There it was, on the horizon, at the end of the lonely peninsula: what could only be the Tower of Ur. It stood so majestic, so proud, alone on the barren, windswept peninsula, its round tower rising straight into the air, hundreds of feet high, capped by a shining, golden dome. It appeared to be built of an ancient stone, an unusual shade of white, lit scarlet rays by the last rays of the sun. It was magnificent, unlike anything she had ever seen, a place of dreams. She could hardly believe that such places could exist in the world.

As the sun lit up the tower, what caught her eye most were its doors—those incredible golden doors, arched, soaring fifty feet high—looking like great works of art. They were forbidding and welcoming at the same time. Framing the tower on all sides was the majestic crashing of ocean waves, the Sea of Sorrow as its backdrop, blanketing the horizon as far as she could see.

Kyra paused on a hilltop, breathing hard as Andor did, too, taking a much needed rest as she took it all in. She could feel a magical power, an incredible energy, emanating off of this tower even from here, at once drawing her in and pushing her away. She recalled all the tales her father had read her of this place, the ancient bards who had sung of it, generation after generation, and she knew it held some of the great secrets—and most guarded treasures—of Escalon. Centuries of Watchers had inhabited it. It was a place of warriors, of creatures, of men and of honor.

Kyra felt light-headed as she pondered who awaited her. Her uncle, the man who would reveal everything, who would teach her about her mother, her identity, her destiny and her powers. The man who would train her. Was it possible, Kyra dared to wonder, that her mother was alive? That she was here, too?

So many questions raced through her mind, she did not know where to begin. She could hardly stand the anticipation, and she prodded Andor and breathlessly took off, the two of them galloping across the hills, down the final stretch.

As she neared the tower, Kyra’s blood was coursing through her ears, making it hard to think. She had somehow crossed Escalon all by herself, without her father’s protection, or his men. She felt stronger from it already, and she had not even begun her training. She realized that her journey had been necessary preparation for her training. Now she understood why her father had sent her alone. He had wanted to make her stronger, to prepare her, to make her worthy.