“Yes, sometimes months go by without needing to send you out again. Alas, these are hard times. The hardest we’ve ever seen. We cannot rest, not when Narcissi is relying on us to protect Her borders. No, Soraya, I am not exiling you, but I am sending you away again. On your next mission. And I fear this one involves a dragon, of all things, one that has somehow managed to avoid our detection until now. If it weren’t for a curious human, we may still not be aware of the creature’s existence. Guardian Marisette has already been provided with all the information you’ll need. You won’t leave in the morning, I’m not that cruel, but the following dawn. May Narcissi’s Golden Light shine upon you both.”

Soraya was about to express her gratitude and relief when everything changed in an instant. Narcissi’s golden leaves turned a bloody red, veins searing the night brightly as though afire, thousands of crimson sparks sizzling through the darkness. Screams filled Soraya’s head, forcing her to grab the sides of her skull and jam her eyes shut against the sharpness of the pain that lanced through her.

She could feel the strength of Narcissi’s emotions in that mind-piercing scream, which wasn’t born of fear or loss or even something as mundane as anger. No, that scream was born of one emotion and one alone.

And it was rage.

“Oh gods,” came Cintra’s voice beside her. “I thought we had months, maybe even years, before…but no, there is no denying it now. It has begun.”

Thirty

Bryony

Comman Dur, Finfalla

“By Jackaran’s Luminous Cerulean Mane,” Dagr said, plucking tiny, barbed pinecones from his fur after picking their way through a dense thicket. “I swear the trail is around here somewhere.”

Bryony didn’t know who ‘Jackaran’ was, or what his ‘Luminous Cerulean Mane’ had to do with anything, but she was beginning to wonder if she’d chosen her guide poorly. Every step forward had been a struggle since they’d entered the night-dark forest, made worse by the tightening fist of panic—not unlike the last time she’d stepped foot in Lostwood—that seemed intent on squeezing her heart until it exploded in her chest. That combined with the icy water that seemed to have replaced the blood flowing through her veins had made every second under the trees miserable. “Just keep going,” she said, feeling breathless, shivery, and a bit dizzy.

The part-lion, part-human must’ve sensed the strain in her voice, because he finally turned, turquoise brows immediately furrowing as he took in her appearance. She was standing hunched over, breaths coming in ragged waves, her entire body vibrating like a thrummed harp string. “Are you alright? You look unwell.”

“I’m…fine,” she said, her declaration not believable even to her own ears.