Issari and Tanin flew at their lead: a slim white dragon, her horns small and her eyes green, and a long red dragon, his eyes dark, a hole in his wing. A Princess of Eteer and a Prince of Requiem. A southern woman and a northern wanderer. White and red fire. Twin rulers of a motley nation. Behind them flew the multitude, the greatest flight of dragons the world had seen.

Below stretched the open plains of wild grass. The shadows of the thousand dragons raced across the land like a herd of astral bison. They flew over the city of Tur Kal where scaffolding covered walls and towers, where workers bustled to rebuild after the nephil attack. They flew across hills, valleys, a river, and fallow fields until they reached the mountains. There they flew over Goshar, a ruined city nestled in the mountain range, guardian of the northern desert—the place of Issari and Tanin's captivity, now a place of dust and fallen bricks. They flew over the desert, the lifeless realm where once they had wandered, hungry and afraid, leading the Eteerian exodus. They flew without rest until finally, in the sunset, they saw it ahead.

"A shadow upon the land," Issari whispered. "A stain of evil." She shuddered, feeling that evil emanate from the darkness ahead like strands of nightmares rising from one's deepest fears at night. "A pit of terror."

Flying at her side, Tanin grunted and flexed his claws. "The ruins of Eteer."

Once a proud city had stood here, an oasis of civilization. Over the past hundred years, the humble seaside tribe of Eteer had risen to a great nation. Thousands of homes had sprawled along cobbled streets, gardens flowering upon their roofs. A canal had driven into the city, thick with ships from distant lands bringing in fabrics, sweet wines, exotic fruit, and toys of wood and clay. A palace had risen upon the hill, home to Issari, its blue columns capped with gold, its hanging gardens a marvel whose beauty spread in tales across the world. This had been a place of splendor, of learning, of culture—the first civilization to develop writing in clay, to build boats, to map the lands north of the sea.

Eteer—Jewel of the Coast. Fair Daughter of Taal. Kingdom of Light.

Today Eteer was a stain of ruin and shadow.

Little more than the walls surrounding the city remained standing, and even they were cracked and punched full of holes. Within this crumbling shell lay ruin. The houses had fallen. The gardens had burned. The temple to Taal had collapsed, as had the fortress of the city garrison. No more ships sailed in the canal; great boulders and piles of bricks filled the water now, rising like cairns.

Issari lowered her head. My home.