Abandon You Choose Dragon Chapter 17
I heard later that Ash had been cornered by Chloe’s mother.
She demanded he move back to the tribe.
He refused. She threw a screaming fit right there in front of everyone.
Chloe stood beside her with her head down, silent, her rabbit ears hanging motionless. In the end, Ash walked away.
Even though I’d already registered with someone else at the Alliance. Even though he’d caught her moonflower.
Chloe was never the one he chose with conviction.
So you do see, Moon God. You see who was stolen from, who was left behind, and who was caught.
The Praise Moon Festival became just another piece of tribal gossip—passed around for a while, then forgotten.
Like wind shaking leaves from a tree. Come spring, new ones always grow.
James married a female from the neighboring territory.
His life was quiet and unremarkable.
The Chloe he’d doted on since childhood turned out to be his father’s daughter—his own blood sister.
The dream of bringing her home as a bride shattered beyond repair.
He never again dared mention the sister he’d driven away.
His selfishness had nearly destroyed her life.
Liam, after what happened at the Festival, couldn’t bring himself to stay close to Chloe either.
They drifted apart. Eventually, there was nothing left.
My father stayed in that crumbling old house, hoping to marry his first love. She thought he was too poor. She wouldn’t even let her daughter acknowledge him as family.
He told anyone who’d listen that his children were ungrateful. But no one cared to hear it anymore.
As for Silas and me—our life was quiet. Ordinary.
He was a dragon. I was a bird.
He said that dragons were born among the clouds, and my wings belonged to the sky.
Between us, there was no bending, no yielding—only flying side by side.
Married first. Love came after.
When spring arrived, new shoots pushed through the soil in the spiritspring fields.
I stood at the top of the hill and looked down. Wind surged up from the valley floor, setting my feathers snapping like a banner.
Silas came up behind me. He rested his chin on top of my head, his horns brushing lightly against my hair.
“What are you looking at?”
“The land my mother left me.”
He was quiet for a moment. Then he pulled me a little closer.
“From now on, I’ll help you watch over it.”
I smiled but said nothing.
I didn’t need anyone to watch over it for me.
But having someone willing to stand beside me while I did—that was something else entirely.
In the distance, a fledgling stumbled through the trees, learning to fly. Its wings flailed without rhythm or grace.
But after every fall, it spread them wide again.
Just like me.