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A raging fire disrupts my dreams, the red flames transforming into blue and then white. My mother’s voice haunts me, echoing around me as if I were stuck in an infinite cave.

Find Cole.

You aren’t safe here.

Trust no one.

Kit!

A scream splits through the repetitive warnings, but I can’t tell if it’s hers or mine.

My eyes flash open, and I fling forward. The sudden motion dislodges Daeja from the crook of my chest, and she flops to the ground with a squeak. Sweat cakes my hair to my face, and I’m struggling to catch my quickened breath. The looming dread of premonition fogs over me.

Ground yourself…five things…five things.

I scan the darkness for five things I see, when Daeja shakes her body like a dog beside me, her wings slapping against her sides as she wiggles. The movement momentarily distracts me from my panic. She rubs her cheek alongside my sleeve, nudging her snout underneath my elbow to lift my arm and wriggling herway between my arm and side. Her wide eyes stare up at me, her head cocked to the side. I scratch under her chin. The stroke melts her into a light purr, and her eyes flutter closed.

I scan the pile of soot where the fire was earlier tonight, but any semblance of flame is long gone. Part of me anticipates it coming back to life as soon as I look away. For the flames to creep up and consume me. I lie back down and watch the heap of ash until I can’t keep my eyes open any longer.

It’s been days of traveling near the river. I think. I’m starting to lose track of the time.

Every chance I get, I read another page of my father’s journal. And when I’m not reading, I theorize what his face looked like. My blue eyes and silvery blonde hair are from my mother. Since my brother had brown hair, I could only guess my father had the same shade. I trace my features with my fingertips as I read, clinging to every word he’s written.

The Elders decided my time as a researcher in the realm has concluded.

We have sent several requests over the years to King Aaric to discuss peace between our lands. All of our correspondence has gone unanswered. But last month, the King finally acknowledged us.

With the severed head of one of our messengers.

Shortly thereafter, the King’s guard attacked our southern post near the border. Our outpost gained the victory and managed to capture a King’s guard.

This morning, my mentor sent me to the outpost. It wasn’t until I met with the elders that I was briefed on the recent attacks. They explained the dire need of why I was to stop my research on dragons. That I was needed for a new mission.

I am to return to the kingdom disguised as a King’s guard. To do research, even more critical than the study of dragons. This study is to ensure the survival of the Dragon Lands.

Of our realm.

To find out why our requests for peace are ignored.

We gathered what important information we could from the guard. Enough for me to practice the knowledge so I can blend in seamlessly. Next week I set out on my new quest.

Only one rule has been made urgent to me. One that can mean life or death.

Avoid direct interactions with the King himself at all costs.

He is unstable.

He is unpredictable.

He must not be trusted.

And if that’s not enough to scare me: he killed his own sister to rule.

I shut the journal.My father was sent as a spy?

My mind reels trying to piece together how he could have met my mother. All I knew growing up was my mother was a fantastic archer. So much so, she was drafted into the military at a young age and stationed at the northern outposts. Archers were well paid positions, considering they were our best defenses against dragons. One pierce of an arrow in the correct spot could bring a skyward dragon to the ground.

My father, a rebel.