After a moment, Rose says, “Fine. I’ll do it.” Then she leans forward and talks to Bad Dragon, who starts to turn, getting ready to strike. I look up. The mountains of the End are ahead of us, a fortress of rock that sparkles with ice and snow. They’re still miles away, but we’re closer than we’ve ever been before.

“Ready?” says Rose.

And that’s when I notice that Rose’s hair is covered in ice crystals. The heat rising from Bad Dragon’s body must be disguising just how cold the air has become. I look at my hands. My fingers are stiff and pale from the cold.

“Let’s do it,” I say, my teeth chattering.

“GET CROWKY!” screams Win, and at that exact moment Bad Dragon makes a strange hissing, gurgling sound and her wings lock in place.

We drop toward the sea.

“What’s wrong?” I shout, leaning out over Bad Dragon’s immense side, trying to see if she’s been injured.

“I think she’s freezing,” says Rose. “Feel her belly. Her fire’s gone out!”

I press my hands against her scaly sides. They’re chilling quickly, and I can’t hear or feel the familiar rumble of fire burning inside her. Then I realize that the smoke that’s always seeping from her nostrils has vanished. She plunges down through the sky. Her head is drooping now and her eyes are half closed and covered with a frosty film.

“Forget about Crowky. We’ve got to get back to land!” I yell.

“Gobo hobome!” Rose shouts in Bad Dragon’s ear, and Win and I start rubbing her sides. I’m not sure what good we’re doing. My hands are as cold as her scales. Grazes appear on my palms, but I can’t feel a thing.

“Silver haze!” shouts Win, drawing his wand. “Silver haze!”

White sparks explode from his wand and float across us. I feel a chill prickle my skin, and Bad Dragon must feel it too because she drops even lower in the sky. “Wrong spell, Win,” I shout. “Whatever that stuff is, it feels like extra-cold snow!”

“Gusto haze!” This time golden sparks shower over us. They’re hot. They’re burning. They pepper my hand with fiery dots, but they seem to work because Bad Dragon’s wings suddenly unlock and creak down.

We lift a fraction.

“Gobood gobirl,” says Rose, flinging herself forward and hugging the dragon’s neck. “Robise, robise!”

Then I notice that the spike I’m holding is warm. Color creeps back into my fingertips and then, like an engine spluttering into life, a grumble comes from Bad Dragon’s stomach.

Her wings rise and fall and as we lift up into the air she growls. Fire shoots from her mouth and a wave of white heat washes over my face and body.

Win laughs with giddy relief, but Rose and I are quiet.