When the great dragon landed softly upon the private terrace of the Obsidian Spire, the moon had reached its zenith in the southern sky. With a crackle of harmless golden embers, Auren shifted back to his human form, breathless, his dark hair wild from the wind, his chest heaving with exhilaration. He reached up, lifting Lyra down from the terrace balustrade into his arms, carrying her effortlessly across the threshold…
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