The Dragon I Almost Didn't Write

Nova's dragon almost didn't exist.

Not because I didn't know they were there. I knew. I think I always knew. But there's a difference between knowing something and being brave enough to put it on the page — to commit to it, to defend it, to let it be exactly what it is even when part of you is whispering that it's not enough.

Nova's dragon is small. Blue-gray, quiet, patient in a way that costs them something. Not the dragon you'd picture if someone said the word "dragon." Not enormous, not fire-breathing, not the kind that makes people stop and stare.

And for a long time, that terrified me.

When I built the world of Echo's Song, I knew what kind of dragons populated it. Big ones. Impressive ones. The kind that shimmer and command attention and make everyone in the clearing turn their heads. I knew Nova's twin would bond with a rose-gold dragon that looked like the inside of a shell. I knew her friends would have dragons that suited them — striking, memorable, the kind people remember.

And I knew that Nova's dragon would be none of those things.

Small. Blue-gray. Tucked at the edge of the treeline, half in shadow, patient in a way that the showy dragons weren't built for.

The question I had to sit with was: why would anyone bond with that dragon?

And the answer, when I finally let myself look at it, was the whole book.

Nova runs from her dragon for four years because she's convinced that bonding with a small dragon will prove what she already fears about herself — that she's easy to miss. Too quiet. Too small. Always two steps behind the people the world finds easier to notice.

She'd rather die than be seen next to something that confirms what she's afraid is true.

I understood that feeling completely.

I've spent my life being underestimated. Being overlooked. Being the person in the room that some people decide isn't worth addressing before they've heard a single word from me. And there's a specific kind of fear that comes from that — the fear that if you show people the quieter, smaller, less impressive parts of yourself, they'll use it as proof. Confirmation of everything they already assumed.

Nova carried that fear. I knew it intimately. So I gave it to her, and then I gave her Echo, and then I made her choose.

Here's what I know about Nova's dragon now, after writing them all the way to the end:

They are the most patient character I have ever written. Four years of watching Nova try every other dragon in the forest. Four years of standing at the treeline, never pushing, never giving up, never letting their hope become a demand. They couldn't come to her — something held them back, some force neither of them understood yet. So they waited. And watched. And stayed.

They are also, it turns out, hilarious.

I didn't plan that. It arrived with the bond — the moment Nova finally stopped running and her dragon's voice opened up in her mind, I found out they'd been holding in four years of opinions about Nova's dragon-avoidance strategy and were done being quiet about it. The very first thing they said to her after their bond made me laugh out loud. You'll have to read it to find out what it was.

They earned it.

The small, quiet dragon who waits — who doesn't perform, doesn't demand, doesn't try to be something they aren't — turned out to be the most important character in the book.

Not despite being small.

Because of everything that smallness required them to be.

Steady. Certain. Unshakeable. The kind of patient that costs something real and pays it anyway, every single day, because they knew what was true even when Nova didn't.

I almost didn't write them. I almost made them bigger, more impressive, easier to root for at first glance.

I'm so glad I didn't.

Echo's Song: The Dragon Curse Saga Book One releases October 24th, 2026. Pre-order is available now.The