With that, the copper dragon released his magic. He became a hulking bear of a man. His hair was shaggy, his beard bushy, and he wore an old fur cloak. The three other dragons of Requiem took human forms too: a young man with brown hair, a gruff-looking woman with golden hair and tattooed arms, and a runt of a woman—small as a child—with short black hair. They looked as humble, weak, and frightened as the twenty dragons Dorvin himself led.

"Where is Requiem?" Dorvin said, remaining in dragon form. "Stars damn it! What the Abyss is this piss-pot of a camp?" He spat. "I've seen piles of mammoth dung more noble than this. Where are the houses, the towers, the armies of hundreds? Shag-a-sheep! I thought this was a kingdom. With a proper king and all. Not . . . not this."

The bearded man said nothing, but the gruff woman—the one with tattooed arms and blond hair—stepped forth. She raised her chin, bared her teeth, and growled.

"Watch your tongue, boy." She flexed her muscles; they were damn big for a woman. "Requiem is a kingdom—a kingdom in its infancy but a kingdom nonetheless." She gestured at the bearded man. "And you stand before King Aeternum, the Light of Requiem. Your king."

The brown-haired young man stepped forward next; he was a tall one, but Dorvin knew he could take this boy in a fight.

"There are four of us," the young man said. "I'm Tanin, and this is my sister Maev. The fourth is Laira. We are few, but we serve the stars and we're strong." Tanin squared his shoulders. "Join us, friends. Together we will build this kingdom."

Dorvin blinked, scarcely believing it.

Then he burst out laughing—a hoarse, twisted laughter that sounded dangerously close to tears. Finally he released his own magic and stood as a young man again, the wind billowing his black hair and fur tunic. He turned back toward his followers; they were releasing their magic one by one, turning from dragons back into men, women, and children.

"I told you I'd bring you to Requiem!" Dorvin said to them, still laughing, almost sobbing. "Bloody bollocks, here we are. A column and four piss-drinkers whose arses I could kick in my sleep."

Maev leaped forward, sneering, and gave Dorvin a shove so mighty he nearly toppled down. "We'll see whose backside gets kicked."

Dorvin barked a laugh. "I don't normally clobber girls, but today I'll make an exception." He raised his fist. "You lot are a sorry pile of—"

"Dorvin!" The cry rang across the forest. Her lavender robes swaying, Alina—that cursed druid—stepped forth. She grabbed him and tugged him away from Maev, her purple eyes flashing. "You lout! Step back and cool down."

Maev was still growling and trying to lunge at him. Her own companions were holding her back, though their eyes glared at Dorvin; they seemed to detest him no less than Maev did.