“We’ll go tonight. No delays. The eclipse won’t happen until noon, right?”

Ilina nodded. “That still doesn’t give us much time. What if Anahera rises before we get there, or—”

“The dragons will warn us.”

“Or what if it really does need to be the exact site, not just the island?” She bit her lip. “And even if the dragons warn us of a tremor, we’ll be too far inland to get away. Not to mention all the ships will leave as soon as they see dragons flying.”

“We have a very narrow window for success,” I agreed, because that was all I could say without falling into despair myself. “But that’s not what I’m going to tell them.”

Ilina followed my gaze as thousands of people pressed together in the port, all of them staring up at us—at the bones of the first dragon.

I couldn’t imagine what the people saw in her—they didn’t know about the first dragon any more than I had until the dreams started—and most people certainly didn’t know about dragon bone structures, or that even a Drakontos titanus wasn’t as big as this.

But they must have sensed something about her, because a hush passed over the crowd as people began to point up.

“What are you going to tell them?” Gerel asked.

“The words I was born to say.” Now that we were back in the Fallen Isles, I could feel the noorestones glowing all around us. As I climbed up onto the first dragon, I let the power of several thousand noorestones trickle toward me—not enough to make their light so much as flicker, but just enough to heal the parts of my soul made tattered by their giant counterparts.

My ascent up the first dragon’s spine was immediately noticed, but no one recognized me.

I was dirty, scarred, skinny, and wearing a ragged hunting dress; no one knew who I was—not until I reached the skull and stood where everyone could see me. Then my name was a whisper through the crowd, louder as LaLa abandoned the rail and came to perch on my shoulder.

As the questions and speculation grew, I glanced at Aaru. He nodded, and then the entire harbor went quiet.

Not silent. Not like the morning he’d seen Idris on the horizon. But quiet enough that I could be heard over the hum of thousands of voices.

“I’m not going to say good evening.” I gazed over the assembly, forcing myself steady. LaLa rested her cheek against mine, lending me strength. “We’ve all seen the gods on the horizon. We’ve all been wondering which island is next. We’ve all been hoping for a miracle that would save our world. It isn’t a good evening.”

While I’d been talking, Aaru had eased the silence; more than anyone here, he knew how dangerous a weapon silence could be, and that no one should use it to strip others of their voices. So when the questions came, they were a rushed jumble of noise; I didn’t have a hope of understanding individual words.