The icy wind whipped at Milius’s face as they streaked through the air; his skin soon felt stiff and numb, and his ears were filled with the rushing of the wind, but he did not care. Soon, very soon, the mystery of everything that had happened since that fateful day that they had plunged into Vrydius’s Catacomb would be solved, he knew it.

He kept his eyes trained on the world beneath them as they rocketed forwards, scanning the area for the first sign of Veridian Square, a town that, according to Shakil, had been forsaken for hundreds of years. Shakil was doubtful that the Catacomb would still be there after all this time, but Milius was certain that they would find something, a clue, at least, as to where it had been relocated, if it had been moved at all. The Catacombs were, as he knew, not indestructible — Phontus had thoroughly proven that. But Milius could not believe that this one had been destroyed, when all the others had been almost perfectly preserved all along.

The minutes sailed by, and as they flew, Milius became uncomfortably aware of the air of mingled excitement and envy around Frederick, who was still right behind him.

He thought he knew exactly what was bothering Frederick: Frederick had been greatly intrigued by the various sectors of the Dragoon Cave and the magic of the swords themselves. With a pang of irritation, Milius remembered how he had snuck into his room earlier and taken Palpatunde.

He was envious that Cole had become a Knight, especially since he had explicitly expressed nothing but dislike towards them, but he was also hopeful that he could claim the second, dormant sword and become one himself. Milius, however, was not too keen on this prospect. But he did not wish to share his thoughts just yet; he had more pressing matters to deal with, and also, a tiny part of him wanted to see Frederick’s reaction for himself before he made his judgement.

Nearly thirty minutes had passed with them still in the air, but then, at last, Milius saw it. Veridian Square.

“Oh no,” he muttered.

Veridian Square was nothing more than rubble now; every building and road in sight was utterly destroyed.

“We tried to warn you,” Shakil said grimly. They directed the two dragons towards the most level plot of land they could find and dismounted. Milius looked around. The scene was even more devastating from this distance. Old, charred bones and skeletons littered the ground; shards of glass twinkled here and there amongst the expanse of dark rock, and Milius could feel a strange tingling sensation in the air, as though it were charged.

“What happened here?” Milius croaked.

“This place was built above a leyline,” Shakil said.

“A what?”

“They're like channels of raw, magical energy underneath the earth. Extremely powerful, highly useful if contained properly, but if not, it can be deadly. This place was notorious for its leaks of energy. The people who used to live here used to try to contain and utilize energy from the leaks, but one day there wasn't so much as a leak as a flood. The whole place was blown apart, and since then was deemed too dangerous to settle in, or near. You can even still feel it.”

He raised his hand and Milius watched as the armour coating his arm retreated slowly from his fingers, which he traced through the air as though he were rubbing them against an invisible wall.

“If the Catacomb was here,” he said, his hand falling limply to his side, “it's gone now.”

“But — that flood, or whatever, it happened recently, right?” Milius said.

“I wouldn't exactly call six hundred years ‘recent’ . . .”

“Well, look at it this way — the Catacombs were hidden thousands of years ago. Long before this place had been hit. So it probably wasn't even here when the explosion happened!”

The idea was both disheartening and relieving. On one hand, it would mean that the Catacomb, and thus the second half of the tablet, were not lost forever. On the other, it would mean that they still had no idea where it was hidden. Shakil frowned and placed a hand on his chin.

“What?”

“Nothing, you'll think I'm crazy,” Shakil said.

“‘Crazy’ would be if you'd told me two hours ago that you thought we'd find a sealed dragon and that jerk would claim a lost sword and become a Knight,” Milius noted. “No offense,” he added to Frederick, who shrugged. “What's on your mind?”

“Well, I guess when you put it like that . . .” Shakil shrugged. “It's just, really strange, isn't it?”

“What is?”

“Aleia’s Catacomb was hidden at the bottom of a lake, and Verdona’s inside a volcano. You'd think that would be appropriate, given that they're the dragons of water and fire, right?” Milius nodded, still unsure what his point was. “But Vrydius is the dragon of wind, and his was found underground. . . . Doesn't that strike you as odd?”

Milius frowned too. “Well —”

“And now here we are,” Shakil went on, “looking for Lumeus’s birthplace. He may be the dragon of lightning, but he's still —”

“— a living rock!” Milius said, catching on.

“Exactly, so you'd expect to find his Catacomb, and not Vrydius’s, underground, wouldn't you?”

“So you think they switched it up? Vrydius’s buried underground and Lumeus’s — what, sitting on a cloud?”

“Maybe not a cloud. . . . Hmm . . .”

“Guys?” said Frederick, who had been staring around, quite apart from their conversation.

“What?” Milius and Shakil said in unison.

“Look at this.” Frederick was pointing out into the distance, where a lone statue was standing amid a sea of debris. Everything else in the town had been reduced to ash and rubble, but this statue looked remarkably unscathed.

“What about it?” Shakil asked.

“Well, look at what he's holding,” Frederick said. They moved closer and Milius peered obediently at the staff clutched in the statue’s hand. It appeared to be a three-pronged fork, like a trident, but the end prongs were not pointing upwards, and instead veering leftwards and rightwards respectively.

“Not very traditional for a trident, but I still don't see what’s strange about it,” Milius said, bemused.

“Wait . . . it's not a trident . . . it's a lightning rod!” Shakil said, rushing towards it. Milius and Frederick followed.

“Are you sure?” Milius asked, bewildered.

“Positive,” Shakil said, bending lower to observe it. “The design is old, really old, but I've seen it before.”

“Bur what are we supposed to do with a lightning rod?” Milius asked, still nonplussed. To his surprise, Frederick snorted.

“Are you sure you're the same guy that that crazy king said had ‘considerable ingenuity’? What are you supposed to do with it — honestly. Hit it with lightning, of course!”

“Hit — oh!”

Milius looked quickly around at Shakil, whose eyes had gone very wide.

“It makes sense!" Shakil said. "Think about it, it's the only thing in this entire town that's not broken or damaged, and how on the nose is it that we're looking for the birthplace of the lightning dragon and stumble across a lightning rod?”

“Fine,” Milius said, after a short pause. “I don't suppose it would hurt to try.”

They scrambled back over to the dragons, who had not moved but were simply gazing around with a mildly interested air, and took to the air.

“Aim for the center prong!” yelled Frederick.

“Lumeus, I need you to direct a bolt of lightning at the center piece of that staff!” Milius shouted. “Can do you that?”

The dragon snorted impatiently, as if affronted that Milius had thought to ask such a question. His plates began to crackle again, his mouth opened wide, and a thin stream of electricity, the smallest Milius had ever seen him produce, streaked from his mouth and hit the center prong. The violet arc rode the length of the rod, down the statue, and into the ground.

Nothing happened. Before Milius could express his disappointment, however, Shakil gasped and pointed. The ground was slowly lightening, glowing a pale blue colour. The glare was creeping up the ruined buildings, the debris, and along the statue.

“It's the leyline!” Shakil yelled excitedly. “The lightning must have triggered the energy somehow!”

The energy ran back up the statue, igniting the dark stone, and from the center prong erupted a beam of brilliant blue energy, which shot straight into the sky, beyond the patch of clouds overhead.

“Let's go!” Milius shouted, and Lumeus went rocketing upwards.

“Hey, wait for us!” Shakil called. The two dragons soared ever higher, following the stream of light through the clouds until, to their astonishment, they saw a building, very like the one that they had found under Lake Tiberion, coming slowly into view, materializing as though it had been doused with an invisibility potion that was now wearing off, and hovering in midair as though settled on a solid platform of air. The beam of light was connected with an object very like the lightning rod of the statue below, protruding from the walls of what was obviously Lumeus’s Catacomb.

An enormous violet spire of earth was extending towards them, and as they approached closer, the spire began to unwind, revealing a huge hole in the center. They exchanged quick looks, then soared through it. Moments later, they emerged inside a vast hall, with walls of rich purple and snow white. Oddly shaped stones were blooming from the walls, all of which glowed in different colours, like Aleia’s fins underwater. As Milius dismounted, Palpatunde’s amethyst ignited, and he understood, for the first time, what the others had felt inside their own Catacombs. It was as though someone was calling out to him, a powerful presence reaching out to him from a distance.

“So this is where you were born, huh?” he said to Lumeus. “Not bad.”

Unfortunately, he had no interest in seeing the rest of the rooms; all he wanted was the second half of the tablet.

“Let's go,” he said, and they set off along the corridor, which seemed to be made of the same white marble as Lumeus’s eyes, following the formless presence that was calling out to Milius, guiding him forwards . . .

And at last, they reached it: the smallest room, lined with glittering shards of amethysts and finely cut pearly white jewels, twinkling in the light of the ball of violet energy hovering in the center of the room. Frederick and Shakil froze at the doorway, for a barrier of pale blue energy surrounded the orb. Milius, however, proceeded forwards, walking through it as though it were no more than a curtain of smoke.

He raised his hands to the orb, and for a moment he felt a pleasing warmth; then the orb shattered. The shards and the barrier of energy behind them faded into thin air, but Milius was left holding a large, blank tablet of dark grey stone.

“Well come on!” he said to Shakil, after gazing at the mosaic of Lumeus revealed on the wall behind him. He turned as Shakil approached with his half of the tablet, and just as it had happened with Ariana and Sirius, the two halves reconnected seamlessly, words appeared upon the surface, as though carved there by an invisible knife, and as they read, a gateway of light appeared, ready to deliver them to the next Catacomb, the next sword, and the next dragon.

They stepped through the gateway and Milius, to his surprise, found himself once again standing inside a vast, high-ceilinged chamber, dark, cold, and unwelcoming. The walls were a shining black and dark purple, but unlike the other five, there were no sources of light but for an eerie, luminous, green mist that was spreading through the halls, adding to the threatening atmosphere. The walls and floor were clean and smooth, as though nothing had touched them since the Catacomb had been made.

And Milius remembered — he had seen this place before, had been inside it, in his dreams, while they were in Parluck’s tree house in the forest. With a thrill of shock he realized what the thing he had seen in that vision must have been — a sealed dragon.

“I don't like this place,” Shakil said, gazing around, looking uncomfortable. “There's something different about this one — none of the others were like this.”

“I know,” Milius said grimly. “Let's go.” He set off along the corridors, his legs navigating the rooms perfectly, for he had already treaded them in his dreams. Shakil was walking in step with Milius, though he did not speak, and Frederick and the two dragons followed silently.

He strode on until they came to the door of the room with the large grooved circle of floor that would, he remembered, descend like a lift. He led Shakil, Frederick, and the dragons onto the platform, and a moment later, it began to move downwards.

“What —?” Shakil gasped.

The lift sped down, lower and lower, the air becoming darker and colder, until, at last, it came to a stop. . . .

And there it was. An enormous shape looming ahead of them, with glints of gold here and there along its massive figure, and a huge spike protruding from its chest. The milky-white eyes widened in surprise as the group advanced towards it, and the green crystals illuminating the room suddenly brightened, throwing the dragon's figure into sharp relief. Shakil gasped.

It was larger than Lumeus, Verdona, Aleia, Vrydius, and Cerea, by a considerable margin. Almost every part of its figure was bound by the chains, including the large, batlike wings spreading from its back. Its fangs were as long as Milius’s arms, made of burnished silver. The dragon seemed to be a living shadow, fashioned from darkness as Lumeus was from stone, and sporting what seemed to be another dragon's skeleton over its own pitch-black visage, like its own crude suit of armour. It was a terrible, yet strangely beautiful sight. And beside it, embedded in marble as Gaiaden was, stood another sword, its hilt encrusted with a darkly glittering shard of obsidian.

“Malidreus,” said Shakil, and Milius, turning, saw him reading from the tablet, upon which more words were being carved. “And the sword . . . Ectomorda.”