Dawn of the Dragons

by Sarah J. Stone

  “She'll bring everyone.”

  “Everyone?” Nathaniel asked in confusion. “Who’s everyone?”

  “Ah!” She winced in pain, and gripped his hand, closing her eyes. They had been through this before, but it seemed to be getting worse. Nathaniel had feared this would happen when all of her abilities came back at once.

  Can she die? Prada suddenly pushed into his brain.

  Yes, Nathaniel said in no uncertain terms. She can.

  Prada leaned her head back against the wall, closing her eyes.

  She had never wanted to save this girl before. She hated her, hated her for taking up Nathaniel's time and life.

  Nathaniel came to sit with her a few moments later, cautious as he always was.

  “What are you thinking, Prada?” he asked. “I know that look on your face.”

  Who is everyone? she asked, referring to Sienna's earlier statement. Nathaniel shrugged.

  I have no idea. Eliza controls a number of systems but nothing beyond there. Who else she would bring is beyond me. Although if Sienna dies tonight, Eliza will stop at nothing to…

  Death, the word rung in Prada's brain. She will bring death.

  Nathaniel paused for a moment and then his jaw fell open as he realized what Prada was suggesting.

  “Desmond,” he stood up, startling his Maestro. “I know why she's getting worse. She's resurrected someone, she's opened a portal.”

  “What?” Desmond asked, in alarm. He had been sitting off to the side, idly watching Sienna's vitals. “What are you talking about?”

  “That's the everyone she meant. If they flowed that much power into her, she'd have resurrection at the tip of her fingers. She didn't tell us because she knew that it would do to her, but I'm willing to bet she pushed a life out and brought it back. A portal will be open…”

  “An army of the dead,” Desmond said. “Which Eliza would bring.”

  “Our enemies don't stand a chance,” Nathaniel said, his chest heaving as he realized what had been done. “This is going to turn into a mass slaughter.”

  “And it may start here.” Desmond glanced down to Sienna, who was clearly in distress. “What would make her think that this was a good idea?”

  “I don't think she was thinking…” Nathaniel answered. “At least…not about herself. I think she was trying to help Devon…”

  “It’s a shot in the dark, to assume one resurrection will open that far of portal,” Desmond replied.

  “But any of us would take that shot in the dark,” Nathaniel said. “If it were…one that we cared about this much.”

  Maestro, Prada stood up. We have to warn them.

  It's unlikely that they will listen to us, Prada, Nathaniel thought softly. They just want us to fight for them, to get them Reconstruction

  Why can't we? she asked, with such strength that he thought she might have actually spoke. She stared him down, and he was reminded how different she was from Sienna, how strong she could be. Why can't we plead their case?

  Prada, they are killers.

  “THEY AREN'T!” The words came rolling out of her mouth, thundering through the room. Desmond raised an eyebrow, but he said nothing, knowing that acknowledging might be enough to send her back into her shell.

  Nathaniel straightened his shoulders, watching her.

  “Why aren't they, Prada?” he asked carefully. She opened and closed her mouth like a fish, and he waited patiently

  In his patience, Desmond felt so proud of him. He had taught his Tiro patience, and calm, even in the stormy world they lived in.

  “You're safe,” Nathaniel said. “You're safe here.”

  “They are witches too, Nathaniel,” Prada said. “You have influence with the Jurors. We have a chance to plead their case rather than it ending in a slaughter. If we enter this war, everyone loses.”

  “Will you fight with me?” he asked her. “At my side, with the Jurors? Will you help plead this case, then, to end this battle?”

  She paused, and then nodded.

  “Good,” he said. “I'm proud of you, Tiro.”

  “Mm,” the amount of words she had said seemed to have been enough, and she clammed up, her palms shaking.

  It was the first time in years she had spoken in front of someone beside Nathaniel, and it made her feel sick.

  But it wasn't as bad as she thought it would be. She had nightmares about speaking in public, about instant death the moment she made a sound.

  But to her surprise, she didn't die. She was also surprised that she wanted to defend them as much as she did.

  Prada had heard of Stockholm Syndrome, but this was entirely different.

  It was as if her entire world was different. And she had never wanted anything to be different until she saw the power these witches had. Suddenly, her perception on everything and everyone was different than what she was brought up with.

  She had been jealous of Sienna, and she didn't have to be. She was strong, and she could be stronger than her. She had always felt out of place and she thought her place was with Nathaniel. But now she realized he was only the key to where she might actually belong.

  He had always discouraged her power, they all had. She was encouraged to control her power, to look at other avenues besides fighting.

  She was built to fight, some people were.

  They didn't talk much on Dramoon. They didn't communicate with words, or emotions. They used their magic, exactly where she was comfortable.

  She hadn't realized she ever wanted to be away from this place, until she saw another door.

  “We might have another worry on our hands.” Desmond bent down to check Sienna's vitals. “She needs a proper med bay, and no doubt they will keep us here.”

  Unless we offer a trade, Prada thought. Offer them me, that I will join them if they save her.

  “Prada,” Nathaniel looked up in shock. “That's dangerous.”

  “Not if I mean it,” she responded, meeting his eyes.

  There was a long silence in the room. Nathaniel reached out to grab her hand.

  “Are you sure?” he asked, knowing what it meant to be asking. She was suggesting leaving him, of fighting for a side that they thought was evil up until a day ago. “Because if we put you in that situation, we may not be able to remove you from it.”

  “I know,” she grasped her hands shut so they wouldn't shake. “I know.”

  Nathaniel glanced at Desmond, who gave him the slightest nod.

  Nathaniel expected to feel shock, anger, and pain at her announcement.

  But he felt relieved, like this was the correct path.

  Different path, the words rang in his mind. He had never walked the same path as anyone else, not from the moment Desmond started training him.

  There was nothing wrong with walking a different path. But now, they had to walk it.

  “All right,” he said carefully. “Go ask for a medic. You can do it, Prada, you can talk to them.”

  She nodded, although five minutes ago, she wasn't sure she could.

  But every step toward the door filled her with a bit more courage, and a bit more strength.

  Chapter 13

  It only took her a few moments to find a Dramoonian guard. Prada knew that they wouldn't understand her, but she decided to push her magic and see if she could reach into their minds instead. It was high magic, and normally Tiros could only talk to their Maestros.

  But Prada knew she wasn't a normal Tiro.

  We need medical help, or Sienna will die, she thought. Please, she will be useless to you otherwise.

  Sienna is no longer of interest to us, the guard answered, shaking his head.

  If she dies…I will not assist you. Prada thought, trying not go into a full blown panic attack. This caught the guards attention. And I would like to assist you, always.

  It took her a very long time to get the conversation out. The guard took her to the leader, the captain, and back again. Prada felt like she might pass out on the floor
at some point, but she stayed focused. And every time one of them flared up with magic, she flared up as well, matching them.

  It was the only time she had ever felt like she belonged. Her use of magic was considered out of control in the original Academy But here, they acted like it was completely normal.

  The more she talked to them, the more she realized that she had found her place. It seemed so mind blowing, and yet so natural.

  They agreed to take Sienna to the med bay. But Prada wasn't allowed to see her, to be with them. She had to stay out. They didn't trust her. They didn't know yet what she was capable of. Nathaniel straddled the line, talking to her outside in the hallway.

  She is better?

  “She at least has help,” Nathaniel said, leaning against the wall. “But she shouldn't have taken the risk. There were so many other ways she could have helped.”

  Will the Jurors listen?

  “What choice do they have?” he asked. “Be brave, little one.”

  He had never called her that before, and Prada's head turned up.

  “There is another answer,” he said. “To you leaving to work with them.”

  “Mm?” Prada made a noise in her throat, watching him.

  “You can take the tests. Then, you choice of work will be within your hands. You can help them, you can be assigned to them. It can be your whole life's work, if you choose.”

  Prada choked on that.

  You want me to take the tests? But I'm..

  He had been older than most when he took the tests, and Sienna never did. She had nothing to compare herself to in her immediate circle. Her friends in her classes, had not begun to bridge taking the tests.

  “You are young, yes,” he said. “But you wouldn't be the youngest. It isn't about age, Prada, it's about readiness, strength, maturity. And what you have suggested here today, tells me you are ready.”

  You just don't want another one to not take the tests, her old anger flared up.

  “Your success is not dependent on what happened to Sienna,” he said. “You are your own person. You can do this. I believe in you.”

  She held his gaze, watching. Her Maestro had put up with so much, had been through so much in his life. He was frustrated often, but he was also patient and kind. And there was no one else who would have taken her on, she knew that. Nathaniel had not had an easy time as a Maestro.

  What else do you believe, Maestro? she asked, her bond to his mind strengthening every moment.

  She knew what he was thinking.

  He sighed.

  “If we get through this and you choose to stay, I will wait you out. But I've been thinking about how we talked of different paths…and maybe a different path is right for me.”

  With Eliza? she asked.

  With Eliza, he confirmed, If she'll have me. But not before you are ready, Prada. You are my duty, my legacy. The only one.

  Her eyes lit up at that.

  “I can do this,” she said, even though she wasn't sure that she could. Her voice made him smile.

  “Prada…” he chose his words carefully. “Despite their power, they are still different, in their views.”

  I know, she returned to their bond. I know. But I'm more powerful than all of them.

  “That you are,” he said softly, thinking in more ways than one. “That you are.”

  I will talk to them more, she said and he nodded.

  “Go,” he said. “Tell them that she is no better, no worse. That she will have a long recovery.”

  They wanted he,r too, Prada revealed. Her power could aid them.

  She can aid no one like this, Nathaniel thought. “Only you can.”

  Prada nodded and disappeared down the hallway. Nathaniel watched her go for a moment before ducking back into the med bay.

  “Did I just hear right?” Desmond asked, as Nathaniel returned. His former Tiro looked down.

  “What did you hear?”

  “You are giving up the Order?”

  “I—” Nathaniel sighed. “I've been struggling with this for a while. Not just with Prada, but with what I wanted, where I was best suited, where I could serve Nature best. I was only ever a warrior, Desmond. I wasn't a diplomat like you, I wasn't a translator, or a pilot. And I'm not the best Maestro.”

  “You were given very difficult Tiros,” Desmond said. “ And you did a phenomenal job of both of them, given the situation.”

  “But it may be that I have a different path,” Nathaniel said. “That I want a different path. And that this is Prada's path, this is what she was created to do, I think. She was not created by Nature to be this powerful without a reason and this could be it, to unite these two factions.”

  “Is that what Nature is telling you?”

  “I think,” Nathaniel said, meeting his former Maestro's eyes. “I think this is her purpose and if she can unite them with the power like they have, and the mind we have brought her up to have… it could be possible. Prada could do that…I just wonder…”

  “Hmm?” Desmond asked.

  “I wonder whether Sienna had the same purpose, and it went wrong. So Nature gave us Prada, a second chance. And it was under our care, as if it was all a plan.”

  “As if Nature had figured things out,” Desmond smiled. Nathaniel snorted.

  “I suppose so,” he said. “I suppose so. Anyways.” He leaned onto his elbows, against the edge of the bed. “This takes me back.”

  “Do you remember when she was a child?” Desmond asked. “How often we'd stand here, in this same position?”

  “I felt like I was a broken record,” Nathaniel said. “I only have three things I could say, over and over again. Eat your food, put on a sweater, go to sleep.”

  Desmond laughed.

  “I remember that,” he said. “I think you spent five years with those words on loop.”

  “Thanks,” Nathaniel answered, as one of Sienna's monitors beeped. He hit the button to reset it, as if on autopilot. “Creator, I hate this. I can't watch her go through this. She was so close to having a normal life, and if Devon is gone from her, then…”

  “Will Prada help?”

  “It's possible,” Nathaniel said. “But we have to survive this first.”

  By the time they landed, Nathaniel could feel the magic practically seeping through the walls. He knew that Eliza's forces were there, he knew that the Academy was on high alert, and he could feel magical signatures that felt odd.

  The dead. The dead that Sienna had returned to life through the portal were lingering. Some from Jeffro, some from the Academy, every possible portal that she could access.

  If she wasn't hanging between life and death, Nathaniel would have been proud of her. She would have been the witch that brought balance, but Nature had another plan for her.

  There was a commotion outside, and Nathaniel barely moved, listening to the voices.

  “I don't need to know the language to know what they are screaming about,” he said. “They have just realized they are outnumbered.”

  “And so it begins,” Desmond said. “Except you and I are now on the other side of a battle we thought we'd never see.”

  Nathaniel took a deep breath, closing his eyes.

  Everything that he had learned, everything that he had taught Prada was now called into question. He could only hope that he had done right. He had taken the tests so many years ago, but this felt like the ultimate test for a witch.

  Prada was standing at the doorway to the gangplank, in between two Dramoonian leaders, armed with magic flowing through their bodies. She had her magic working through her fingers, and everyone knew that she was the most powerful one of all. As the gangplank lowered and Thomas saw Prada standing there, he took a step back.

  He had seen what damage this girl had done to the school, when she was out of control. Where was Nathaniel? Where was her control?

  Prada took a deep breath, looking down upon the crowd that had gathered.

  Eliza's Jeffro forces were in the bac
kground, and Prada could see beyond them, a mess of confused looking witches. These were those Sienna had raised, opened the portal for.

  “Prada,” said Thomas, as she approached. “Are you held hostage?”

  She swallowed, wishing Nathaniel was here. But in this moment, she had to stand alone.

  These were her people. It didn't matter whether they came from the same planet, the same race. They had the same magic, they had the same power.

  She shook her head, drawing up on courage to try and speak.

  “Where is Nathaniel?”

  “These—” her voice trembled. Everyone was shocked to hear her speak. “These witches want nothing more but recognition from the Jurors. They are like me.”

  “You will release Nathaniel and Sienna.” Eliza pushed her way to the front of the crowd. “Or we will attack with such fury…”

  We are outnumbered, she heard the Dramoonian leader beside her. Who are they?

  They are the dead. Prada turned to him. Sienna raised the dead when you forced her magic.

  You can do that, came the response.

  I can protect you, Prada responded I can protect you or we will face certain death. We are warrior, but we are not wanting death.

  There was silence in her head, and then she moved forward.

  “They are witches ,too,” she cried out to the Jurors, who were tensed. “Peace, not war. Warriors, not killers. Dramoon is not what you think.”

  She was shaking, terrified. But she kept talking. Prada felt like each step she took, she was getting braver. She was created for this purpose. She knew that now.

  She just hoped that she lived through it.

  There was the longest silence she had ever known, in which they stared each other down.

  All eyes were on Prada before long. She could take all of them down if she wanted – if she was angry enough.

  But it was clear she wanted peace.

  At last, Thomas took a deep breath. “We are happy to talk, if you are. For the first time, we are happy to recognize Dramoonian forces within the Jurors chambers. We are happy to try and reach an agreement.”

  “Only if…” The Dramoonian leader surprised Prada by speaking, slow, thought out basic. “Only if Prada remains with us. She is one of us.”

  “I will,” Prada assured them. “But there are conditions”