Lyricosa had always loved to sing. In the warm caverns of home, surrounded by friends and family, her voice flowed as easily as melted snow. She could trill, hum, and soar through any melody without a flicker of doubt. But singing solo for an audience of strangers? Yikes. That was a whole different kind of dragonfire.
Still, she’d been chosen for the solo in the Christmas carolers’ final song—a great honor for a young dragon. She practiced for weeks, confident and bright, imagining how her voice would ring across the winter valley.
Then the night arrived. The first four songs went beautifully. Lyricosa blended her voice with the troop, each harmony rising like warm breath into the cold air. The audience was enraptured—heads lifted, wings tucked, eyes shining. For a while, Lyricosa forgot to be nervous at all.
But as the fifth and final song approached, her solo loomed like a cliff edge.
Lyricosa stepped forward on the festive stage erected in the town square, lanterns glowing behind her. The valley below shimmered with dragons perched on ledges and nestled in snowdrifts, all waiting for her first note.
The conductor lifted a wing.
Lyricosa inhaled.
And froze.
Her throat locked. Her wings clamped tight. The silence swelled until it felt like a second winter settling over the mountains. Her caroling troop shifted uneasily behind her. The crowd leaned forward. Lyricosa’s heart hammered like a misfired drum.
Then from somewhere in the valley a dragon sneezed. A loud, echoing, frost‑puffed sneeze.
The tension shattered. Lyricosa startled, and without thinking, she blurted out a reflexive:
“Bless you—!”
Except instead of saying it, she sang it. Clear. Perfectly pitched. Carried on a bright, ringing note that floated across the valley.
The crowd burst into warm laughter, the good‑natured kind that wraps around you like a scarf. Lyricosa’s cheeks burned, but the note she’d just sung vibrated in her chest, steady and familiar. It was the pitch she needed.
She inhaled again, this time with courage, and let her “Bless you” melt seamlessly into the opening line of her solo. Her voice rose strong and sure, weaving through the winter air like a ribbon of light.
By the final verse, the valley was glowing with pride.
And the sneezer? He bowed dramatically, claiming he’d planned it all along.
Want dragons, stories, and magical updates delivered to your inbox?
Sign up for the Carpe Draco newsletter.
No spam. Unsubscribe anytime. Your email stays in the hoard.