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“Thank you.” She left him and entered a tiny chamber that almost made her panic. No windows. How would she breathe? A narrow bed lay against the wall, the frame of it matching the curve. No dresser, just some hooks. Such spartan quarters for a supposedly holy place.

Avera flopped onto the bed and couldn’t help thinking she should have fled with the eggs when she had a chance.

She couldn’t have said what exactly unnerved her.

Yes, the whole idea of dragons being hatched worried, but at the same time, she sensed that setting them free was the right thing to do.

The unease stemmed from something else. Something?—

“You seem peaked. I’ve brought you something to help.” Klothi entered, veil concealing her features, holding a flask.

“I’m fine. Some water and rest are all I need.”

“Drink this,” Klothi insisted. “You’ll need your strength for what is to come.”

“More stairs?” Avera couldn’t help but quip.

“More like you can’t show weakness when the dragons hatch. They respect strength. If they think you weak, you will struggle to control them.”

“What if I don’t want to command them?”

“They must be leashed for everyone’s safety and to ensure their compliance.”

“I thought you claimed they were sentient beings. What you’re suggesting sounds like slavery.”

“Would you prefer for humanity to perish?” she replied harshly.

“No, but surely there’s a better way. Our ancestors once worked with them. Why can’t we?”

“We don’t have time to forge that kind of connection.”

Avera almost asked, ‘And whose fault is that?’ This entire bonding process could have been started decades ago.

Rather than argue, she sought to rid herself of Klothi. Unlike Titus, the viziers didn’t impress Avera. She found them bossy and arrogant. “I’m tired.”

“I’ll leave once you drink.”

Despite not wanting to, Avera guzzled from the flask. The liquid tasted better than expected.

The veiled guardian uttered a sound of satisfaction. “See how easy that was? Now you lie down and have yourself a lovely rest. We have a big day tomorrow.”

A reminder Avera could have done without. The anxiety over it slipped away, though, as she fell into a deep sleep where she dreamed.

Dreamed she flew above the world, sword in hand, tiara precariously balanced atop her head, chasing a man riding a dragon.

A man who turned to look over his shoulder and showed a face she knew.

Griffon!

The shock of it jolted and Avera abruptly sat up in her bed, disoriented and with her heart pounding. It had felt so real, and yet what a strange thing to imagine. Blame what she would soon do.

As she sat up, she noticed she no longer wore her garments.

She’d fallen asleep in her dusty riding habit but somehow woke in a gown of pure white, similar to what the viziers wore.

Her hair had been brushed and braided. Who’d done this to her while she slept?

Slept so deeply she never noticed being dressed nor did she have a nightmare featuring Zhos.

They’d been happening more and more often of late.

Always the same. A voice taunting her, telling her she’d fail.

How she’d die. Reveling in relating the depravity it would commit on her people.

As Avera emerged from her room, she found Titus and the viziers sitting down to eat. The women had finally removed their head coverings.

“Who undressed me?” Avera couldn’t help but sound accusatory.

“I did to save us time, seeing as how we will depart after the meal,” Klothi stated.

At least it wasn’t Titus. Still, the temerity galled. “I could have done it myself after my nap.”

“Nap?” Titus chuckled. “It’s morning. You slept right through dinner.”

“That long?” The news stunned Avera.

“You obviously needed it. At least you will be well rested for the big day ahead,” Titus stated. “Come and eat. You’re probably hungry.”

Not really. The knot in her stomach remained and it didn’t help she moved as if still half asleep. What had Klothi put in the drink? As the viziers and Titus ate and spoke, Avera struggled to bring the fork to her mouth.

When they completed the meal, Titus clapped his hands. “Let’s hatch ourselves some dragons. Do you need me to carry your egg?”

“I’ve got it,” Avera muttered. She grabbed her satchel and slipped on the white slippers that had replaced the boots she’d been wearing. The white, filmy garments seemed an odd choice for traipsing in a volcano, but she had little choice as her other outfit had disappeared.

The satchel went over her torso, the weight of the egg bumping her hip.

Titus carried his one handed while the other two appeared to be ensconced in white satin sacks carried by Kachezi and Karoki.

Avera quietly followed Titus and the viziers as they moved back down to the main level, but rather than exit through the door, Klothi waved her hand over a section of flooring.

With a grinding noise, the stone moved aside, revealing stairs leading down.

Avera roused herself enough to ask, “Where do these go?”

“To the heart of the volcano.” Titus reached for her hand and squeezed it. “We are about to make history.”

Or destroy those who would have written it.