Chapter 1
Zane sat in his mortal form in one of the ballrooms at BlackskinCastle, going over yet another round of details surrounding his upcoming Desma. "Let me see the budget now that we have added the eternal flames as part of the lights." Zane sighed, knowing the extravagant addition was going to add to their almost ten thousand pounds of gold and twenty thousand pounds of silver already going into the reception. In a few months, he and the love of his life were to enter the Desama—the joining of dragon hearts that bound companions together for the rest of their days. The finalizing of these small details were the least of his worries, but Lavender Greenwing, his betrothed, was too excited to allow even the smallest detail to be left to the planners.
Kohen, the head planner, turned to his assistant to request the new totals. Zane watched as she quickly riffled through a stack of papers on the desk. Her nervous, sweaty hands, made her movements awkward and stilted, causing her to knock a large stack to the floor. Papers spread out with an annoying hiss, and the girl instantly dropped to the floor to gather the fallen sheets; her whole body vibrating now as she fumbled to hastily clean up the mess.
"Please, sir, we are very sorry. We beg for your kind mercy," Kohen pleaded with him.
Zane dragged his hand down his face, annoyed that the staff was yet again treating him like a tyrant. He'd grown so self-conscious of the downcast eyes and shaking bodies that served him. He often felt guilty for making the smallest request of the terrified staff. In the beginning, he let them go, dismissing several staffers, only to discover that it didn't help. Anyone who came under his employ soon started acting like he'd beat them all on a regular basis without provocation. Though he'd never laid a hand on any of them, only twice in the last two years had he raised his voice at all. He couldn't understand it. Just trying to talk to them only seemed to hurt the situation rather than make it better.
"How many children should we have?" Zane asked as a distraction, reaching up to play with a stray wisp of golden hair that was floating around Lavender's angular cheekbone.
"Once we produce an heir, we won't need any more," Lavender replied. He felt his face fall slightly as she reached for his hand. "Oh, don't frown, darling. Her eyes watered with the force of her emotions. "I couldn't stand for our children to grow up like you did without one of their parents. If it weren't for this war, I would give you as many as I could produce." For a dragon, that was usually a maximum of six since they only reproduced once every nine years, which was the slight drawback to the blessing of taking their dragon forms.
Zane's mother had been killed when he was just a boy of five. He still remembered her last screech as she sacrificed herself so he and his sister could escape Balaan's forces. The memory always made him shudder, once from childhood fears, now from grown-up anger.
"We are going to stop Balaan and win this war. Then you and I will have the life we've dreamt about, without fear of losing those we love," Zane swore to her.
"I kno—" The door banged open and Ryder burst in with a look of utter horror on his face. Zane and Lavender rose to their feet instantly, frightened of what Ryder had to say.
"He's dead, and now we're all going to die," his stepbrother declared, tugging on his wild hair as his orange eyes stared back at them in horror.
"What? Who's dead?" Lavender asked. But Zane didn't need to hear Ryder utter the name, Theo Bluescale. The old dragon had been in poor health for almost a year. Dragons from every kingdom had sent their best sorcerers to help, but in the end, death took everyone.
Zane wrapped his arm around his love's slender shoulders and pulled her to him, calculating how much time they would have together. He looked around, wondering what all their planning was for if they were both doomed. Her tears fell on his shirt as despair overcame her.
The war started almost thirty years ago, raging throughout Ethiolan, decimating the seven kingdoms of the realm. The dragons of Ethiolan, like him, were fighting to maintain their way of life, and the magical abilities that had been passed down from one generation to the next; a gift from the Great God of Fire to protect their race. The histories didn't really matter to Zane. What he cared about was now, and the life that he knew. And what he knew was that an evil force moved against all his kind, targeting royals like himself. Zane was the first son of King Titus Blackskin, the next in line to rule the Blackskin kingdom.
The royals—the realms strongest dragons—were born with added powers beyond those of the regular, common dragons, but those powers were also their greatest weakness. One dragon from each of the royal lines were required to continue the spell that gave all of their kind the ability to take on strong dragon forms, such as to breathe fire, and enjoy an extended life span. Without the spell, they would be thrust into a life of being trapped in their mortal forms, frail and weak, and unable to defend themselves from the smallest attack. The idea sickened Zane.
Without the blood of all seven royals, there would be no way to expel their enemy or to save the realm. When the three moons of their realm aligned in seven months, there would be no hope of renewing their powers. Thousands would die, and thousands more would be enslaved.
Theo Bluescale had been the last of his line. For years, Balaan had been targeting the royal Bluescale line, and now he'd finally succeeded in eradicating them completely.
What are we going to do? Zane wondered.
~~~~~~~~
The question played in Zane's mind for a solid month as he sank further into despair. Each day when the sun set, he found he couldn't sleep, fearing he wouldn't wake again, that the darkness of the night would smother him.
"You need to eat," Lavender admonished him, not bothering to keep the annoyed edge from her tone.
"What's the point?" He looked at the cold roast on his plate, and couldn't muster any enthusiasm for his once favorite meal. The expertly prepared food was right in front of him, but he didn't take in the fine aroma, nor did he anticipate the texture of the sauce on his tongue. Nothing about the meal stirred his hunger.
"The point is, I don't want you to look gaunt and disgusting at our reception. I'll be the crowned princess, and when that happens, I can't have you looking like you're not fit to lead this kingdom."
"Princess?" Zane scoffed. "Of what? For how long? Don't you see? Once the alignment has passed, Balaan is going to march in here and slaughter every one of us." He leaned back in his chair, hating himself for snapping at her. He knew she was right. He couldn't let everyone know he'd given up or that he was terrified, but he felt so helpless. He couldn't offer his kingdom the symbol of hope they needed during this dark time. How could he stop any of this from happening? The only way would be if he could somehow reverse time, and that was impossible.
Two days after the king of Bluescale died, Balaan had offered terms of surrender to each of the six remaining kingdoms. Zane knew his father was contemplating the issue, but he disagreed. There was still six months until they lost their powers, and until that happened, Zane felt that the kingdoms should fight.
"Eat," she said coldly, putting the force of her Greenwing power behind her single word.
Zane's body complied instantly. He picked up his fork and shoveled a heaping load of cool roast into his mouth. The Greenwings' gift, the command of speech, was highly useful in aiding a Greenwing into getting what they wanted. Lavender rarely used her gift on him, though, knowing how much he hated to be controlled like that. But he supposed she was desperate, just like he was. Like they all were. He still had no words of comfort to offer her because he couldn't see any light through the blackness.
"You know I don't like it when you try to manipulate me," he said, just before he shoved another bite into his mouth. She looked away, as if she were bored. She didn't even look guilty for her actions.
He wondered if he really looked so bad, that she was willing to gamble with using her power when she knew how angry it made him.
A knock on the door came as Zane shoved his fourth bite into his mouth. He watched as his guard opened the door, and after a moment of someone quietly conversing with Ezra, his personal guard, he stepped aside and escorted a small shaking girl into the room.
Her gray eyes were cast to the floor as she quickly dropped into a curtsy. "Please forgive the intrusion, Your Highness, but the king has summoned you for an audience."
"Go," Lavender said quietly, releasing him from her control.
Zane rose to his feet, leaving nearly a full plate of food behind. "We'll talk about this when I get back." He gave her a pointed look, but she only batted her eyelashes at him innocently.
BlackskinCastle sat at the peak of the highest mountain in Ethiolan, towering above the ridgeline like a massive black dragon's claw, with its spiked spires silhouetted in the setting sun. It had stood for ten thousand years, and the idea that it wouldn't even last another year made Zane's heart sink. What would happen when Balaan overran their realm in six short months? Would he destroy the massive stone structure that had stood up to every storm Ethiolan had to offer?
Storms were brief, while wars were long.
So far, BlackskinCastle had withstood the war; its opulent dark wood carvings of dragons lined the corridors. The same wood was used in the moldings along the walls and floors. Everything had been inlayed with gold trim, which was still in pristine condition. Zane was blessed to live in a fortified home that the enemy had yet to breach. The stories of what Balaan's armies had done to outlying farms and hamlets turned Zane's stomach. His own sister had been ambushed once on a flight home. All but one of her guards had died protecting her.
He stopped in front of the large double doors that served as the main entrance to his father's office. The heavy doors were carved with an intricate depiction of the first Great War. The scene was of the Great Vitra, the first dual-natured dragon of all time, defeating Apophiston, the son of Apophis, the dragon of darkness. Two of the greatest enemies Ethiolan had ever known.
Flecks of gold accented Apophiston's blood as it spilled over the rock carved into the foreground. The door was almost as old as BlackskinCastle itself. The gold was seeping into the cracks in the grains of the wood, adding to the eeriness of the carved depiction of their once great victory.
Zane shuddered to think what scenes Balaan would have made of this war once he secured his victory. There had been little fighting in the last month. Zane knew it was because Balaan was biding his time until the alignment, when Zane's kind would lose their ability to shift into their powerful dragon forms. From then on, it would be only too easy for Balaan to overrun their forces.
A guard knocked for him, and he soon found himself standing in his father's office, waiting. His father was looking out the window at the night sky, his hands clasped behind his back. It didn't seem like he'd heard Zane enter. In their mortal forms, they were practically equal in height and stature, though his father's age had given him a round belly and a long beard.
"Father?" Zane said stiffly. There'd always been a strange tension between them as Zane struggled to be both son and successor; two roles that never met, or lined up in any understandable way.
"I've decided to accept Balaan's terms." The simple words cut through Zane with a finality of death. He sank into the chair behind him as the room started to spin. "If we surrender and pledge our fealty to Balaan, he will spare our kingdom. I'm going to surrender to him. I've already thought about this for weeks, and discussed it with Uriel."
"What will become of the dragons? Of us? Should we surrender to him only to become his slaves?" He hated the fact that his father hadn't spoken to him about the decision, considering Zane was the next in line for the throne.
"It's better than death."
"Not to many."
Titus turned to face him, shouting, "What will you have us do?"
"There are still six months until the alignment! We have time to rid ourselves of Balaan in that time!"
"You think we can do in six months what we have not been able to do in thirty years?"
"All the kingdoms need to unite. There is no hope if we don't start to work together. Old feuds must be put away. It is time for new alliances to form."
"You think after five hundred years, the Yellowbacks and the Greenwings will just start working together? Or that the Redbloods and the Orangeclaws will forget their mistrust? It has been three thousand years, and Whitetail still won't work with us."
"They have no choice! It's a matter of their survival."
"You are so young. Your optimism shadows your ignorance."
This was not a shock for Zane to hear; his father often brought up his youth when they disagreed on a topic. Though Zane thought his father should heed his opinion, because war was all he'd ever known. He didn't have to adapt to the atrocities that were reported. He was never shocked by the reports that came from the outer lands—sickened and saddened, yes, but never shocked. The destruction of another village never took his breath away or froze him when he heard about the horrors the innocent commoners suffered. All the reports did was fuel his anger and resolve to fight harder. There were times he hated his status as a royal. The title prevented him from joining the guard, from actually fighting.
A knock interrupted Zane's rebuttal. Uriel, his father's top advisor, entered the room before Titus could grant permission. He was an old dragon, long and thin. Everything about him was gray, from his hair and eyes, to the sickly look of his skin.
"Forgive the intrusion, Your Majesty, but an urgent message from Bluescale has just arrived," Uriel announced, shooting Zane a stern look.
Zane had never liked Uriel. He felt that his ideas were outdated, leading his father in the wrong direction when it came to the war. Not to mention that he'd always unnerved him. A vague chill always seemed to creep over Zane when he laid eyes on the dragon.
"A message from Bluescale?" His father sounded like he was inconvenienced by the message, but other than that, he didn't really care about its contents. Zane was curious. He couldn't imagine a reason for someone at Bluescale to be contacting them. What more was there to say?
The kingdom of Bluescale was still in the midst of the Kolyva, the forty-nine-day mourning period that all kingdoms honored. It took the soul forty-nine days to travel to the gates of the Land Beyond. During this time, they spent seven days communing with each of the Fire Gods. They had to account directly to the Gods, answering for their life's decisions. At the end of the forty-nine days, the Gods decided the soul's fate, either to pass through the gates to the Land Beyond, or to be cast out, where their soul would be forced to wander alone for all eternity.
Family members offered prayers and gifts to the Gods on the dragon's behalf, to help sway the Gods to be forgiving and grant their loved one's soul passage. No dragon would disrupt the Kolyva out of fear of being cursed by the Gods. Therefore, Bluescale wouldn't have been invaded, to have their resources plundered. Not yet.
He knew his father was already planning an attack once the Kolyva ended, which was a wasted effort in Zane's opinion. What good would more land or more gold do them if they were going to surrender to Balaan?
Zane waited, wanting to question Titus. But knowing his place as prince, it was best he held his silence. He knew that when his father sounded like he didn't care about something, it was usually the opposite. Titus rarely showed any emotions other than anger or disapproval.
Zane sat on the edge of his chair, anxious to be handed the note. While his father read the message, his eyes bulged, and he stared at the few words for several minutes before he finally handed it over to Zane.
Zane rose and stepped forward to retrieve the strip of parchment that had been copied from the mirrored room. A room that housed hundreds of mirrors endowed with spells that connected them to other mirrors in the realm, giving them free communication with the other kingdoms.
I urge you to make all haste to Bluescale and help me save our realm. I have recently learned of a saving grace, but I require the assistance of royal blood. As everything burns, so too shall Balaan.
"Who sent this?" Zane asked.
"Maze, the Bluescale sorcerous," Uriel sneered, as if Zane didn't know who Maze was.
"What is this saving grace she speaks of?"
"I couldn't begin to fathom, My Prince." He sighed, but Zane couldn't tell if it was out of aggravation or not.
"We will set out tonight, after we give the others a head start. I don't want to arrive too far ahead of everyone. Let your guard know they will need to leave immediately," Titus informed Zane.