Because we have no kingdom of our own, Alina thought, gazing at the others, and her eyes dampened. Because we are scattered, misunderstood, feared, hated. But Requiem will rise. A dawn of dragons will light the world. We will unite and we will stand, and we will escape the darkness.

"Hello, friends." She raised her amulet, and the jewels upon it glowed, forming the shape of the Draco constellation. "Hello, children of Draco, my people."

One among them stepped forth. He was a slim man, his cheeks gaunt, his eyes and hair black. He seemed taller than the others, darker, his face longer. He spoke in a heavy accent. "Hello."

Alina smiled softly. "You speak our tongue."

The man nodded. "My father is from the lands across the mountains; he was a fisherman upon the River Ranin. I know your tongue. I am Auben." He hobbled closer; his ankles and wrists were tied like all the others. "Are you too a draconian?"

"I am." Alina bowed her head. "Though we call ourselves Vir Requis—people of Requiem. A kingdom of us rises in the east, blessed in the light of our stars—a kingdom called Requiem. We've come here to find you, friends, and to bring you home."

The others whispered behind Auben, and he spent a moment translating Alina's words. Voices rose higher. One man spoke in anger, and one woman barked out what sounded like curses. Auben looked back at Alina, his eyes dark. "They say they are proud Bar Luanites, that this is their home. They scoff at a kingdom for our kind." He shook his head sadly. "For many generations, we lived in Bar Luan. Our ancestors built many of the pyramids above. Three generations ago, some among us fell ill. We could become dragons, take flight, roar fire. And for three generations, the people of Bar Luan blessed us, worshiped us as gods. And then a few years ago . . . it began. The tanari kar."

The people behind shuddered at the word. Some pressed their hands together in prayer.

Dorvin hobbled forward, frowning. "The tanner-what?"

Auben lowered his head. "The tanari kar. It means the dream curse in your tongue." He hugged himself with thin arms. "At first, the nightmares only filled our sleep, but then we began to dream in waking hours. The leaves on Shenhavan grew blue with mourning. Bar Luan fell into disrepair. The people hid in their homes. The king refused to leave his pyramid. The gardens are not tended, the forests are not hunted, the gods are not worshiped. The people of Bar Luan needed somebody to blame, and they blamed us, the draconians, those who can become the great beasts. We turned from gods in their eyes to demons. They imprisoned us here."

Maev scoffed. "That's ridiculous. The people of Bar Luan still suffer from waking nightmares. We had them ourselves up there. How can they still blame you?"