The pain constricted his throat. How easy it would be—to shift into human form, to plummet down through this darkness, to hit the ground and feel no pain, only a relief from pain, only the rise of his soul to the stars. And he would be with Keyla and Requiem again. He could hold his wife, kiss his daughter, nevermore feel hurt, nevermore feel alone and afraid and torn.

"You must be strong," Keyla said, and he barely saw her now. His wife was but a wisp, a fading memory, a voice of starlight. "For the others."

Rage filled Jeid. The fire crackled through his body. He released it with a great, showering blaze, a beacon that any roc for marks could see. But Jeid no longer cared.

"Why must this be my task?" His wings shook, and his claws dug into his soles. "Why must I lead this new tribe? I am tired. I want to sleep. I want to be with you again."

He looked up to the sky. The clouds parted and he saw three stars—the tail of the dragon, the new constellation that shone in the skies. And there he saw a silver countenance, no longer his wife but his daughter. Young Requiem shone above, wise and sad like her mother had been.

And Jeid knew the answer.

"Because I vowed to you, Requiem." His eyes stung. "I vowed to build a home in your name—so no others would die like you died." He shook, scales rattling. "But I wish you were here with me. I wish you could live in this home too, my daughter."

The clouds gathered again, the light faded, and she was gone.

Jeid blasted out more fire. He sucked in air, ground his teeth, and kept flying.

He flew in blackness.

He flew throughout the night—to remember and to forget.

A hint of dawn gilded the east, and landforms emerged below, charcoal beneath the black sky—the whisper of hills, valleys, and fields of grass. Jeid turned and flew back north until he saw it, a great shelf of stone that split the world. The escarpment spread across the horizon, the cliffs gleaming bronze as the sun rose. He flew across the river, rose above the mountainside, and saw the canyon there—a den, a hideaway, a seed of a home. He opened his wings wide, catching air, and glided down into the gorge.

As soon as he touched the ground, he saw it.

Blood on the stones.

His nostrils flared. The place stank of injury. Jeid moved his head from side to side, clinging to his dragon form.

"Father!" he called out.

His heart pounded. Had the rocs finally dared attack the escarpment, overcoming their fear of the place? Had the townsfolk invaded?

"Father!" he shouted.

Finally the old man's voice rose in answer. "I'm here. It's all right, Jeid. Come into the cave."