Jowra swept his long, greasy hair from his eyes as fury coursed through his veins. He marched purposefully through the darkness with his black cloak billowing behind him and the cold snow crunching under his feet.

The magnificence of the palace in Melzor was unparalleled, but even walking up its icy steps did nothing to quell Jowra’s rage. A Grevlor at the palace door offered him a respectful bow as he passed. But with an indignant sneer, Jowra struck the Grevlor across the face with a pale hand, leaving it whimpering in his wake.

Jowra swept through the palace to the room he cherished most – the keep. The keep was colossal; never had there been a room so grand. The four walls reached far and wide, and they rose not to a ceiling, but to an open view of the night's sky. Snowflakes fell inside the keep, onto a floor that was already a foot deep in white powder. It was so cold and blustery that the oil lamps on the walls refused to light.

Inside the keep, two enormous Dragon Lavorians were waiting for him, their silver bodies reflecting the moonlight. They were lying on the snow, their long bodies entwined like rope, and still they were several metres tall.

“My King,” they rasped together, breathing smoke out their nostrils and bowing their heads.

Both Lavorians – Wravias and Pseubas – had crimson eyes like their Rider. Their jaws were full of sword-sized teeth, and from the crown of their armoured heads to the tips of their armoured tails, they were covered in sharp silver spines.

“Where is Zarad?” Jowra asked as soon as his Lavorians were in sight.

“Riskin is bringing him here,” Wravias answered.

As if Wravias’s words were a cue, two men followed Jowra into the keep. One was short and clumsy, while the other tall and handsome.

The shorter of the men spoke first in a fearful mumble, “My King, we have a guest.”

“I am well aware of that, Riskin,” Jowra replied, attempting to suppress his impatience.

The second man, Zarad, walked arrogantly forwards. He lowered himself casually onto one knee. “My King,” he said smoothly.

“Stand up and explain yourself!” Jowra demanded, unable to stop his fury from enveloping him.

Zarad stood and his expression quickly changed. “Alvoria was attacked, my King.”

“Do not consider me a fool, Zarad! My only foolishness was trusting someone with your incompetence!” The walls of the keep shook under the might of Jowra’s voice. “Alvoria wasn’t merely attacked, it was burned to the ground!”

“It was an unfortunate event,” Zarad said quietly.

“Unfortunate suggests it was down to chance,” Jowra disputed. “But I specifically remember telling you that Alvoria was vulnerable and that I needed you to protect it. What went wrong?”

Zarad gathered himself but couldn’t conceal his fear. “A Rider from the rebellion attacked while I was absent, my King.”

“Absent for what purpose?” Jowra probed, now pacing angrily.

Zarad dropped his eyes guiltily to the floor. “I had no reason, my King.”

“But you returned to Alvoria in time to apprehend the culprit?” Jowra pressed.

“I returned when the city was already on fire,” Zarad replied. “There was nothing I could do.”

“And you apprehended the culprit?” Jowra repeated.

“No, my King. The Rider and his Lavorian got away.”

“GOT AWAY?” The ferocity of Jowra’s voice knocked Zarad off his feet. Riskin quickly covered his ears and the two Dragons shirked away from the noise.

“I didn’t mean for it to happen,” Zarad claimed.

“It was just one Rider and he destroyed an entire city of mine,” Jowra summarised, breathing deeply to control his voice. “You have allowed them to make a mockery of my reign.”

“I’m sorry, my King. It won’t happen again. I promise.”

“You have really disappointed me, Zarad. And there must be consequences,” Jowra said. “Riskin, stand over there by that wall.”

Riskin ran obediently to where Jowra was pointing, leaving Zarad alone and frightened.

Jowra took several steps away from Zarad and then turned to the Dragons. “Pseubas, burn him!” he commanded aloud.

The Dragons slithered apart, and the smaller of the two moved forwards, its large claws scraping the stone floor. It lifted its head and filled its chest with air, before letting out a jet of flames that passed by Zarad and engulfed Riskin instead.

There wasn’t even a scream to hear as Riskin was killed, nor was there anything that remained of him except the scorch mark on the wall where he’d been standing. There was only a moment of bright light and intense warmth in the keep before the cold darkness returned.

“I have a legion of soldiers beneath this palace waiting to be commanded,” Jowra said, his voice now much calmer than it had been. “I want you to march with them to Tallarin where you will join Gravaz’s forces in destroying the wall and leaving the city as nothing more than rubble beneath your feet. Am I understood?”

Zarad had tears on his cheeks he was so relieved to be alive. “Yes, my King,” he said.

Jowra made to leave the keep. But before he reached the door, he looked back at the black mark on the wall. “Zarad,” he said. “Don't fail me this time.”

*

“Kivali!” Oracus shouted as his knuckles rapped on her door. “Kivali!”

When Kivali opened the door, her expression was serious. “He’s coming, isn’t he?”

“Two armies are on their way,” Oracus confirmed. “We need to talk to the triplets!”

Oracus recited his latest dream to Kivali and the triplets in Croij’s laboratory. Bandor and Onca were there too, and there was a solemn atmosphere when he finished.

“And you’re sure you didn’t misinterpret this dream?” Croij questioned concernedly.

“It sounds to me like there was nothing to misinterpret,” Farlog said. “If Alvoria was attacked then it would provoke Jowra to retaliate.”

“But Torvanon agreed not to attack any of Jowra’s cities,” Kivali reminded. “Why would he go back on his word?”

“Without having contact with Torvanon, it’s difficult to predict what might have happened since you held counsel with him in Afarra. They may have been attacked themselves, or maybe one of their Riders went rogue.”

“What matters now is how much time we have to mount a defence,” Shio expressed.

“Unfortunately, our guess isn’t likely to be very precise,” Farlog responded. “The timing of Visioning is inaccurate. Oracus’s dream may have happened tonight, or it may have happened a week ago.”

“So Jowra’s soldiers may have the wall in their sights right now?” Croij proposed.

“It’s a possibility, yes,” Farlog answered.

“Then I need to ready our defence right now,” Shio stated. “Kivali, can you alert Wilos and Dyma of what we know?”

Kivali and Onca left the laboratory with Shio, leaving Oracus and Bandor with Farlog and Croij.

“You’re certain Jowra isn’t joining the attack?” Farlog checked, looking seriously at Oracus.

“He’s definitely staying in Melzor,” Oracus replied. “He has sent Gravaz and Zarad.”

Farlog sighed. “Then that leaves us with some hope, at least.”

“What happens now?” Oracus asked.

“You need to help organise the soldiers and keep the families calm,” Farlog said. “Go and find Kivali, she’ll tell you what to do.”

Oracus and Bandor left the laboratory in quiet haste. They descended staircases and traversed corridors that led them to the palace entrance hall. On every level of the palace, Sashtrams were already knocking on doors and warning those inside. Soon, there were shouts of panic ringing in the walls.

“All this because of a dream,” Oracus said gloomily.

“It may be the most important dream you ever have,” Bandor replied.

Oracus and Bandor found Kivali beside the statue in the entrance hall. Wilos and Dyma were already with her, and the two Riders looked sternly at Oracus when he approached.

Oracus ignored them and spoke directly to Kivali, “Farlog told me to help you. What do you need me to do?”

“We need to warn everyone of what’s coming. Those who can fight need to arm themselves. Those who can’t fight need to prepare for leaving their homes.”

“Where will the children go when Jowra’s army arrives?” Oracus asked worriedly.

“To the floors below the palace,” Kivali answered. “There are secret routes in here that lead to the mountains.”

There was a surge of bodies inside the entrance hall and petrified people ran in every direction; some carrying weapons, others carrying children. There was a cacophony of screams and shouts, and Oracus could barely hear himself think.

“We need to calm these people somehow,” Kivali said. “We all need to find an entrance and reassure everyone who passes through. This could get out of hand if we don’t.”

But as the four Riders were about to separate, the low chiming of a bell rang loudly over their heads. Silence and stillness fell over the palace, and everybody stood with their mouths agape and terror in their eyes.

Oracus turned to Kivali for an explanation.

“They’re here,” she said fearfully. “Jowra’s soldiers are here!”