Theos narrowed his eyes and far below, through the clouds, he spotted Kyra, before the tower. He watched her with a mix of curiosity and respect, more protective of her than she would ever know. He kept an eye on her when he could, as the role she had to play in the coming war was too important, their connection too strong, and her life too fragile. She was not a dragon, after all.

Theos flapped, kept flying, past Kyra, past the tower, and back across Escalon—still searching. He lowered his head and increased his speed and in moments was able to cross half the land. He spotted Kyra’s father in the mountains, atop Kos, preparing, no doubt, for the great war. He turned and flew north, and saw Volis, unguarded. He flew further and, not far from The Flames, he saw the great hole in the earth, the giant emerging from the tunnel and the great army of trolls following on its heels.

He criss-crossed Escalon, and in the far corners he saw some legions of Pandesia beginning to rally, they, too, preparing for war.

Theos, though, did not have much interest in these human dealings. He could destroy them all in a second if he wanted to. All of their movements, their machinations, were ultimately inconsequential to him. It was Kyra he cared about—for a very special reason.

And one other. The only thing more important to him even than her, the only thing that made him stay, the only thing that had made him come here to begin with. He searched again and again, screeching in frustration, for the one thing he had to find. The one thing that had made him vulnerable.

His child.

Theo screeched again and again in frustration, shaking the very air as he flew once again over the Wood of Thorns, near the place where he was wounded, searching, scouring the land. He scanned the forest below, through the trees, over the hills—everywhere. But it was nowhere to be found. It was as if his child had vanished, as if the very egg he had come here to protect had disappeared.

Who could have taken it? And why?

Theos screeched again, a screech of urgency, of despair, as he soared up into the heavens, ready to tear apart the fabric of the world, to rain fire on all of mankind if he did not, soon, find what he was looking for. He could feel the rage burning, mounting within him, and as his eyes glowed yellow he knew that he could no longer control it. He had to let it out on someone. And those cities below, milling with humans, would have to be as good a target as any.

He tucked into a dive, sped for the city below, and opened his mouth to breathe fire. It was time for the great war to begin.

CHAPTER THIRTY NINE