Chapter 126 Home
Damien
The boat settles against stone with a quiet inevitability, like it always knew where it was meant to end. The hum beneath my feet fades slowly, magic winding down in reluctant threads, and for a moment no one moves. We just stand there, blinking, swaying slightly, bodies remembering motion even though the world has finally decided to hold still. Then people begin to stir. A woman exhales shakily. A child clutches tighter to a sleeve. Someone laughs, thin and disbelieving, the sound of a person realising they’re still alive. Land. Solid, real land. I step off first, boots hitting stone that feels familiar even through the leather, the air cooler here, cleaner, threaded with the low, constant pulse of wards that have protected this kingdom long before I was born. They brush my skin like a recognition spell, magic answering magic, and the dragon inside me lifts his head.
Home, he rumbles, satisfaction heavy and deep. You brought them home.
Relief floods me all at once, sharp and almost dizzying, and I have to pause, breathe it in properly, let my shoulders drop for the first time in what feels like weeks. The castle rises ahead of us, dark and massive against the night sky, towers cutting into the stars like they’ve been waiting for me to come back and set things right. I hadn’t realised how badly I needed to see it again until now. Behind me, people begin to disembark, the deck creaking softly as weight shifts, as lives spill off the boat in a slow, exhausted stream. They look hollowed out, travel-worn, eyes too bright, movements careful in the way of those who don’t yet trust that the ground won’t vanish beneath them again.
They are tired, the dragon observes. You cannot take them further tonight.
“I know,” I murmur under my breath, more to him than anyone else. “Tomorrow.”
Then the sky roars. The sound tears through the quiet like a blade, wings beating air so hard it rattles bone, and instinct snaps through me even before I register what I’m seeing. A shadow streaks overhead, vast and fast and unmistakable, firelight catching briefly on dark scales. Paul’s dragon. He doesn’t slow. He dives. Ashlyn barely has time to scream before she’s lifted clean off the ground, claws curling around her as if she weighs nothing, her shout of fury turning into breathless outrage as the dragon hauls her against his chest and launches back into the sky.
“Paul!” she yells, fists pounding uselessly against scales. “Put me down!”
The dragon answers by folding one claw around her protectively and climbing higher.
Bella appears at my side, eyes wide, mouth already forming the question. “Should we be worried about that?”
I snort softly, the sound edged with weary amusement, watching the dragon arc away into the darkness.
“No,” I say. “We’ve got enough to worry about down here.”
She glances back at the empty sky, then at me. “You’re sure?”
“They’ll be fine,” I reply. “We disappeared into a magical river ride that swallowed half the world. If I were him, I’d be checking she was still real too.”
The dragon hums agreement. Possessive, but not wrong.
Bella huffs a quiet laugh, tension easing from her shoulders. “Fair.”
“For now,” I add, lifting my voice so it carries to the people hovering uncertainly behind us, “we need to get everyone inside, warm, fed and resting.”
The boat sits behind us, utterly still now, moored at the edge of the kingdom as if it chose this exact place and decided its work was done. I glance back at it once, a flicker of respect passing through me. Whatever magic shaped it knew exactly when to let go.
Ahead, the kingdom sleeps. Lights glow dim behind shuttered windows. Ward-lanterns burn low along the roads. The world feels hushed, held in that fragile space between disaster and dawn. This wasn’t how I planned it. I meant to take them to the mountains first, to the dragon villages where heat and ice can exist side by side without fear, where elemental balance is a way of life rather than a threat.
They would be welcomed there, the dragon says, thoughtfully.
“I know,” I answer silently. The mountains are where they’ll belong. Where the ice elementals won’t be feared or hunted, where dragons can help anchor what runs too wild. It’s where I would choose to rebuild everything. But not tonight. It’s far too late to guide this many people through forests and mountain paths, to make introductions, to find homes and hearths and places to sleep. That work requires daylight and patience and steadier minds than we have right now. Tomorrow. Tonight, my castle will have to be enough. I start walking, trusting them to follow, and they do, a slow, weary procession spilling onto the broad avenue leading up to the gates. Some walk stiffly. Some cling to each other. Children stumble, eyes drooping, and adults scoop them up without a word.
“We’ll get you food,” I tell them as we go. “Blankets. Beds where we have them, cots where we don’t. This is temporary, but it’s safe.”
The gates recognise me before the guards do, iron and magic shifting aside with a familiar sigh. The inner court opens up, wide and stone-paved, and the palace doors swing open almost immediately. My staff spills out in a half-awake flurry, hair loose, cloaks thrown on hastily over nightclothes, surprise sharpening into focus as they take in the sheer number of people filling the courtyard.
“My king,” someone breathes.
“Prepare rooms,” I say, already moving. “As many as possible. Open the main hall. I want cots, blankets and hot food. Quietly... Please.”
They scatter at once, trained for this, for emergencies, for the moment when peace fractures and you don’t ask questions, you simply act. I climb the steps, turning back to help usher people inside, the great doors yawning wide, torchlight spilling out to meet us. The hall beyond breathes, old and steady, a place that has sheltered refugees and armies and broken kings before. Bella slips her hand into mine as we cross the threshold, her fingers warm and solid, anchoring me.
You are not alone anymore, the dragon says softly.
The thought settles deep in my chest. Normal will never be what it was. That version of my life was lonely, dark, built on fear and distance and people bowing because they had to, not because they trusted me. That world is gone. Now I have a mate who looks at me like I’m something worth loving. I have people who follow me because they believe I’ll keep them safe. A community that didn’t exist yesterday but does now. Everything is different now, and I don’t mourn what I once believed was normal. I guide them inside, watching as the hall fills, staff moving among them with water and blankets, voices low and steady. The night isn’t over, but it’s safe now, held within stone and firelight. For now, this will be enough. For tonight, they are home.