Raiht’vi:

The winds are howling when I wake up at the crack of dawn. The twin suns, Paarun and Vaarun, are barely visible, obstructed by the swirling sands of the Natal.

At my side, the other apprentices still sleep. I savor the precious moment of peace and quiet. When the three girls wake, the subtle torments will start anew. Broken beakers, ruined experiments, and snide insults about my lack of family—Kal’vi, Noor’vi, and Ashl’vi are envious of my skill in the lab, and they seize every opportunity to express their jealousy.

If only they knew who I really was.

I’m in my third year of a ten-year apprenticeship. The path to becoming a scientist of Zoraht is long and arduous. In the first year, there had been fifty of us. That number has already been winnowed down to thirty. My father assures me that no more than five will don indigo robes at the conclusion of our training. “Of course, you will be one of them,” he says to me, a forbidding expression on his face. “Won’t you, Raiht’vi?”

My path has been determined for me from the moment of my birth, and I won’t shirk my duty. “Yes, father.”

I get dressed and head downstairs to the large labs. In our third year, we’ve moved on to self-directed projects. I’m working on creating a disease-resistant fungus that can be made into high-protein rations for the Zorahn soldiers. My father had sniffed disapprovingly when I told him about my project. “We have the ability to create new races of sentient beings, and you want to feed the army?”

Vasht’vi, my instructor, is more encouraging. Today, she looks up at me with a smile when I enter my laboratory. “I’ve been looking over your notes,” she says. “I think you’re almost there.”

“Thank you, Scientist,” I murmur. Vasht’vi is sparse with her compliments, and her words of praise are few and far between.

“The other apprentices dream of glory,” she says curtly. “They dream of creating races as powerful as the Draekons and the Paarons, but those breakthroughs are rare, even for the White Ones. You are smart to pick a project that you can succeed at.”

I’m not unlike the other apprentices; I too dream of glory. One day, I intend to be one of the white-clad scientists. There are only thirteen living men and women that have earned the honor of wearing the ivory robes. My heart’s ambition is to join them. My father earned his robes when he was sixty; I will do it sooner than him.

“When you have finished today’s experiments,” Vasht’vi continues, “clean your space and follow me. You’ll be working in the underground levels from tomorrow.”

My heart leaps in my chest. The lower levels are reserved only for the most secret experiments, for the most talented scientists. “Thank you, Scientist,” I stammer, too overwhelmed to be able to express my gratitude appropriately. “I won’t let you down.”

Her expression turns grim. “I argued against it,” she says. “I think you have too much promise to get tangled up in the work they do down there, but the decision wasn’t up to me. The order came all the way from the Head of the Council.”

My mouth goes dry as Vasht’vi’s words sink in. It isn’t a compliment that my father thinks I’m ready for the underground labs. It’s a test.

“I hope you have a strong stomach, Raiht’vi. You’re going to need it.”

Vasht’vi wasn’t lying, I reflect two weeks later. Nothing in my training has prepared me for the perversion, the utter awfulness of the underground labs.

We are scientists of Zorahn. We create life. Not in the underground labs. Here, under the guise of understanding Draekon physiology, we seek to destroy.

The woman on the examination table flinches as I draw near. “Please,” she begs, her voice cracking with desperation. “Highborn, I beseech you. Please don’t hurt me.”

I can’t look at her. My eyes slither away. “I’m just getting a blood sample,” I say quietly. “It won’t hurt you. The wound will heal.” I can feel the gaze of the other apprentice, Travix, on my back. I know he thinks I’m too soft with the test subjects, but I can’t forget that they’re people.

People who aren’t here voluntarily. People who are being tortured in the name of science.

The woman has been kidnapped from the streets of Giflan. That’s bad enough, but the man lying next to her? He’s a soldier of the Empire and judging by the tattoos on his flesh, he’s high-ranked. Even Travix had paled when he’d seen him for the first time. The soldiers report directly to the High Emperor. For the scientists to kidnap one of them is to declare war on the Zorahn Empire.

I didn’t realize how deep the vein of ambition runs in Brunox’s blood.

Every scientist knows the story of Wonacx, the Head of the Council who thought he could control the Draekons. The tale doesn’t have a happy ending. The Draekons rebelled and broke free of their long enslavement, and Car’vi, the beloved daughter of the High Emperor Kannix, had been killed. In his anger and his grief, Kannix had ordered Wonacx’s death.

If Dravex were to find out what we are doing in this underground lab, my father will be executed.

I slide my needle into the woman’s veins and draw blood. She whimpers as the clear tube pierces her skin, and she turns her face away from the sight of the bright blue liquid filling the beaker. Squeamish. I used to be like her once.

The soldier next to her stirs and moans. He’s been unconscious every time I’ve been in the lab. I don’t know what kind of tests they’re performing on him, and I don’t have the nerve to ask.

“What are you doing?” Travix asks me curiously.

“Comparing the Draekon mutation in her blood to his,” I reply, nodding at the two subjects. “According to the Book of Wonacx, the Draekon males morph into the dragon when they glimpse their mate.”

“I’ve read it,” Travix replies smugly. “The Draekons mate in a triad. Where’s the third?”

I repress the urge to roll my eyes. How did one so dense as Travix make it through three years of apprenticeship? “If the three are united,” I say through gritted teeth, “the males will transform into dragons.” I nod to the soldier. “We’ve been experimenting on that man for months. How do you think the High Emperor is going to react when one of his Zoraken tell him about this lab?”

Travix looks chastened and leaves shortly after. I work in silence, uninterrupted. Day turns into night, but I pay the lateness of the hour no mind. The problem I’ve been tasked with—figuring out why Draekons shift when they lay eyes on their mate—is one that has eluded generations of scientists. Though I feel singularly unqualified for the weighty task, I know better than to question my assignment.

I’m falling asleep at my desk when the alarms go off. Deep gongs sound through the Crimson Citadel, their tones warning of an unexpected visitor.

A black-clad guard bursts into the laboratories. “Highborn,” he says, bowing to me. “Vulrux, Thirdborn of Zoraht, is in the citadel, and he’s making his way underground.”

Fear grips my heart. Vulrux is young, but already, he’s causing waves in the Saaric by speaking up against the scientists. “Where’s Vasht’vi?” I ask the guard. “Or Norlux? Any of the other indigo-clad?”

The man shakes his head. “Everyone’s left for the night, Highborn. Only the apprentices are left in the citadel.”

“Bast,” I swear, my thoughts racing. Vulrux can’t see me here. The Thirdborn has never met me, but once he sees this lab, he will stop at nothing to uncover the truth. I’m the daughter of the Head of the Council. My presence in this space incriminates my father.

I put down my beaker and whirl toward the exit, making my way to the safety of the observation rooms. From the windows there, I watch the scene unfold.

Vulrux bursts into the laboratory like a man on a mission. When he catches sight of the two prisoners, he goes still. “What does this mean?” he asks the guard at his side, his voice dangerous. “Who are these people?” He notices the male’s markings for the first time, and he inhales. “Is that a soldier of the Empire? Do the scientists dare experiment on a Zoraken?”

The situation is spiraling out of control. Vulrux has recognized the soldier. He cannot be allowed to leave alive. If he carries word back to the High Emperor of what we do here, it will be the end of the scientists. “Where’s Brunox?” I demand sharply. “Summon him. Now.”

The guard at my side looks grey-faced with fear. “Word has been sent, Highborn.”

I turn my attention back to the Thirdborn. Just in time.

Something is happening. The air goes still. The hair on my skin rises as I watch. Vulrux’s eyes meet the woman’s, and he drops to his knees, his face contorting in pain.

The soldier flexes his muscles, and the straps binding him to the examination table snap. I watch, transfixed, as the haze shrouding his eyes clears.

They both speak as one. “Ours,” they growl. “Our mate.”

Then they transform into dragons.

The guard next to me gibbers in horror. Thankfully, the others in his unit are made of sterner material. A commander appears next to me, seeming to materialize out of thin air. “Highborn,” he says. “What should we do?”

Why are you asking me, I want to cry out. But I know why. I’m Highborn, and I’m the senior-most apprentice in the building. Everyone else is in bed, or home with their families.

My father isn’t here. To save us all from his reckless machinations, I must act.

My thoughts race. I think of everything I’ve read in the ThoughtVaults, every forbidden word I’ve pored over in the Book of Wonacx. Draekons are not easy to kill. Once they possess the power to transform at will, we have no weapons to destroy them.

Forgive me; I have no choice. “Tell your men to fire at the woman.”

The soldiers obey. I watch, frozen in horror, as the woman crumbles under the assault. The two Draekons cry out in pain as she dies, and my gamble pays off. Vulrux and the unnamed soldier transform back to men.

“You’ve done well, Raiht’vi.”

I’ve waited so long to hear words of praise from my father’s lips, but when they finally emerge, I’m too numb to respond. “What will happen to them?” I whisper. “To the Thirdborn and the soldier?”

We can’t keep them here now. They are too dangerous. Anything might trigger the shift. Though the prevailing wisdom is that the second shift happens when the Draekons claim their mate, I don’t trust it. The only thing that we know for sure about the Draekons is that we can’t predict them. Their genes constantly mutate in the face of threats.

“Exile,” Brunox replies.

It is a better answer than I hoped. The prison planet is a death sentence, but not an immediate one. “The Firstborn will ask questions if his cousin disappears without a trace.” It is widely known that Arax, Firstborn of Zoraht, is closer to his cousin Vulrux than he is to his own brother Lenox.

“It will be handled.” My father’s expression is forbidding and doesn’t invite any further questions. I don’t push my luck.

When you kill an innocent, you stain your soul. Today, I killed that poor woman in the underground labs. One day, in the gardens of Caeron, I will hold up the fabric of my soul, and I will be judged for my crimes. Until that day, the look of anguish in the eyes of the Thirdborn and the soldier will haunt me, as will the sound of the nameless woman’s voice pleading with me. Highborn, I beseech you. Please don’t hurt me.