Alina became a dragon again in the night, and this time she did not dig but filled holes, giving soil and peace to the exposed roots of an ancient god. She felt the tree in her mind, thanking her, its pain waning, like an injured man drinking soothing silverleaf. When her work was done, Alina stood before the tree, still in dragon form, and she watched as its leaves turned green again, as its trunk brightened, as life and goodness returned to the deity. The people of Bar Luan circled the tree in a great torrent, singing and chanting. Bar Luan was healed.

Alina flapped her wings and took flight, soaring toward the stars. The Draco constellation shone above, and the people of Bar Luan whirled below around their tree, and the moonlight lit the pyramids, walls, and statues of this ancient city. The others, her own people, summoned their magic. They rose as dragons in the night, forty strong, light in their eyes and fire in their mouths. The dragons of Requiem flew into the east, leaving the city of stone. They flew under the stars. They flew to Requiem. They flew to war and to hope and to a new dream.

ISSARI

 
ISSARI

Issari stood in the ravaged throne room, eyes wide, watching the Demon Queen give birth.

The creature emerged from the womb, still wrapped in the caul. It twisted inside the wet sack, claws tearing at the membranes, teeth biting, cutting free. It rose from the red wetness, unfurling with creaking joints, already the size of a full-grown man. It stood in the muck and stared into Issari's eyes.

All she could do was stare back.

"My brother," she whispered.

It regarded her, dripping wet, its skin gray and stony. It almost seemed to Issari that the creature recognized her, knew her to be its sister. Its jaw was long and pointed, its face hideously deformed, far too long to be human. Wings grew from its back, veined and translucent. But Issari could see her features in it. Her half brother, the son of Raem and the demon Angel, had the eyes of the Seran family—her eyes. Large. Green. Not the red, lustful eyes of a demon but the eyes of a mortal.

"My brother," she whispered again, taking a step closer. Across the hall, the surviving soldiers stared with her, hesitating, their swords still raised. Issari kept approaching, and her eyes dampened. "My brother, you're safe here. I will look after you. I—"