by Morgan Rice
Theos narrowed his eyes and far below, through the clouds, he spotted Kyra, before the tower. He watched her with a mix of curiosity and respect, more protective of her than she would ever know. He kept an eye on her when he could, as the role she had to play in the coming war was too important, their connection too strong, and her life too fragile. She was not a dragon, after all.
Theos flapped, kept flying, past Kyra, past the tower, and back across Escalon—still searching. He lowered his head and increased his speed and in moments was able to cross half the land. He spotted Kyra’s father in the mountains, atop Kos, preparing, no doubt, for the great war. He turned and flew north, and saw Volis, unguarded. He flew further and, not far from The Flames, he saw the great hole in the earth, the giant emerging from the tunnel and the great army of trolls following on its heels.
He criss-crossed Escalon, and in the far corners he saw some legions of Pandesia beginning to rally, they, too, preparing for war.
Theos, though, did not have much interest in these human dealings. He could destroy them all in a second if he wanted to. All of their movements, their machinations, were ultimately inconsequential to him. It was Kyra he cared about—for a very special reason.
And one other. The only thing more important to him even than her, the only thing that made him stay, the only thing that had made him come here to begin with. He searched again and again, screeching in frustration, for the one thing he had to find. The one thing that had made him vulnerable.
His child.
Theo screeched again and again in frustration, shaking the very air as he flew once again over the Wood of Thorns, near the place where he was wounded, searching, scouring the land. He scanned the forest below, through the trees, over the hills—everywhere. But it was nowhere to be found. It was as if his child had vanished, as if the very egg he had come here to protect had disappeared.
Who could have taken it? And why?
Theos screeched again, a screech of urgency, of despair, as he soared up into the heavens, ready to tear apart the fabric of the world, to rain fire on all of mankind if he did not, soon, find what he was looking for. He could feel the rage burning, mounting within him, and as his eyes glowed yellow he knew that he could no longer control it. He had to let it out on someone. And those cities below, milling with humans, would have to be as good a target as any.
He tucked into a dive, sped for the city below, and opened his mouth to breathe fire. It was time for the great war to begin.
CHAPTER THIRTY NINE
Lying all alone, just north of the Wood of Thorns, in an empty plain beneath an ancient tree, its branches concealing it well, sat a single egg.
A dragon’s egg.
Large and purple and hard, covered with scales, it sat there alone, as if waiting for its father to arrive. It was so out of place here in Escalon, not surrounded by molten fire, by lava and ash, by circling dragons, hovering, protecting, waiting for it to hatch. It could already feel it was different than all the others.
It sat there, waiting to die—or to hatch. It could feel how vulnerable it was.
Despite all odds, it had survived. Animals had come, sniffing out of curiosity, yet so far they had left. But now, he sensed, another one came. More than one—a pack of wolves. They were fast approaching his egg, and they were hungry. This time, they would kill him.
He knew he was not meant to hatch anytime soon, but this dragon summoned all his willpower, forced himself to move within the egg, to defy the natural waiting period. With all his might, he moved one arm, then one shoulder, then his knee. He did what no dragon was supposed to do, what no other dragon was able to do. For he was different. He was, he sensed, more powerful than them all.
As the final rays of the sun began to set, far out of earshot of all humans, in this barren countryside, there came a single crack.
Then another.
A small claw emerged, its fingernails reaching for the sky as if to claw it. This was followed by another.
Soon, the egg began to shatter, and finally, the arm, then the head of a baby dragon emerged. The son of Theos.
The wolves stopped in their tracks, for the first time in their lives experiencing fear of another creature.
The dragon leaned back and took his first glance at the world, the sky, and he blinked. It was not the world he had expected to see. He screeched. It was a young sound still—yet even so, terrifying enough to scare away anyone close.
For this dragon already wanted to breathe, to live, to kill.
He arched back his neck and breathed, his first breath, and out came a stream of fire. The fire of life. And the fire of the death to come.
The pack of wolves turned and ran, never looking back.
They were smart to run. For the first time in a millennium, in the land of Escalon, a dragon was born.
CHAPTER FORTY
Kyra blinked and looked up to see her mother gazing down at her, her face a silhouette, masked in a silver light, as light shined down from behind her. She had long golden hair, Kyra could see, and she could feel the kindness, the compassion, emanating from her, though her features were obscured. Her mother smiled down as she reached out a hand, her fingers long and smooth and slender.
“Kyra,” her mother whispered to her.
It was a whisper that reverberated throughout Kyra’s soul, the sound of a voice she had not realized she had been longing to hear her entire life. Kyra basked in the warmth of her mother’s love for the first time in her life, and it felt good. She felt as if a part of her, long missing, had been returned.
Kyra took her mother’s hand, shocked by her touch, like a bolt of lightning racing through her. She could feel the warmth spreading through her hand, then up her arm and her entire body. She slowly sat up as her mother pulled her gently, as if to embrace her.
“Kyra,” her mother said. “It is time. Time for you to know who I am. Time for you to know who you are.”
“Mother,” Kyra tried to respond.
But the words stuck in her throat. No sooner had she uttered them when suddenly, when she leaned forward to embrace her mother and reached out to feel nothing in her arms. As quickly as she had appeared, her mother had vanished.
Kyra blinked and saw a strange and exotic landscape before her, one she could not decipher, with twisted trees, burned branches—and yet no matter where she looked, her mother was nowhere to be found. She looked down and saw herself sitting at the edge of a cliff, about to fall off, the ocean waves crashing like mad beneath her.
“MOTHER!” she cried out.
Kyra sat up breathing hard as she woke, disoriented. Leo nudged his head on her lap, and it took her several moments to collect herself, to realize it had been a dream. It had been the most vivid dream of her life—more like a mystical encounter.
There came a gust of wind, followed by another, foreign sound. It sounded like footsteps approaching, crunching on the grass. Kyra instinctively tightened her grip on her staff and sat up, on alert.
Kyra blinked into the morning sun, realizing she’d slept here the entire night, shivering from the cold, from the ocean spray, and she tried to see. Dawn was breaking, spreading across the horizon, it still more dark than light, and as she blinked, struggling to see in the fading darkness, there slowly came into view the silhouette of a man. He was dressed in long robes, wore long hair, she could see that much, and he wielded a staff as he walked. He approached, and Kyra felt her heart slamming in her chest as she wondered.
Could this be him? Her uncle?
As the sun slowly rose behind him, making him a silhouette, Kyra struggled to make out his features, but she could not. He stopped before her and Leo, oddly, did not growl, but rather watched him, as if he, too, were transfixed. The man stood there, looking down at her in a silence that never seemed to end, and Kyra was too breathless to speak. This was the moment, she knew, the moment that would change her entire life.
“Kyra,” he said finally, his voice resonating, rolling off the wind, t
he hills, as ancient as the tower behind her. “I have been awaiting you.”
Finally, he pulled back his hood and looked right at her, and her heart stopped in her chest.
She could not believe who it was.
COMING SOON!
Book #3 in Kings and Sorcerers
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Books by Morgan Rice
KINGS AND SORCERERS
RISE OF THE DRAGONS (Book #1)
RISE OF THE VALIANT (Book #2)
THE SORCERER’S RING
A QUEST OF HEROES (Book #1)
A MARCH OF KINGS (Book #2)
A FATE OF DRAGONS (Book #3)
A CRY OF HONOR (Book #4)
A VOW OF GLORY (Book #5)
A CHARGE OF VALOR (Book #6)
A RITE OF SWORDS (Book #7)
A GRANT OF ARMS (Book #8)
A SKY OF SPELLS (Book #9)
A SEA OF SHIELDS (Book #10)
A REIGN OF STEEL (Book #11)
A LAND OF FIRE (Book #12)
A RULE OF QUEENS (Book #13)
AN OATH OF BROTHERS (Book #14)
A DREAM OF MORTALS (Book #15)
A JOUST OF KNIGHTS (Book #16)
THE GIFT OF BATTLE (Book #17)
THE SURVIVAL TRILOGY
ARENA ONE: SLAVERSUNNERS (Book #1)
ARENA TWO (Book #2)
THE VAMPIRE JOURNALS
TURNED (Book #1)
LOVED (Book #2)
BETRAYED (Book #3)
DESTINED (Book #4)
DESIRED (Book #5)
BETROTHED (Book #6)
VOWED (Book #7)
FOUND (Book #8)
RESURRECTED (Book #9)
CRAVED (Book #10)
FATED (Book #11)
About Morgan Rice
Morgan Rice is the #1 bestselling and USA Today bestselling author of the epic fantasy series THE SORCERER’S RING, comprising seventeen books; of the #1 bestselling series THE VAMPIRE JOURNALS, comprising eleven books (and counting); of the #1 bestselling series THE SURVIVAL TRILOGY, a post-apocalyptic thriller comprising two books (and counting); and of the new epic fantasy series KINGS AND SORCERERS, comprising two books (and counting). Morgan’s books are available in audio and print editions, and translations are available in over 25 languages.
TURNED (Book #1 in the Vampire Journals), ARENA ONE (Book #1 of the Survival Trilogy), A QUEST OF HEROES (Book #1 in the Sorcerer’s Ring) and RISE OF THE DRAGONS (Kings and Sorcerers—Book #1) are each available as a free download on Amazon!
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