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“But your mother was. She was destined to rule our house. Then tragedy hit, and she went into hiding. Her name was Anoria Vendarian, and every female in your line has a name that ends with the same three letters. Ria means the flow and signifies great power and a rare talent. Your mother was as you are—a Skyborne mage. The Skyborne can talk to dragons. The gift is rare, even in the bloodline, and you, Senaria, can become everything Anoria refused to be.”

“You lie.”

“I speak truth.” Anneli held out her hand.

A kernel of light hovered above her palm, then grew into a fiery orb that pulsed as she breathed.

In the orb, images flashed: men wearing the armor of different kings, the madness of weapons clashing, bodies and blood littering the mud-spattered ground.

Dragons circled, and beyond them, in the smoke-filled sky, the blue orb of the Malice Moon hurtling closer and closer, leaving a trail of flames.

“War is coming,” the high mage said as she closed her fist, snuffing out the images.

“Between mage clans, between mages and dragons, Thales and the Faded Lands, and those from across the continent. Competing forces will use the madness of the Malice Moon in their fight for dominance. The people will suffer.”

“Even if I believed you,” I said, “I can’t stop such a war.”

“No, but you can affect the outcome. You are the prize, Senaria. A Skyborne mage who can alter any conflict because you talk to dragons. Turn them into weapons. The King of the Southern Lands will use your gift. The priests will destroy you out of fear and hate. The Draakon will be forced to confront you, and your enemies will kill everyone you love if you don’t turn your gift into something others fear. ”

“But what of your motives?” My laugh was brittle. “On what side do you fight, High Mage? Your own?”

“Is that not the wish of everyone? To survive? Power breeds success, Senaria. Not kindness or trust or faith in higher motives.”

She led me across the clearing until we reached a destroyed bridge, the wooden planks still tied together but collapsed near the treacherous water boiling through a ravine.

The breeze whipped Anneli’s dark hair across her face. She extended her hand and spread her fingers. Ripples like a heat mirage pulsed toward the river—mage magic as I’d never seen it before.

Turbulent water spouted upward, a swirling whirlwind driven by the force of the current behind it, higher and higher until Anneli fisted her hand and twisted.

The whirling water also turned, bending into a rainbow arch, falling back into the churning river as if it never left. Roiling with white foam like a waterfall filled with mist and anger.

“Power is life, Senaria.” Anneli said. “How it unfolds, either good or bad, depends upon the energy of the user, their intent. If you wish to destroy, you can leave rubble. If you wish to protect, you create a paradise.”

The water crashed against both banks of the ravine, dragging rocks and loose branches into the flow. I watched the spectacle.

“You have destroyed,” I said, thinking of Perun, although I did not know the details .

“To make room for creation.” The high mage turned toward me. Her amulet glittered the way Kion’s so often did, and when she cupped my face with her hand, my thoughts ran to Tarian, touching me through the veil he’d ordered me to wear.

What veil did I wear now without realizing it?

“Your heart beats with uncertainty,” said Anneli as she pulled her hand away.

“Your pain is no different from mine. To have loved what is owned by the dragons only means suffering. I offer freedom from pain, Senaria. From disappointment and regret. A chance to own your heart when you don’t know what you want. ”

“I want peace.”

“You want him. Oh, you haven’t admitted it yet.

You still hide your feelings behind a veil of your own making.

But once a man becomes the Draakon, he is changed for life.

He can’t go back, and that puts him beyond our reach.

A beautiful illusion we long for but can never hold.

How happy will you be, loving someone who can’t love you back? ”

“How happy are you?” I challenged. “Does your amulet keep the disappointment at bay?”

Anneli’s eyes flashed. “You need to understand.”

“I’m not interested.”

“Would he come to your rescue if you needed him?” the mage demanded. “Or would he put his dragons first? From your hesitation, you don’t know.”

“Or I’ve had enough of people twisting my thoughts for their own purposes. ”

“Fool,” she muttered. “Do not sacrifice yourself for a love that will never be returned. You are Skyborne. Your power is beyond all mages—and for that reason, you’ll constantly be challenged unless you control the disorder within you.

You protected Bogo all those years, but you also stunted his growth.

It wasn’t magic in Thales. It was you because you saw him as the deformed bat, the childhood companion.

And through your magic, he remained that way.

Do not delude yourself. The dragons are aware of your power.

So is the Draakon. He sees you as his opposition. ”

“I won’t compete with Kion.” So confident, those words, but on the inside, shock reverberated with the horror that I’d kept Bogo stunted all those years.

I’d protected him from discovery, but hadn’t I also harmed him?

And what of Tova? She died because of me, because of some mage ability I didn’t understand, let alone control—what this mage was supposed to teach me. The way of magic.

And yet, all she focused on was telling me I was Skyborne, like my mother, and could never be with a man like Kion.

“Before you were born, destiny wrote your name,” Anneli said. “Even untrained, you are close to the Draakon’s equal. He commands the stars, while you burn brighter than the sun, and there is no choice here. Access the power you have.”

“How?” The question battled against the rising wind. Was the wind driven by Anneli’s magic or mine? Was this more of my disordered emotions or her manipulations?

“Spread your fingers and let the energy free,” the high mage said. “Visualize the outcome. Resurrect that bridge. See it whole and spanning the river. ”

I spread unsteady fingers, staring at the violence in the water. The shaking in my hands ran along my arms as if some inner dam had broken, some restraint I’d held all my life that was loosening.

My heart thundered while my thoughts tumbled. Was I like the dragon lords, standing on the cliff edge? Jumping off on faith that I wouldn’t fall into the sea? Except there was no dragon waiting to catch me.

I stared at the wooden boards, still roped together, the edges wet from the rampaging water. While intact, the broken bridge draped down one side of the ravine while the coils of loose rope looked knotted with the ends frayed.

Anneli ordered, “Concentrate. Surge your power into the ropes and untangle the knots. Pull the ends tight. Lift the boards.”

“I…can’t!”

“Don’t run from this like your mother did.”

The ravine was stoney. Overgrown weeds snared the bridge, sticking up through the gaps. How could I possibly do what Anneli demanded?

I focused, envisioned the bridge as it had once been. Energy poured through me until the heat was scalding. The bridge shuddered, undulating like a sleeping monster slowly coming awake. Some boards rose up. Others trailed on the sloping ground. The ropes writhed, whipped in the tumultuous air.

Anneli stood stiffly. Her voice tore like the wind. Tortured with the truth. “You hated the priests, didn’t you? Hated their depravity, the cruelty. You fear what they are doing to your brother right now. ”

Pain ripped through my outstretched hands until it felt like I was bursting open. I’d clenched my teeth so tightly that my jaw ached.

“You hear his screams when you can do nothing.”

“Stop,” I gritted. “I won’t become like the red priests.”

“Then be the change,” she countered. “Dig a grave for the part of yourself that must die, Senaria. Then let go. Rise and be dangerous.”

My eyes stung. Liquid dripped down my cheeks, too thick and warm for tears.

My mouth twisted. Saliva pooled. Even with my eyes wide open, the images were there.

Ildoran. Wilem. Sevyn. Men in cages and a ruined cathedral.

Whitened bones beside a washed-out hillside.

I ached for Tova. For Bogo. For Magda, taking her last breath.

Heard the grief in Kion’s voice when he murmured, the brave shall live forever.

The bridge planks collapsed into the ravine with a hollow sound. I swiped at my face and found blood on my fingertips.

“I can’t.”

“Then ask Sarnorinth to destroy you with dragon fire,” Anneli said, “before the red priests catch you.”

A shout echoed in the distance with enough urgency to distract me.

“Senaria!” Kion braced with his sword in his hand. Beside him stood Fennor. Renwick. Even Otar, the man I’d met at the Nithe. Each man gripped a weapon.

Were they coming for me ?

But storming from the woods were warrior priests, crimson cassocks flapping as they tore across the field. Ungodly sounds rose from their lips.

Magic slammed into me with chilling force.

Kion and the men turned to face the enemy. Shouts and the dull clang of swords echoed as I focused on mage energy that I wasn’t sure I could summon.

Anneli stepped closer, her hands outstretched toward the bridge that rippled upward, boards fitting into place, ropes wrapping, strengthening amid the creaking of wood and the churning tumult of the water.

“Hurry,” she hissed, gripping my arm and dragging me across the unsteady span that shook beneath our thudding feet.

Ahead, thundering from the trees, were men on lathered horses, not red priests, but their armor gleamed like beaten silver.

The banners held an image of a stone tower—an image I remembered from one of my father’s journals.

“Go,” the high mage ordered when the knight in the lead bent down and dragged me onto his horse. “You’re safe, Senaria,” she added as the man settled my weight in front of him.

I turned toward the mayhem of battle. The cries and jarring blades and men running with spears or rakes, swinging wildly.

Kion was fighting his way through the enemy, his sword slicing, blocking.

He pierced the abdomen of a red priest, ripped upward.

The man fell to his knees. Blood obscured his face.

Red cassocks littered the field. Kion spun, searching for the next aggressor.

Fennor fought at his side. Renwick, swinging a sword with speed and skill.

More men arrived, rushing from the town, their voices blending with hatred and determination. Desperation and resolve.

I gripped the saddle horn as the horse danced wildly.

“Senaria!” Kion bellowed.

His gaze locked with mine, even across the distance, as if he reached into my heart to reassure himself that it still beat. But what was the purpose in the end? All the suffering?

What choice was there other than what Anneli Zayas asked?

How else could I protect the ones I loved, if I wasn’t the change?

Because I’d called dragons, and now I was responsible for protecting them.

Kion Abaddon’s sacrifice would not be for what I’d done, even though he judged it as his sin.

I had no curse tablet hanging around my throat, but the obligations were still there, and the penance required was mine and not his.

“ Sen! ” His mouth moved, but in the melee, the sound disintegrated into a mere thread. “Don’t go.”

Tears blurred. The man holding me kicked the flanks of the horse. The animal leapt, but I refused to look away.

And what I saw last was Kion Abaddon stampeding across the bridge, while Anneli Zayas turned to face him with a sword in her hand.