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I want to comfort him, but he looks like he needs to get this out. Plus, I’m… fascinated. And kind of horrified.

“When I was a baby, the azeroths got desperate and broke through the dryads’ protection, into our valley. Many monsters died in the attack, including my father. Many azeroths were wiped out as well, but not enough. My family fled, moving to a new home every time they tracked us down. Five years ago, they found us. My mother sacrificed herself to save Elsabeth and I, and we’ve been on our own ever since. She’s all I have left.”

That’s it.I straighten. “You’re gonna go with or without Syril’s approval, aren’t you?”

Lysander’s shoulders hunch. “Yes.”

“Then I’m driving you there. I won’t let you go by yourself.”

Orion grimaces. “You’re both nuts, and I’ll be staying here. I don’t want to cross Syril in this.”

Lysander nods decisively. “Just don’t tell them until we’re gone.”

“Wow.”

I shut the truck door behind me. Lysander stands frozen at the edge of the bank, staring out at the scorched earth, his wings trembling faintly. We’re on the riverbank down behind the industrial park, and I’m pretty sure there wasn’t a big, jagged stretch of broken rocks here before. The sky glowsreddish, sunset making deep shadows in the ground. Between the shadows the stone is blackened and cracked.

When Lysander said ‘fairy battle’ this isn’t what I pictured, honestly. I was thinking more… sparkles.

I step up next to him. “What happened?”

“Dragonstone.” He turns to me. “You should stay in the truck.”

“It doesn’t look like anyone’s here.”

“I think they’re gone,” he says, scanning the rocks.

“So it’s not dangerous anymore, right?”

He nods slowly. “Right.”

Then he starts to climb down the bank.

“Hey,” I call after him. That’s not what I meant — but of course he wants to see if there’s any evidence of his sister. Are the big holes in the ground from her, or the azeroths? “What’s dragonstone?”

Lysander doesn’t answer.

Shouts from down the bank make me straighten. This is technically private property, and we shouldn’t be caught poking around. I squint at the approaching figures, but they don’t look like dock workers. They’re strangely familiar — and as they get closer, I can see they’re definitely not human

“Ezra!” The smaller figure waves, calling my name.

With a jolt, I realize it’s Belle — the riiga from the paddleboard competition. Behind her is a taller version of her, another riiga who’s wearing an airy pink dress and ribbons in her braids.

“Hi, Belle.” I wave back. “What brings you here?”

“We live here, silly.” Belle grins, showing all her teeth. Her athletic body is wrapped in lycra sportswear, and her hair is plastered to her head as if she’s been swimming. Maybe she has.Iwouldn’t want to swim in this river, but maybe monsters are immune to pollution.

“You live… here? In the industrial park?”

The other riiga makes a sputtering noise. “We don’t liveinthe industrial park — just nearby.”

“Verynear,” Belle interjects.

Her sister puts her hand out. “I’m Daphne.”

I shake Daphne’s hand. “Nice to meet you. I’m Ezra. The, uh, human.”

“We know.” She exchanges a look with Belle.