Chapter 27 — The Dream That Was His
He didn't sleep often.
Dragons rarely did. Their minds were too full of memory, their hearts too guarded. But that night, after Lyra whispered the dragon word for home back to him — shyly, sweetly, like a promise — he slept.
And he dreamed.
---
She stood in a field of silver grass.
Her hair was loose, her shawl trailing behind her like mist. She was laughing — not at him, not at anything. Just… because she could. Because the wind was kind and the stars were listening.
He watched her from a distance.
Then she turned.
Her eyes met his.
And she smiled.
> "You found me," she said.
He stepped forward. "I always will."
She reached out, glowing softly, and placed her hand over his chest.
The fire inside him didn't flare.
It quieted.
Not because it was gone.
Because it was safe.
---
He woke with tears on his cheeks.
Not from sorrow.
From awe.
Lyra was still asleep beside him, curled gently beneath the sky-thread blanket, her breath steady, her glow soft. He didn't wake her.
He simply whispered:
> "I saw you."
And though she didn't stir, her fingers curled around his.
As if she had heard.
As if she had dreamed it too.