Joren’s spirit was light for the first time in ages. Madri and their children dozed peacefully in the main prayer hall, catching a few hours of slumber before what might prove to be the most consequential day of all their lives.

  For a long time, he simply lay there listening to their breathing, grateful to be alive, to love and be loved. Grateful to be relieved of a burden that had been weighing down his spirit more than he’d even realized. Until that burden was lifted.

  Yet there was no way Joren could sleep. It always seemed to happen this way before such fateful days. Before his first hunt. Before his Ascent. His first battle in Taika. The day he wed Madri. His mind simply would not still.

  As the first hints of dawn drew near, he roused himself, and went to check on the Pelasius boy. Ruan still slept deeply, but his spirit remained firmly tethered to this world.

  Dimly, Joren could sense he was not the only one unable to sleep.

  After checking Ruan’s bandages, he made his way to the Sacred Hall. Runes glowed at his touch, and the door eased open.

  Ava Rykus looked up from her seat at his desk. She was not bound any longer, but the bedroll Madri had provided sat rolled up and untouched on the floor.

  “I trust I’m not disturbing you,” Joren said softly.

  “Nope.”

  He sensed she was still upset about being left out of the action. She perked up when he set her cane on the desk.

  “Held onto this after the attack. Not sure if it was just a ruse in the first place, but thought you might want it.”

  Ava ran her fingers over the handle, pressed the lever, and the blade shot out. She pressed another spot on the head along with the lever, and the blade retracted. She smiled, but offered no answer about whether it had been a ruse. “Thank you, shaman.”

  “Thought I’d pack a few things, if you don’t mind.”

  “Sure.” Ava shrugged, still slumped over the desk.

  Joren stepped to her side, waiting.

  “Oh, er, inside the desk, you mean?”

  “Yes.”

  “Sorry.” Ava scooted the chair back, and sat once more, watching him curiously, the cane draped over her lap.

  Joren began with the drawers, removing old ledgers and journals from shamans past. There was a hollowed-out tube of southern balsam wood that contained the original spell knowledge brought over from the Dying World. Copies were made long ago, as the original scroll was nearly illegible now, but it was perhaps the most sacred item in the room. That and one other scroll.

  He moved to the shelf. Once again, Ava silently shifted out of his way. Using a stool, he reached for a small chest at the top. The runes marking the exterior glowed, and a mechanism clicked as he set the chest down on the desk.

  Ava drew closer, looking over his shoulder with curiosity.

  Joren opened the chest and lifted out a folded sheet of leather. Gingerly, he spread it wide on the desk, and Ava drew closer.

  There were careful etchings burned into the surface. It was remarkably preserved for something so ancient. All long lines and squares.

  “What is it?” Ava asked.

  “I expect it is the best shot your rebellion has,” Joren said, pointing to several oval shapes marked throughout. “This is a map of the world beyond the Gate. Only shamans have ever seen it until now. Even my son doesn’t yet know it exists.”

  “Isn’t he a shaman too?”

  “Yes, well, we’ve had a busy time of late.”

  “Those shapes… they’re dragon eggs, aren’t they?”

  “They are the dragon temples of the Dead City of Adria. The place my people claim to have fled centuries ago. The city is littered with nests—dozens of them, maybe hundreds—most are now claimed by smaller dragyrs. Our best guess is that dragons took over the city after it was abandoned, but slowly died off in the years that followed.”

  What could kill off so many dragons?”

  “Our history of the Crossing suggests a great catastrophe that changed the spiritual nature of the world itself. A fearsome power that infected the soul of the world itself. Perhaps this is the reason there are so many eggs, and no living dragons. Dragyrs nest there but bring their eggs through to our world to hatch and live in our world. The dragon nests are the easiest to find now. Most of our children have taken eggs from these nests, though they are beginning to grow scarcer. But there are a few temples where dozens of eggs are kept in one place.”

  “Dragon temples,” Ava said. “So, our ancestors worshipped them?”

  “The past is difficult to parse out from the histories, but I don’t believe so. From what I can gather, humanity saw dragons as messengers from the gods.”

  “Like the Elyan cherubs?” Ava asked.

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  Joren smiled. “I know little of Elya, I’m afraid. But, it is relatively clear that the fate of dragons and humanity was linked in this Dying World. Hatchings stopped. Humanity fled. The dragons died off. How it played out in the end, it is impossible to be certain.”

  Ava’s voice deepened. “Why are these temples marked by your shamans?”

  “For years, I thought it was just information passed down. Like our spellbooks and histories. Gods know, we shamans love to document things. But now, whether intentionally or not, I believe it is here for this very moment. So that, in a time of dire need, we could turn the empire’s power against them. According to our legends, a Faltari man brought the first dragons to Attica. He used this knowledge for his own gain. And now, we have the opportunity to use it to dismantle that very empire.”

  Joren rolled up the map and stowed it in a satchel, which he slung over his shoulders.

  “I have seen the evils of the empire, Miss Rykus. It took me longer than I am proud of to see the right path forward. But I do now, and I will do all I can to see your revolution succeed.”

  Ava nodded. “Thank you, shaman.”

  The girl glanced away, a disturbance wracking her spirit.

  “What’s wrong?” Joren asked.

  She stared at the door, her back to him. A hand drifted to cover her mouth.

  “I’m sorry, but I still must insist you stay here until all this is—”

  Ava Rykus turned back, tears in her eyes.

  “Oh,” Joren said, “suddenly reminded how young she was. How young his own children were to endure all they’d endured these past days. “There’s no need—”

  “It’s not that... it’s the boy.”

  “Boy?”

  “Ruan.”

  “Ah… so you were truly close, then.”

  “Any relationship with an Attican boy… is complicated. But yes.” Ava brushed the tears away and straightened up. “Is he…”

  “His injuries were grave, dear,” Joren said. “But I believe he’ll live.”

  “I’d like to see him,” Ava said.

  “I really can’t…”

  “I believe the Valucian cause is just,” Ava said. “That it is worth sacrificing everything for. But knowing the toll our rebellion has taken on Ruan... I could feel him, shaman. Through the surgery last night. The fear and turmoil in his mind. The agony. Before you go. Before all this ends. I must see him one last time. Please.”

  “He’s sleeping, Ava. And even if he were awake—”

  “I wouldn’t ask if he were awake. I know it would be too great a risk. But I think you, of all people, know that much can be said beyond words. Even beyond consciousness. I betrayed Ruan, nearly killed him. I need to say, I’m sorry. I need him to know. Deep down.”

  Joren felt the desperation in her spirit, the regret. A feeling he knew all too well. He couldn’t deny the girl that.

  “It will be dawn soon,” he said. “But I can grant you a few moments. Nothing more.”

  ***

  Ava followed the shaman out of the Sacred Hall and a short distance down the corridor. With the aid of her brace and the return of her cane, she moved a little easier, though the ache in her leg persisted from being trapped in that room.

  As she walked, she could hear snores echoing from the main hall beyond. Sensed weary spirits. Joren’s family had endured much, and now, they were willing to risk even more to help her cause. She could not let herself think what else they might endure.

  Ava felt guilty for manipulating the shaman.

  But she could not bear the thought of lying in this damn temple, mere feet away from the boy she’d survived the academy with, the boy she cared for despite the vast differences of their upbringings, the boy she had betrayed.

  It was true if she were to do it all again, she would change nothing. But whatever happened today, Ava doubted she would see him again. It was possible he would not even wake before it was over.

  Over the past years, she had impressed many truths on Ruan Pelasius. Yes, they were manipulations, but they were still truths, and he had been open to them.

  Open to befriending a Valucian. Trusting a girl much lower in status than he. Ava would nevver have ascended the way she did in the academy without him. She would never have won Campos’s confidence. Would never have come to Faltara.

  Now, even if he was unconscious, there was one last truth she must convey.

  The shaman opened the door to the healing chamber and stepped inside. A noxious odor wafted out, and Ava paused. On a table, she could see legs jutting out of a pile of blankets.

  Ava stepped into the room.

  All her life, her house had sacrificed for a cause greater than their own family. In secret. While most of their people believed them blood-traitors. Her mum had sacrificed the most of all. And through it, Ava had learned not to allow herself to hold regret.

  It was a useless emotion for someone like her.

  Ava Lucila Rykus did what she must, that was all there was to it.

  She stepped inside.

  The sight of Ruan lying on the shaman’s table wracked her body with tangible anguish, even worse than she’d felt during the operation.

  Last night, she could feel Ruan’s pain, but she could not see just how close to death he had been. His face and neck were a motley display of bruises, purples and yellows mixing to form a sick amalgamation, hair a greasy and matted mess jutting out from a thick bandage that covered the back of his skull and cinched under his chin.

  The shaman hung back in the outer hall, whispering to his wife, who must have stirred when they came out.

  Ava took a seat beside Ruan. The wooden chair creaked as she leaned forward, took Ruan’s hand. His chest rose and fell steadily, though there was a labored wheeze to each breath.

  But his spirit was still as a babe’s.

  Ruan was dreaming. Peaceful dreams.

  Ava did not often peer into dreams with her gifts. Usually, dreams were muddled and confusing, making it impossible to tell fiction from reality. One could rarely glean more than a resonance from dreams. But that was all she wanted from Ruan now.

  Ava reached out with her sense, her mind brushing up against his. And she could feel Ruan’s essence. Perhaps it was true, as these Faltari shamans believed, that it was his actual spirit.

  Ruan’s was always warm, calm, good.

  He was not ruled by the jealousy and ambition of most of his peers at the academy. There was something special about him. Something truly Fjuriin, she supposed. A steadiness that balanced her own wild and bitter nature.

  Now, facing that good nature filled her with pernicious regret.

  It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.

  And gods, she hated herself for failing.

  That was what she’d shown Madri. That was how she’d convinced the woman she was telling the truth. By baring the only two regrets she held in all her life. What happened to her mother with the Beirusian witch. And the betrayal of the boy she loved.

  Ava had never told Ruan her truest feelings. Nor had she spoken the words, even to herself.

  When he woke from this coma, his mother would fill him with lies about what Ava had done, what she’d intended. Perhaps none of this would matter in the end.

  But she reached out to his mind and tried to impress the truth. The actual truth. Which, of course, was complicated.

  Was it actually love?

  Ava chuckled to herself. What did a nineteen year-old girl know of love? She, who’d never kissed a boy she actually cared for? Who’d never bared her soul to anyone.

  But deep down, Ava had longed to do both with Ruan, gods damn it. She’d longed to tell him everything about herself. Everything she longed for and dreamed for. Everything she would lay down her life for.

  Slowly, Ava withdrew her magic.

  Ruan twitched softly. She held still, but he did not wake.

  Ava stood and was about to leave when she realized that the shaman and his wife were not out in the hall, any longer.

  She reached out with her sense, and her body stiffened.

  There was a disturbance outside the temple.