*
Kyra flew on the back of a dragon, hanging on for dear life, moving faster than she knew was possible, as it screeched and flapped its wings. They were so wide and magnificent, and they grew wider as she watched them, seeming as if they would stretch over the world.
She looked down and her stomach dropped as she saw, far below, the rolling hills of Volis. She had never seen it from this angle, so high up. They flew over a lush countryside, with rolling green hills, stretches of woods, gushing rivers, and fertile vineyards. It was familiar terrain, and soon Kyra recognized her father’s fort, rambling, its ancient stone walls blanketing the countryside, sheep roaming outside of it.
But as the dragon dove down, Kyra sensed immediately that something was wrong. She saw smoke rising—not the smoke of chimneys, but black, thick smoke. As she looked closer, she was horrified to see it was her father’s fort aflame, waves of flame engulfing everything. She saw an army of the Lord’s Men, stretching to the horizon, surrounding the fort, torching it, and as she heard the screams, she knew that everyone she knew and loved in the world was being slaughtered.
“NO!” she tried to shout.
But the words, stuck in her throat, would not come out.
The dragon craned its neck, turned it all the way back and looked her in the eye—and Kyra was surprised to see it was the same dragon she had saved, its piercing yellow eyes staring right back at her. Theos.
You saved me, she heard it say in her mind’s eye. Now I shall save you. We are one now, Kyra. We are one.
Suddenly, Theos turned sharply, and Kyra lost her balance and fell.
She shrieked as she plummeted through the air, the ground coming for her fast.
“NO!” Kyra shrieked.
Kyra sat up shrieking in the blackness, unsure of where she was. Breathing hard, she looked all around, until she finally realized: she was in the cave.
Leo whined beside her, his head in her lap, licking her hand. She breathed deep, trying to remember where she was. It was still dark out, and outside the storm still raged, the winds howled, and the snow piled up. The throbbing in her cheek was worse, and she reached up and looked at her fingers and saw fresh blood. She wondered if it would ever stop bleeding.
“Kyra!” called out a mystical voice, sounding almost like a whisper.
Kyra, startled, wondering who could be in this cave with her, peered into the blackness, on alert. She looked up to see an unfamiliar figure standing over her in the cave. He wore a long, black robe and cloak and he held a staff; he appeared to be an older man, with white hair peeking out of his hood. His staff glowed, emitting a soft light in the blackness.
“Who are you?” she asked, sitting up straight, on guard. “How did you get in here?”
He took a step forward, and she wanted to see his face, but he was still obscured in shadow.
“What is it that you seek?” he asked, his ancient voice somehow putting her at ease.
She thought about that, trying to understand.
“I seek to be free,” she said. “I seek to be a warrior.”
Slowly, he shook his head.
“You forget something,” he said. “The most important thing of all. What is it that you seek?”
Kyra stared back, confused.
Finally, he took another step forward.
“You seek your destiny.”
Kyra wondered at his words.
“And more,” he said, “you seek to know who you are.”
He stepped forward again, standing so close, yet still obscured in shadow.
“Who are you, Kyra?” he asked.
She stared back blankly, wanting to answer, but in that moment she had no idea. She was no longer sure of anything.
“Who are you?” he demanded, his voice so loud, echoing off the walls, hurting her eardrums.
Kyra raised her hands to her face, bracing herself as he came closer.
Kyra opened her eyes again and she was shocked to see that no one was there. She couldn’t understand what was happening. She slowly lowered her hands, and as she did, she realized that this time, she was fully awake.
Bright sunlight shone into the cave, light reflecting off the snow, off the cave walls, blinding. She squinted, disoriented, trying to collect herself. The raging wind was gone; the blinding snow was gone. Instead, there was snow partially blocking the entrance and beyond it a world with a crystal blue sky, birds singing. It was as if the world had been reborn.
Kyra could hardly fathom it: she had survived the long night.
Leo gently bit at her pants leg and prodded her, impatient.
Disoriented, Kyra slowly stood and as she did, she immediately reeled from the pain. Not only was her entire body sore from the fighting, the blows she had received, but most of all, her cheek burned as if it were on fire. She recalled the dragon’s claw, and she reached up and felt it; although just a scratch, it was still mysteriously moist, caked with blood.
As she stood she felt lightheaded , and she did not know if it was from her exhaustion, her hunger, or the dragon’s scratch. She walked on unsteady legs, feeling unlike herself, as she followed Leo, who led the way impatiently out of the cave and back into day, clawing at the snow to widen their exit.
Kyra crouched down and stepped outside and as she stood, found herself immersed in a world of blinding white. She raised her hands to her eyes, her head splitting at the sight. It had warmed considerably, the wind was gone, birds chirped, and the sun filtered through trees in the forest clearing. She heard a whoosh and turned to see a huge clump of snow slide off a heavy pine and make its way to the forest floor. She looked down and saw she stood in snow up to her thighs.
Leo led the way, bounding through the snow, back in the direction of Volis, she was sure. She followed him, struggling to keep up.
Kyra, though, found herself struggling with each step she took. She licked her lips and felt more and more lightheaded. The blood pulsed in her cheek, and she began to wonder if the wound had infected her. She felt herself changing. She could not explain it, but she felt as if the dragon’s blood were pulsing through her.
“Kyra!”
There came a distant shout, sounding as if it were a world away. It was followed by several other voices, shouting her name, their cries absorbed by the snow and the pines. It took her a moment to realize, to recognize the voices: her father’s men. They were out here, searching for her.
Kyra felt a surge of relief.
“Here!” she called out, thinking she was shouting, but surprised to hear her own voice was barely above a whisper. At that moment, she realized just how weak she was. Her wound was doing something to her, something she did not understand.
Suddenly, her knees buckled out from under her, and Kyra found herself falling into the snow, helpless to resist.
Leo yelped, then turned and ran for the distant voices.
She wanted to call to him, to call to all of them, but she was too weak now. She lay there, deep in the snow, and looked up at a world of white, at the blinding winter sun, and closed her eyes as a slumber she could no longer resist carried her away.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN