As the woman stepped back into her home, Issari pulled her hood lower, praying the woman did not recognize her. If Raem returned and heard of Issari's doings, he would beat her. She took a shuddering breath, raised her chin, and kept walking.

Down a street strewn with smashed pottery, the bones of an eaten dog, and puddles of blood, she saw it. The pottery shop. The safe haven.

A demon lingered on the street. It had the body of a massive centipede—as large as a python—covered in metallic plates and lined with many clawed legs. Its torso, arms, and head were those of a human child, pale and warty, its mouth full of hooked teeth and its belly swollen and bulging with kicking, living innards. When Issari pulled out her amulet, the creature fled from the light, its many feet pattering.

Issari approached the shop. Its bricks were pale white, splotched with demon drool, and a winged bull was engraved on the door—the god Kur-Paz, a sigil to ward off evil. When Issari stepped inside, she found that the sigil—unlike her amulet—had failed at its task. Three small red demons, no larger than cats, were hopping upon the shelves, smashing clay plates, bowls, and vases. The potter, a graying man with a wide mustache, was fighting them off with a broom. His daughter was flailing, trying to rip off a demon that tugged her hair. When Issari raised her amulet, the light blazed, and the scaled creatures fled out the window, leaving trails of smoke.

"I think they smelled something this time," said the white-haired potter, visibly shaken. "We can't keep them here any longer."

Issari nodded. "The ship sails out today." She handed the old man a few coins. "For your trouble."

He shook his head, gently pushing her hand back. "I don't do this for reward."

"I know, kind sir." She kissed his bristly cheek. "But keep these coins. They're pure gold. Rebuild your shop."

Tears dampened his eyes as he pocketed the money. "Taal bless you, Princess Iss—"

"Hush." She placed a finger against his lips, her heart leaping. "I'm but a nameless priestess, that is all.

She tightened her shawl around her face, knelt, and pulled back the rug, scattering pieces of broken pottery. She revealed a trapdoor. Issari gave her braid a nervous tug, squared her jaw, and climbed down a ladder into the darkness.

A dark, dusty chamber awaited her. Packs of clay wrapped in cloth lay upon a dozen shelves. The only light came from a small sliding window near the ceiling. A sunbeam fell into the chamber, gleaming with dust. They huddled behind the last shelf, wrapped in cloaks, their hair dusty and their faces pale—the weredragon family.

Issari knelt by them. She spoke softly. "It is time. A ship awaits."