“After we were muzzled and chained in those dungeon stalls, they only used one of us at a time and threatened to kill the remaining four if the one being worked tried to escape.” He hesitated. “Captivity was horrible. After a while I . . . stopped speaking.”

“You’ve taken it up again, though,” said Thisbe encouragingly, “which has been very helpful. We’re going to find a way to fight this and make you all free again.” But even as she said it, her heart sank, because there was no possible solution to this imminent problem.

Sky spoke up. “How are you able to withstand the Revinir’s call, Drock?”

Drock looked out to sea and was quiet for a moment. “I’m not like other dragons,” he said finally. “That’s all I know. My lack of focus and inability to concentrate is saving me, I suppose. I hear and feel the roar, though. And its pull is getting stronger. I fear . . . I fear one day . . .” He didn’t finish.

Thisbe nodded solemnly. She knew his fear all too well. That someday they might succumb to it like everyone else had.

Drock turned to Thisbe. “How are you managing to resist the roars?”

“I drank a vial of the ancestor broth, in addition to the dragon-bone broth. She forced me to test it. We didn’t know if it held power—in fact, the Revinir still doesn’t know that it does anything at all. She tried it, and it doesn’t affect her. I lied to her—told her it did nothing to me. But it’s as powerful as the roar. Its effects fight against her call, leaving me paralyzed and blinded by images of that troubled land’s history.”

“Did you take in equal amounts of both broths?” asked Drock.

“I guess so,” said Thisbe.

Drock shifted and looked intensely at Thisbe. “Where does she keep the broths?”

“In the throne room inside the catacombs,” Thisbe told him.

“Oh.” Drock seemed to deflate. “It’s a shame we can’t get more of it to dilute the dragon-bone broth’s effects on your system,” mused Drock. “It might tip things in the right direction for us.”

Thisbe’s eyes widened. “But, Drock,” she said slowly. “I do have some more.” She jumped to her feet. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”

Splitting Up

Thisbe ran into the mansion and up the staircase, then down the girls’ hallway to her room, shouting at her magical door to let her in so she wouldn’t waste time. She smashed her shoulder into it, for it unexpectedly didn’t open. Grabbing the handle, she rattled it hard. “It’s Thisbe!” she said. “Let me in, stupid door!”

But the door remained locked. “What is happening?” Thisbe muttered. And at such a hectic time! Had Aaron’s announcement put the mansion on lockdown or something? “Hello!” she shouted.