Jeid landed on the mountaintop and stared around him. Corpses lay upon the slopes, shattered, ashen, their lights gone. A hundred Vir Requis had entered the mountain; fifty now stood around him.

Fifty beings alone in the world, our kingdom stolen, our friends and family fallen. Jeid lowered his head, smoke rising from his nostrils. They had defeated one group of sphinxes, but hundreds still lived in Requiem.

"Too many gone," he whispered. "Too many—"

"Yeah!" Dorvin shouted, interrupting him. The silver dragon flew above, blasting out fire. "Yeah, you see, sphinxes? You see, demons? That's what happens when you attack Requiem. That's what—"

"Dorvin!" Jeid reached up, caught the silver dragon's tail between his jaws, and yanked him down. "Silence."

Dorvin struggled at first, opened his mouth to say more, then looked around him. He seemed to notice the dead for the first time, then landed and lowered his scaly head. He said no more.

Jeid was about to speak to the crowd, to comfort the grieving, to offer prayer and hope, when dragonfire crackled in the distant sky.

He stared, eyes narrowed, then took flight.

Two dragons were flying through the night, heading toward the mountain. A distant voice carried on the wind.

"Grizzly! Grizzly!"

Jeid flew toward them, laughing, relief sweeping across him.

"Laira!" he cried out, and his eyes stung. "Maev!"

The two dragons, gold and green, flew toward him, laughing and crying. They slammed into him in the sky, wings beating madly, as they laughed and struggled to embrace in dragon forms.

"Land first!" Jeid said, grinning like a boy. "Oh, thank the stars."

They landed on the foothills, shifted into human form, and the two women crashed into his arms. He squeezed them both against him, tears in his eyes, and then a cry rose above, and Dorvin landed and shifted and joined the embrace. They stood together, talking all at once, telling stories of sphinxes, druids, fear, and triumph.

"I was so worried, Maev," Jeid finally said, holding his daughter at arm's length. "If I had lost you, the sky might as well have fallen. I love you, my daughter."

The wrestler stared at him, and her face hardened—chin raised, eyes narrowed, bottom lip thrust out—and she crossed her tattooed arms, the gruff warrior with no emotion in her heart. But as Jeid stared at her, the walls cracked, and her eyes dampened, and she pulled him back into an embrace.

"I love you," his daughter whispered. "I love so much, Papa. I was so scared."

Still holding her, Jeid reached out and clasped Laira's hand. Staring over Maev's shoulder, he looked at his wife. They gazed at each other silently. Her eyes were huge, green pools, and her lips—those slanted lips in her crooked jaw—rose in a small, knowing smile. He saw her love for him, and her silence spoke more than any words could.