What had happened after the raid, I’d never told anyone. Later that night, I’d called Ember, asked her to meet me on an isolated bluff, alone. I’d been wearing my helmet and mask during the raid; she hadn’t known I was part of St. George. From the hurried tone of her voice, I had guessed she was planning to leave town, possibly with her brother, now that she knew St. George was in the area. But she’d agreed to meet with me one last time. Probably to say goodbye.

I’d been planning to kill her. It was my fault the mission had failed; it was my responsibility to fix it. She was a dragon, and I was St. George. Nothing else mattered. But, once again, staring at the green-eyed girl down the barrel of my gun, the girl who’d taught me to surf and dance and sometimes smiled just for me… I couldn’t do it. It was more than a moment’s hesitation. More than a heartbeat of surprise. I’d stood face-to-face with the target I had been sent to Crescent Beach to destroy—the girl I knew was my enemy—and I could not make myself pull the trigger.

And that was when she’d attacked. One moment I was drawing down a wide-eyed human girl, the next I was on my back, pinned by a snarling red dragon, its fangs inches from my throat. In that moment, I’d known I was going to die, torn apart by claws or incinerated with dragonfire. I had dropped my guard, left myself open, and the dragon had responded as any of its kind would when faced with St. George. Strangely enough, I’d felt no regret.

And then, as I’d lain helpless beneath a dragon and braced myself for death, the unthinkable had happened.

She’d let me go.

Nothing had driven her off. No one from St. George had arrived in the nick of time to save me. We’d been alone, miles from anything. The bluff had been dark, deserted and isolated; even if I’d screamed, there’d been nothing, no one, to hear it.

Except the dragon. The ruthless, calculating monster that was supposed to despise mankind and possess no empathy, no humanity, whatsoever. The creature that hated St. George above all else and showed us no pity, gave no quarter or forgiveness. The target I’d lied to, the girl I’d pursued with the sole intent of destroying her, who could have ended my life right then with one quick slash or breath. The dragon who had a soldier of St. George beneath its claws, completely at its mercy…had deliberately backed off and let me go.

And I had realized…the Order was wrong. St. George taught us that dragons were monsters. We killed them without question, because there was nothing to question. They were alien, Other. Not like us.