His heart racing, he stared, baffled, at his surroundings. He had no idea where he was. Sunlight flooded in through an oilskin-covered hole in the wall. Outside, birds twittered and chatted. He looked around at unfamiliar walls and up at an unfamiliar ceiling. His racing heartbeat slowed, and he closed his eyes and sighed deeply. The dragon was gone. All the dragons were gone. Memories remained. Terrifying and amazing, they wound and curled and twined about him. He might have thought he’d dreamed it all, but he could still see and feel everything with frightening clarity. Ven lying on the floor, the dragon looming over him. The golden gleam of the locket. The strangely beautiful dragon-woman, her silver scales shining in the light of his mind. “Your brother is safe,” said Draconas. “At least, for the moment.” The man stood inside the little room as Marcus had seen him before, holding his staff, his boots covered with the dust of the many roads he had he traveled. “Where is Ven?”
