Finally, Kyra had a horse beneath her, the final stretch before her, and a sense of optimism, a sense that her long quest would soon be over—and that she was actually going to make it. They all rode together, a unified force, all of them invigorated. They galloped, as they had for hours, and Kyra took a deep breath, filled with a rush of excitement as they burst out of the shimmering leaves of Whitewood and into the open plains. The huge sky stretched before her and Kyra felt as if the world had been unveiled. After so many days of being trapped in the dark woods, she felt a sense of freedom and exhilaration as she had never before.

The gorgeous countryside of Ur opened up before her, and it was a place unlike any she had ever seen. There were magnificent rolling hills, covered in orange and purple flowers, this part of Escalon much warmer than Volis. The late afternoon sun shone down, illuminating it all in a scarlet light, making this land look as if it had been forged by the hand of God.

Kyra kicked her horse and egged him on faster, invigorated. They hadn’t stopped for hours, none of them wanting a break, all wanting to escape the woods, to escape their dark past, and to look to the future. Kyra rode up and down hills, breathing in the Ur air, feeling as if a whole new life were opening up before her.

Hours more passed when, finally, they crested a hill higher than the rest and they call came to a stop at its peak. They paused atop a wide plateau, on which stood a tall, wooden beam with arrows pointing in four directions. Kyra saw well-worn paths leading from the hill in all directions, and she knew they had reached a crossroads.

She studied the horizon, while Dierdre came up beside her.

“That road leads to Ur,” Dierdre pointed. “My city.”

Kyra followed her glance and saw on the horizon the outlines of a magnificent, sprawling city, its spires and domes and parapets shining in the sun; just beyond it was the faint outline of what appeared to be the sea, light reflecting off of it and illuminating the city. At the entrance to the city there sat a temple, following the tradition of many of Escalon’s western cities, with an arch cut through its center to allow travelers to pass in and out. It was crowned by a steeple, higher than any she’d ever seen, and she studied it in awe, amazed a temple could rise that high. Ur, the city of legend, the stronghold of the west, the gate to the open sea, the sea through which all commerce flowed in and out of Escalon.

Dierdre turned and pointed to the road leading the opposite direction.

“Perhaps a day’s ride north lies the peninsula of Ur,” she explained. “That way lies the tower you seek.”