Safe in their caves, deep beneath the earth, dreaming their wondrous dreams, the dragons and their young would, for the first time in human history, be at the mercy of humans.

Dragons could never rest safe again. Like humans, they would always live in fear.

In that moment, Draconas came very near to turning and walking out the back door. He came very near to going back to his own lair, saying, “The hell with it. The hell with them.”

And then his own words to Lysira came back to him. Fine words, about freedom and doing what was right.

“Dragons will have to adapt to this new world,” he said to himself. “We will have to change. Something will be lost. Something is always lost when change comes. But something will be gained, for that, too, is a given. At least, I hope so.”

Wondering if the alarm had gone off and if someone was there to hear it, Draconas sent a penetrating gaze through the darkness, seeking out the tunnels that branched off from this chamber and led deeper into the dragon’s lair. He found three. Draconas sniffed the air of each of them, smelling and tasting with nose and tongue. He poked his head down each of the tunnels, listening for the smallest noises. He stared deep into each of them, studying them, searching for the tiniest hint.

He could not smell dragon in any of them, and that further confirmed his belief that Grald had not been near this part of his mountain in a long time.

No reason he should be, of course. His interests lay in the world of humans. But it was an indication that the dragon had grown lazy. Even though Draconas returned to his lair only a couple of times every hundred years, he always checked it over from top to bottom. Magic spells needed to be reinforced or re-woven; traps needed to be reset; animal squatters driven out. And it was always good to know if any stranger had been prying about.

He began to wonder if there had been an alarm at the entrance or not. Given the hundreds of bats coming and going on their nightly runs, the alarm—unless specifically designed to detect only dragons—would have been going off constantly.

Bats. In a dragon’s lair. Draconas’s lip curled in disgust as he waded through their droppings, which were knee deep. He headed down the middle corridor. The other two were quiet and smelled bad. The middle one had an intriguing odor and, more important, intriguing noises. He was able to detect, echoing up through the halls and tunnels of the dragon’s lair, the sounds and smell of humans.