Fáolan cheered as the scene below exploded with brilliant radiance.

  He watched from the lounge reserved for the Lightbringers and their chosen guests. It was dark, so much so he could scarcely see the dragons around him. Only the glinting shadow of Monny at Fáolan’s side was discernible in the darkness. (‘You’ve a truly great view from up here,’ whispered Monny, and Fáolan shhhed him.) Below them the stage was alight with the glory of Unity’s gifts, its wide white-marble expanse polished flat, and standing upon it were eight dragons. The Accessing Fest was in full swing—a celebration of newly found accessors right after the Ceremony’s conclusion, finished with the show of the dragons who had discovered their gifts in the previous year’s festivities.

  The crowd cheered and stomped as the performers unleashed their show. It had started small—a flicker as the first dragon accessed, and a globule of light came to life above the stage. Then another, and the next and next until the white illumination coalesced into a formless shape. Another twinkle blinked on the stage, and the amorphous glow buckled, heaved, shifted into colour and shape. It took the form of a dragon, scales of white and eyes of gold, a luminous behemoth towering over the stage. In a few more blinks another rose to meet it—a bear with coarse-looking brown fur. It looked remarkably heavy, lumbering on six short paws, even if Fáolan knew it was little more than shifted light. The bear crouched, and the dragon poised, and as one the shapes jumped at each other, and into a dance of death.

  Accessing was a rare gift for dragonkind, and the Cavrians cultivated it across the generations, risen to nobility as dictated by Unity’s will, whose blessings allowed dragons to hold dominion over the elements of the world. Their kind’s yellow eyes spoke of control over two forces. Light—

  The luminous dragon dissipated into white mist a moment before the collision, forming again on the other side. From an extended paw an electric bolt shot out, and it arced across the air in a momentary flash, connecting with the bear’s form. The animal flickered and fell in a puff of white mist, and the crowd cheered once more.

  —and lightning.

  A dragon’s accessing prowess was determined at hatching, though it would not be known until their twentieth year. Only then did they attend their Accessing Ceremony, unlocked their magic with a diamond’s touch, and were tested for their ability to harness Unity’s gifts.

  At another blink from the stage Fáolan wondered at the tiny thing that granted them their skills—each colour corresponded to two elements, which, in turn, broke into four powers, and each of those had an assigned gem. A dragon could have an aptitude for one, two, three, four—or, in most cases, none—and with the correct gem the power was at their beck and call.

  The bear stood up, baring its toothy maw in a vicious snarl. The dragon reared back, seemed to glow brighter with an internal light, and leapt with blazing eyes over the illusory foe. All at once glinting shapes swarmed the stage, flew across it like drunk beetles. Before Fáolan could guess at what they were, once again lightning arced below, but this time it was no momentary flash—it caught on the glinting things, bent and swerved in their net, and faster than Fáolan could blink the bear was encased in a cage of writhing, buzzing lightning. The luminous dragon landed gracefully on top, unharmed by the running current, and bowed.

  The crowd rose into a crescendo of excited roars as the dragon and the bear dissipated one last time into glowing mist, and once again the exhibition hall grew dark, and in this sightless world the sound of cheers and stomps was just short of deafening.

  Something touched Fáolan’s back and he almost jumped before realising it was Monny’s wing, draped over him. ‘Can you imagine? Us standing down there, this power at our claws… In ten years it’s going to be accessing to my heart’s content. And tell you, Fáol—’ he pulled Fáolan tight against his flank— ‘my heart is BIG.’

  Fáolan almost smiled at his friend’s declaration, but Father’s warnings rang inside his head—of accessing’s darker side, the pull for more and more and always more. He dismissed it from his mind. They would learn it in time, surely, and it was the Accessing Fest now, hardly the time for a gloomy snout. An idea came to him. ‘It is still long until then,’ he said. ‘But there is something I think I could show you now.’

  It was a custom among the nobles of Cavria to collect accessing gems. Cultivated across generations, expanded by each dragon and split as heritage, every proper noble could boast a hoard, usually made of the type of gems they could use. And no hoard in Cavria was as large as the one of the King or Queen Lightbringer.

  Fáolan wound around passages in the palace, Monny close at his tail. His closest friend since hatchling years, Eamon ál Korith Griansair had come to the capital from northern Cavria, and though of the same build as his southern kin, his scales were a monochrome black, with a slight golden sheen when they caught the light just right. Alabastrine horns jutted straight from his head. The dark yellow of his merry eyes was the only distinct splash of colour on him.

  Fáolan was not sure they would be allowed inside the treasury. He might have been the Prince Lightbringer, but he had not yet reached his twentieth year, and thus accessing was off-limits.

  But he would not access—could not access, not until his Accessing Ceremony—so he harboured some hope they would be let in.

  ‘Are you sure this is the right way?’ asked Monny. ‘It feels like we’re going in circles.’

  ‘Yes,’ Fáolan lied. ‘It will take a bit still, but—’

  As though Unity were trying to spite him, they turned a corner to see the doors to his father’s treasury.

  ‘Yes, well,’ said Fáolan. ‘This is it.’

  Monny came to stand beside him, looking up at the doors with awe. They were made of shining, polished bronze, and etched into them were elaborate reliefs, patterns resembling the sun and lightning bolts, and amidst them dragons, walking or flying, looking up at the glory of light. It was flanked by two guards, armoured and looking bored.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  ‘Come,’ said Monny, and slunk from behind the corner, approaching the doors. The guards stood at attention immediately and eyed him sceptically.

  ‘Who are you?’ said one of them. ‘State your business here.’

  ‘He is with me.’ Fáolan moved to join Monny in the open, met the guards’ eyes. He did not recognise them, but he hoped they recognised him. ‘I am Fáolan ál Aodhan Lasthúir and the dragon here is my friend, Eamon ál Korith Griansair. We ask for entry to the treasury.’

  The guard on the left shifted from paw to paw, stealing a glance at his companion, but she merely frowned. Her scales were of a dull yellow colour with bits of gold and silver and she seemed the older of the two, though even she hesitated at Fáolan’s request.

  ‘Does the king know of this?’ asked the guard on the left. Under the armour his scales looked to be plain brown, dark with lighter patterns.

  Fáolan hesitated. He had wanted to ask Father for permission, had tried to find him amidst the celebrations, but the King Lightbringer was not a dragon easily reached.

  His silence seemed to have been an answer of its own, because the younger guard groaned.

  ‘It is the Accessing Fest now,’ said Monny suddenly, and all three dragons looked to him. ‘And he—’ he indicated Fáolan with his wing— ‘is the king’s son. Can he not, on this special day, show his dearest friend the treasures of our grand empire?’

  The guards looked to each other for a moment, and then the dragoness sighed. She lifted a claw and pointed between the two of them. ‘Take a look, and then you are out.’

  Monny grinned. ‘Thank you,’ he said, and in moments the great bronze doors were closing behind the pair of them, and Fáolan smiled seeing his friend look in awe at the contents of the room.

  To say the king’s hoard was big was to say nothing at all; the spacious room was filled with mounds of gems, all sorted by their kind and size. As Fáolan made for the centre of the chamber, Monny close behind, other things came into view—pedestals of carved white stone, and placed upon them were especially large gemstones, cut or uncut, exquisite specimens usually seen only in temples, used by priests for various ceremonies in Unity’s name.

  ‘Woah,’ breathed Monny. ‘This all belongs to the king?’

  Fáolan nodded. ‘Father says a lot of it he got from the Conqueror after her passing, being her heir instead of Grandfather. And he added some of his own, too.’

  ‘So many…’ marvelled Monny again. ‘Look at this,’ he said, pointing to one of the gems on the plinths. ‘I’ve never seen one this big!’

  ‘It might be the largest here,’ said Fáolan. It was, best he could tell, a topaz, and if Fáolan and Monny curled against one another, the gemstone may have been larger still. ‘This one, I think, was brought here by Queen Dealái. She had a liking for large gems.’

  ‘What’s this?’ asked Monny, attention elsewhere already, making for the back of the room.

  Fáolan frowned, but followed close at his tail, and they came to a stop at a lump covered by white cloth. It looked odd here, out of place—the shape below the covering was distinctly not gemlike. Fáolan tipped his head to the side. ‘I… do not know, actually. Father never showed us this.’

  Monny looked at him expectantly.

  ‘No,’ Fáolan objected immediately. ‘We were only to take a look and go.’

  ‘Come now,’ Monny said. ‘We wouldn’t be taking it, or using it, or moving it. We would just do that—look.’

  Fáolan considered it. He could not argue with this logic—or did not want to, he was not sure which—and soon they were gingerly removing the white cloth.

  It revealed a painting. Three, to be exact.

  It was an odd thing to find in the treasury. Paintings belonged on walls, proudly displayed, not gathering dust in a closed-off room. They were skillfully made, depicting dragons in regal attire and poise.

  ‘Who are those?’ Monny asked, head tilted, eyeridges furrowed.

  ‘This—’ Fáolan pointed at the largest piece— ‘is Father, though younger, and behind him is Queen Cáondai.’ The two dragons were easily recognisable—the former Queen Lightbringer was the subject of many paintings across the castle. Her large form, white and gold and beige, scales studded with far too many gems, was impossible to confuse. ‘But the two next to Father I do not recognise. And they seem to be on the other two paintings as well.’

  There was a pair of dragons flanking Father in the larger piece, and both of the smaller paintings looked to be presenting each of them individually. They both held themselves high and their scales were embedded with gems, similar to Father’s. One of them boasted pristine white scales with a pearly golden sheen, and the other was white-and-beige with bits of silver.

  And both shared the matted gold eyecolour of the Lightbringer line.

  Fáolan blinked, breathed, blinked again. His tail gave a twitch, neck-scales almost flared. He took a step towards the paintings to look at them more closely. ‘They—’

  The doors to the treasury opened with a dull, echoing clang.

  Neck-scales fully flared now, Fáolan and Monny whirled in place to see, standing in the entryway, an imposing form of a dragonar. He entered with a brisk step and before Fáolan could grasp what was happening there stood Father, looming over the two of them like a swelling storm.

  ‘Would you two explain what you are doing here?’ the King Lightbringer boomed.

  Fáolan could not force himself to speak. At length, heart hammering, he managed, ‘We… wanted to take a look. You were nowhere to be found and I thought… Well, that as the prince I could come and see. So I did.’

  The ensuing silence was the longest in Fáolan’s life. The king’s shadowed eyes bore into his, a picture of silent judgement, before he broke his gaze, sighed deeply. ‘Do not come here without telling me. Though you are not forbidden to, I should like to know when you do.’

  Fáolan nodded stiffly. ‘Understood.’

  ‘Now,’ said Father, ‘if you may, out.’

  Wordlessly the two made for the exit, but after a few steps Fáolan looked back. ‘Who are those dragons in the paintings?’

  Father did not reply, at first, and Fáolan wondered if he might have not heard the question. Fáolan almost turned back to the door when the king said, ‘These were my brother and sister.’ A pause. Then, ‘The year you were hatched, two weeks after Cáondai’s passing, they both disappeared. Lorcan first, then, a few days later, Iona. They have not been seen since.’

  As he and Monny hurried to leave the treasury, Fáolan’s head spun. Why had he not heard of this before? Father had siblings!

  Going out the door he allowed himself one final backwards glance. Amidst the mounds of gems Father’s eyes were glued to the uncovered paintings of his lost brother and sister.

  And then the doors were closed again, the two guards’ postures stiff, and he and Monny made their way back into the palace proper.