Pride flickered in Freja's eyes, pride that she wore carefully, like a jewel hidden beneath a cloak. "Yes," she said.
"It is."
Simona turned then, first to her sister, then to the young man at her side. Her gaze wavered, lips trembling with words that would not come.
"Don't tell me…"
Her voice failed her, choked by awe.
She looked back at the great beast, her hands curling against her gown as realization struck her like a sword through the chest.
Freja's smile was a secret at first, but there was no denying it when she nodded.
"Yes, she is Aragon's dragon."
For a heartbeat, the world seemed to sway.
Simona's eyes widened until they glistened with disbelief.
She had not seen one such dragon in all her years—not she, not her father before her, nor his father before him.
A Mijikatsu, bound to a man of flesh.
Impossible!
Unthinkable!
Yet there it stood, scales glimmering like coals, watching them all with an arrogance older than kingdoms.
