From Storms to Thrones (Part 1)

Chapter 18: Carving Her Own Path

Rhaenyra directed Syrax towards the island, and the Cannibal followed without hesitation. As we neared the cliffs, I could see the details more clearly—the rough texture of the rocks, the way the trees clung to the edge of the precipice, their roots digging into the stone for stability. The island was both beautiful and intimidating, a wild place that seemed untouched by time or human hands.

We descended towards one of the cliffsides, a flat area near the edge that looked just wide enough to accommodate the dragons. Rhaenyra guided Syrax down with practiced ease, the dragon's wings slowing their beat as she prepared to land. I braced myself as the Cannibal followed suit, his massive form casting a long shadow over the cliff as he approached.

The landing was surprisingly gentle, considering the size and power of the dragon beneath me. The Cannibal touched down with a thud that reverberated through my body, but the war belt held me firmly in place. I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding, grateful to be back on solid ground—even if that ground was a precarious cliffside hundreds of feet above the ocean.

I watched as Rhaenyra dismounted Syrax, her movements fluid and confident. She swung one leg over the dragon's side and slid down gracefully, her boots landing softly on the ground. She turned to look up at me, tilting her head, waiting for me to follow suit.

I took a deep breath, my fingers trembling slightly as I began to unbuckle the war belt. One by one, I released the straps, feeling the tension make its way back into body with each click of the buckles. My hands were shaking, not just from the adrenaline of the flight but from the soreness that had settled into my muscles during the ride. My ribs ached, a sharp reminder that I was still healing from my injuries, and every movement sent a twinge of pain through my side.

With the last buckle undone, I gathered what little courage I had left and carefully began to climb down from the Cannibal. My legs felt stiff and unsteady, my muscles protesting after the long flight, and I had to move slowly to avoid slipping on the dragon's smooth scales. Each step was a challenge, my body sore and aching, but I gritted my teeth and pushed through it.

When my feet finally touched the ground, I nearly collapsed from relief. I straightened up as best I could, wincing at the pain in my ribs, and looked over at Rhaenyra. She was watching me closely, a hint of concern in her eyes, but she didn't say anything, just turned and walked away from me. 

I watched as Rhaenyra walked over to a lone tree that stood tall at the edge of the cliffside, its gnarled roots gripping the rocky ground as if holding on for dear life. The tree was massive, its branches stretching out wide like arms, casting long shadows in the fading light. She moved with purpose, her steps sure and steady, while I followed at a slower pace, still feeling the lingering effects of our ride.

When she reached the tree, she touched its trunk with a reverence that caught me off guard. Her fingers traced the bark with a gentle familiarity, and a nostalgic smile tugged at her lips. I watched in silence as she moved her hand over the grooves and lines, her expression softening. As I drew closer, I realized she was tracing engravings carved into the wood—designs and pictures. Some were large and intricate, while others were small and crude, etched into the bark over the years. The engravings overlapped, old carvings partially obscured by newer ones, a chaotic tapestry of memories etched into the ancient tree.

Rhaenyra's fingers paused on a particular design, one that caught the fading sunlight just right. It was a dragon, its wings spread wide as if ready to take flight, with flames etched into the wood beneath it. The lines were rough but powerful, the image full of movement and life, as though the dragon might leap from the tree at any moment. She traced the outline of the wings, her touch light and reverent, before pulling her hand away with a sigh.