Riese’s heart was heavy as she left the council. She prayed she hadn’t just made a terrible mistake. She was bringing war straight to the heart of her island home.

  She waited in the courtyard, while Deven and Rykus discussed more detailed plans with the others. The emperor had destroyed Rykus’s home, and now, was taking war to Chardonia. Would Faltara be laid waste next?

  Rebels bustled around the courtyard. Most not paying her any mind. Riese held her rucksack in her lap, feeling the contours of the egg inside. The warm resonance of the dragon’s spirit pressed against her own.

  “What have I done?” she whispered.

  Destiny.

  She felt the word distinctly, unsure whether he had spoken to her, or whether it was simply an understanding between them. An impression.

  And when had her dragon become so clearly a he in her mind? She was unsure of that also.

  “Destiny, at the expense of my own kin?”

  No. Destiny. Shared.

  “Shared?”

  “Anywhere else, you’d be written off for a crazy person.”

  Riese glanced up to find a tall Valucian man. Strong jaw, brown hair, and sun-specked skin. He was joined by a woman with fiery hair. Both wore dark uniforms with the emblem of a dragon in flight on their breast.

  “You’re…”

  “Riders?” said the woman. “Yes. I’m Rhoda.”

  “Desmond,” said the male. “We hoped we’d find you before you left.”

  “It’s been years since we’ve seen an egg.” Rhoda gestured to Riese’s rucksack. “May I?”

  “Is it safe?”

  “This is the only place it is.”

  Carefully, Riese untethered the top of the sack and reached in, fingers brushing over the ridged surface. It was warm. She hesitated.

  Rhoda smiled. “It’s like being asked to hand over your newborn babe, isn’t it?”

  “I imagine so,” said Riese.

  Riese wondered what would be expected regarding the egg. She was to join Rykus on their return to the island. But she could not imagine leaving her egg behind. The bond was intensifying, that much was all too clear.

  She pulled the egg out and both the riders gasped.

  “Gods are good,” said Desmond.

  “Are you sure?” Rhoda asked.

  Riese handed the egg to her.

  The entire courtyard had gone silent. People passing slowed their pace to catch a glimpse of the shimmering emerald egg. They beamed with hopeful smiles. Even here, where two dragons soared in the skies.

  “Most never saw the first eggs,” Desmond said, leaning in over Rhoda’s shoulder.

  Rhoda gently turned the egg over. “This one is nearly ready for the rites, if he’s already speaking to you.”

  Riese nodded, filled with longing to meet the dragon inside.

  “Can you sense our mounts?” Desmond asked, gently brushing his fingers over the egg’s surface.

  Riese thought of the stirrings she’d felt just she arrived in this strange world. “I think so.”

  “Technically, it’s your dragon that senses them. But the resonance is shared. Our dragons can’t sense him yet unless they were very close, but a hatchling’s senses are heightened, and not yet distracted by all the other senses in the outer world.”

  Rhoda handed the egg back to her, and Riese was filled with relief.

  “How do you know all this?” Riese asked.

  Rhoda shrugged. “We Valucians have an ancient heritage. You Faltari do too.”

  “We do?”

  “Well, the Valgish do. It’s the origins of the Burned Lands, after all. And you’re a northern Valgish clan, so…”

  Riese hesitated. She did not know what to believe anymore about her people’s history. Instead, she focused on wrapping her egg once more and stowing it within her rucksack.

  Deven strode across the courtyard straight toward her.

  “I should go,” said Riese.

  “May the winds guide you,” said Desmond.

  “We look forward to having you join our ranks when you return.”

  Riese nodded, mind racing. Again her dragon’s voice in her mind.

  Destiny.

  “There you are!” said Deven. “Where’s Rykus?”

  “I thought he was with you,” Riese said.

  Deven shook her head. “I was conferring with the Chardonians before they left. I just checked Elora’s chambers, and—”

  “Rykus was heading toward the gardens,” said Rhoda. “I think he wanted a special goodbye before this particular mission.”

  “Goodbye?” Riese asked.

  Beyond the courtyard, they followed a winding path to a fenced area beyond the walls. The path was lined with flowers, but an enormous tree dominated the space, set upon a small knoll pocked with boulders. Its trunk was thick as a house and its branches reached out toward the heavens like many praying hands.

  The purple skies radiated with violets and pinks as dusk settled over the fortress.

  Captain Rykus stood beside a frail woman, paying them no mind as they approached. He pointed out toward the radiant skies, and shifted the woman to look in that direction.

  “That woman, Elora,” said Riese. “Is she his mother?”

  “His wife,” said Deven. They paused at the base of the hill.

  Rykus was speaking softly with her. Kept redirecting her attention to the sunset.

  “She’s been unwell for many years,” said Deven.

  “What happened?”

  Deven shrugged. “Neither he nor his daughter speak of it. A great tragedy. Most say it happened during the Uprising.”

  Rykus turned, holding tight to the woman’s arm, helping her walk slowly down the hill. She was so thin and small. Skin wrinkled. Eyes vacant. She looked fifty years older than Rykus, but Riese knew that couldn’t be.

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  A pair of young women who’d been sitting peacefully on a bench along the path hurried to help Elora and the captain.

  When they reached the bottom of the hill, Rykus embraced her. He held her for a long time, but Riese watched how her gaze drifted, stood stiffly, as though not aware that her husband was even there, let alone hugging her before a dangerous rebel mission.

  “I love you,” Rykus whispered.

  Then, the two women walked off with Elora Rykus.

  The captain turned to them. “Riese, are you ready to go home?”

  She nodded, though her face betrayed her.

  “If Ava has succeeded, your people will be leaving the island. We will put no one in danger if we can help it.”

  Riese spared a glance at frail Elora as she reached the end of the gardens.

  “But yes,” said Rykus, “some costs cannot be helped.”

  Riese pictured the burning skies over the Isle of Eòreth, and she nodded. “I’m ready, sir.”

  “Good,” said Deven. “Because we don’t have any more time to delay. I must ready the ship.”

  “You’re not coming with us?”

  Deven grinned. “Well… not for long.”

  Her hand rested on the pommel of her saber. She withdrew it in a sweeping arc and the room filled with light.

  Riese’s breath caught. “A godblade? But I thought only the Knights of Caadron possessed them.”

  It was not nearly as large as the broad sword she’d seen the Lady Knight wield during the attack on Yerida, but a brilliant emerald gem glowed in the hilt just the same.

  Deven grinned. “We’ve still got a surprise or two left before this is all said and done.”

  The Elyan woman swept her blade through the air cutting a semi-circle in the air itself, forming a misty sort of window.

  Together, Riese and Rykus stepped through.

  When she glanced back, Deven was gone.

  The totem pillars of the Shrines towered all around them, casting sharp shadows. It took a moment for Riese’s spirit to adjust to her new surroundings. It was a bizarre thing to be so instantly flung from one world to another.

  Then, she felt something.

  Rykus turned, his face turned ashen. “What’s wrong?”

  Her heart pounded. Chills shot across her skin. She peered through the tops of the trees.

  She could feel a voice in her spirit as clearly as she’d felt the dragon she’d left behind in the rebel hideout back in the way station.

  The village was still as a felled doe, but this gave Riese no comfort.

  In the moment after a kill, the spirit of all things lingered for a time, brushing up against her own spirit, pleading, scared, alone. She’d felt that tension and pain more times than she could count, and it always shook her.

  And Riese felt similar desperation now.

  But it was no animal.

  It was Malik.

  “We’re too late.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She means something is terribly wrong. And she’d be damn right about that.”

  Riese and Captain Rykus both turned. Elder Olma Marudeil emerged from behind one of the totem poles.

  Riese’s heart was heavy as she left the council. She prayed she hadn’t just made a terrible mistake. She was bringing war straight to the heart of her island home.

  She waited in the courtyard, while Deven and Rykus discussed more detailed plans with the others. The emperor had destroyed Rykus’s home, and now, was taking war to Chardonia. Would Faltara be laid waste next?

  Rebels bustled around the courtyard. Most not paying her any mind. Riese held her rucksack in her lap, feeling the contours of the egg inside. The warm resonance of the dragon’s spirit pressed against her own.

  “What have I done?” she whispered.

  Destiny.

  She felt the word distinctly, unsure whether he had spoken to her, or whether it was simply an understanding between them. An impression.

  And when had her dragon become so clearly a he in her mind? She was unsure of that also.

  “Destiny, at the expense of my own kin?”

  No. Destiny. Shared.

  “Shared?”

  “Anywhere else, you’d be written off for a crazy person.”

  Riese glanced up to find a tall Valucian man. Strong jaw, brown hair, and sun-specked skin. He was joined by a woman with fiery hair. Both wore dark uniforms with the emblem of a dragon in flight on their breast.

  “You’re…”

  “Riders?” said the woman. “Yes. I’m Rhoda.”

  “Desmond,” said the male. “We hoped we’d find you before you left.”

  “It’s been years since we’ve seen an egg.” Rhoda gestured to Riese’s rucksack. “May I?”

  “Is it safe?”

  “This is the only place it is.”

  Carefully, Riese untethered the top of the sack and reached in, fingers brushing over the ridged surface. It was warm. She hesitated.

  Rhoda smiled. “It’s like being asked to hand over your newborn babe, isn’t it?”

  “I imagine so,” said Riese.

  Riese wondered what would be expected regarding the egg. She was to join Rykus on their return to the island. But she could not imagine leaving her egg behind. The bond was intensifying, that much was all too clear.

  She pulled the egg out and both the riders gasped.

  “Gods are good,” said Desmond.

  “Are you sure?” Rhoda asked.

  Riese handed the egg to her.

  The entire courtyard had gone silent. People passing slowed their pace to catch a glimpse of the shimmering emerald egg. They beamed with hopeful smiles. Even here, where two dragons soared in the skies.

  “Most never saw the first eggs,” Desmond said, leaning in over Rhoda’s shoulder.

  Rhoda gently turned the egg over. “This one is nearly ready for the rites, if he’s already speaking to you.”

  Riese nodded, filled with longing to meet the dragon inside.

  “Can you sense our mounts?” Desmond asked, gently brushing his fingers over the egg’s surface.

  Riese thought of the stirrings she’d felt just she arrived in this strange world. “I think so.”

  “Technically, it’s your dragon that senses them. But the resonance is shared. Our dragons can’t sense him yet unless they were very close, but a hatchling’s senses are heightened, and not yet distracted by all the other senses in the outer world.”

  Rhoda handed the egg back to her, and Riese was filled with relief.

  “How do you know all this?” Riese asked.

  Rhoda shrugged. “We Valucians have an ancient heritage. You Faltari do too.”

  “We do?”

  “Well, the Valgish do. It’s the origins of the Burned Lands, after all. And you’re a northern Valgish clan, so…”

  Riese hesitated. She did not know what to believe anymore about her people’s history. Instead, she focused on wrapping her egg once more and stowing it within her rucksack.

  Deven strode across the courtyard straight toward her.

  “I should go,” said Riese.

  “May the winds guide you,” said Desmond.

  “We look forward to having you join our ranks when you return.”

  Riese nodded, mind racing. Again her dragon’s voice in her mind.

  Destiny.

  “There you are!” said Deven. “Where’s Rykus?”

  “I thought he was with you,” Riese said.

  Deven shook her head. “I was conferring with the Chardonians before they left. I just checked Elora’s chambers, and—”

  “Rykus was heading toward the gardens,” said Rhoda. “I think he wanted a special goodbye before this particular mission.”

  “Goodbye?” Riese asked.

  Beyond the courtyard, they followed a winding path to a fenced area beyond the walls. The path was lined with flowers, but an enormous tree dominated the space, set upon a small knoll pocked with boulders. Its trunk was thick as a house and its branches reached out toward the heavens like many praying hands.

  The purple skies radiated with violets and pinks as dusk settled over the fortress.

  Captain Rykus stood beside a frail woman, paying them no mind as they approached. He pointed out toward the radiant skies, and shifted the woman to look in that direction.

  “That woman, Elora,” said Riese. “Is she his mother?”

  “His wife,” said Deven. They paused at the base of the hill.

  Rykus was speaking softly with her. Kept redirecting her attention to the sunset.

  “She’s been unwell for many years,” said Deven.

  “What happened?”

  Deven shrugged. “Neither he nor his daughter speak of it. A great tragedy. Most say it happened during the Uprising.”

  Rykus turned, holding tight to the woman’s arm, helping her walk slowly down the hill. She was so thin and small. Skin wrinkled. Eyes vacant. She looked fifty years older than Rykus, but Riese knew that couldn’t be.

  A pair of young women who’d been sitting peacefully on a bench along the path hurried to help Elora and the captain.

  When they reached the bottom of the hill, Rykus embraced her. He held her for a long time, but Riese watched how her gaze drifted, stood stiffly, as though not aware that her husband was even there, let alone hugging her before a dangerous rebel mission.

  “I love you,” Rykus whispered.

  Then, the two women walked off with Elora Rykus.

  The captain turned to them. “Riese, are you ready to go home?”

  She nodded, though her face betrayed her.

  “If Ava has succeeded, your people will be leaving the island. We will put no one in danger if we can help it.”

  Riese spared a glance at frail Elora as she reached the end of the gardens.

  “But yes,” said Rykus, “some costs cannot be helped.”

  Riese pictured the burning skies over the Isle of Eòreth, and she nodded. “I’m ready, sir.”

  “Good,” said Deven. “Because we don’t have any more time to delay. I must ready the ship.”

  “You’re not coming with us?”

  Deven grinned. “Well… not for long.”

  Her hand rested on the pommel of her saber. She withdrew it in a sweeping arc and the room filled with light.

  Riese’s breath caught. “A godblade? But I thought only the Knights of Caadron possessed them.”

  It was not nearly as large as the broad sword she’d seen the Lady Knight wield during the attack on Yerida, but a brilliant emerald gem glowed in the hilt just the same.

  Deven grinned. “We’ve still got a surprise or two left before this is all said and done.”

  The Elyan woman swept her blade through the air cutting a semi-circle in the air itself, forming a misty sort of window.

  Together, Riese and Rykus stepped through.

  When she glanced back, Deven was gone.

  The totem pillars of the Shrines towered all around them, casting sharp shadows. It took a moment for Riese’s spirit to adjust to her new surroundings. It was a bizarre thing to be so instantly flung from one world to another.

  Then, she felt something.

  Rykus turned, his face turned ashen. “What’s wrong?”

  Her heart pounded. Chills shot across her skin. She peered through the tops of the trees.

  She could feel a voice in her spirit as clearly as she’d felt the dragon she’d left behind in the rebel hideout back in the way station.

  The village was still as a felled doe, but this gave Riese no comfort.

  In the moment after a kill, the spirit of all things lingered for a time, brushing up against her own spirit, pleading, scared, alone. She’d felt that tension and pain more times than she could count, and it always shook her.

  And Riese felt similar desperation now.

  But it was no animal.

  It was Malik.

  “We’re too late.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She means something is terribly wrong. And she’d be damn right about that.”

  Riese and Captain Rykus both turned. Elder Olma Marudeil emerged from behind one of the totem poles.