LUCY
I just spoke in Dragoc—the ancient, long-forgotten language of the dragons. It is unsettling, to say the least, especially since I have no idea where the words originated.
I hadn't seen them in any scrolls; I hadn't read them in any of the history books I had been obsessed with while growing up. They simply spilled from my lips the moment the Supreme finished his speech, as if triggered by the gravity of the moment, an instinctive rising to the occasion.
When the room had bowed, I didn't gush with humility or cower in shock. Instead, I felt a sudden rushing in my veins—like liquid fire, yet strangely as cool as a mountain wind, a sensation that demanded I stand tall, a force that pulled those ancient syllables from my throat.
I see the effect it has on the people. They are looking at me with entirely new eyes. Even the Supreme King looks wary as he returns to his throne.
I retake my own seat, sensing the weight of the air change. There has been a power shift.
