Celo’s beard had grown again and the soles of his boots had holes by the time he reached the foot of Mount Draco. He had walked through the spring and the summer, too. The air was cold at nights now, and he knew there soon would be snow. The animals had grown their winter coats, the hares now white, and many had built nests for the winter. He was leaner and stronger than he had been, and though he was tired, he felt robust. He was excited to come close to his goal.

His curiosity was alight. He imagined countless possibilities of what he might find, and his dreams were filled with promise.

Celo climbed up Mount Draco’s flanks as the sun was setting and found shelter in the last copse of pine trees. He was surprised that he heard no ghostly whispers in his pine bower. Perhaps the stories about the mountain were untrue.

Or maybe they weren’t true any longer.

Maybe even more had changed in Regalia with Arcana’s death. He wondered if there was a catalog anywhere of his mother’s spells and feared that only Urbanus had known them all. They were stored in the Queen’s Grotto, but coded. Would anyone ever unravel them all? He had thought long and hard about the Queen’s Grotto during his walk, weighing the possible repercussions of simply destroying it and breaking all of the spells at once.

Was it possible that there were any good spells there?

There was ice on the river in the morning, and Celo broke through it to refresh himself. Snow covered the rocks around him and dusted the branches of the trees. He stood and ate the last of his provisions, surveying the mountain that rose high before him. There was no path, of course, given that no one climbed it, but he could see a natural course in the rock, one that snaked toward the summit. It was barren on each side and he knew he would feel every breath of wind. Celo stood amidst the last trees and took a deep breath of their scent, then packed away one last piece of dry bread and began to walk.

Although he couldn’t see any birds or other creatures, he had the sense that he wasn’t alone. He could almost, but not quite, feel the presence of another creature near him. That he couldn’t clearly discern its thoughts made him wonder about it.

Were the stories of ancient beasts beneath the mountain true?

Perhaps if it was an old, old species, or an alien one, its thoughts would make no sense to Celo. He was skeptical of that possibility, though, as he clearly understood all the creatures of the forest.

Could it shield its mind? That was generally a mark of sophistication or some magical ability. Were the stories of ancient beasts beneath the mountain told to disguise the presence of a sorcerer?

That was a more compelling possibility. Perhaps his mother’s death had broken a spell that had trapped another sorcerer. She’d never been interested in competition. Gemma and Venero might have broken the spell inadvertently, or not realized what it was.

Celo tried to remember every story he’d ever heard about sorcerers on Regalia but couldn’t think of one that didn’t feature his brother Urbanus.

He scrambled his way higher and higher as the sun rose. He scraped his hands, he stubbed his toe, and he broke into a sweat from exertion. The mountain stretched higher, and he could see that its summit wasn’t one peak but a line of jagged outcroppings. He reached a precipice and leaned against the mountain to catch his breath, turning to look back over the wilderness of Regalia.

It was beautiful. So filled with bounty and wildlife. Celo knew the kingdom would prosper beneath Venero’s hand. It was filled with opportunity and possibility, ripe for a guiding hand like that of his brother. Celo eyed the clouds that were gathering and wondered if he would find some shelter on the mountainside for the night.

Suddenly, the icy ledge beneath his feet shifted.

His heart leaped in terror that he would fall.

He scrambled to regain his footing as an avalanche of ice rained upon his head. It spilled over him, cracking on his shoulders. The mountainside was a sheer drop, and the fall would be long enough to kill him. He grabbed and snatched, his feet slipping and his heart pounding, until he finally caught hold of a shard of stone. He spun and grabbed another rock that held fast, and was splayed against the mountain, hanging by his hands.

Celo held on tightly as the stone fell down the mountainside. He watched the ice that had been under his feet shatter into pieces on the rocks below. He exhaled in relief, found a ledge for one foot, then felt a pulse beneath the stone.

The hair stood up on his nape.

Behind him, the mountain rippled.

Celo glanced over his shoulder, certain he had imagined the heartbeat so loud that it made the very mountain vibrate, then stared.

The mountain had changed. It was still pale grey, but he could see the outline of large scales on its surface. Each was as big as a warrior, each one tipped in silver. He climbed onto a ledge so that he had a free hand, then ran that hand over the closest scale. It wasn’t rock. He would have stepped back but he was on a narrow ledge. When the mountain shifted once more, shuddering to its roots as if shaken by an earthquake, Celo cried out as he lost his footing again.

When he managed to find another small ledge for his feet, he closed his eyes for a minute to catch his breath. He heard the ice fall away in a torrent, scattering and shattering. He opened his eyes to find that all of the snow had been cast off to reveal the mountain beneath.

Celo blinked, unable to believe his eyes. Below him, the mountain was the shape of a massive silver dragon, covered in those scales. He could see its feet and its belly. It was crouched, its tail curled around its body. He looked up and saw its back rising high above him, and managed to glimpse its head resting on its forearms.

Celo realized he was standing on the knee of the beast, and that he had only climbed a small fraction of its height. The line of outcroppings that he thought led to its summit looked like scales along its spine. The path he’d followed had been the curve of its folded leg. He had slept in that pine forest nestled between its tail and its back claw.

His first thought was that the dragon was a natural formation, but that was impossible. There was too much detail.

His second was that some great artist had carved it from the rock, accentuating the features created by nature. Perhaps a team of craftsmen had done it, for the task would have been massive.

But why had he never heard of it before?

A rumble emitted from deep within mountain, reminding Celo of bears awakening in the spring. He saw a waft of steam emanate from part of the mountain far ahead and noted the resemblance of that area to a snout, pierced by a pair of nostrils.

He froze at the realization that the smoke had come from those very holes.

Then just above it, the rock cracked and an eye opened, an orange eye that might have been made of fire.

That fiery gaze locked upon him.

When the mountain dragon smiled and its eyes gleamed, Celo leaped from the great knee and ran for his life.

* * *

Celo didn’t get far. He jumped from the dragon’s knee but before he landed, one great claw snatched him out of the air. His heart raced in terror even as he struggled for freedom. Even falling from this height had to be better than whatever fate a dragon had planned for him.

He was lifted high as he fought against the grasp of that great claw. He was held tightly but not squeezed. He couldn’t escape, but he wasn’t hurt. That reassured him a little, until he was held up to that massive blazing eye.

The orb was bigger than he was tall, the pupil a vertical slit that was blacker than midnight. The iris was in motion in a mesmerizing way, a hundred shades of orange, yellow, and red, moving like the flames of an inferno. He had the curious thought that he could have stepped through that dark pupil, as if it were a doorway into the dragon’s mind.

The dragon smiled. “A perilous adventure indeed,” it mused, a waft of smoke rising from its nostrils.

“He,” the dragon rumbled. Celo realized it—he—had discerned his thoughts and hastily tried to shield his mind.

“There is no point,” the dragon said calmly. “I have the patience and the persistence to solve any riddle.”

“Of course.” Celo tried to bow and managed only to incline his head. Deference seemed like a wise plan, given the size of the dragon—and the fact that Celo couldn’t read his thoughts at all. “I apologize for disturbing your sleep. I didn’t realize the mountain was alive.”

The dragon appeared to be amused. “All mountains are alive, but some of them have forgotten how to awaken.”

“Would you be Draco, then?”

That smile broadened lazily and the eyes gleamed. “I would. And you?”

“Celo. Prince Celo of Regalia.”

The dragon studied him again. “You’re not who I expected. Are you lost?”

Who had Draco expected?

“No, I don’t think so. The raven told me it was time and the birds showed me my destination.”

“Well, then, things must have changed.” The dragon seemed to be considering this. His expression and relaxed manner indicated that the process could take a while. Celo was interested in learning Draco’s plans for him a little sooner than that.

“May I ask a question?”

“You just did.”

“Another?”

Draco chuckled. “Again, you just did.”

Celo cleared his throat and avoided the trap for the third time. “Who were you expecting?”

“The spellbreaker, of course. Such heroes are inclined to collect their rewards.” Draco’s eyes sparkled.

Celo wondered what the reward might be. “Would you have given it?”

“Of course!”

“How do you know I didn’t do it?”

“There’s no smell of spellcraft about you, nor do I detect that you’ve visited that horrific cavern.”

Celo shuddered at even the oblique reference to the Queen’s Grotto. “I haven’t.”

“Yet the spellbreaker did, because the spell was there.”

“How do you know that?”

Draco’s expression was pitying. “Aren’t all spells still kept there?”

He knew something of Regalia, then. “It must have been my brother, Venero. He was going there with Gemma.”

“Gemma?” Draco’s eyes lit with the sparks of a brighter flame.

Celo saw no reason to hold back any detail he knew, especially as Draco could just read his mind. “One of the dragon princesses of Incendium. She said Venero was the Carrier of the Seed. He seemed to be taken with her, as well, particularly as she had started to break the spell cast upon him by his twin brother, Urbanus.”

Draco nodded. “I approve of dragon princesses who break spells. What happened?”

“I think Urbanus and our mother Arcana are dead.”

“And Venero?”

“He is king now, and Gemma his queen.”

Draco lifted a brow. “Will he be a good king?”

“Yes.” Celo had no hesitation.

“Who is Gemma’s father?”

“King Ouros of Incendium.”

“And his father?”

Celo wasn’t certain whether Draco had slept through Ouros’ administration or whether this was a test. It felt like a test, so he tried to recall the history of the royal family of Incendium. “Torris, I believe.”

“His father?”

“Dracon.”

“A fine name.” Draco chuckled. “His father?”

“Ardeo was the fourth dragon King of Incendium. He had a twin brother, Incantos.”

“Ardeo and Incantos,” Draco repeated, his tone thoughtful.

Did he remember them or not?

“How long have you been sleeping here?” Celo asked, feeling a little bolder since he hadn’t been injured yet. “Ardeo and Incantos were born almost eleven hundred Incendium years ago.”

“Longer than that, clearly,” Draco said with a tinge of impatience. “Their father?”

Unfortunately, Celo didn’t recall all of the early kings, so he jumped back to the first one. “Did you know Scintillon, the first dragon King of Incendium? He claimed the throne in what became Incendium year one, almost two thousand years ago.”

“Scintillon, yes.” Draco nodded. “I remember him as a young slave with a human wife.” He mused before he continued. “Primula. That was her name. His owner used to beat her to ensure Scintillon’s obedience. I never thought he’d amount to much.”

“He founded a dynasty.” Celo took a breath. “He exiled those who protested against him here, to Regalia.”

“When things became more noisy.” Draco arched a brow. “And a young rogue who called himself the King of Regalia took umbrage at my request for quiet and solitude.”

“That’s when you went to sleep?”

“I was enchanted then, yes.” Draco leaned closer to sniff Celo, and Celo tried to keep from recoiling. “Being a prince of Regalia must make you a descendant of that...individual.”

“But not a Spellcaster.” Celo wriggled free and held up his hands. “I refused to learn the family craft.”

Draco’s eyes glittered and his voice dropped low. “The ability to cast magic is inherent and often inherited. I smell it in your blood.”

Celo was much less certain of his own safety, given Draco’s expression. “I can read the thoughts of others. That’s the extent of my gift.”

Draco’s gaze hardened. “Prove it. Read mine.”

It was a test and a good one. Celo had been trying to read Draco’s mind ever since the dragon’s eye had opened with no results at all. He’d thought it a good idea to try to determine what the dragon intended to do to him, not that he would have been able to do much about it.

He hadn’t been able to discern one thing.

He tried again, but might have been attempting to scale the face of a sheer rock wall. He strained, he stretched, he tried to sneak, but he was confounded by every technique he’d found effective in the past.

Draco’s eyes shone, and Celo knew he wasn’t surprised.

“I can’t,” he admitted.

“No. But the raven talks to you?”

“Not often, but he does. He told me it was time.”

“Well, that must mean something. The most reliable sources of news for me have always been the ravens.” Draco nodded slowly, his gaze sliding over the view. His voice rumbled when he was pensive and sent vibrations through Celo. “He must have sent you for a reason.”

Celo hoped that was a good thing. “Then you aren’t going to eat me?”

“You’d be barely a bite.”

“Burn me or destroy me?”

Draco’s smile widened, revealing an astonishing array of sharp white teeth. His breath was hot and his eyes shone. “No, I want something far more important from you.”

Celo’s hands clenched in fear. “What’s that?”

“I want to give you the spellbreaker’s reward.”

Celo felt sudden trepidation. What was the spellbreaker owed? It might not be a good reward. It might be harmful to his health. It might shake his mind or rattle his bones or leave him scarred or...

“What’s that?” Celo asked, hearing that his own voice was no more than a squeak.

“I want you to listen to a story, of course.”

* * *

Celo barely believed his own ears.

But Draco moved and the wind ruffled through Celo’s hair. The dragon settled himself again and put Celo down. His forelegs rested along the rocky ground, defining a hollow that blocked the wind. Celo shivered a little and Draco noticed. He reared back and lifted the claw that had held Celo, reaching down to seize a dead tree from the flat land that surrounded his resting place.

He broke it into pieces with one claw, the logs and sticks falling into a pile in the clearing before himself. He pushed a pile together, then breathed a plume of fire upon it. The dry wood crackled as it lit, a bonfire casting golden light and welcome heat around it. Draco settled again, forming that hollow with his legs again and Celo sat on one talon, holding his hands to the blaze.

“Thank you very much,” he said, and Draco inclined his head slightly.

Celo was still hungry but he was warm, and that was enough of an improvement that he could listen to a story.

“I believe you still have a piece of bread,” the dragon reminded him.

“I wouldn’t want to be rude,” Celo said but the dragon smiled.

“I don’t want hunger to affect your attention. Go ahead.”

Celo pulled out the last piece of bread from his purse and ate it slowly.

“In the beginning, there was the fire,” Draco said, his voice a low rumble that Celo could feel as well as hear.

Draco’s back loomed high over Celo, and one wing was slightly unfolded to provide shelter. Instead of seeing the stars overhead, Celo watched the light from the fire play over the silver membrane of the underside of Draco’s wing. The dragon looked out over Regalia—which Celo couldn’t see because of the height of Draco’s foreleg—his eyes narrowed to bright slits.

“And the fire burned hot because it was cradled by the earth. The fire burned bright because it was nurtured by the air. The fire burned lower only when it was quenched by the water. And these were the four elements of divine design, of which all would be built and with which all would be destroyed. And the elements were the cornerstones of the material universe and it was good.”

Celo felt himself almost lulled to sleep by the dragon’s deep voice and the heat of the fire. Draco spoke slowly and melodically, taking time over each word and phrase. Celo wondered if his companion would even be able to tell an entire story that night, then realized he didn’t much care.

“But the elements were alone and undefended, incapable of communicating with each other, snared within the matter that was theirs to control. And so, out of the endless void was created a race of guardians whose appointed task was to protect and defend the integrity of the four sacred elements. They were given powers, the better to fulfill their responsibilities; they were given strength and cunning and longevity to safeguard the treasures surrendered to their stewardship. To them alone would the elements respond. These guardians were—and are—dragons.”

“You can command the elements?”

“If I so choose.” Draco smiled, a slow curve that lifted the corner of his mouth.

“I thought you were enchanted.”

“Compelled to take the form of one element until released. I chose earth, stone really, because I knew I could survive longer in the shelter of that element.”

“Are you the last of your kind?” Celo had to ask, never having seen a dragon before. Gemma was a dragon shifter, but he hadn’t seen her in her dragon form, and he’d never traveled to Incendium.

“I am the one of my kind, the only, the alpha and the omega.” Draco glanced at Celo. “At least now.”

“Then you’re old.”

“Old enough to remember the selection of Fiero-Four. Do you know why the system is called that?”

“Because there are four habitable planets in the system,” Celo said, recalling his tutor’s lessons.

Draco laughed and even the earth below him shook. “But you only live on two of them.”

“It’s true. Only Incendium and Regalia have cities, but Sylvawyld was used as a hunting ground.” He left out the detail of his forebears hunting the verran to extinction there, as he doubted Draco would be impressed by that. “There aren’t enough of us that we need to colonize Caligo.”

“That’s not the origin of the system’s name,” Draco said sternly.

“Then what is?”

“Fiero is a reference to fire, and four is a reference to the four dragons who came to this system. We weren’t the first residents, but we brought knowledge and understanding and drew the inhabitants out of their dark ages.” His eyes shone. “You could say we brought the spark of inspiration.”

Celo sat up with interest. “Tell me what happened.”

“I intended to, but you asked questions.” There was a hint of censure in the dragon’s tone, as well as enough amusement that Celo knew he was safe.

“I do apologize,” he said, thinking it wise to be particularly polite to a creature that could eat him in a single bite. “I’m just so interested.”

“And so it is with people everywhere,” Draco mused. “They are fascinated with dragons. Rightly so, to my thinking, given the splendor of our appearance and the extent of our powers.”

“But I’ve never seen a dragon before.”

Draco chuckled, making the mountain shake. “How many times have you looked at this mountain?”

“Every day.”

The dragon turned slightly, the flames in his eyes dancing as he confronted Celo. “Then you’ve been looking at a dragon every day of your life. Just because you didn’t realize as much doesn’t mean I wasn’t here.” He lifted a brow. “Shall I tell the story?”

“Yes, please. I am sorry.”

Draco exhaled, a long thread of smoke rising from each of his nostrils. The tendrils entwined as they rose into the night sky, creating a twisting pattern that was mesmerizing. It reminded Celo of two dragons tails tangling together. “And so it was that dragons were created, and so it was that they claimed this galaxy as their home.”

“Fiero-Four isn’t a galaxy...”

“We didn’t originate here. Are you listening at all?”

“Of course.”

“Do you know that every civilization that can see the cluster of stars of our home world has given it a name that refers to our kind? There is an awareness of our presence in the universe, in the dreams and visions of even those who have never seen us. In millions of cultures, we symbolize power, intelligence, and passion. And in all of those cultures, the fascination that people have for dragons is returned: dragons are equally fascinated with people.”

Celo nodded and listened.

“We mate very seldom and offspring were always rare. They became increasingly rare as our numbers diminished. On our home world, we lost habitat to species that breed more quickly, whose numbers grow at rapid rates. As later became a pattern, we were hunted, for it was seen that we used many resources individually, resources that could instead support entire towns. We were attacked also for our hoards, our accumulations of material goods that give us pleasure, material goods that shine and sparkle and often are considered valuable by other species, too. Our numbers dwindled more quickly on our home world, so we colonized others.

“When the Fiero-Four system was deemed to possess suitable climactic conditions, we came here, to the planet that came to be known as Incendium. We were four in that first party, one for each element, as was the method of our colonization. In those days, Incendium was wild and lush, with bounty for all to share. Having learned the price of being outside the society of others, we mingled with the people here. We coexisted with them, proving ourselves useful, keeping our tempers in check, and for many eons, all was well.

“Perhaps it is the nature of coexistence, but the mutual interest of humans in dragons and dragons in humans began to find expression in passion. Princesses were brought to us as gifts, as homage, as trinkets to give us pleasure. No one should be surprised that dragons and damsels found methods of mating. The children of such unions inherited from father and mother, the most hardy combination being a son who took human form but once grown to manhood, could take dragon form, too.

“A dragon shifter,” Celo breathed. “The Draconis Mutatus.”

Draco nodded. “The first were not in command of their change. Like the werewolves of legend, these weredragons were subject to the influence of the elements. They might be commanded by the phase of the moon or sun, or the surge of desire within them. They were closer to beasts and struck terror into human hearts for their unpredictability. On Incendium, they were kept as pets.”

“What happened to your three fellows?”

Draco visibly saddened. “I do not know. We lost the connection with each other. There was a great wave of revulsion for these weredragons in human society, because of their bursts of violence, which launched a familiar response. They were hunted and slaughtered, and we four strove to defend them as our offspring. Those who survived tried to hide their true nature, but often were unsuccessful. Still there were those humans who found the weredragons alluring, and sought them out, mating with them, creating yet more. The diminished proportion of dragon blood in these children stabilized the balance, but also cost many of them the ability to feel their fellows. We four lost our psychic connection with them.”

“So, you couldn’t defend them, because you couldn’t find them.”

Draco nodded. “And our bond with each other diminished, too. We disagreed on the course to follow and parted ways. It began with the one of us bound to the element of water. She had great empathy for all our descendants and could not bear to see them left to fend for themselves. She frequently risked her own welfare for others, and her silence made us fear she had been lost forever. Next, the one bound to the element of air disappeared from out awareness. Perhaps she was snared by a clever exchange of ideas, mixed with some enticing dreams. Perhaps she could not bear the thought of what we had become. The third and I retreated from human society together to ensure our own survival, but his connection was to fire. War drew him from the safety of our sanctuary and he could not resist a summons to defend our kind. I fear he may have died violently.”

“Your affinity is with the earth,” Celo guessed.

Draco nodded. “It gives me both patience and persistence, as well as the strength to wait a very long time. And so I was enchanted, by a young king who had no patience with my kind and no tolerance of my presence in the realm he sought to command.”

“Surely you could have defeated him?”

“To what end? I was alone, separated from my kind or perhaps the last to survive. I was tired and feared a new age had dawned. I didn’t want to die, but I didn’t want to watch either. I let him enchant me.”

“You let yourself be made powerless?”

Draco chuckled. “I’ve never been powerless. If I was, they would have built a city upon the flanks of the mountain I became. No, I knew that every spell can be broken, that it will be broken in time. I was prepared to wait. It is no accident that I became stone.”

Celo nodded, understanding that Draco’s affinity had both shaped the outcome of the spell and allowed him to survive it. “Tell me more about the shifters.”

“As I said, over time, with the lineage of particularly bold human partners, the hybrid species stabilized. The addition of more humans to the mix meant that these shifters could change shape when they chose to do so. Their place in society changed then, as well—they became slaves instead of pets, their passion for their mates and kin used to keep them in check despite their greater physical strength.”

“And they were fewer in number, too.”

“Naturally. It was Scintillon who first rose in rebellion, having been provoked by an injustice done to a shifter and his kin, and Scintillon who was the first dragon king of Incendium. The great house of the kings of Incendium is founded upon the nobility and vigor of weredragon blood.”

“You did know that he amounted to something!”

Draco chuckled. “I wasn’t in a hurry to tell you everything I knew, and I was surprised by his success.”

“Are the kings of Incendium your descendants?”

“They draw from the line of the dragon bound to air, which is why they sponsor science and invention. They are smitten with ideas and cleverness.”

“But can you become a man?”

Draco shook his great head. “I am no weredragon. I was born of a dragon pair. I may be the last pure dragon to survive anywhere.”

“The other three who colonized Fiero-Four were the same as you?”

Draco nodded. “We all originate in the same seed, though that was eons past. There are other anomalies that appeared over the ages, but first we must speak more of the shifters.”

“On Incendium.”

“Yes. For there, over time, the male gender became dominant. A child conceived by a weredragon and a human would be born male and a shifter, the vast majority of the time.”

“But that can’t be so,” Celo protested. “King Ouros has twelve daughters.”

Draco smiled. “We have not yet come to King Ouros and Queen Ignita. Our group of four was not the only team sent to colonize a planet. Dragons scattered though the universe in those dark days. Many lost track of each other as the eons passed, even with our long memories. Each local group mutated and adapted to its environment. Here in the Fiero-Four system, we remained aware of those dragon shifters on Excandesco and preserved relations with them.

“Queen Ignita’s home planet.”

“And there, the opposite situation developed. The female became the most likely gender of any child conceived by a dragon shifter and human. The ascendant line is from the founder allied with fire, so they are passionate and emotional dragon shifters. Just as the presence of air feeds a flame, I am certain that Ignita and Ouros have a fiery match.”

“Is it true that they don’t let the human partner survive after the mating on Excandesco?”

“It is. Although the mating is seen as valuable and imperative, the human male is regarded to be inferior and unnecessary once the seed has been delivered and the child conceived. Those dragon queens are ferocious in their conviction, and tolerate no possible threat to their rule.”

“Was Ouros an exception because he was a dragon shifter, too?”

“That could be so. I do not know the pair, only their history. It is not surprising that they had to flee Excandesco to live together, and it shouldn’t be surprising either that the introduction of Queen Ignita’s heritage into the lineage of Incendium meant more daughters than sons.”

“It seems they shouldn’t be all sons.”

Draco placed another log upon the fire, lifting it easily into place despite its size. “That might have something to do with the curse.”