He never felt so free the wind was the only thing that ever truly touched him.
It rushed past his horns, pulled at the edges of his wings, slid over his scales like water across stone. There was no hand, no chain, no command, just sky, just motion, Just freedom. Jake flew higher.
The world below shrank into haze an endless sprawl of sea and rock that shimmered beneath the early sun. Dragonstone was long behind him, its volcanic ridges reduced to shadows behind clouds. The farther he went, the quieter it became. No firelight, no human voices, no other dragons.
And truthfully he liked it that way.
The great open sky the cold air and sharp sunlight made him feel whole. The memories of his old life, faint but still there. The boy he had once been small, loud, always watching dragons on a screen was slowly becoming more like a dragon in body and soul.
Jake beat his wings once, twice, then tucked them slightly and dove through a column of mist. The sea rushed up to meet him, a blue mirror laced with white. He skimmed so low that his belly cut the tops of the waves, sending foam into the air like steam.
Just the feeling alone makes him feel alive, he could fly forever.
He went upward again, higher into the air, letting his sharp eyes trace the edges of the world. There the jagged chain of islands in the far distance. The Stepstones.
He'd smelled blood from leagues away, mostly a pirate attack.
The land here didn't look like Dragonstone. It was rough, baked by sun and stained. Ships dotted the shallows. Some flew tattered banners. Others were just broken bones of timber, half-swallowed by tide and reef.
Jake glided silently above them, watching.
Men shouted on the decks below. One pointed. Another dropped what he was carrying. A third dropped to his knees, praying to something.
He wondered what they thought he was.
They didn't know his name. Didn't know who he had once been. They saw a black shape, a storm made flesh, a myth loose from its chains.
Good, Let them wonder, Let them fear.
He angled inland, climbing toward a crag of broken stone overlooking a cove of smoke. There he landed, talons digging into the rock, wings folding in a gust of dust. The stone was hot beneath him. He liked it.
He watched from his perch, motionless except for the steady shifting of his tail. The humans were building something below, it look like fortification. More wood. More metal. More shouting.
Jake tilted his head slightly, listening. Their language made sense in pieces. He remembered the shape of words, the pattern of speech. But he no longer cared what they meant. Words didn't matter here.
What mattered was presence.
The humans below could feel his.
Even without fire.
They moved with different rhythm now. They avoided the open. They looked over their shoulders. The bravest ones pointed upward and barked orders. But none of them came close.
Jake stretched out along the rock, heat warming his belly, wings loose at his sides. He was growing. The ache in his spine, the tight pull of muscle along his flanks—it meant more power coming. Soon his wings would grow broader, his bite heavier, his fire stronger.
And when it did, he would be ready for anything.
He hadn't just flown to escape, he had flown to see, to learn.
This world was not made of one island or one family. It was vast. Unstable. It cracked and shifted beneath the feet of those who thought they ruled it. Jake, now, saw the cracks clearly.
From the sky, men were just ants, Ships just driftwood even castles looked like toys.
He stretched his wings and launched again, soaring above the shoreline. The wind filled his chest. He roared. Gods he loved it
The sound rippled across the sea, echoing against cliffs and sails. Below, men covered their ears. A few dropped to their knees. One group simply ran.
He climbed higher instead, through the sharp blue morning, and wheeled above the narrow straits. Three islands passed below him in minutes. Each one was scarred by war blackened trees, sun-bleached bones, shattered stone.
He saw no dragons, only men pretending they were monsters. he was not like them never would be.
Jake followed a thermal upward wind, wings steady, the warmth of his fire coiling inside him like a second heart. He felt more than he had in months, he's more awake. He could taste the minerals in the wind, hear the birds on rock hundreds of feet below, sense the magnetic pull of stone and tide.
He felt so free, to fly, to feel the sky obey his wings, to burn through the world as something no man could own.
There was no chain long enough.
No bloodline worthy of his back.
He would never be ridden.
Never be collared.
If they came for him again those pale-haired kings and knights with their dragonpit and gold crowns they would learn that fire remembers. That shadow grows. That wildness cannot be bred out of flame.
He circled back toward a hidden inlet, a jagged crescent carved into the largest of the Stepstone isles. The trees here were sparse, stunted by wind, but the rocks held warmth and the caves were deep.
He landed with a huff of steam, tucking into the shade like a shadow returning to earth.
The sea whispered.
The fire inside him pulsed.
Jake closed his eyes not to sleep, but to listen. To feel the world move. The birds. The waves. The slow, constant beat of life.
He was part of it now.
No longer the boy who watched dragons.
He was the storm that flew above them, when the world looked up again, it would not see a legend reborn it would see freedom with wings, teeth, fire enough to burn every chain.
———
Hey, here's the next chapter, I saw a few comments about AI, which I indeed use.
It's because I'm dyslexic so I use AI to make everything faster. The fanfic it's all my ideas and vision but actually writing it, it's very difficult.
Just keep that I'm mind that's all I ask.