The wind was singing again.
Kiko stood at the edge of the village cliff, her short dark hair tousled by the ocean breeze. Below, the waves danced against the jagged rocks, each crash sending up a misty spray that sparkled in the golden morning sun.
She stretched her arms wide, eyes closed.
Papa said if I listened carefully, the wind would carry stories.
Today, it carried silence.
"Papa…" she whispered.
It had been days since Ryuuji, her father, had left with Mama Elysia and the others. Kiko remembered how he knelt down, took both her hands, and looked her in the eyes with that gentle smile that made the world feel safe.
"You're strong, Kiko. You'll protect this place, right?"
"I will!" she had said proudly, puffing out her chest.
"Good girl." He kissed her forehead. "I'll be back. With Auntie Reina and Uncle Raphtael."
But she still missed him.
Kiko sat on her usual spot by the large flat stone they called "dragon watch." It was here the dragons often landed when visiting from the nearby mountain peaks. She squinted up at the sky. No wings today. Just clouds.
Behind her, the village bustled.
Jarred was tending the tavern—Kiko liked him because he gave her the good bread. Marla always smelled like sweet herbs and told funny stories from her old town. The two of them had become like an aunt and uncle to her, even if they still looked a little nervous when Elysia entered a room.
Kiko didn't blame them. Mama Elysia could be scary… but only to the bad people.
She liked sitting on the rock because she could see everything. The small, winding paths between stone houses. The crops Duncan had helped lay out—so neat, so logical. Auntie Sierra had even carved wind chimes that sang with the sea breeze.
Still…
"I wanna go too," Kiko murmured.
A shadow passed overhead, and she jumped to her feet, eyes wide.
A flash of silver. A gust of wind. Then came the deep, rumbly voice she adored.
"Standing guard again, little one?"
Kiko grinned. "Grandpa Rhaegon!"
The massive silver dragon landed gracefully beside her, wings folding with practiced ease. He lowered his head to her level, his eyes full of quiet amusement.
"You always visit when I'm thinking about Papa," Kiko said.
"Is that so?" he chuckled, voice like rolling thunder. "Perhaps I heard your heart whisper."
"Do you think they're okay?"
The old dragon nodded. "I do. Your father is strong. And he is not alone."
Kiko kicked a small pebble off the cliff edge, watching it tumble down into the sea.
"But I miss him."
"I know," Rhaegon said gently, "but sometimes, protecting the ones we love means stepping away. Trusting others to keep the fire burning."
Kiko looked up at him. "Do you think I can protect the village?"
"Do you think you can?"
She thought about it. About how she helped Marla with herbs, how she ran messages, how she sat with the younger children at night and told them stories of Ryuuji's battles.
"I'm small," she finally said, "but I'm brave."
"Then that is enough."
Kiko's chest swelled with pride. She reached out and touched the dragon's snout, the scales warm under her palm. "Will you stay a while?"
"For a time."
They sat in silence, watching the waves below. The dragons still patrolled the skies around the island, guarding their sanctuary, but few visited the village itself. Only Rhaegon came often, and only to speak to her.
She liked that.
When the wind picked up again, Kiko whispered, "I think Papa's fighting again."
"Why do you say that?" Rhaegon asked.
"Because the wind smells like steel and thunder."
The dragon tilted his head thoughtfully. "You may be right."
Kiko stood, brushing off her skirt. "I wanna be ready when he comes back."
"Oh?"
"I wanna show him I learned magic."
Rhaegon's eyes twinkled. "Ah, yes. The ancient bloodline stirs."
Kiko frowned. "What does that mean?"
"It means… perhaps you are more than just brave, Kiko. Perhaps your flame burns deeper than you know."
She took that in for a moment, then nodded. "Okay. Teach me."
Rhaegon blinked. "Teach you?"
"You said I had it. So help me. I want to make light like Papa. I wanna heal like Uncle Raphtael. I wanna protect like Mama."
The dragon looked at her for a long time, then let out a deep, satisfied hum.
"Very well," he said. "But dragon magic is not like human magic. It listens only to the heart."
Kiko beamed. "Then I'll make it listen."
Later that evening, Kiko was on her knees in the field behind the village, eyes closed, palms flat to the earth. Rhaegon had told her to feel the wind, not just hear it.
"Magic," he said, "starts not in the fingers, but in the soul."
Kiko focused. She thought of Papa. Of fire. Of protection.
And then…
A small spark flickered in her hands.
Tiny. Fleeting. But warm.
Rhaegon said nothing. He only smiled, then spread his wings and took to the skies.
Kiko stayed in the field long after the sun dipped below the sea, watching her hands.
One day, she'd light the world with them.
One day, when Papa came home, she'd be ready.