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Magic of the purest blue slid out of her hands, forming a long spear with a huge harpoon-like tip.

“What am I supposed to do with it?” Pyetar hesitated, hand half-raised.

“I don’t know. But you will need it.” She forced the spear into Pyetar’s hand.

Iryana tracked Pyetar as he inspected the spear apprehensively, and then turned to her. He smiled encouragingly and offered his hand.

Her mind was blank, only working enough to acknowledge that she didn’t have a choice but to follow. To try. Pyetar helped her up the massive dragon, following after Lidishta and Vaneshta, using the scales as footholds. Their friends shouted their encouragement from the ground. The beast emanated enough heat that it was almost painful touching the scales through her gloves and boots, but it was enough to encourage her to climb quickly.

There was a saddle of sorts on top of the beast. A large flat platform made of a leather-like material, larger than her bedroom in the cottage, with a lip around the edge that almost reached her hip. There were no seats or anything to strap them in, but at least it was warm.

Lidishta had sunk down against the front edge, a crease between her brows and her gaze distant. Vaneshta joined her, stiff and disgruntled.

Iryana staggered to the back, dropping heavily. Her fingers dug painfully into her thighs as she tried to hold it together. Pyetar settled carefully beside her, laying the spear down. Iryana took a shuddering breath and looked up to see Misha and Hadima climbing over the lip.

Before Iryana could even open her mouth, Misha snapped, “You need us, don’t bother. Plus Hadi hasn’t gotten to check Lidishta over.”

She didn’t have the energy to fight. What did it matter where Hadima and Misha were if Istri was about to be destroyed anyway? The pressure behind her eyes grew as Iryana teetered on the precipice of a panic attack.

The platform jerked as the dragon stood. Pyetar clenched his jaw, bracing them against the saddle. And then with a jolt, the dragon took off into the sky.

They all screamed, wind whipping across their faces and the great wings of the dragon flapped in and out of view with loud whooshes.

“Oh gods,” Hadima screeched, on her hands and knees.

“I think I’m going to be sick,” Vaneshta grumbled.

“Just do it over there.” Lidishta pushed her away.

The fear of falling out of the sky was enough to pull Iryana’s thoughts away from everything else, but that didn’t last long before the rhythm of the flying dragon evened out and she grew used to it. Without looking over the edge, all she could see was the great blue sky and the other dragon taking her friends back towards the caves.

At least it was a nice winter day for the world to end. Gods, she was losing her mind.

Hadima handed her supplies to Vaneshta for tending Lidishta’s wounds, quickly explaining what was in the kit, and then scooted toward the center of the platform.

“Okay, Iri. We have an hour to figure out your magic.” Hadima slid back onto her heels. “What do we try first?”

“How should I know? Everything I’ve tried has failed!” Iryana growled. The constant uncomfortable twisting inside her grew to a sharp, pinching pain.

Hadima kept staring, as if waiting for her to offer something more helpful but Iryana had nothing to add. It was pointless.

“The gods just said she needed to be at peace within herself. Settle herself enough that the magics can settle, too,” Pyetar pointed out.

“The meditating didn’t help.” Hadima twisted her lips in thought.

Iryana shrank further down.

“And the vulnerability of the tattooing session isn’t what she needs, according to Voordiza. So, it’s not just that.”

“Is this… about what Mom said?” Hadima asked, gaze drifting back to Iryana as she winced.

Iryana squeezed her eyes shut, shuddering. You can’t take responsibility for them all. You have to see this can only go one way. You can’t lead the clan.

“What did she say?” Pyetar asked, his voice gruff with concern, and Iryana hated it.

“Can you stop talking about me like I’m not right here?” Iryana snapped, sucking in air. She didn’t want to feel like this. Tears formed, unbidden. Her breaths grew ragged and she wanted to pull her hair out just to feel something different.

“Then talk to us!” Hadima cried. “Help us figure this out!”