The morning air was clear and cool when they left the floating castle. The land beneath their feet drifted slowly through the mist like a boat over quiet water. The sun shone across the sky, touching every green isle with light. For a moment, even the thought of a bone dragon seemed far away.
Rowen led the way, his short sword tied at his waist, his eyes steady on the horizon. The big Viking—his name was Thorne—walked behind him, humming some tune that sounded older than the sky itself. The youngest of the three, Eldric, followed with a map clutched in his hands, his steps uneven from excitement and fear. And between them, skipping along with her hair flying, was the princess.
She had insisted on coming, despite her father's refusal. Now, she hummed as if this were just another royal trip to the gardens. Her laughter carried through the air, startling a flock of pink rabbits from a nearby patch of clover.
"You shouldn't be here," Rowen said at last. "This isn't a game."
"I know," the princess said, smiling. "That's why I came."
Thorne chuckled. "Brave little bird, aren't you? Maybe she'll scare the dragon away herself."
Rowen sighed and kept walking. There was no point arguing anymore.
The floating lands moved slowly, connected by bridges of wind and ropes of roots. Every so often, one would pass another, so close that the party could leap from one to the next. Below them stretched a vast emptiness, shining faintly blue, as if the world itself were made of glass. No one knew what lay far beneath. Some said it was endless sky. Others whispered of an ocean that mirrored the heavens.
When they reached the edge of a wide green isle, Rowen stopped. "We'll rest here. The next land is too far to cross until the wind changes."
They sat beneath a crooked tree. Thorne took out a loaf of bread and passed it around. The princess lay on the grass, staring up at the clouds floating below them. "Do you think the dragon ever sleeps?" she asked.
"It must," Eldric said. "Even monsters grow tired."
Thorne laughed. "Not this one, boy. The Bone Dragon's been burning lands since before my grandfather's bones turned to dust."
Rowen looked toward the horizon. "Then it must have a weakness. No creature lives forever."
The group fell quiet. The wind whispered across the grass, bending the long stems. A few pink rabbits hopped near them, nibbling at the clover, their fur glowing faintly in the sunlight.
Thorne broke the silence first. "The old stories say the dragon has no heart. Just fire where its heart should be."
Eldric frowned. "Then how do we kill it?"
Rowen didn't answer. His eyes were fixed on the clouds, deep in thought.
The princess turned on her side. "Maybe it has a heart. Maybe it's just hidden."
Thorne snorted. "You sound like a poet, not a princess."
She smiled faintly. "Someone has to be."
When the wind changed, they rose and began moving again. The next floating land was smaller, filled with glowing blue flowers that leaned toward the light. As they walked, Eldric pointed to a dark line far in the distance. "Is that smoke?"
"Maybe," Rowen said. "Or maybe the edge of the dragon's nest."
The air grew heavier. The lands below them darkened as the sun slipped behind a cloud. Even the rabbits had disappeared. The group pressed on in silence until the next land came into view — a small one, half-covered in moss and vines. At its edge stood an old wooden post with carvings worn smooth by time.
Rowen brushed his hand across it. "This is from the old kingdoms," he said quietly. "Before the sky broke apart."
"What does it say?" Eldric asked.
Rowen traced the letters. "'Beware the flame that sees all.'"
Thorne spat into the grass. "Charming."
They set up camp near the post as night fell. The stars hung below them as much as above — endless, mirrored points of light. The princess sat close to the fire, wrapping her cloak around her shoulders. "If the dragon can see all," she said softly, "then it already knows we're coming."
Thorne grunted. "Let it watch. We'll make it regret that."
Eldric didn't speak. He was staring at the flames, lost in thought. "Maybe it doesn't want to fight," he said after a while. "Maybe it's angry because it's alone."
Rowen looked at him, then at the stars below. "Maybe," he said. "But that won't stop it from burning the world."
The wind shifted again. It carried a faint smell — smoke, or ash, or something older. The fire flickered. For a heartbeat, they thought they heard something — a deep rumble, like wings moving far below.
Thorne stood, gripping his axe. "Hear that?"
Rowen listened. The sound faded, but it left the air trembling.
"It's just the wind," he said. "Go to sleep."
But he didn't sleep himself. Long after the others had drifted off, he sat awake by the dying fire, staring at the horizon where the dark smoke still rose. Somewhere out there, the Bone Dragon waited — unseen, unheard, and eternal.