Sing to me, o muse-wyrms ancient,
Of a girl, frail and scaleless,
Who yet held embers within
Sing her tale of rising flame
Of chains broken, truth found
Wings once invisible, finding form
Claws once blunted, now knife-sharp
Let us hear her first dragon-song
Ringing through skies once denied
Let us feel the fury, the rush
Of her first hunt, her first kill
Tell us the late-hatcher's tale
Of change unexpected yet welcome
And let us feel the joy, the peace
That she feels now within her heart.