Kyra stood alone in the warm, summer field, in awe at the world around her. Everything was in bloom, in dazzling color, the hills so green, so vibrant, dotted with glowing yellow and red flowers. Trees were in bloom everywhere, their foliage so thick, swaying in the wind, heavy with fruit. The hills rolled with vineyards, ripe, and the smell of flowers and grapes hung heavy in the summer air. Kyra wondered where she was, where her people had gone—where winter had gone.
There came a screech, high in the sky, and Kyra looked up to see Theos circling overhead. He swooped down, landing in the grass but a few feet away, and stared back at her with his intense, glowing yellow eyes. Something unspoken passed between them, their connection so intense, as if no words need be said.
Theos suddenly reared his head, shrieked, and breathed fire, right for her.
For some reason, Kyra was unafraid. She did not flinch as the flames approached her, somehow knowing he would never harm her. The fire forked, spreading out to the left and right of her, igniting the landscape all around her yet leaving her unscathed.
Kyra turned and was horrified to see the flames spread across the countryside, to see all the lush green, all the summer bounty, turn to black. The landscape changed before her eyes, the trees burned to a crisp, the grass replaced with soil.
The flames rose higher and higher, spread farther, faster, and in the distance, she watched with horror as they consumed Volis—until there was nothing left but rubble and ash.
Theos finally stopped, and Kyra turned and stared back at him. Kyra stood there, in the dragon’s shadow, humbled by its massive size and she did not know what to expect. He wanted something from her, but she could not sense what it was.
Kyra reached out to touch its scales, and suddenly it raised a claw, screeched, and sliced open her cheek.
Kyra sat up in bed, shrieking, clutching her cheek, the awful pain spreading through her. She flailed, trying to get away from the dragon—but was surprised to feel human hands on her instead, calming her, trying to restrain her.
Kyra blinked and looked up to see a familiar face standing over her, holding a compress to her cheek.
“Shh,” said Lyra, consoling her.
Kyra looked around, disoriented, and finally realized she had been dreaming. She was home, in her father’s fort, still in her chamber.
“Just a nightmare,” Lyra said.
Kyra realized she must have fallen back asleep, how long ago, she did not know. She checked the window and saw the sunlight had been replaced by blackness. She sat bolt upright, alarmed.
“What time is it?” she asked.
“Late in the night, my lady,” Lyra replied. “The moon has already risen and set.”
“And what of the coming army?” she asked, her heart pounding.
“No army has come, my lady,” she replied. “The snow is still high, and it was nearly dark when you woke. No army can march in this. Don’t worry—you have only slept for hours. Rest now.”
Kyra leaned back and exhaled; she felt a wet nose on her hand and she looked over to see Leo, licking her hand.
“He hasn’t left your bedside, my lady,” Lyra smiled. “And neither has he.”
She gestured and Kyra looked over and was touched to see Aidan lying there, slumped in a pile of furs beside the fire, a leather-bound book in his hand, fast asleep.
“He read to you while you slept,” she added.
Kyra was overwhelmed with love for her younger brother—and it made her all the more alarmed at the trouble to come.
“I can feel your tension,” Lyra added as she pressed a compress on her cheek. “You dreamt troubled dreams. It is the mark of a dragon.”
Kyra saw her looking back meaningfully, in awe, and she wondered.
“I don’t understand what is happening to me,” Kyra said. “I have never dreamt before. Not like this. They feel like more than dreams—it is as if I am really there. As if I am seeing through the dragon’s eye.”
The nurse looked at her with her soulful eyes, and laid her hands in her lap.
“Is a very sacred thing to be marked by an animal,” Lyra said. “And this is no ordinary animal. If a creature touches you, then you share a synergy—forever. You might see what it sees, or feel what it feels, or hear what it hears. It may happen tonight—or it may be next year. But one day, it shall happen.”
Lyra looked at her, searching.
“Do you understand, Kyra? You are not the same girl you were yesterday, when you set out from here. That is no mere mark on your cheek—it is a sign. You now carry within you the mark of a dragon.”
Kyra furrowed her brow, trying to understand.
“But what does that mean?” Kyra asked, trying to make sense of it all.
Lyra sighed, exhaling a long time.
“Time will show you.”
Kyra thought of the Lord’s Men, of the coming war, and she felt a wave of urgency. She threw off her furs and rose to her feet and as she did, she felt wobbly, unlike herself. Lyra rushed over and held her shoulder, steadying her.
“You must lie down,” Lyra urged. “The fever is not yet past.”
But Kyra felt a pressing urgency to help and she could stay in bed no longer.
“I shall be fine,” she replied, grabbing her cloak and draping it over her shoulders to ward off the draft. As she moved to go, she felt a hand on her shoulder.
“Drink this, at least,” Lyra urged, handing her a mug.
Kyra looked down and saw a red liquid inside.
“What is it?”
“My own concoction,” she replied with a smile “It will calm the fever, and relieve the pain.”
Kyra took a long sip, holding it with both hands, and it felt thick as it went down, hard to swallow. She made a face and Lyra smiled.
“It tastes like earth,” Kyra observed.
Lyra smiled wider. “It’s not known for its taste.”
But already Kyra felt better from it, her whole body immediately warmer.
“Thank you,” she said. She went over to Aidan, leaned over and kissed his forehead, careful not to wake him. She then turned and hurried from the room, Leo beside her.
Kyra twisted and turned down Volis’s endless corridors, all dim, lit only by the flickering torches along the walls. Only a few men stood guard at this late hour, the rest of the fort quiet, fast asleep. Kyra ascended the spiral, stone staircase and stopped before her father’s chamber, blocked by a guard. He looked at her, something like reverence in his eyes, and she wondered how far the story had already spread. He nodded to her.
“My lady,” he said.
She nodded back.
“Is my father in his chamber?”
“He could not sleep. Last I saw he was pacing toward his study.”
Kyra hurried down the stone corridors, ducking her head beneath a low, tapered archway and down a spiral staircase until finally she made her way to the far end of the fort. The hall ended in the thick, arched wooden door to his library, and she reached out to open them, but found the doors already ajar. She stopped herself as she heard urgent, strained voices coming from inside.
“I tell you that is not what she saw,” came the angry voice of her father.
He was heated, and she stopped herself from entering, figuring it would be best to wait. She stood there, waiting for the voices to stop, curious who he was speaking to and what they were talking about. Were they talking about her? she wondered.
“If she did indeed see a dragon,” came a crackly voice, which Kyra immediately recognized as Thonos, her father’s oldest advisor, “there remains little hope for Volis.”
Her father muttered something she could not understand, and there followed a long silence, as Thonos sighed.
“The ancient scrolls,” Thonos replied, his voice labored, “tell of the rise of the dragons. A time we shall all be crushed under their flames. We have no wall to keep them out. We have nothing but hills and sky. And if they have come, they are here for a reason.”
“But what reason?” her father asked. “What would compel a dragon to cross the world?”
“Perhaps a better question, Commander,” Thonos replied, “is what could wound it?”
A long silence followed, punctuated only by the crackling of the fire, until finally Thonos spoke again.
“I suspect it is not the dragon that troubles you most, is it?” Thonos asked.
There followed another long silence, and Kyra, though she knew she should not listen in, leaned forward, unable to help herself, and peered through the crack. Her heart felt heavy to see her father sitting there, head in his hands, brooding.
“No,” he said, his voice thick with exhaustion. “It is not,” he admitted.
Kyra wondered what they could be talking about.
“You dwell on the prophecies, do you not?” he asked. “The time of her birth?”
Kyra leaned in, her heart pounding in her ears, sensing they were speaking about her, but not understanding what they meant.
There came no response.
“I was there, Commander,” Thonos finally said. “As were you.”
Her father sighed, but would not raise his head.
“She is your daughter. Do you not think it fair to tell her? About her birth? Her mother? Does she not have a right to know who she is?”
Kyra’s heart slammed in her chest; she hated secrets, especially about her. She was dying to know what they meant.
“The time is not right,” her father finally said.
“But the time is never right, is it?” the old man said.
Kyra breathed sharply, feeling stung.
She suddenly turned and ran off, a heaviness in her chest as her father’s words rang in her ears. They hurt her more than a million knives, more than anything the Lord’s Men could throw at her. She felt betrayed. He was withholding a secret from her, some secret he’d been hiding her entire life. He had been lying to her.
Does she not have a right to know who she is?
Her entire life Kyra had felt that people had looked at her differently, as if they knew something about her which she did not, as if she were an outside, and she had never understood why. Now, she understood. She didn’t just feel different than everyone else—she was different. But how?
Who was she?