I lay on the floor in a room I didn’t recognize, curled up on something soft. It took only a second to realize I was in dragon form, lying in a nest of blankets, and this had been a bedroom at one point, because a bed and a dresser had been shoved up against the far wall. Apart from those two pieces of furniture, the room was unnaturally empty. No clothes on the floor, no pictures or posters hanging from the walls, nothing to give the room personality. It seemed to have been empty a long time.

My thoughts swirled sluggishly, like they were trapped in glue. I blinked hard, trying to focus as I raised my head, waiting for my vision to clear. What had happened to me? The last thing I remembered was flying away from something, and a sudden jolt to my side, like I’d been hit with a hammer. I didn’t remember passing out, but I must have, because everything after that was a blur. How much time had elapsed since then? I wondered.

And where am I now?

Cautiously, I looked around, trying to get a sense of where I was, and froze.

A body was slumped in a chair a few feet away, sitting against the wall with his arms crossed and his eyes closed. Even through the confusion and sleep haze, I knew it was Garret.

My stomach tightened, and memory came back in a rush. I remembered everything that had brought me here; infiltrating the St. George base with Riley, freeing Garret, fleeing across the wasteland with the soldier on my back. There was also one very hazy memory of a voice that sounded exactly like Garret’s, telling me to lie down, but that might’ve been from a dream.

But I wasn’t dreaming now, and the soldier was here, in the very same room. Sunlight slanted through the blinds over the windows, glinting off his pale hair, painting bright bars over his clothes. He wore faded jeans and a white T-shirt, and in sleep, he appeared younger than he was. Less a hardened soldier and more like a normal teen. Like the Garret I’d known in Crescent Beach. Before he became St. George, the enemy, a soldier who had killed dragons his whole life.

I rose carefully, trying to be silent as I sat up, but Garret was either just dozing or a really light sleeper, for his eyes shot open as soon as I moved. Piercing metallic-gray pupils met mine across the room.

“Ember.”

His voice made me shiver, low and soft with relief. Carefully, as if trying not to make any sudden moves, he stood, his expression teetering between wary and hopeful. “You’re awake,” he breathed. “Are you all right?”