When it hit the trees, branches and trunks drove through its flesh, tearing the creature apart. Gobbets of flesh, chunks of tentacles, and blood rained, thick with worms.

Wobbling and bleeding, Laira descended, all but crashing through the canopy. She landed in a patch of bloodied snow, yellow grass, and rotted globs of flesh, and her magic left her. She stood shivering in her fur cloak, a human again. The other dragons landed too and resumed human forms: Jeid, a grizzly bear of a man, his beard thick and his hair shaggy; his daughter, Maev, her chin raised in defiance, her tattooed arms crossed, and her yellow hair scraggly; and finally Jeid's son, Tanin, a tall young man with a shock of brown hair.

We are four, Laira thought, staring at the family, perhaps the only other Vir Requis in the world, the only other souls who could become dragons. Yet once we were five. Her eyes stung and the hollowness of losing her brother filled her with more pain than her wounds.

"What was that thing?" Laira whispered. She looked at Maev and Tanin; the two had flown to Eteer to save Sena, and they had battled demons there. Their quest felt so meaningless to Laira now; all the blood they had shed to save Sena, all in vain . . .

Maev kicked a fallen chunk of octopus. "A scout. A big one too. This one ate human flesh; it's the only way they can grow this big." She kicked the glob again. "Your father's looking for us, little Laira. But he won't hear any news from our friend here."

Laira closed her eyes and lowered her head, the pain too great to bear. Her chest tightened and her belly felt full of ice.

My mother—burned at the stake. My brother—dead at his own hands. My father—a ruler of the demons that hunt me.

Even standing here among her fellow Vir Requis, Laira felt alone, too hurt to open her eyes again, too broken, too scarred. The grief was a weight she could not carry.

But no, she thought, eyes stinging. I'm not alone.

Her memories returned to her last days in Eteer, a child of only three. Those memories were vague, mere hints of pictures and sounds, but among them Laira saw a babe, an innocent girl. A younger sister.

"You're still out there, Issari," she whispered. "My little sister. You're still in Eteer, and I'm so afraid for you." She raised her head, opened her eyes, and looked at the others. She spoke louder. "We must bury Sena. We will bury him with the others—with little Requiem and Eranor. He will rest with them forever. His soul will rise to the Draco stars."