“Wake up, child. Wake up.”

Cyrene’s eyes fluttered open. The face of an angel—heart-shaped with large almond-shaped golden eyes and pouty pink lips—hovered over her. Her dark hair was long, to her waist. She was dressed in a floor-length white gown that shimmered and flowed effortlessly. She looked wise beyond her years.

“Farewell, child,” she whispered as she stood. “Avoca!”

Another woman walked into the room, and Cyrene gasped. It was the woman from the woods. She was as beautiful as Cyrene had last seen with gold-spun hair and liquid blue eyes. She had an unmistakable innocence about her, despite the fact that Cyrene knew she was a fierce warrior.

“Yes, Healer,” Avoca said. She touched her hand to her lips in a show of deference. She was dressed in leggings with a loose shirt and a jacket contoured to her shape in a camouflage of greens that matched the forest along with soft brown boots. Her clothes looked the worse for wear.

The healer nodded and then exited. She looked like she was floating more than walking.

Cyrene glanced around at her surroundings. Her room was a nondescript wooden structure with smooth, rounded walls and a green cloth covering the entrance. She was lying on a small bed with delicate white sheets. The room held little else for decoration besides a string of colorful glowing jars hanging from the ceiling. Everything smelled earthy and fresh.

“What’s going on?” Cyrene asked. “Where am I?”

She tried to sit up but hissed as pain washed over her.

Avoca rushed to her side. “Take it slow. You’ve gone through quite an ordeal. You were lucky we got you here in time.”

“Where am I? Where are my friends? Were you there with those…those things?”

“Your questions will be answered in time. You have an audience with the Queen.”

“Queen?” Cyrene gasped.

“Yes. Now, up.”

Avoca put an arm behind her back and slowly assisted Cyrene into a sitting position. The pain was there, but it did seem that her body was remembering how to function, lessening the impact. As a unit, she turned her body to the side, slid her feet to the floor, and stood. She was barefoot, and the floor was cool to the touch.

For the first time, Cyrene realized that she was no longer in her blue Byern gown but a loose-fitting white dress, similar to the healer’s. It was more like a shift, and she blushed at the shape her figure took under the thin material.

“Where are my clothes?”

“Destroyed,” Avoca said without emotion. “Now, let’s go.”

She disappeared through the door without further preamble, and Cyrene hurried after her. As soon as she stepped out of the room, her mouth fell open. This was unlike anything she had ever seen. She was currently in a forest village. Homes were carved into the giant trees surrounding her, bridges were strung among the branches, and vines dropped down to the ground where music drifted up toward her. From her vantage point, she could see people dancing and eating around a bonfire. She had walked right into some strange woodland festival.

“Come on,” Avoca cried, exasperated. She grasped Cyrene’s wrist and pulled her toward a bridge.

“Where am I?”

“The Queen will decide if you receive answers.”

“You brought me all the way out here, and you’re not willing to tell me where I am?”

“No.”

“My companions—”

“Don’t bother.”

When they reached the other side of the bridge, Cyrene pulled up short. “Answer one question! I have to know where I am, how my friends are, what is going on.”

Avoca barely batted an eye. “You are the mystery wrapped in light. When the Queen deems you worthy of answers, you shall receive them.”

Cyrene huffed. “You were there…with the creatures. Were you the one who saved me?”

Her downcast eyes told the truth.

“How many died?” Cyrene asked.

Avoca took a deep breath and then met her eyes. “All of them.”

Cyrene brought her hand to her mouth. But before she could get more of an explanation, Avoca was on the move again.

Cyrene wasn’t sure she was prepared for more answers. She swallowed hard and kept her head held high as they meandered the twists and turns.

They went through a lush overhang of vines and into the outer chamber of an enormous tree. The room was full of beautifully colored objects with purposes that she had no clue of. In a kaleidoscope of colors, the same glowing jars hung from the ceiling, producing beautiful soft light.

With his back to them, a man stood in front of a large gold door intricately wrought with climbing vines, like the vines in Queen Kaliana’s chambers back in the Nit Decus castle in Byern.

“What are you doing here?” Avoca demanded.

At her question, the man slowly turned around. He was as equally beautiful as Avoca and the healer. His face was roguishly handsome with impossibly high cheekbones, light hair, and eyes a vivid shade of gold. He wore the same type of green camouflage clothes as Avoca, but his looked brand-new.

“Hello, Ava,” he said with a toothy grin.

Her eyes turned steely. “Ceis’f.”

“I’m here to bear witness, of course.”

Avoca ground her teeth together and tilted her head to the side. She looked like she would rather be dropped back into the woods with those monsters than standing before him.

“Witness to what?” Cyrene whispered.

Avoca sighed. “My unequivocal failure.”

She was getting answers, but they were no more of use to her than Avoca’s silence.

Ceis’f’s eyes passed right over Cyrene, as if she didn’t exist, before he turned back to the door. It opened a second later, and another man beckoned them into the inner chamber. The room was twice as large as the one they had just been in.

A small woman sat on a wooden throne at the front of the room. On her left, two other people sat at a table, speaking in hushed tones.

Their queen was beautiful and ageless with sweeping long blonde hair so fair that it was almost white with the lightest blue eyes. She wore a simple gown with no adornment, but she did not need it. The only embellishment was a crown of flowers atop her head.

When Cyrene met her eyes, she glimpsed nothing but wisdom and sharp intelligence.

“Avoca,” the Queen said.

Avoca stepped forward and touched her hand to her lips. The Queen repeated the action, and Cyrene filed it away as some kind of greeting of their people.

“Queen Shira,” Avoca murmured.

“Report.”

“She’s to report in front of it?” Ceis’f said.

“Are you questioning me, Ceis’f?”

“No. I was just unaware that we would be so freely opening our gates to their kind,” he spat out.

“Now, you are aware,” she said.

Her tone never changed from its neutral state, but Cyrene could feel the tension rolling off of Ceis’f. She was glad the Queen had put him in his place. Even if Cyrene had no idea where she was, at least no one else had called her an it.

“I responded to the Indres presence in the area with my team. We knew immediately that there were too many for a six team. Ceis’f came with backup. We attacked simultaneously. They were surrounding three humans—two girls and a boy. Our teams slaughtered close to forty Indres,” Avoca told her.

Cyrene gasped. Indres! More creatures of myth had stood true before her eyes. Death wolves, they were sometimes called. Too scary, even for younger children, to hear the stories.

The Queen’s eyebrows rose at the number. Her eyes flickered to Ceis’f for confirmation, and he nodded gravely.

“One was getting away, so I followed it to finish the job. I walked into an ambush and nearly died. The human called the Indres off, nearly burning herself out, and then collapsed. Every Indres in the area lay dead.”

Burned myself out? Is that what happened? And how does Avoca know that?

“How many died from the teams?” the Queen asked.

Avoca winced. “Four of mine and two of Ceis’f’s.”

“A whole team.” The Queen seemed to consider that for a minute, and then her eyes turned to Cyrene. “Child.”

Cyrene swallowed and then stepped forward. She had so many questions. But, for once, she held her tongue. She did not want to anger these people who could take on over forty Indres.

“What are you?” the Queen asked.

“My name is Cyrene Strohm.”

The Queen thoughtfully tilted her head. “My healer said you used the word Doma.”

Cyrene’s hands sweat at the statement. The Queen knew. Without a doubt.

Cyrene had used magic in that clearing. In fact, she was sure it had almost killed her. In part, that was why she had needed their healer. But how could they have someone to heal her like that? How could they know about Indres? How could they know about magic?

“Yes,” Cyrene finally responded.

“And you used Doma power to destroy the Indres?” She didn’t wait for Cyrene to confirm. “Where did you learn it?”

“I…I didn’t. I don’t know what I did.”

“Untrained?” the Queen asked with a sigh.

Cyrene nodded slowly.

She was untrained. That was the whole point in leaving Byern. The traveling merchant Basille Selby had told her she needed to go to Eleysia to learn from Matilde and Vera, and that had been confirmed for her in her vision of Serafina. She didn’t understand how they could be alive two thousand years later, but they were her only hope.

“I’ve never seen anyone hold so much power,” Avoca interjected. “Even as she was burning herself out, she was still collecting more.”

“You were half-dead, Ava,” Ceis’f responded. “How do you even know that you actually saw this human use Doma power?”

“I know what I saw, Ceis’f! Believe in those whose honor doth shine. That was the Doma motto after all, and she looked like the sun before she released her powers and wiped out the Indres.”

Cyrene’s head was spinning. Those words, that motto, had gotten her out of a lot of bad situations in the last couple of months. She couldn’t believe the words were related to the Doma. Not to mention, she was having a conversation about her magic with complete strangers, as if it were normal.

“Enough!” the Queen commanded. “You two will remain silent while I speak with the Doma.”

“You truly believe her to be a Doma?” Ceis’f asked with a barely concealed scoff.

Queen Shira narrowed her eyes, and Ceis’f quickly closed his mouth.

“I believe she is Doma, yes. Not because I have seen her use her abilities, though I have no reason to doubt Avoca’s story, but because of this.”

Then, she slowly retrieved something from her side and held out Cyrene’s book for all to see.

Cyrene gasped. “That is mine!”

“I’m quite aware. It was found when we searched your things.”

“How dare you!” Cyrene snapped. “That is personal and classified.”

The Queen gave her a wry smile. “And you can read its text?”

Cyrene opened her mouth and then snapped it shut. “Can you?”

“Only magical users have the ability to see the written text,” the Queen said with a nod. “Anyone who attempted to read the book who had not passed a magical test would lose time—hours, days, years—due to the spell written into the text. A precaution to keep those who should not have access to the text from accessing it.”

Cyrene tried not to show her surprise. That exact thing had happened to her when she first tried to read it.

“Are you actually saying, that book is the lost Book of the Doma?” Avoca asked in awe.

“Yes,” she stately simply. “And you can read it, can’t you?”

Cyrene nodded slowly. “But what exactly is the lost Book of the Doma?”

“A precious historical artifact of the Doma reign. Very few books chronicled their magical prowess, and this is one of them.”

“The Circadian Prophecy stated that it would reappear with the Doma,” Avoca said.

“Yes. If we have read it as intended, the lost Book of the Doma would be given to a new Doma, and so would begin the Rise of the Children of the Dawn.”

“Rise?” Ceis’f snorted. “Even if this girl is a Doma, there is still only one. That isn’t a rise.”

The Queen smiled. “We will see.”

Cyrene’s head was spinning. The lost Book of the Doma. Circadian Prophecy. The Rise of the Children of the Dawn. She had thought, when she found out what the book meant, it would lead to answers…not more questions.

“Are Doma called the Children of the Dawn?” Cyrene asked.

That was the name that Basille Selby had used with her all those months ago. She had known even then that the man knew more than he let on.

“Yes, child. You know so little of your own people,” the Queen said with a sad sigh. “I believe, at this time, it is best if the Doma remains in Eldora. We have to determine what our part is in the Rise of the Children of the Dawn. And, until she can protect herself, she is a danger to everyone she encounters.”

“What?” Cyrene cried at the same time as Ceis’f said, “Never!”

“We cannot allow any individual to leave who could level a city without a way to control the current.”

“What about my friends?” Cyrene asked. “I don’t even know where I am or who you are or what you want with me, but they were out there with me last night. I cannot stay here while they are still alive.”

“Friends?” the Queen asked Avoca.

“Captured by human soldiers and taken to Strat.”

Cyrene’s world tilted. “No.”

“Are they Doma?” Queen Shira asked.

“No,” she breathed. “They were to go with me on my mission. I must save them.”

“Let her go,” Ceis’f said. “We shouldn’t have scum in our sacred halls.”

“She saved my life!” Avoca protested.

“To your greatest shame, Ava.”

“Enough!” Queen Shira cried, raising her voice for the first time. “You two are acting no better than children. Would you like me to strip you of your teams and return you to child status?”

Avoca and Ceis’f stood stiffly. Their shoulders were set back, and they shifted uncomfortably, back and forth, from one foot to the other. Cyrene wondered if they knew how similarly they acted in that moment.

“What is your mission, child?” Queen Shira asked her.

Cyrene ground her teeth together. “It’s classified but of the utmost importance. I will stop at nothing to achieve it.”

“I see. Does it have something to do with this?” She raised the book again.

Cyrene straightened herself up and nodded once. “Yes.”

The Queen tapped her lips as she considered Cyrene. “I’m sorry. I can only grant you visitation rights. Avoca, you are to remain as her guide until I can decide on how to proceed.”

“But I must find my friends!” Cyrene interjected.

“You are a danger to yourself as much as the rest of the world. We wouldn’t let a newborn walk out of the nest. You may not leave the city until I say otherwise. Be gracious,” she said lowly, “that I am permitting you this much.”