Onyx Storm’s Lost Dialogues: Secrets That Change Everything

Rebecca Yarros: 

[The stage is set in a grand library, lined with ancient books and glowing dragon-forged artifacts. A crackling fire casts flickering shadows on the walls. In the center, a plush armchair sits waiting, and as the audience quiets, Rebecca Yarros steps into the warm glow, a knowing smile on her lips.]

Rebecca Yarros: (settling into the chair, eyes glinting with amusement and mystery) "So, you’ve read Onyx Storm. You’ve turned every page, clung to every twist, and probably screamed a few times—don’t worry, I did too."

(Pauses, leaning forward slightly, voice dropping just enough to make the audience lean in.)

"But here’s the thing… for every story told, there’s always a story left untold. Some moments, some conversations, some truths—never made it to the page. Not because they weren’t important, but because sometimes, the most powerful revelations are the ones waiting just beyond the words."

(She gestures to the library around her, filled with volumes that seem far older than they should be.)

"What if Violet and Andarna uncovered a truth so dangerous, it could rewrite history? What if Zaden wasn’t just changing—what if he was remembering? What if dragons, the guardians of magic, once made a choice they’ve spent centuries trying to erase?"

(Smiling, she leans back, fingers tapping against the armrest.)

"Tonight, we open the doors to those unwritten moments—the imaginary conversations that could have changed everything. The ones you never got to see… until now."

(A distant roll of thunder echoes outside as the firelight flickers, and Rebecca’s expression turns knowing, almost mischievous.)

"So, are you ready to step beyond the pages?"

(She raises an eyebrow, the air thick with anticipation.)

"Let’s begin."

Andarna & Violet: The Truth About Time and Fate

Setting:
It’s late at night. The war college is quiet except for the distant crackling of torches along the outer walls. Violet stands alone on the training grounds, the weight of recent battles pressing heavily on her. Andarna has just returned from her unexplained disappearance.

Violet doesn’t know whether to be relieved or furious. Her dragon, her supposed protector, vanished when she needed her most. But deep down, she knows this isn’t just about Andarna leaving—this is about the strange, fragmented visions Violet has been having ever since.

The ones that feel too real to be dreams.

Violet: [arms crossed, eyes sharp] "You left."

Andarna: [tilting her head, golden eyes unreadable] "I did."

Violet: [tightens her grip on the dagger at her belt] "No explanation? No apology?"

Andarna: [softly, but with an edge of something ancient in her voice] "Would you believe me if I told you the truth?"

Violet’s breath catches. Something about the way Andarna says that—like a being who has seen things no mortal should—sends a chill through her spine.

Violet: [softly, but firm] "Try me."

Andarna exhales, her large golden wings shifting slightly as if she’s uncomfortable. Finally, she speaks.

Andarna: [gazing at the stars] "I left because I had to see for myself. To know if it was true."

Violet: [narrowing her eyes] "If what was true?"

Andarna turns her gaze back to Violet. There’s something different in her expression—something older, as if she’s lived through countless lifetimes.

Andarna: [whispers] "That you are not bound to one future."

Violet’s heart stops for a moment.

Violet: [incredulous, half-laughing] "You make it sound like I have a choice in what happens to me."

Andarna: [staring at her intently] "What if you do?"

Violet’s pulse spikes.

She’s had these strange flashes—moments where she swears she’s seen another version of herself. A version who makes different choices. A version who dies. A version who survives when she shouldn’t.

Andarna knows.

Violet: [whispering] "You said I was trapped in a cycle of dying. That no matter what happens, I always…" [swallows hard] "die."

Andarna takes a slow step forward, lowering her head until her massive golden eyes are level with Violet’s.

Andarna: [softly, but filled with unshakable certainty] "I did." [beat] "And I was wrong."

A breath Violet didn’t realize she was holding rushes out of her lungs.

Violet: [shaken] "What does that mean?"

Andarna hesitates. Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, she presses her snout against Violet’s forehead.

And suddenly—

—she’s falling through time.

A battlefield. A different one. Not this war, but another war entirely. The sky is burning. Dragons roar above, their scales dripping molten gold. Soldiers scream as the world itself fractures.

She sees herself.

Not here. Not now. But before.

She’s holding a sword carved with ancient runes. Leading riders into battle. Her hair is longer, streaked with silver and gold. Her eyes are not just violet, but glowing with something deeper, something terrifyingly powerful.

Andarna’s voice whispers in her mind.

"You have lived before, Violet. And you have died before. But this time… something is different. This time, you have changed the pattern."

Violet gasps, yanked back into her body. She staggers, her hands shaking.

Violet: [breathless, voice barely above a whisper] "What… what did you just show me?"

Andarna watches her carefully, as if gauging whether to tell her the full truth. Finally, she speaks.

Andarna: [quietly, almost reverently] "I don’t think you were ever meant to exist in this time, Violet. I think you are a fracture—an anomaly."

Violet freezes.

Violet: [shaking her head, voice hoarse] "No. No, that’s—"

Andarna: [interrupting, firm but kind] "That is why you keep seeing things before they happen. Why fate keeps trying to pull you in one direction… and why you keep surviving when you shouldn’t."

Violet’s knees almost give out.

Everything. Every time she’s miraculously survived when she shouldn’t have. Every time something has felt off. The way people look at her differently. The way Zaden always says she’s different from anyone he’s ever known.

This is why.

She was never supposed to be here.

Violet swallows hard, forcing her voice to be steady, strong.

Violet: [quiet, but filled with defiance] "Then what happens now?"

Andarna smiles softly, her golden eyes glinting in the moonlight.

Andarna: [murmuring, almost playfully] "Now? Now we see if fate can truly be rewritten."

The air around them shifts, as if the universe itself just changed its course.

For the first time in her life, Violet doesn’t feel like she’s running out of time.

She feels like she just became the one in control of it.

Zaden & Jack Barlowe: The Venin’s Ultimate Secret

Setting:
A cold, dimly lit chamber deep within the ruins of an abandoned stronghold. The walls are damp, cracked with age, and faint whispers of wind slither through the stone. Zaden has come here alone, seeking answers from the one person who has embraced what he is becoming—Jack Barlowe.

Zaden has fought against the darkness clawing at his soul, but he can feel it now. The power. The hunger. He tells himself he still has control. But for how much longer?

He needs to know the truth. What does it truly mean to be Venin? Is there a way back—or has he already crossed the point of no return?

Zaden: "Tell me what you know, Barlowe. No riddles, no mind games. What am I becoming?"

Jack Barlowe: [leaning against a crumbling pillar, smirking] "You mean you haven’t figured it out yet? Gods, Zaden, I thought you were supposed to be the smart one."

Zaden: [gritting his teeth] "I’m not in the mood for your games."

Jack Barlowe: [mockingly] "Oh, but this is fun for me. Watching you wrestle with the truth like it’s something you can still control."

Zaden: [his voice darkens, a flicker of power crackling at his fingertips] "I don’t care about your amusement. Answer the damn question."

Jack laughs, pushing off the pillar and stepping closer.

Jack Barlowe: [lowering his voice] "Alright, fine. You want the truth? Here it is, Rierson. You think being Venin is about taking power from the earth? About feeding off magic?" [he shakes his head, amused] "That’s what they want you to believe."

A muscle in Zaden’s jaw tightens.

Zaden: "Who’s ‘they’?"

Jack Barlowe: [grinning, voice almost singsong] "The ones who named us. The ones who think they understand what we are. The ones who’ve been lying to you since the moment you were born."

Zaden: [his hands curl into fists] "Stop talking in circles and tell me the truth."

Jack’s smirk fades, and for the first time, his gaze sharpens with something that almost resembles pity.

Jack Barlowe: [softly, but deadly serious] "You’re not stealing magic, Zaden. You’re not bending the world to your will. You’re becoming something that was never meant to exist."

Silence. Zaden’s pulse pounds in his ears.

Zaden: [low, dangerous] "Explain."

Jack Barlowe: [smirking again, but this time, there’s something unsettling in his eyes] "Think about it. Why do you think Venin can’t bond with dragons? Why do you think we get stronger the more magic we take? Why do you think our bodies don’t just decay under the strain, but evolve?" [leans in slightly, voice turning to a whisper] "Because we were never meant to be human in the first place."

A cold wave crashes through Zaden’s chest. He stares at Jack, trying to understand.

Zaden: [barely above a whisper] "What are you saying?"

Jack shrugs, casual as ever, but there’s something twistedly delighted in his expression.

Jack Barlowe: "I’m saying, Rierson, that maybe Venin aren’t ‘corrupted’ humans." [grinning, letting the weight of his words settle] "Maybe we’re something older."

The air in the chamber feels suddenly heavier, like something ancient and unseen is watching.

Zaden: [staggering back slightly, shaking his head] "No. That’s not—"

Jack Barlowe: [cutting him off, stepping closer] "What if we’re not feeding on magic, Zaden? What if we are magic? What if this—" [he gestures to his own body, then at Zaden] "—isn’t a curse? What if it’s a return to what we were always meant to be?"

The world tilts. Zaden feels it in his bones. The hunger inside him—it isn’t just a craving. It’s recognition.

Zaden: [hoarse, desperate] "You’re lying."

Jack Barlowe: [softly, with something close to kindness] "Am I?"

A long silence stretches between them.

Jack watches Zaden, eyes filled with amusement, curiosity—and something else. A knowing.

Jack Barlowe: [smiling faintly] "Tell me, Rierson. When you close your eyes at night… do you hear them calling yet?"

A shudder runs through Zaden’s entire body.

Because the truth is—he does.

Violet & Mira: The Hidden History of Their Family

Setting:
The war college is quiet under the weight of the looming battles ahead. Violet sits on the edge of her bed, exhausted but unable to sleep. For weeks, something has been nagging at her—the whispers of a past she doesn’t remember, the feeling that her family’s history holds secrets she was never meant to uncover.

Mira, her older sister, has always been protective, strong, unshakable. But tonight, something is different. There’s a hesitance in her stance, a rare vulnerability in her gaze.

Violet knows Mira is hiding something. And tonight, she’s going to find out what.

Violet: [watching Mira closely] "You knew, didn’t you?"

Mira exhales slowly, arms crossed over her chest, eyes unreadable.

Mira: [carefully] "Knew what?"

Violet: [gritting her teeth] "Don’t do that. Don’t pretend you don’t know exactly what I’m talking about."

Silence. Mira’s jaw tightens.

Violet: [soft, insistent] "Why am I different, Mira? Why do I have two dragons? Why do I keep surviving things I shouldn’t?"

For the first time, Mira doesn’t meet her gaze.

That’s when Violet knows. She’s right.

Violet: [barely a whisper] "It’s Dad, isn’t it? It was never just about Mom being a general. It was him, too."

Mira: [quietly, almost reluctantly] "Dad wasn’t just a historian, Vi."

Violet’s breath catches.

Violet: [voice shaking] "Then what was he?"

Mira’s gaze finally meets hers, and there’s something haunted in her expression.

Mira: [whispers] "A guardian of something long forgotten."

The words hit Violet like a blade to the chest.

Violet: [stunned] "What does that mean?"

Mira moves closer, lowering her voice, as if the walls themselves might be listening.

Mira: [slowly, carefully] "You know how he always told us that knowledge was the most dangerous weapon?"

Violet nods.

Mira: [soft, almost bitterly] "He wasn’t speaking in metaphors. He meant it literally."

The room feels smaller, like the weight of what Mira is about to say is too big to be contained within it.

Mira: [watching Violet closely, measuring her reaction] "Dad didn’t just study history, Vi. He was hiding it."

Violet feels her heart stutter in her chest.

Violet: [hoarse, breathless] "Hiding what?"

Mira hesitates. Then she steps forward, resting a hand on Violet’s shoulder.

Mira: [firmly, finally revealing the truth] "Our family wasn’t meant to be dragon riders, Violet. We were meant to be something else entirely."

The air leaves Violet’s lungs.

Violet: [soft, shaken] "Something else?"

Mira nods.

Mira: [whispering] "We weren’t supposed to bond with dragons. We were supposed to protect something—something people stopped believing in."

Violet’s mind spins.

Violet: [gritting her teeth, determined now] "Tell me."

Mira takes a deep breath, and when she speaks, her voice is filled with the weight of generations of secrecy.

Mira: [quietly] "We were meant to guard the oldest magic in the world, Vi. The kind that was never supposed to be controlled. The kind that doesn’t choose dragon riders—but something much older."

Violet’s pulse pounds in her ears.

Violet: [whispering, realizing the terrifying truth] "That’s why I’m different."

Mira nods.

Mira: [softly] "You were never meant to ride dragons, Vi. You were meant to be something stronger."

Silence stretches between them. Violet’s entire life, every near-impossible survival, every inexplicable twist of fate—none of it was random.

She wasn’t chosen by dragons. She was chosen by something even they fear.

And now, she has to figure out what that means before it’s too late.

Tairn & Andarna: The Great War That Dragons Never Speak Of

Setting:
The night is heavy with tension, the sky thick with storm clouds that refuse to break. Violet sits in the dragon training grounds, running a hand over Tairn’s rough, battle-worn scales. She can feel it in her bones—something is off.

Andarna has been different since she returned. More aware. More knowing. More… burdened.

Violet has spent her life trusting dragons, believing that their wisdom, their bond, their loyalty was unshakable. But now, sitting between Tairn’s ancient presence and Andarna’s quiet, restless energy, she realizes something she’s never considered before.

Dragons keep secrets too.

Tonight, she’s going to find out what.

Violet: [softly, almost hesitantly] "You’ve never lied to me before, Tairn. But you haven’t always told me everything either."

The massive black dragon rumbles, his golden eyes unreadable.

Tairn: [calm, but firm] "There are things even you are not ready to know, Violence."

Andarna lets out a sharp exhale, her tail flicking against the ground, irritated.

Andarna: [muttering] "Oh, for the love of the skies, stop treating her like a child."

Violet glances between them. She knows this argument isn’t new.

Violet: [narrowing her eyes] "You’ve fought wars before. But there’s one you never talk about. The one you won’t even let cross your mind when we’re bonded. Why?"

Tairn’s wings shift slightly, the only sign of his discomfort.

Tairn: [slowly, carefully] "Because some things are better left forgotten."

Andarna: [snapping] "Because some truths, Tairn, are worse than lies."

A gust of wind rolls across the training grounds. Violet feels it in her bones—this is it. This is the moment she either learns the truth, or she never will.

Violet: [gritted teeth, voice steady] "Then let’s start simple. Who was the war against?"

Tairn doesn’t answer.

Andarna does.

Andarna: [softly, but with the weight of centuries in her voice] "Not against. Among."

Silence. A sharp, deafening kind.

Violet stares at her, heart pounding.

Violet: [hoarsely, in disbelief] "You’re saying… dragons fought each other?"

Tairn exhales, slow and deep, as if he’s waited centuries for someone to ask this question.

Tairn: [quietly] "Not just fought. We destroyed ourselves."

The weight of the words sinks deep into Violet’s bones.

Violet: [barely above a whisper] "Why?"

Andarna: [gaze flickering toward Tairn] "Because of what we were meant to guard. Because some of us… stopped guarding it."

Violet’s blood runs cold.

Violet: [staggering to her feet, shaking her head] "No. No, that’s—dragons don’t betray. Dragons don’t fight each other. That’s not how this works."

Tairn: [dark, heavy, with the voice of someone who has lived too long and seen too much] "That’s what they tell you."

Violet stares at him, realization creeping in like a rising tide.

Violet: [voice cracking] "The war… it wasn’t between humans and dragons, was it?"

Tairn: [low, unyielding] "No."

Violet: [barely breathing now] "Then what was it about?"

Andarna moves closer, her golden eyes shimmering with something too vast, too cosmic for a creature so young.

Andarna: [softly, but final] "It was about power. The kind that was never meant to be wielded. The kind that should never have been touched."

Tairn watches her carefully.

Tairn: [gravelly, filled with regret] "The kind that nearly ended all of us."

The ground beneath them feels too solid, too small to contain the weight of the truth.

Violet: [breathless, almost afraid to ask] "And who won?"

Tairn’s eyes flick toward the dark horizon. His voice is softer now, almost bitter.

Tairn: [quietly] "No one. But the ones who lost the most… were never supposed to exist again."

Andarna shifts uncomfortably, but Violet sees it in her eyes. The flicker of understanding. The look that says, but they do exist again.

Something cold twists in Violet’s stomach.

Violet: [whispering, horror creeping in] "The Venin."

Tairn closes his eyes.

Tairn: [with the weight of centuries] "They were dragons once, too."

The world tilts. Everything she knows about history—about dragons, about magic, about the war—was a lie.

And if the Venin were dragons once…

Then what is Zaden becoming?

Zaden & Violet: The Choice That Will Change Everything

Setting:
The battlefield is eerily silent. The war is still raging, but in this moment—just outside the ruined walls of the stronghold where their forces are gathered—there is only Violet and Zaden.

Blood streaks Zaden’s face, but it’s not just his. His body is changing—his veins darken, his breath is uneven, and his eyes glow with an unnatural light. He has fought against it for so long, but Violet can see it now: he is losing.

He knows it.

She knows it.

And now, she has to make a choice.

Zaden: [voice rough, strained] "You have to kill me, Violet."

The words strike her harder than any blade ever could.

Violet: [staggering forward, shaking her head] "No. No, I won’t."

He exhales sharply, tilting his head back like he’s trying to breathe past the inevitable.

Zaden: [his voice drops, pleading] "You don’t understand—"

Violet: [fierce, stepping closer] "Then make me understand."

Silence. A slow breath. He looks at her then—really looks at her—and for the first time, she sees fear in his eyes.

Not fear of dying.

Fear of what he’s becoming.

Zaden: [soft, but unsteady] "I thought I could fight it. That if I just held on long enough, if I resisted—" [he swallows hard, shaking his head] "But it's not stopping, Vi. It's not slowing down. It's in me now."

Violet: [teeth gritted, her voice breaking slightly] "Then we’ll find a way. We always do."

He smiles then, but it’s not his usual smirk. It’s something sadder, something final.

Zaden: [softly] "That’s the problem with you, Vi. You still think you get to choose how this ends."

She feels it then—the energy around him. Not just darkness. Not just magic.

Something else.

Something old.

Her stomach twists.

Violet: [hoarse, barely whispering] "What did you do?"

He exhales sharply, glancing down at his hands like they’re foreign to him now.

Zaden: [soft, almost detached] "I didn’t do anything. That’s the problem. It’s been happening since the moment I touched their magic. The moment I let it in."

Violet shakes her head furiously, stepping forward, gripping his wrists so tightly she can feel his pulse beneath her fingers.

Violet: [desperate] "Then we fix it. We break the bond. We find another way."

He just watches her.

And then, so quietly she almost doesn’t hear it—

Zaden: [softly, almost like an apology] "What if this is the way?"

A cold, sharp spike of terror lodges in Violet’s chest.

Violet: [shaking her head, gripping his wrists tighter] "No. No, that’s not—Zaden, don’t say that. Don’t you dare say that."

He steps closer, pressing their foreheads together, his breath unsteady, his grip tightening over hers.

Zaden: [whispering, voice raw] "I remember things, Violet. Things I shouldn’t. Things I was never supposed to know."

Her stomach drops.

Violet: [barely breathing now] "What do you mean?"

Zaden: [his voice shaking, haunted] "I think I was someone else before this."

She stares at him, something ancient and wrong clicking into place.

Violet: [whispers, horror creeping in] "You’re remembering a past life."

Zaden: [exhales, nodding slightly, his grip tightening even more, like he’s afraid to let go] "I think I was a dragon."

The words hit her harder than anything ever has.

A war long forgotten.

A betrayal no one speaks of.

A choice that should have never been made.

Her vision blurs, memories slamming into her that don’t belong to her.

A battlefield. A broken oath. A body that was once covered in scales. A dragon who fell not to death, but to something worse.

To this.

Violet: [staggering back, shaking her head violently] "No. No, that’s not possible."

But she knows it is.

And Zaden sees it in her eyes.

Zaden: [soft, almost broken] "It was me, Vi. I was there. I think I started all of this."

Silence. A suffocating, terrifying silence.

Violet doesn’t move.

Violet: [whispering, barely holding it together] "What are you saying?"

He smiles again—that same, sad smile.

Zaden: [whispering, voice thick with something too heavy to name] "Maybe I was never meant to survive this war. Maybe I was just meant to end it."

A sob rips through her chest.

Because she knows what he’s saying.

She knows what he’s asking her to do.

To stop him.

To kill him before he becomes something he can’t come back from.

Before he turns into the thing he was in another life.

Before he becomes what the dragons tried to destroy once before.

Short Bios: