A faraway roar echoed in my ears. LaLa. She was still here.

For her, I summoned the last of myself and reached ahead of me. Nothing but air. Nothing but rock. Nothing but sharp teeth clamping around my fingers and pulling until finally I touched bone.

At first, it was static. A shock through my body. But it shoved me back into awareness, and when I stretched my fingers again—LaLa’s teeth still firm around my knuckles—power erupted into me.

I jolted, gasped, and lurched forward to fully grasp the delicate wing bone LaLa had pulled me to. My breath caught, and for a second it seemed like I could just stop here, letting the first dragon’s power wrap around me, but now that my sight and hearing were clearer, the thuds of Paorah’s footfalls propelled me into motion.

Letting go of the first dragon, even for a moment, was torment, but I threw myself against her ribs and clawed my way upward, blood staining the white bone. My shoulder and back lit white hot with pain, but I wouldn’t stop. I couldn’t.

Then, somehow, I was up.

The moment I reached my perch between the first dragon’s great wings, the moment I let my thoughts melt into hers, the burning eased and the blood clotted and it seemed like I might be able to heal after all.

LaLa was already there, waiting for me. Her golden eyes were wide and worried, filled with fathomless love and grief.

“We’re going to make it, little dragon flower.” I stroked down her spine, down those bright, smooth scales, sharp under my teeth-marked fingers. “We’re going to make it because of you.”

She chirruped and gazed north—toward the ruins.

“Don’t do this!” Paorah’s words came from below, garbled with the burn of LaLa’s fire. His face was a mess of melting flesh, no longer soft. “You can’t do this!”

“I can do anything,” I murmured, but now, here, connected to the first dragon of all, my words were thunder. Wings poured out of my back, fanning into the skeleton in a blend of fire and bone. Black, galaxy-filled scales glimmered across her body, flickering in and out of view, gleaming over the hints of muscle and sinew and organs. The glow of our inferno heart brightened into a small sun. And there, in the back of her mouth, the spark gland shimmered into existence, and when we exhaled out of our second lungs, fire unfurled.

I shifted at the last moment, so the flames spilled across the sand at his feet. It must have been incredibly hot, regardless, but I couldn’t—wouldn’t—kill him. I never wanted to be the kind of person to destroy my enemies, even if I could breathe fire over them. Maybe especially if I could breathe fire over them.

I could do anything. I could be merciful.

Instead, I let the power of the first dragon thrum through my heart and mind and soul, and when LaLa was settled, we pushed into the air, fire streaming around us.