She takes Chris’s calloused hand and follows him through the palace to a dusty stairwell she never knew existed. Eclipse insisted she stay in her room but the quiet forced her mind to create terrible stories. She rearranged her dolls three times to avoid the voice calling her to action. Even desserts didn't ease the sinking anxiety in her chest. Moira’s out there. Beyond the walls and the Gate, and she didn't know what to do. But when Chris knocked on her door, revealing he found something new she agreed to follow. He pauses at a hatch above their heads.

He slides the rusty latch; knocking trickles of dirt over her head. A few heavy thuds and the hatch swings open; drowning the stairwell with light. His strong hands grip her armpits as he pushes her through the gap and she crawls across the shingled roof. Alexanderia stretches before her eyes. Rows of roofs and chimneys snake along cobblestone roads for miles. For the first time since she's arrived, the streets are empty. No market stalls, wagons, or even children. It's like the kingdom's holding its breath until the Ruby Gate opens again and their sons return home.

"What a view," he whistles, "bet you don't see this everyday."

"Why are we here?"

"That," he points to the area outside the gate. Specks of black dots flutter over the grass. Slivers of smoke weaves into the overcast sky and there's a hum vibrating the air. "I just gotta know. You know?"

"Is Kipling down there?"

"Yup."

They sit together as the battle rages. They don't speak but share in the same uncertainty as time drones on. A crash behind her startles her to her feet. Near the hatch is a toppled stool; which wasn't there before. A second stool flies from the hatch into the air before landing on the roof next to the first. Pale hands with expensive rings flail from the edge.

"Some help please?"

"Looks like we got company," Chris goes to investigate, then shoves his hands into the gap. He lifts Nicole from the shadows and helps her onto the roof. "Up you go princess."

"You brought stools?" she asks.

"It is better than sitting on a grimy roof." Nicole dusts off her dress as Chris brings the stools over. "For you," she offers and Sara smiles, taking the seat.

"How did you find us?" she asks.

"A servant pointed me in this direction. Sorry it took me so long, I had to hunt down the stools myself. Most of the servants evacuated with Lord Beckham." Nicole watches the battlefield without a word, instead she chews her lip and wrings her hands on her lap. She doesn't gossip, make small talk, or cry. Which is unusual for the bubbly princess who tries to joke to change an awkward topic. But this is the first time Nicole is silent. As the minutes slip into painful hours Chris begins to pace the rooftop.

"What are you three doing here? Sara, I told you to stay in your room." Eclipse stands beside the threshold which separates them, roof folk, from the palace.

"I'm sorry Eclipse, but I couldn't stay there. I need to know what's happening."

"How did you know we were up here?" Chris asks.

"I was not searching for you; I desired some fresh air."

He sits, gazing towards the horizon, as his tail flicks the legs of her stool. While they struggle to distinguish the soldiers from the landscape; she notices he stares somewhere beyond what she sees. His body vibrates which reminds her of the night he kept her warm in the hollow. A long whistle escapes Chris's lips as he motions to the vast lake in the distance. Thick swirling fog rises from the water. She used to watch the morning mist roll over the mountains with her father. But this was different.

“Whoa, I can put it in a jar.”

“What is she planning?” He mutters.

“Did you know she can do that?” Chris asks, but Eclipse ignores him. “Of course, you did, stupid me.”

The fog doubles, rolling over itself, as it rushes to the shore. It hits the sandy beaches and explodes over the battlefield; blanketing everything in its path. Eclipse steps towards the roof edge; his tail flicking in the air. The opaque grayness swallows the world before them. Eclipse's posture, long and straight, resembles the village hunting dogs. Despite the fog, his body language is clear: Moira found him. She wipes her sweaty palms on her dress. After thousands of beats of her heart the fog lifts but floats above the spectacle. As Chris cheers her fingertips tingle; they twitch as if trying to spell out a message.

“What is that?" Nicole points to an agile flying creature darting from the cloud cover. It free falls towards the soldiers, plucks a black speck before disappearing into the fog.

“Is that...?” Chris asks as the creatures ignite the field with flames.

“Are they your ‘monsters’ Nicole?” The panther remarks.

“My mother has dragons…by the Gods.”

“No, they’re my Daddy’s dragons! They are, aren’t they?”

He doesn’t answer but she knows it's them. They’re alive. Hope swirls inside her chest, rejuvenating her spirit, and forces her limbs to action. Despite their protests she jumps through the hatch and races to her room. They're alive. Glimmers of a home she thought she lost flutters through the abandoned hallway. She races past portraits of strangers she'll never meet and throws open her bedroom door.

Questions bubble through her body, coursing to her legs until her feet scurry to her wardrobe. Where were they this whole time? Are they hurt? Clothes rain over her and pile at her feet. She claws through the items until skirts blanket chairs, hats litter the floor, and her fingers grip her prize. Gripping the leather strap of her day pack, she yanks it free from a pile of shoes. She had exchanged her summer muslin dress for her riding pants and jacket when Chris knocked on the door.

“What are you up too now?”

“We need to stop the dragons. Moira and Zack can’t win with them out there. My father told me once,” she stomps her feet into her heavy mountain boots, “he said sometimes dragons go into a frenzy and attack anything.” She slings her leather satchel over her shoulder.

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“Sara, what in the name of the Gods?” Eclipse’s head pushes through the doorway.

“We need to stop them.”

“You are not leaving this palace. Moira left strict instructions.”

“They won’t mean anything if she dies!”

“I forbid you to go to the battlefield,” he blocks her path.

“I’m not going there. I’m going to the mountains.”

“Why?” he eyes her bag.

“Eclipse just let her go, whatever she’s planned is better than what we got. There’s a passageway in the east wing, next to the music room. I turned it into my office but there’s a panel near the piano that opens. Take it; it’ll lead you out the back near the mountain’s path. Be careful though, it doesn’t open from the outside— one way only kid.”

“How did you stumble across that? Wait, your office?”

“Thanks Chris!” She pushes past them and makes it halfway through the corridor when a black form leaps over her. Eclipse's imposing form stops her dead in her tracks. “Move! I can stop them!”

“Get on,” he orders, “or will you rather walk?”

“Do you know where we’re going?” She grips his fur as he takes off at full speed across the polished floor. He leaps over the staircase separating the north and east wings as if he’s running through the field and not a grand palace.

“I spent my childhood chasing Moira through these halls. We left nothing undiscovered.”

Chris's 'office' reminds her of the pillow forts she made with her mother. Scattered pillows and crumpled bedding litter the floor. Although her forts never had empty bottles abandoned under tables. Eclipse leads her past the tilting piles of books to the rear wall. She runs her fingers over the olive square panels and she discovers one edge that's wider than the others. From where she stands it looks identical to the rest but, upon closer inspection, she finds a thin gap around the perimeter.

A gentle push causes a soft click and she pulls the secret door open. He motions for her to lead and she crawls through the cramped tunnel. The dust sticks to the back of her throat. The rough floorboards dig into her palms and loose nails jam into her knee. How did Chris fit in here? The flattened damp earth sticks to her skin. But ahead of her is a floating glimmering square. An exit. She pushes her shoulders against the wall and the hatch swings open; bathing them in light.

The exit leads outside the garden at the base of the stone wall where hardy evergreens poke above the ledge. Ahead of her are the robust mountain range, with their welcoming tapered peaks, where Charcoal currently calls home. She wraps her arms around his neck as he scales the narrow bracken coated paths. He races to the summit where dusty rocks transform into sprawling grass and sparse mountain bushes.

The plateau is one of many littering the eastern mountains. From where they stand, she counts several pockets of grass and caves any dragon will prefer to call home. In the distance she spots smoky clouds decorating the battlefield. Eclipse remains silent, staring beyond her perception but she recognizes the fear in his golden stare. A grumble comes from the cave next to them, echoing its own terror from the bowels inside.

“It’s okay,” she stands at the entrance of the cave, holding her palm in the air, “come out. Don’t be scared.” He might be older now, but he’s still unsure. This land is new, it smells and tastes different. Another grumble from the shadows. One step at a time the black dragon emerges, “there’s a good boy.”

Eclipse lowers his body closer to the grass, noticing the dragon’s height and pointed horns. It’s the first time he’s seen the dragon in months. The changes are abrupt, he’s no long short with nubby spikes. His chubby yearling weight is turning into muscle. She misses his baby features, but he’s growing into a what might be a fierce defender.

“That is not your dragon?”

“Of course, it is, who’s else would it be?” Charcoal steps into the grey air, lowering his head to place his snout against her palm. She rubs his nose in their usual greeting.

“But he towers over you?”

“Dragon magic. He grew inside the Dragon’s Eye. When Chris measured him, he was eight feet long.” Charcoal snorts before bounding to Eclipse. He flops to his stomach, short of the panther's claws, and chirps while flicking his tail. He places his paw on the flaring nostrils; patting the smooth scales twice. “See. He’s still a good boy.” She pats his tail avoiding the white spikes. But Charcoal whimpers as he gazes to the battlefield. “Don’t be scared, they may be different now but those dragons are still our friends.”

“Friends? They are monsters.”

Charcoal snorts.

“No. They’re in pain. Charcoal can feel it, can’t you Mister?” she scratches his horns. “He hears it in their cries.”

“What do we do?”

“We stop them.” She pats his wing and he offers his foot for her to climb on his back.

“What do you think you are doing? Get down from there!”

She strokes his neck, feeling his muscles stretch and relax as his wings unfold.

“Our family is down there, let’s bring them home.” His roars echo through the mountains. “Fly.”

The air stings her cheeks as he races to the cliff, leaps over the threshold, and tumbles over the edge. Come on Mister… Her body jerks upwards, he beats his wings, climbing higher above the mountains. His roars shake the air and she cheers as the wind rushes past her ears. The cool moisture kisses her skin like hundreds of fluttering butterflies. Her heart sings as they dance in the clouds; feeling alive and free. For the first time, she feels limitless; nothing is out of reach, not the clouds not even the stars. He yelps, she grabs his neck and laughs as he rolls.

“Do you think Daddy's proud of us?” She squeezes the object in her pocket. “Take us closer to the mountains,” once in the position she pulls out the Dragon Flute.

Her stiff fingers tap the tiny holes in the glass creating vibrations which tickle her lips. She recalls practicing the songs as her mother hums the notes. As she plays, she envisions her father playing for the dragons. They jump and dance in the shimmering sunshine. Her heart aches for a chance to see him; to tell him she loves him one last time.

The happiness of the sunshine moments they shared reaches her chest, her stomach, and floods towards her toes. The music surrounds her, fills the air and cascades through the mountains. The soulful tones and the spirited trills echo in her ears, the sound clear and sharp. All hesitation and fear vanish as the air swells with melodies. Happiness washes over her.

She thinks of her new family; to Moira. The Mage who fights for her. She needs her friend to return; she needs her sister to live. She hears the melody in her blood, exploding like tiny flowers tingling across her skin. She’ll quell the pain in their hearts and remind them of peace they once shared in those far away mountains. Dragon Haven feels like a world away, but it isn’t gone; it lives in them, and it’ll exist again. The notes spread through the air, she listens to the peace in the sky, the life in the land, and the song in the mountains. She continues her song until roars echo and circle them.

“Steady,” they snap at Charcoal as she takes inventory of those alive. Circling her are a few of her father’s prized Ebony Dragons and several Fire Snappers. “Take us down, let’s get them out of the sky.”

“Sara, are you hurt?”

“Don’t worry," she pats his wing as she disembarks, "Charcoal won’t let me fall.” The largest Ebony Dragon lands with a thud; roaring and baring his yellow teeth as his claws slice the grass.

“Sara this isn’t safe.” The alpha lunges, but Charcoal bounds between them, snarling on his hind legs. The adult snorts, shaking his scarred head and the other dragons settle.

“Good boy,” she pats his neck as she approaches the alpha with her palm out. His head swings from side to side and she notices the damage in the left eye. He growls, poised to strike with his sawed-off horns, but she isn’t afraid. They both know the truth. They are all each other has. He relents; placing his snout into her palm and accepts her. “Am I ever happy to see you Brimstone,” she scratches his scarred scales, “did you keep them all safe? Good boy, you brought the family back.” She glances at the others, sad at their few numbers but grateful for their return.

“I expected he would be one of the last ones standing.” Brimstone snorts but allows Charcoal to nuzzle his neck; a customary greeting. She notices the scars, their sawed-off horns, and one is blind in one eye. “Is this all that remains?”

“I don’t know. Maybe Kipling didn’t get them all. Maybe there’s more out there. Somewhere.”

“You did great twerp. I know your parents are proud of you.”