Kryrial paced in the ruined grove. No animals chattered, no flowers bloomed. There was nothing but debris, broken trees, and rubble.

His teeth ground together as he beheld Ilysa's body. She was burned, crumpled and lifeless amid the wreckage of her home. His fingers caressed her scales, and where he knew there should be a sadness, he only felt anger. Ilysa had been his. She was rash, impulsive, and she had likely been her own demise, but she was his.

No one could take what was his. Not without consequences. Not without feeling the same fire  he felt. As he stood in thought staring at Ilysa's body, without his notice the drying wood sparked beneath his feet. Where it had already been scorched, it ignited as if oil had been poured upon it, and he made no move to stop it.

The flames seemed to match the color of the sunset, and they blended together until one was indistinguishable from the other. The fire licked at him, too, but it could not harm him, and he only welcomed the heat of its embrace. The death of a dragon was a somber thing, and he had seen far too many in his time. Her death, especially so. There had been a beauty in her broken nature.

Instead of acting out, he sat and let his emotions overwhelm him. The fire circled out from him, consuming the grove until nothing but ashes remained. It poured over Ilysa's body, and he whispered a last word to her, as the fire that emanated from him burned her bones away.

The smoke grew cloying, the ash finally settled, and Kryrial rose from the center of it all, stained with black.

Mordai had told him who had slain Ilysa. Though, he of course did not know how they had done it. And Kryrial knew that Mordai had been meeting in secret with elves and others. Mordai feared for his life. But Kryrial did not care what Mordai feared.

It only mattered that they paid for what they had taken from him. He would have them, and he would have the world.

Katerin had taken Halemeda's advice.

She poured herself into Kryrial and all that he could search for, though every day she came up empty. There was nothing of a special value in the mountains. Ore was a possibility, but that seemed a minor thing compared to Kryrial's actions. Late one night, after she had spent the entirety of her day searching books for any mention of peculiarity in the mountains, she walked the halls without a destination.

Everyone else had already retired back to the inn, but she was only growing increasingly desperate. She felt that the longer she waited, the worse things would be when she acted. A nagging thought told her that there were more Reclaimer's. It told her that she knew better than to consider ore. But she did not want to face that, nor speculate about it, with no proof. Her last encounter with the awakening of a Reclaimer had been a shattering thing, and she doubted that she could face such a thing again.

So she studied and hoped to find another reason.

Eventually she left the shelves behind, and came across an empty, simple temple. Its domed glass ceiling let the moonlight shine through over the marble floors. Wandering in, she sat beneath the moonlight. She let her hands drop to her lap and bowed her head. She was afraid to pray, sure that the only one to answer her would be Lodyne. Instead she sat in silence, letting her thoughts drift away from her worries, and trying to absorb the essence of comfort the moonlight offered.

She felt no urge to cry, no urge to move. After a while, she released a heavy breath that felt as though she had not taken such a breath in months. When she looked up, the moonlight no longer illuminated her, having moved significantly from where it was when she had first sat down. She remembered Fykes' words, telling her to search out her own faith.

But why would any god answer her, when Lodyne already pervaded her thoughts so often? Would one answer? And if it did, could it be any better than Lodyne's voice? Would it matter, or would the goddess only grow angrier. With those bitter thoughts, she pulled her cloak tighter, cast her spell of invisibility, and wandered toward the tavern, her footsteps leaving tracks in the freshly fallen snow.

When she was a child, she had loved the winter. The snow was starkly beautiful against the color of the city. It meant her birthday was coming, and it meant that she could wear whichever scarves and coats she wanted, without worry. It held fond memories and warm embraces. But this year, the snow was too quiet. It was too heavy. Like a weight she could not brush away. She snickered to herself, knowing that the weather held no true weight, but that did not dissuade the feelings that overcame her on her way back to the inn.

This winter would not hold the same memories. There would be no snowball fights, warm drinks and beautiful hearths.

There would be war, and its aftermath. Killing, strife, and sadness.

Her sleep was restless, though Lodyne never appeared. Mordai plagued her, tonight. Throwing accusations and harsh words, and in her heart all she wanted was to set him free from the mess he created. She gasped, and opened her eyes to a dim predawn light, and Fykes askew and shirtless next to her.

Daughter. Sulea's voice in her mind was surprisingly loud in the silence of their room. It sounded weak.

Mom? Katerin's heart skipped three beats as she waited for reassurance.

I need you to find a cabin in the Elderdrake wood. Near the north and eastern edge, before the mountains. Sulea sounded commanding, but strained.

What happened?

I have Kieneltra Varsly. She needs you.

Are you okay?

I will guide you as best I can... wear the locket.

Katerin's hand brushed her father's teardrop pendant that sat at her throat, feeling the slight hum of its minor enchantment. Will it be enough?

It will have to, Sulea said. Hurry, daughter.

Katerin's calm shattered like a wine goblet, and she realized she was standing only after she called after her mother another three times. She gathered her things haphazardly and shook Fykes awake. "Get Brazen, I'll get Kindra and Arjiah."

"What?" He shook himself, eyes wide with alarm.

"My mother has Kieneltra Varsly. I think they're in trouble."

Even looking half asleep as he did, he was awake, dressed and belting on his sword before she was out the door.

She knew he would have questions, but all she knew was that she needed to hurry, before the fear in her heart ruptured and left her unable to breathe, before any harm could befall her mother and the princess.

The journey out of the city was miserable. The weather had chosen this tenday to turn from fall to winter, and the wind had sharp fangs that seemed to bite through any layers. The farther north they went, the deeper the snow became, and the slower their walk went. Katerin heard from her mother only once more, and through the tiniest bit of guidance they covered miles of uncertainty.

Without complaint, they pushed through interminable days, walking until they were too exhausted to continue. It neared the end of their seventh day of travel, and Katerin was sure they were close. She could smell faint smoke, and the trees thinned enough to show hints of a path that would have been visible, if not for the covering of the snow.

Fykes jogged back to the group and waved. "There's a cabin ahead."

Katerin rushed up to meet him, stumbling in the snow. "Was anything there?"

"I couldn't tell."

"We should go carefully," Brazen said.

"But quickly," Katerin said.

They pushed through the snow, and the biting wind, and for a while Katerin felt as if the cabin could not come soon enough.

The cabin was a tilted, old thing, with boards so old they were graying. Out front was a small flattened portion of snow, and a single candle seemed to illuminate the interior.

Before Katerin could get to the door, it swung open to reveal a young blonde woman, with a soot stained face, a tattered dress, and a cut along her cheek.

She held a stick like a weapon, and held one hand out, with fire floating above it. "Who are you?" She shuddered as she took in their number, and the distinct red color of Kindra's armor.

"I'm Katerin. My mother is with you. Kieneltra?"

The princess's face immediately fell. "Sulea said you would have a locket like this one. Show it to me." She produced the familiar, adored other half of the necklace Katerin had.

Katerin held the chain up from around her throat, making no move to come closer. Kieneltra looked like she would react with violence to any action she did not concede, and Katerin could not blame her.

She looked at the necklace for a long moment, and studied each of Katerin companions with scrutiny before she dropped the stick, and her shoulders slumped. "Sulea's here. You need to help her."

"I think we need to help you, too."

Katerin and Arjiah immediately followed the princess into the one-room cabin. The only bed in the place held a slender, sleeping form with cropped raven hair. Sulea was pale, covered in sweat. Her eyelids fluttered in her fitful rest.

"What happened?" Katerin asked, as she kneeled next to her mother, and took her hand. It was cold to the touch.

Kieneltra shuddered. "I was trying to get to Lagamar. Your mother found me and offered to help... but I thought she would just return me to the city so I refused her, and ran. Into some soldiers. She... she killed them. One had a poisoned dagger, I think. She told me of this cabin, and we ran... I..." Guilt and fear shown like a light in Kieneltra's eyes, and she stepped back, hands shaking.

Fykes looked around, and he and Brazen went to work creating a fire in the old hearth, and putting some kind of food on. Kindra could already be heard outside, chopping wood.

Katerin looked to Arjiah with worry in her eyes.

"We can't move her like this. I need time."

"To?"

"To pull the poison out." Arjiah pulled the thin blanket back, and observed the messy, haphazard bandage that was soaked with old blood. "And clean the wound."

The wound was just above Sulea's hip, and from it brown lines wriggled up her side, towards her chest.

Katerin began cutting the bandage away as Arjiah pulled items from her bag. There was a black salve, a dozen powders, and a collection of gemstones.

"Do you know anything of the poison the army could have used?" Arjiah asked the princess as she worked.

Katerin bit her tongue, but Kieneltra stepped forward. "It's supposed to be from a dragon, though I always thought that to be a myth."

Brazen pulled his cloak from his back and held it out to the princess. "You look cold."

She took it gratefully, but hovered behind Katerin as if she could not tear her eyes away from Sulea.

Arjiah handed Katerin a series of stones and instructed her on where to hold them. She mixed powders with her black salve, and smeared it across the wound, before laying a thick pad of bandages across it. As she chanted, Katerin held the stones at the top of where the poison had reached just under Sulea's breastbone.

"I tried to keep her hydrated, but... I couldn't keep the fire going, so I ran out of water two days ago..."

"Two days isn't too long," Brazen said from the side, "She'll be okay."

Katerin heard the worry in Kieneltra's tone but could not respond, as Arjiah's chant continued and she moved the stones toward the wound. The brown ichor of the poison moved with the stones she held, and her fingertips tingled under the effects of Arjiah's magic.

Her eyes flicked to the jagged, deep wound on her mother's side and she saw fluid soaking into the bandage. Clear at first, but as she moved the stones it grew darker, both with blood and poison.

Arjiah's eyes were tightly closed, and small wrinkles shown in the pastel blue color of her skin as she focused.

Finally, Katerin moved the stones over the wound itself, letting them just touch the bandage. Sulea moaned in her sleep, kicking one leg uncomfortably. Her sweating had increased tenfold, and heat radiated from her skin.

The bandage grew soaked and dripped with poison and blood, and Arjiah's chant ceased abruptly. Katerin pulled the disgusting piece of fabric away. "Burn it," she told Kieneltra, whose nose was wrinkled as she took it.

Katerin had eyes for no one but her mother, and the wound she bore. Sulea's hand flexed gently in hers, and for the first time, she felt the delicate structure of her mother's hands, and they felt small to her. As if even her mother was someone she had to protect in this moment.

Arjiah cleaned the wound, applied salves and fresh bandages, but did not magically heal it. Katerin looked at her in question.

"If I close the wound, but we did not get all the poison, she'll only get sicker. This leaves it on her terms, but... it's her best chance."

"Will she wake up?"

"She will, but she needs rest, water, and warmth. Keep the fire going, give her any extra blankets you have." Arjiah looked to the fire, "Fykes, can you manage some broth?"

"Working on it," Fykes said over his shoulder, as he stepped outside with the cooking pot.

He returned a moment later, the pot brimming over with snow. Brazen moved to his side, and in a matter of minutes, a warm herbal smell filled the cabin.

The evening found them all huddled inside the small cabin, with a stew of dried meats in one of Fykes camping pots on the stove. Kieneltra ate like it was her first meal in a year, and she doted over Sulea like a baby bird doted over its first flight.

Fykes had put together both a hefty meal, and suitable broth, that despite that it was no solid food, would offer Sulea energy she had not had in some time.

Katerin asked Kieneltra no pressing questions as the night wore on, instead letting Brazen entertain her with jokes and kind conversation for many hours. Eventually, at Kieneltra's insistence, Katerin told her what she knew of the goings on across Luminya, and she was surprised how well the princess took the news. She asked her questions, but kept composure and a logical head.

Kindra stayed outside the cabin, not afraid of the howling storm, insistent to be the one to keep a watch.

Sulea groaned in her sleep, but she never woke, though some hours into the night she finally lost the sticky layer of sweat, and her temperature cooled to a normal degree.

Katerin had stayed awake, feeling too ill to rest her head. Someone had to keep the fire going, after all.

"Is she alright?" Kieneltra's soft voice asked as Katerin sat at the foot of the bed.

"Her fever's gone, now." Katerin had produced a small globe of magical light and held it under her cloak to keep it dimmed.

Kieneltra moved to sit beside her and let out a soft sigh. "I've barely slept for a tenday, but my mind won't quiet."

"That's a sign of exhaustion, princess," Katerin said. "I can make you a cup of tea, if you'd prefer."

Kieneltra let out a soft laugh. "I would love a cup of tea. But I'm no princess out here."

"These are still your lands."

"Do you know where my brothers are? Colin and Web? I tried to convince Colin to run.. but he's always so stubborn."

"No. I wish I could tell you I knew more, but, if I am honest, without her help I wouldn't even know where you were."

Kieneltra nodded, her tangled hair shifting in the low light. "How bad is it?"

"It's bad," Katerin said, feeling sympathy. "The armies are on a path to the port cities, there is an ever growing unease in the city."

"The Tower?" Kieneltra's voice was so full of worry it hung in the air like perfume.

"It is far from unaffected. Tensions grow, and Halemeda has all the students on curfew, and most of them residing there. They refused to help the armies, and they took the blame for removing the net against teleportation over the city."

"There was a teleportation ward?" Kieneltra's brow creased.

"There was. Arjiah and I took it down."

"And you let the Tower take the blame?" Kieneltra grew incredulous.

"Not willingly," Katerin said, passively.

"Who are you?"

Katerin let out a soft chuckle. "I am someone who likes to involve myself in matters above my station."

For a few moments all that could be heard was the crackling of the fire.

"If me and my siblings returned to our place, what do you think the people would do?"

"The city is filled with traditionalists. But I'd wager they want less tension, and the ability to leave their homes without fear."

"So you think they would be happy?"

"I would expect them to be weary. But you could prove yourself, so long as you were earnest."

"It won't be easy to win them back."

"No. But, there's a lot standing between you and your home, right now." Katerin bit her cheek.

"I know. The armies... the usurper..."

Katerin sighed. "A dragon."

Kieneltra choked, but her eyes met Katerin's harshly, as if daring her to lie. "Hm?"

Katerin nodded. "Bernard..."

Kieneltra scoffed. "You think my father is a dragon?"

"I know he is. Mordai usurped the throne by trying to kill Bernard. Mordai handed the throne over to Kryrial. Kryrial and Bernard are the same man. He did not die, and we now have evidence that your father... has been a dragon in hiding for centuries."

"You realize how..." Kieneltra gulped for a word.

"Insane?" Katerin offered.

"Insane," Kieneltra agreed. "How insane that sounds?"

"I do. Which is why I urge you to believe me. I wouldn't make up something so convoluted."

Kieneltra was silent for a long moment. "They say simplicity is the key to an excellent lie... but.. Kryrial is my father?"

Katerin nodded solemnly. She felt for the princess, as she worked to process the information she had just been handed. Katerin had endured enough trouble with it, and she was not so close. "That doesn't mean that you cannot or should not go home," Katerin began.

"Is that your way of asking what I will do?" Kieneltra arched one eyebrow.

"No, but I was planning on it." Katerin offered her a good-natured smile. "I wouldn't recommend returning to the city. It's getting more difficult to stay undetected, even with magic, and I'm sure Kryrial is more interested in you, then he is in me."

"I need somewhere to hide." Kieneltra sighed, as if annoyed that hiding was the smart option. "I was going to go to Lagamar and rally the dwarves to my aid."

"If you ask, the dwarves might respond. But a letter might be smarter."

"Uhm'bantha may harbor me. But if what you said earlier about the armies is true, they may think me a liability. And I don't want to owe the Citadel."

"You could owe neither the dwarves nor the elves," Katerin said. "In fact you could owe no one at all."

Kieneltra raised one eyebrow, looking at Katerin as if she was sure Katerin did not understand how this worked.

A slight smile found Katerin's lips. "I know of a place on Itrea."

"With you?" Kieneltra's expression grew curious.

Katerin nodded.

"Then I would owe you."

Katerin shook her head. "No. I might be of some nobility on Itrea, but Hearth-home is where I was raised. I like to consider myself a joint citizen."

"Why?"

"Because, even if Kryrial abused your family line for whatever his purposes are, there would not be a Luminya like the one today, without the Varsly's. You have spent years in the castle, with the people and the Tower. You are not responsible for this evil. Another claim on the crown would only cause more chaos. The people might be tired, but they will be far more accepting of you, or your brothers, than of a stranger.... Or Urgist Van'Damas."

Kieneltra tugged on her tangled hair, and looked at it, appalled. "I would be safe, on Itrea?"

"I would make sure of it. Though I doubt it will be the quality of living you're accustomed to." Katerin gestured to her hair and offered her a comb.

Kieneltra looked uneasy, and so Katerin held out a complacent hand. "Take some time to think it over. Your choices are yours alone."