🐉✨ Release Day: Endsong of Dragons is HERE! ✨🐉

 Dragon’s Breath, Human Heart – Book 4

By Rin Nocturne

🔥 The dragons have sung their last song... or have they? 🔥

Today’s the day! Endsong of Dragons has taken flight into the world, and I am absolutely BUZZING to share it with you! 💫💥

This book is a love letter to every dragon I’ve ever adored, from the wise, ancient guardians in mythology to the complex, fire-hearted beings in fantasy RPGs. In Chinese astrology, I’m an Earth Dragon, and my mom is a Fire Dragon—so dragons are kind of in my blood. 🐲 We’re stubborn, magical, determined, and maybe a little too intense—but you know what? The world needs that kind of energy.

That’s why, in this series, dragons are more than just beasts. They’re leaders, mentors, dreamers, and rebels. They don’t just breathe fire—they ignite change.

And guess what? I may not be done with them yet. 👀 More dragon stories might be on the horizon if the winds (and readers) demand it.

🧡 A Personal Note

When I wrote the first Dragon’s Breath, Human Heart book, I honestly didn’t know if anyone would care. But your messages, reviews, and love for these characters lit the fire under me (see what I did there 😏). Because of you, this journey became something so much more than I ever expected.

This series is especially personal because I made a conscious choice to write heroines who are older, wiser, and still totally capable of kicking tail. I’m older now too, and I wanted to reflect the power that comes with experience, the kind of strength that doesn’t fade just because you’ve got a few gray hairs or tired knees. When you’ve got determination, purpose, and a damn good reason—you burn brighter.

So thank you. Truly. Thank you for walking with me to this final battle... and for believing in dragons. 💛

🔥 Sneak Peek: From the First Three Chapters

Chapter One: Behind the Gates

The sun hung low in the sky, casting a golden hue over the city of Avalon, its rays washing over the gleaming towers of the Ivory Spire. In this section of Avalon, the air was always crisp and clean, its edge sharp and cool as it sliced through the streets, unhindered by the murky shadows of the Duskbound Labyrinth on the other side of the Black Iron Gate. This was the heart of the elite, the untouchable, and in the opulence of Upper Avalon, every detail screamed of wealth. Gleaming chrome, smooth marble, towering glass walls, and carefully manicured parks offered nothing but a polished reflection of perfection.

Mira Grayson, however, sat in stark contrast to this beauty. Her electric wheelchair hummed softly as she moved through the polished corridors of her sleek apartment. The wide windows framed the skyline like a masterpiece, but they offered no solace to her tired eyes. As much as she loved the grandeur of the Spire, it had never quite been enough to fill the hollow spaces within her.

At thirty-seven, Mira had built a life from the boundaries of her disability, a life constrained by the low hum of her chair, the way it became a constant companion, always by her side. The city of Avalon offered its luxuries, its possibilities, but all of it felt distant, like a vibrant tapestry she could never quite touch.

Her fingers, delicate yet steady, brushed over the control pad, guiding the wheelchair forward with practiced ease. The mundane act of navigating her home—carefully organized, precisely designed—felt too much like the life she had constructed. She had accepted her limitations, but there was something within her—something wild and hidden—begging to be released.

The familiar chime of her personal assistant interrupted the heavy silence, a sound too sharp, too direct for the fragile space she’d carved out in her mind. The voice, artificial but kind, filled the room, its tonal quality gentle, almost apologetic.

“Good afternoon, Mira. You have a message from your assistant, and your upcoming appointment with Dr. Azuma has been confirmed for 4 p.m.”

Mira sighed, her lips curling downward, the tips of her nails grazing her armrest. Another appointment. Another reminder that she was bound to this chair, bound to the limitations imposed on her by a body that refused to cooperate. The doctor's words echoed in her mind from their last meeting, his clinical tone far too polite: We must explore further options. The scans show no improvement. Perhaps the surgery might—

She never let him finish. Surgery, improvement—words that danced on the edges of hope and never quite reached her heart.

With a shaky breath, Mira turned her attention to the quiet, empty space of her apartment. Outside, the city pulsed with life, but here, in her corner of the world, she felt every inch of her isolation. She could hear the hum of the machines in the distance, but none of it felt alive, none of it felt real.

Her fingers tightened around the armrests, nails digging into the polished surface, the cool metal sending a shock of sensation up her spine.

Her reflection in the floor-to-ceiling windows stared back at her. She’d lived a lifetime like this, a woman forever confined by her chair, forever cast aside by the world outside. The beauty of the Spire meant nothing to her, not when she couldn’t touch it, couldn’t feel it.

“Time to go,” she whispered to herself, breaking the silence with a quiet defiance. The world outside called to her, and she would answer, even if it meant facing the reminder of all the things she could never be.

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Chapter Two: The Cracking Ice

The world of Upper Avalon was cold today. The wind had an edge to it, sharp enough to bite at the skin, cold enough to draw a shiver even under her thick coat. Mira navigated her chair with grace, her fingers steady on the joystick, as the streets of the Spire rose up around her in towering pillars of steel and glass. But there was something else in the air—something that hadn't been there before.

A strange, undeniable energy. It danced on the periphery of her awareness, tugging at her, making the back of her neck prickle. She ignored it, as she had learned to ignore most things.

But this felt different.

Her mind kept returning to the strange sensation in her body, the prickling on the edges of her skin. It wasn’t like anything she had felt before, not like the sharp twinge of nerves that came with long hours spent in her chair. This was deeper, something more primal, like the vibration of the world itself. As if the city itself were shifting beneath her, restless and waiting.

She parked her chair outside one of the Spire’s most exclusive cafés, the tall glass windows gleaming like jewels in the midday sun. The fashionable crowd inside barely glanced at her as she wheeled herself inside, her electric wheelchair humming softly with every motion. Her presence barely made a ripple in the sea of beautiful, well-dressed patrons, but Mira had long since ceased to care about being invisible. She was used to being overlooked, to being dismissed. After all, who would look at a paralyzed woman, confined to a chair, in a world so obsessed with perfection?

The barista behind the counter smiled at her, polite but distant. Mira offered a tight, strained smile in return.

“A cappuccino, please,” she said, her voice soft, even though her mind raced. There was something more pressing, more urgent tugging at her thoughts. Why does it feel like something is breaking?

As she waited for her drink, the vibrations in the air grew more pronounced. She could almost feel it in her bones, the pulse of something ancient, something powerful, calling to her. The edges of her vision seemed to waver as if reality itself were shifting, folding around her.

And then, the door opened, and a cold gust of air swept inside. The temperature in the café dropped by several degrees, and Mira’s breath caught in her throat.

The moment she looked up, she saw them.

Two figures, walking past the door. But one of them—no, one of them wasn’t human. Not entirely.

A flash of shimmering, translucent blue scales caught the light, glinting like ice in the sun. A dark, swirling energy wrapped around their body, almost like smoke, but far colder, far more dangerous. Her heart hammered in her chest as they passed, and Mira’s mind went completely blank, a strange, aching pull in the pit of her stomach. It was as if the air had shifted around her, drawn into a vortex of darkness.

She gripped the edge of her table, feeling the cold radiating from the stranger's presence. She had never felt such a force before. She wasn’t sure if it was the icy sensation in the air or the sudden dread that clawed at her heart, but something inside her stirred. Something ancient, untapped, waiting.

For a moment, everything seemed to freeze.

Then, the sensation passed.

The figures were gone.

And yet, Mira felt it: the whisper of power, the hum of energy, stirring just beneath the surface. Something was awakening inside her.

 

Chapter Three: Fractured Reflections

The chill from the café lingered in her bones as Mira made her way home. She didn’t know why, but the encounter—if it could even be called that—left her shaken. The world felt... different. The air felt heavy, the silence too thick to bear.

As she rolled through the polished corridors of her apartment complex, Mira couldn’t shake the feeling that something had changed. The steady rhythm of her chair’s hum against the floor was almost comforting, a grounding noise in the midst of the unease that clung to her.

She entered her apartment and froze.

The lights flickered, briefly dimming, before returning to their usual brightness. But it wasn’t the lights that made her pulse quicken—it was the reflection that greeted her in the mirror.

Her skin—her pale, smooth skin—was… shifting. Her right hand was covered in scales, faint at first, but unmistakable. They shimmered in the low light, icy blue and translucent, like dragon scales.

Mira’s breath hitched, lodged somewhere in her throat, and for a moment, she couldn’t breathe. Her reflection in the mirror wavered—then sharpened. The smoothness of her skin, usually so pale and untouched, began to shimmer, as if it had caught the light in a new way. She leaned in, straining to see, and felt a strange heat flush over her face, her pulse quickening.

Her hand—her right hand—came into view, the fingers curling slightly as if they moved of their own accord. Then, slowly, as though unwilling to acknowledge what was happening, her nails began to lengthen. She watched, transfixed, as the tips of her fingers sharpened into pointed, curved edges, like claws—sharp, crystalline, and gleaming. Each sensation was a rush of cold and heat colliding, swirling together in a way that made her stomach churn.

Her skin wasn’t just shifting; it was thrumming. There was something deep inside her now, a vibration that seemed to resonate in her very bones. The surface of her skin felt like it was tightening and stretching, as though it was trying to contain something—something raw and untamed—that wanted to break free. The coldness of the scales that had begun to form on her hand felt like ice under her fingertips, but it didn’t hurt. It didn’t feel foreign either. No, it felt strangely right. As if it belonged to her—had always belonged to her—and she had just forgotten.

Her breath came faster, shallow, and her chest felt too tight, like something inside was expanding, pushing against her ribs. A pressure built in the pit of her stomach, rising up her throat. She blinked rapidly, her pulse hammering in her ears as she stared at the changing reflection. The mirror, in a cruel irony, wouldn’t let her look away, each moment drawing her deeper into the transformation she hadn’t asked for and didn’t understand.

Her eyes… Her eyes were next.

The soft brown of her irises flickered, the colors twisting like smoke, darkening and shifting. The edges of her vision blurred, and for a heartbeat, she thought she could see something else there. Something cold, something sharp. Her pupils narrowed into slits, but she wasn’t sure if it was her mind playing tricks or if the change had already stretched that far. The reflection staring back at her—was that even her? It didn’t feel like her. Not anymore.

A jolt ran through her body. The air itself felt thicker, charged, and her fingers trembled involuntarily, her palms slick with sweat. She wiped them on her jeans, but they only grew colder. Mira’s breath caught again as she realized the temperature had dropped—sharply. The air in the room felt frigid, the chill creeping into her bones, into her chest. Her whole body seemed to react to it, like a magnet drawn to a force it had never known, or perhaps, had forgotten.

Her stomach turned over as the cold wave washed over her again, deeper this time, and her entire body seemed to respond, like it was trying to make room for something that was already there. Something ancient. The sensation wasn’t entirely alien, but it was distant, like a memory of a long-lost dream. It thrummed in her veins, powerful and unsettling, a current she could barely comprehend.

Her reflection rippled again—this time, it felt like it was alive, like her own image was rebelling against the glass. Mira’s knees trembled, threatening to buckle beneath her. She pressed her palms flat against the mirror, trying to steady herself, but the world tilted. There was a sound in her ears, a low, almost imperceptible hum that she could feel as much as hear, vibrating through her chest. The closer her hand got to the glass, the more it seemed to buzz with energy, as though it wanted to reach out and connect to something that lay just beyond the surface.

The sensation was unbearable, and yet… intoxicating.

Her heart raced. She didn’t know whether she wanted to run from the mirror, from herself, or lean into it, to see where this strange, uncontrollable force would take her. She gripped the edge of her chair, nails digging into the armrest, trying to find something solid, something familiar to hold onto. But it was all slipping through her fingers—her past, her identity, her comfort zone.

She let out a shaky breath, and for the first time in years, Mira felt something stir within her—a power, raw and untamed, deep in her chest. It was as if the earth beneath her was shifting, splitting open to reveal something that had been there all along, buried under layers of time and fear.

And though she was terrified, she didn’t shy away from it. She couldn’t. For all her life, she had existed within the boundaries of her own limitations. But now, as the ice crawled up her arm, as the scales continued to shimmer beneath her skin, she realized—she didn’t want to run from this. Whatever this was, it was hers.

Her chest tightened, her breath shallow, and yet, her heart quickened with a strange, insistent pulse. She didn’t know what was happening, or why, but she could feel the weight of it—heavy, suffocating, and exhilarating all at once.

Mira held her gaze in the mirror a little longer, watching as the changes took hold, as something inside her woke.

She didn’t know what to make of it yet, but deep in her gut, she knew—whatever had awakened within her was no mere illusion. The world felt different now. It was as if everything she had known had cracked open, revealing something far more powerful beneath the surface.

She swallowed hard, her voice a stunned whisper.

“What are you?”

Chapter 2: The Call of Ice

Mira stood frozen in front of the mirror, her breath still coming in short, shallow gasps. She could feel the pounding of her heart in her throat, each beat reverberating through her ribs, pushing against the new sensation coiling like smoke within her chest. Her reflection, no longer simply a mirror of her physical form, seemed to pulse with life, an energy that hummed in the stillness of the room.

Her hand, the one now adorned with shimmering scales, trembled ever so slightly. She flexed her fingers, watching as the claws, still sharp and gleaming, seemed to catch the light in a way she couldn’t quite explain. A deep, aching pull spread from her arm to her chest, like an invisible cord tugging her toward something she couldn't quite see—but it was close. Closer than anything else in her life had ever been. She felt the weight of it, pressing against her skin, urging her to reach for it, to understand what it wanted from her.

"Why is this happening?" she whispered to the empty room, her voice sounding thin, small, like someone else's.

Her breath faltered again, and she shook her head, trying to clear the dizziness clouding her vision. The scales were no longer just cold against her skin; they pulsed with a slow, rhythmic beat, like the soft thrum of a heartbeat beneath her skin. Her body felt alive, more alive than it ever had, even when she had felt at her best. Her legs, her wheelchair, her life—everything seemed distant, inconsequential, as though all of it had somehow become part of the background, fading into nothing.

A chill swept over her, and the temperature in the room dropped further. She pulled her jacket tighter around her shoulders, but it didn’t help. The cold seeped through, deep into her bones, curling inside her like a forgotten winter storm. It was an icy presence, familiar and distant all at once. Her breath formed mist in the air before her, spiraling in front of her face, and she shivered. The mirror reflected her—no longer just her human self but something more, something entwined with the elements.

The sound of something cracking beneath the floor echoed through the room. Her eyes darted down in alarm, but there was nothing—only the hardwood floor, unyielding and still. But she could feel it. The earth beneath her seemed to groan, shifting in response to her presence. Something, something big was stirring.

“Focus,” she whispered to herself, squeezing her eyes shut, trying to block out the chaos building in her mind. “Focus. It’s just—just a dream.” But the moment the words left her lips, she knew they were lies.

A whisper—barely a breath—caressed her ear. It was so soft, so fleeting, that for a second, she wondered if she had imagined it. But then it came again, closer this time. The voice wasn’t hers, but it didn’t sound foreign either. It wasn’t human, not in the way she understood. It was deeper, older, a presence that felt like the wind, like the bite of frost on a clear night.

Come.

Mira’s heart slammed against her ribcage as the voice echoed in her mind. She swallowed hard, struggling to steady herself. Her hands gripped the armrests of her chair so tightly that her knuckles turned white. The icy tremor in her limbs spread upward, as though the cold was not only wrapping around her skin but sinking deeper into her very soul.

She blinked, breathing deeply, feeling the frost deepen within her, yet there was something so… alive about it.

Without thinking, her fingers shifted, curling into claws—natural, instinctive. Her breath grew shallow again. The air swirled with the power that was building inside her, and despite herself, she felt it—the pull. A longing to go deeper, to follow the call.

The reflection in the mirror shifted again, just for a moment, and Mira’s heart skipped a beat. The scales on her hand seemed to glow brighter now, almost as though they were responding to the voice, to the call. She reached out a hand to touch the glass, the cold of it shocking against her fingertips, and when she did, she felt it.

Ice. Water. Power.

The words whispered into her mind. There was no time for fear now. No more questioning. Her breath caught in her throat, and her hands began to tremble. Something ancient, primal, was rising inside her. She had no idea how to control it, no idea what it would mean, but she could feel the power surging, filling her veins, flooding her chest.

And it felt like home.

🛍️ Ready to fly with the dragons? Get your copy here:

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📌 This post will be updated as more retailer links go live. Stay tuned!

🧙‍♀️ Stay Connected With Me!

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Thanks again, flamehearts. I hope Endsong of Dragons scorches your soul in the best way possible. Let me know what you think—and if there’s more dragonfire you'd like to see in the future.

Until then,
Keep your heart brave, your magic wild, and your dragons close. 🐉💖

— Rin Nocturne 🔮

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