belt, his shoulders broad and strong in his uniform, his silhouette growing larger by the day.

The sun misses everything in the valley, but it somehow manages to bless the grin on Darian’s face. His smile’s a dazzling glow in the golden light, conflicting brightly with the dark stubble on his chin.

A flurry of moths flutter around in my stomach, and I look away so he cannot see the heat that has tinted my cheeks.

How could it be possible that I’ve known Darian for years—since the very day he joined the rangers—and yet, I still light up like a candle when I see him?

Thankfully, he doesn’t catch sight of it. He’s taken notice of the gargantuan dragon, soaring through the clouds above. Darian reaches for his whip but does not grip the handle.

He knows just as well as I do that dragons are dangerous—even if the species has been tamed. There is a reason the laws regarding dragons are so strict in these parts.

Squinting at the marvel above, Darian’s hand eases away from the whip. “Just a delivery Venari on its way to the village,” he explains.

My heart wilts a little as I watch the large cargo dragon sweep by. “I really thought…hoped…”

“I know,” Darian says. “You thought it was an Ignatia.” He takes in a crisp breath of morning air and squints at me past the glaring sunrise. “You should be happy it’s not. If it was, we’d both be toast. Quite literally.”

He offers a hand and heaves me to my feet like I’m nothing but feathers. I haven’t missed over the years how large his arms have grown. Nor how easily he slings me around these days.

“Still dreaming of riding one, are you?” he asks, a precarious dance in his voice.

“And what’s wrong with that? My father is the village’s Dragon Master, and someday, I will be too.”

“Well…” Darian says with a long drawl of consideration. “I guess if anyone has the ability to train them, it would be you.”

I feel myself grinning widely at him. “Maybe I’ll prove everyone wrong one day. Maybe…maybe I’ll find a Great Dragon. And I’ll ride it off into the sunset.”

Darian cracks a smirk at my delusion, but before he can say a word, a screech hacks through the air. I feel the ripple of wind from her fast-batting wings as a small dragon lands like a cat on my shoulder. “Hello, Droplet,” I say, giving the beast a gentle pet.

Darian takes an uneasy step backward. “Yeah, probably right that you stick to the small ones. Like…like your little pet.”

Of course, Darian won’t make even an effort at saying Droplet’s name. Naming dragons the way I’ve named Droplet makes rangers like Darian uncomfortable. Makes everyone uncomfortable, it seems. I’m not supposed to do it. We both know that.

“Well, there are chores to be done,” I say, making my start toward the village. “Are you going to walk me to the stables, or not?”

Darian gives me a small smile and gestures on ahead. He walks with me—though keeping distance from Droplet—and we make our way up the field, toward the sleepy heart of the slow-waking village.

As we arrive, the air around Darian turns troublesome. He gives me a slight nod at the noisy stables and says, “I think I’ll catch up with you later. I, uh…have patrol soon.”

His hesitance to enter the stables comes as no surprise to me. It’s Darian’s job to be reserved around dragons. I can’t blame him for fearing the very things he’s trained to defend our village from.

I watch him go with a smile and turn back toward the stables. I step into the scattered straw and the smell of unclean pens and find my father kneeling beside a Venari Solis dragon—the only kind allowed in the village. He’s speaking calmly, but there’s something wrong. He doesn’t even seem to notice I’ve arrived.

I kneel beside him and take a look at Solie—though I’d never dare call him that when others are around. He’s a dragon of particular beauty, his scales sheening like opal stones, or the glinting ribbons of the northern sky lights. He was bred to look this way by my father, a unique Venari Solis. The size of a large horse and twice as powerful. I reach out to touch his snout, but Solie grunts a gust of hot air through his snout and snaps at me.

I throw myself back, landing on my backside to avoid his dagger-sized teeth. My father is fast to bring out his whip and snap a warning at the beast. “What is wrong with you?” he glowers, raising his whip again in threat. “Down! Now!”

He does not strike Solie again, but he’s ready to. Solie obeys, reluctantly lowering his head to the ground.

With a troubled expression, Papa turns to me. “Something is upsetting the dragons lately. This isn’t the first time I’ve seen one react this way.”

An unsettling feeling tugs in my stomach. I cannot take my eyes from the whip. I would be upset too, if he were whacking me with that thing all day.

Though my father has a great appreciation for dragons, his methods are not my own. I have long believed there must be a better way to train the creatures. But to utter such things in front of my father—or anyone else in this place for that matter—would be utter insanity.

Certain that Solie will not attempt to strike again, my father relaxes his guard. He dusts the straw from his knees and heaves a great sigh. “I’ll have to take him outside the walls. Patrols always make the dragons antsy, and there have been plenty around these parts today. Perhaps that’s why he’s acting out. It would be wise to take a trip outside the gates, anyway. There has been word of a two-headed basilisk spotted in the area. It’s as I always say, Arla—”

“I know,” I drawl. “Dragons are not our friends. They only respect strength and force.”

“Exactly,” Papa says.

I frown, biting back the will to ask if he has ever tried anything other than force, and concede instead, wrapping him in a tight hug. “Be careful,” I tell him.

“Saying that is my job,” Papa says with a smile.

I let go and step back, watching as he lifts Solie’s reins and the two head out for the wall.

Then I feel it. That palpable anxiety. The fear that he might not come back. But I suppose that’s the nature of being a Dragon Master. When my time comes, he’ll worry for me, too.

With Papa gone, I start on my chores, cleaning out the old straw and replacing it with fresh silage. Despite his warnings, I greet the other dragons by the names I’ve given them. I’ve come to know each one by their personalities, their habits, and their markings.

And they’ve come to know me as the one who feeds them.

The dragons croon as I drop a slab of fresh meat into each stall, finally beginning to feel the knot in my chest relax. At least Darian and the other rangers will be there to protect him.

By the time I clear all the pens, I’m sweating like a pig. My stomach is gnawing for breakfast, and I’m desperate for a warm bath. I start to make my way out of the stables when a raucous bell alarms through the village.

The sound sends my heart slamming against my ribs.

I rush out of the stables to the frenzy outside. The streets are swarmed with men, moving swiftly toward the town gates.

“Hurry!’ a voice shouts from among the swarm. “A dragon is attacking the patrol!”