Joe read out: ‘Fire. Air. Water. Earth.’

In the watery section, the ocean was finely coloured in blue, green and grey, teeming with underwater life: fish, a huge whale and a dragon.

A dragon, underwater? An indigo dragon, dark purplish blue, swimming with its wings folded on its back.

‘Look, there’s an egg.’ It was Winter who saw it, in the rocky cave section.

They studied it hungrily, passing it between them and holding it close to focus in the dim light. 102

Joe peered closer. ‘It looks like our eggs. We’re on the right path!’ He could clearly see a pattern on its surface, a zigzag, in orange this time, and the ancient artist had managed to convey the strange luminous colour. ‘Do you think … our eggs might be … shadow dragons?’

‘Shadow dragons!’ Winter breathed. Their eyes met. Hers were dancing with excitement. ‘Is there more?’ she asked, and he turned another page.

Joe stared, running one finger along the lines.

‘What does it say? Read it out,’ Winter urged him. ‘We need to know everything!’

Joe whispered it slowly, puzzling out the old-fashioned language:

‘In the island’s secret heart,

From liquid flame, there comes a spark.

With fire and water, earth and air,

Forged in the ocean’s hidden lair,

A broken heart will dare it all,

Take the leap and risk the fall.

From ash and bone, new life will rise,

Shadow dragons roam the skies!’

‘What does it mean?’ she asked.

‘I don’t know …’ Joe read it again. He didn’t like the sound of ash and bone – it sounded too much like dead 103things. He muttered the words again, trying to carve them on his memory. Then he recalled a half-forgotten lesson from school, wishing he’d paid more attention. ‘These are the four elements. Didn’t the ancients believe everything was made up of them?’

He looked at Winter. She’d gone to the city school once too, like all the children of Arcosi. He guessed that Winter was about eleven when she bonded with her dragon, Jin, and moved into the dragonschool. So she’d had a whole year at the dragonschool before Jin and the other dragons got sick and died.

She wouldn’t want to talk about it. But he had to ask.

‘When you were at the dragonschool, you must have learned things like this. What do you remember – about other kinds of dragons?’

Winter’s face was illuminated by one of the ornate metal lanterns hanging in the window: half was lit by soft orange light; the other half was lost in shadow. ‘Don’t. I can’t speak of then.’

Joe felt his excitement turn to frustration. She’d been one of the lucky ones, one of the dragonbonded. Why couldn’t she share those secrets, for the sake of these eggs?

Winter’s eyes filled with tears. She looked at him, plead­ing, as tears overspilled and ran down one cheek, like molten gold.

Joe remembered the egg, waiting for him. He already knew he would do anything for it. His mind made a leap, daring to dream of a future with a dragon. How would he feel if that dragon died? He couldn’t even imagine. It was 104too much. Darkness and dust. Would he be strong enough to keep living? He wasn’t sure. ‘I’m sorry.’ He let out a long slow sigh, feeling his anger subside. He looked at Winter, not sure what to say. If it had been Amina or Conor, he’d have tried a joke, but this was Winter – a mysterious girl, cloaked in shadows.