The Channeler

She woke with a jolt, clutching the white silken sheets so tightly that her claws tore through the fabric. Gripped, suddenly, by the feeling that she was clawing for life, the young dragon bolted out of bed and tumbled into the wooden wheelchair next to it.

Clinging to the frame, she summoned up what magic she could muster and shoved herself over to the wide window across the room. Unsteady claws clutched at the lock, and finally she slammed it open, collapsing on the sill to gasp in sweet, pure summer night air.

She lay there with her head on the windowsill for a moment, her chest heaving, but panic still welled up and choked the air from her throat. Something was changing inside her. Insides shifting, energy awakening, and – at the same time – beginning to slip away.

With every breath she took, the clock was ticking down. Sands in the hourglass falling. And when they ran out...

They called it the Change, in those books she'd spent so many long days poring over. Every dragon went through it. As their innate magical energy grows and grows, it becomes too strong to be contained within their body and they begin to emit their aura. For most young dragons, it was a time of celebration.

For her, it was a death sentence.

Cynder Shadowfall was fourteen years old, just two months and ten days left until her hatchday. They'd stopped celebrating those long ago, when it became clear she wasn't going to be some miracle child who fought off the sickness. There was no reason to rejoice another year closer to her death.

But she still kept track of every day. The years and now months left that she had to live. It was morbid, she knew, but she couldn't help it.

The child's disease. The hatchday killer, the aura-eater. Aurus, that name that had always haunted her, reminding her that she would never grow up.

Fifteen years. That was her sentence. Maybe a little more, maybe a little less. Looking, now, to be right on time. Because the stronger Cynder grew, the weaker she became. With every passing year, it took a little more out of her. Until her fifteenth hatchday, when magic would course through her veins, and then...

Cynder would be no more.

Gathering her strength, the young dragon lifted her head and gazed around the luxurious room that had been her home for the past fifteen years. Her eyes lingered on each spot, taking it all in. It was truly the best any dragon could ask for.

The walls were lined with marble, so pure and polished she could nearly see her reflection in it, the floors with carpet soft enough to sleep on. Darkwood furniture – a luxury harvested from distant dangerous forests – filled every corner. In the winter, she could roll down into the lowered area and sit by the tall, tall fireplace with a book in paw.

As long as she stayed in this room, she never needed to ask for anything. She had a pool of crystalline water to bathe in, and a rounded bed covered in plush furs much too large for her lean frame, and all the latest toys to amuse herself with, and dozens of servants to meet her every smallest need.

But she would die in this place.

Cynder loved her parents very much. They were doting and kind, always looking out for her, always worrying over her safety. But she didn't get to see them very much; as leaders in the upper echelons of society, there was so much to do. And not much time for a daughter who didn't have any left.

She knew why they kept her locked up here, why they only let her outside after twilight when Shadowfall Sanctuary's gates were locked. And then, only with a guard attending. She was small and physically weak, and it wouldn't be very difficult at all to hurt a girl like her.

But she wished, more than anything else, that they would just give her the one thing she'd always wanted...

Cynder's gaze turned back to the stars peering down through a glimmering veil. They twinkled happily above the city, which lay dark and silent except for a few candlelit windows.

High up in her third-story room, Cynder imagined silhouettes in those windows looking back at her. When she was little, she'd play games, casting shadows over the candle in a silent message to far-off friends. But behind the glass, the dark rooms were always empty.

Warfang... The City of Wonder, the Dragon City. The last stronghold against the darkness. For so long, she'd watched over it from above, seeing mornings dawn and light fade, the streets filling and emptying, and leaving her alone. Would she ever have a chance to leave it?

Even just for a moment... Just to walk by the river she could see over the wall, curving off through the trees into places far beyond.

Maybe she'd never get to find out where those places were, but that didn't matter so much. Just a chance to breathe cool air, to sit in fresh, warm grass, to close her eyes and think clearly without the din of the city encroaching on her thoughts.

Peace. Just a moment of peace, a day out there. That was all Cynder wanted. She would gladly die here in this room for that one small wish she'd been dreaming of for so long. Would that day ever come...?

But she knew, staring at the walls of the city that had been both home and prison her whole life, the approaching stormclouds that blotted out the stars she wished upon, that she would never leave this place.