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Scorpia shrugged, a hint of compassion breaking through her regal exterior.

'And you weren't against the idea?' Fyia asked. Despite everything, she could smell opportunity.

'Ha!' said Scorpia, clapping her hands. 'I wasn't against it, but I'm not for it either, especially given how little you know.'

Fyia supposed that was fair. 'Why are we all doomed if the clocks fall?

'When the clocks doth strike thirteen, the dragons shall return. But if the clocks do fall before, then fire will reign supreme.'

'Do you believe that?' said Fyia. 'That if the clocks fall, our world will burn?'

'Yes, I do believe it,' said Scorpia.

Fyia stood and approached the tree, trying to process the barrage of thoughts hammering her brain. Had her parents known about the five true kingdoms? Had her brother? That thought made her nauseous. She trusted him. They'd worked together when he'd given up the throne …

Her people would hound her to marry if they found out the truth, even more than they already did. They'd think her weak, naïve, and certainly they'd consider the dragons lost to time, never to return. For if she proclaimed she could reunite the five true kingdoms, they'd think her mad. Even so, she knew she could. Maybe that meant Scorpia's revelation had already tipped her into insanity …

But the Fae'ch egg was missing … that couldn't mean nothing. She turned towards Scorpia, surprised to see the old woman rushing towards her. It looked as though Scorpia were calling her name, telling her something, but Fyia couldn't hear her words.

Fyia's fingers brushed against the tree's bark … for some reason, she needed to feel the rough surface before stepping away …

The moment her fingers made contact, she was jolted backwards, upwards, hurtling into the sky. She came to an abrupt halt when she reached the tree's canopy. She didn't dare look down—or move at all—lest she fall. There was nothing below but stone, and falling would mean death.

Whatever force held her in place—magic, presumably—moved her upwards once more, tilting her so she faced the ground. But she couldn't see the ground. She could see tree, and, as the magic lifted her higher and higher still, the top of the temple, which, to her amazement, was entirely clear of vegetation. And … Gods … was that a map?

Fyia forgot she floated a hundred paces in the air. Forgot that if the magic let her fall, she would die, and greedily drank in the details painted in astonishing detail on the temple's roof. The tree occupied the space where the Kraken Sea should be, the Dragon King's Five Kingdoms outlined around it. The details were sparse, the map showing only seven circles, and a mass of lines—perhaps the waterways—connecting everything together.

Five circular gems the color of fire were set into the roof, each of them inside a circle, except for one, which sat atop the Fae'ch mountains. The circles, Fyia assumed, depicted temples, the gems dragon eggs … they had to be.

One was here, at the Temple of the Whore, one in the Fae'ch Mountains, one in the Black Hoods' lands, one on the Great Glacier, and one … what in the Seven Hells …? One at the Temple of the Sea Serpent in her own lands. That couldn't be …

Something lurched in Fyia's chest, and whatever had supported her disappeared. She hurtled towards the ground, narrowly missing branches and the temple's roof as she dropped through the hole. She grabbed at the tree, trying desperately to slow her descent, but when she touched the bark, the world went black. Only the sensation of falling remained, down, down, down.

It got hotter as she fell, an orange glow reaching up towards her. It became unbearably hot, Fyia's nerves screaming at her to run. But she couldn't run, she could only fall.

Just when she thought the heat would set her on fire, something yanked her backwards, her head and limbs snapping forwards with such force her joints hurt and her brain smashed against the inside of her skull. It pulled her back to the circular room, and she fell to the floor of the temple, landing beside Scorpia's unconscious body.

'Scorpia!' said Fyia, forcing herself to move, despite the protests of her scorched flesh and battered limbs. 'Scorpia, are you okay?' Fyia took hold of her shoulders and gently shook, then lowered her ear to the old woman's lips. She took Scorpia's wrist, feeling for the pump of her blood. She was alive—thank the Gods—and suddenly came around, shoving Fyia back with strength she shouldn't possess.

'What were you thinking?' said Scorpia, rolling to her feet.

'I … what do you mean?'

'I told you not to touch the tree!'

'I didn't hear you …'

'You didn't hear me screaming from across the room?'

'I … no.'

'Whoring magic,' said Scorpia.

'What happened when I fell?'

'You grabbed the tree—like an idiot—and it pulled you inside.'

'It got hot …'