POV: Celeste

I watch Thelma stare at the dragon behind me, her face a mixture of awe and disbelief. Good. She should be in awe. Silverclaw is magnificent, a living remnant of an age when magic ruled the world.

"You're taking this surprisingly well," I say, limping toward her. My leg throbs where a hybrid's bullet grazed me three days ago. Even with supernatural healing, some wounds take time.

"I've had a really strange few months," Thelma replies, her voice flat with exhaustion. "Dragons are honestly not the weirdest thing I've seen."

Silverclaw snorts, smoke curling from his nostrils. His voice rumbles in all our minds, ancient and amused. The...