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side, foundations crushed and waterlogged by the little stream. The unmistakable marks of heavy, clawed footsteps were etched into the stone terraces of the dell, despite time and the moss’s efforts to reclaim them, and entire houses were misplaced, wrapped around the bases of ancient trees by the icy wind of a dragon’s breath.
    Not a creature stirred, nothing broke the silence. The village was completely empty.
    “Oh, wow.” Cerisse stepped out into the dell, her form illuminated by a flash of lightning. “A dragon really did attack this place.”
    Jace steadied himself. It was one thing to hear about a dragon attack—quite another to see the aftermath, even years after the event. He could almost hear the screams of fear, the swoop of a dragon’s wings, the rush of wind from a fearful breath. Could that really have been Belen?
    Cerisse trotted over a low, ruined wall and into the village proper, eagerly investigating the strange town. “Cerisse, be careful. Some of those buildings are unstable,” Jace warned. She didn’t answer, but continued on, making a soft sound of delight at some small object found within one of the huts.
    “Cerisse?” Jace repeated, louder now. The wind had picked up and was whistling through the low, mossy out-croppings around the village. Something bothered him. “Be careful.”
    “I will!” Cerisse climbed like a mountain goat over the various ruined buildings, poking first in one and then another. “Look, a church! No, it’s not a church. What is it?” Curious, she vanished down the path. “I’ll be right back.”
    “No, Cerisse! Stay close—we don’t know what’s out there. Cerisse?” Jace called. “Gah, I don’t think she heard me.” He turned around to gather the others, but stopped short when he looked back to see if Belen had followed.
    Belen had gone as white as a sheet, her gray eyes wide and stunned. Her breath was labored, heavy in her throatas she looked from side to side at the wreckage. She walked forward and touched the broken foundation of the nearest building, her hands pausing in the etched scar left by claw on stone. When she spoke, her voice was soft and strangely flat. “There was a watchman standing here with a lantern. I don’t know why he had a lantern. Dusk hasn’t settled yet. The lantern caught my attention. I remember the flickering light—the lantern, the sunset, the fire in the sky. Scarlet and orange in the clouds.” Her lips twisted into a scowl as if she were baring her fangs, her eyes far away. Her voice changed, falling to a whisper. “They won’t see the strike coming. I will be quick.”
    A crack of thunder rumbled in the sky, and Jace jumped. When he looked back, Ebano stood beside Belen, his dark hand on her shoulder as she trembled like a leaf in the storm. “Come in from the west. The sun behind me …” Belen murmured, barely aware she was speaking. Ebano shook her gently, and Belen blinked and fell a staggering step forward against the wall. “Oh!” Her eyes flashed open, and she caught herself. “By the gods,” she said. “I
was
here. I don’t know … I don’t remember much … flashes, really. Just images. Nothing specific.”
    “Of being a dragon?” Jace asked gently.
    “No, just of the village. I don’t know!” Belen exclaimed. “I remember hearing people scream, and a lot of chaos—butI feel sad, and angry, and panicked. My heart is pounding like a parade drum. Dragons shouldn’t feel that way, right? Dragons are powerful. If I was one, why would I feel scared?”
    “Scared?” Jace prompted.
    Belen nodded, wiping her eyes on her sleeve.
    “You might have been a villager here.” Jace tried to make himself believe the words, to forget the look on her face when she’d been describing the attack. “Scared” was the last word he would have picked to describe it. He wanted to help her, take her in his arms, and reassure her that it was all right, that he’d protect her no matter what. Jace puffed