“Do you see? You and I are bound. I will tease you, cajole you, even pity you. You will hate me and worship me. And in the end, you will do as I bid because we have both been chosen by the Great Dragon.”

The magnificent creature turned its face toward Tallis. Strong ridges outlined its brow and hid small, dark eyes. It wasn’t scaly but layered with what appeared to be endless varieties of fabric, in shades of black, orange, blue, purple, a fiery red—anything a waking eye could behold. The effect was radiant. Every movement rippled across its long torso and forked tail. It bared its teeth in a wide grimace. A lolling tongue appeared just before a burst of flame and a snort of smoke escaped.

Elegant and eternal, the Dragon was so humbling that Tallis hugged the ground in a deep bow. He shuddered. He could no longer look upon the creature that had birthed their race, knowing his eyes would burn to cinders and madness would follow.

The Sun rode the Dragon. A true goddess.

“You know what I say is true and just. Our people are dying.”

He didn’t lift his head. The dream had become the most astonishing nightmare. “We can reverse that?”

“Yes, we can. The Chasm isn’t fixed.”

Chilly air rippled across his back, accompanied by the swish of flapping wings. The Sun traced two fingers beneath his chin, lifting, so that they looked each other in the eye. The Great Dragon was near yet far in that way dreams could warp perspective, yet she still rode upon its back like Boudicca into battle. No mist or light or golden silk swirled between them. He clearly saw the color of her eyes. Amber. The swirling amber of a consuming fire—the fire breathed by the Dragon as it began to fly away.

“I will let you touch me every time we meet,” she said, her voice receding. “One day, I will let you unleash that monstrous temper and take what you want from my body. Take from me. I will be yours completely.”

“Fix the Chasm. How?”

“You kill for me. Whenever I ask. No matter who it is. You’ll behead one Dragon King after another. We will rid our people of those who sow discord and hatred. Only when we achieve unity will we be able to heal what has been bleeding for thousands of years. Our people. I command you just as the Dragon commands me.”

She’d won. Even without the miracle of witnessing their Creator, the tingle up his spine whispered that she would’ve won anyway. She always would.

“I’ll be hated. I’ll have to flee. Leave my family. I’ll never have a home after tonight.”

The Sun blew him a kiss before fading into darkness. “Yes, dear one, but you will always have me.”

CHAPTER

ONE

Kavya’s thoughts were weighted by responsibility, and the ever-pressing knowledge that the Dragon Kings were a people on the edge of extinction. That meant the collection of faithful gathered in a craggy notch in the Pir Panjal foothills of the Himalayas was exceptional. From her secluded place behind an altar made of burnished orange granite, Kavya extended her awareness into the vast crowd.

She was especially heartened to feel so many assembled from the Indranan, one of the Dragon’s sacred Five Clans. Her clan. The telepathic Indranan had been divided for three thousand years of civil war. Northern versus Southern factions. And for reasons every Dragon King knew too well, they were collectively known as the Heartless.

Although physically sluggish from bearing the mantle of her duties, Kavya cleared her consciousness of outside thoughts. She would need the full extent of her limited telepathy for the task awaiting her. Today was special. Intimidatingly so. She would make her first appearance before these hundreds who’d traveled the globe to see her in person.

To see the woman they’d dubbed the Sun.

Kavya waited until exactly noon to ascend the altar’s few makeshift granite steps. This moment was her burden and her joy.

Standing tall, she sucked in a shallow breath. “So many.”

Before her extended a valley, like a deep bowl being held by rocky, jutting fingers. Evergreens were scattered throughout, but few dared set their roots in the valley’s steep walls. Worn canvas tents of varying sizes were packed side by side—countless grains of rice in that mountain bowl, seasoned by smoke from small cooking fires. Despite having grown up in some of India’s most populous cities, Kavya had never witnessed an assembly to rival this, with so many minds and senses working in concert, focused as one.

On her.

A gust of cold air rushed down from the slopes. Whispers—those given voice and those passed from mind to mind—faded to nothing. That late autumn wind blowing through crevices became the only sound.

“So many of you,” she said, with volume enough to be heard. “Welcome. Oh, thank the Dragon. Welcome.”

She worked to steady the pitch and cadence of her voice. She hadn’t dubbed herself the Sun, but that’s what most had come to expect—radiance and incandescent light. Kavya had fostered that image for years, for her own anonymous safety and to promote the growing influence of her cause. People responded to symbols even more readily than to earnest people. People could have agendas; symbols had the power to transcend suspicions born of rational thought.

She needed to become everything to everyone. No sudden movements. No reason for anyone to turn around and walk up the valley pass.

Especially the Indranan.

Her head already throbbed from the effort. After all, she had been born as one of three triplets. She possessed only a third of the Dragon’s gift.

“I’m humbled by the distances you’ve traveled and the seas, mountains, and plains you’ve crossed to join me here. You are the first of a new age. Northern and Southern Indranan together, sharing the same air and the same hopes for a future forged of trust, not continued spite. Some of you come to us from the other four clans. I welcome you and ask for your aid as we of the Indranan work to heal old hurts.”

Even members of Clan Garnis were present. They were known as the Lost, but they weren’t extinct. She could pick out those rare minds as if finding diamonds among dust. They were skittish among the press of so many bodies.

“Our people are dying,” she said bluntly.

Many gasped. Some cried out in quiet despair.

Kavya extended her hands before clasping them together—a woman giving a gift, a woman begging for help. She was both. “Please help me. We must not be the ones to bring about our own extinction. Previous generations turned away from the truth. We will be the last if we follow their example.”

Looking out, she couldn’t identify any particular face. Instead she saw black—the ceremonial robes and saris of the Dragon Kings, each accented with their clan’s color. The Indranan were the exception in that they did not wear a uniform shade of blue. Those from the north of the Indian subcontinent wore the pale turquoise of a high mountain sky. Those from the south wore the deep ultramarine of the ocean coastlines they called home. A trio of Indranan women, roughly eighty years old in middle age, stood nearest to the altar with upturned faces. Two Northern and one Southern.

Holding hands.

Astonishing.

“Each of our Leaderships know that conception has become nearly impossible. Not even the Dragon King Council can deny that we are a dying race—we, who have shaped the civilizations of this world from their infancies. What would each culture, each continent, be without our influence? This has led many, dare I say most of our kind, to believe us better than humans.”

She paused, breathed, recentered. An Indranan could only touch one mind at a time. To mentally project the image of an appealing yet unassuming woman—one who radiated the indescribable shine her followers longed to worship—she individually brushed that impression over every mind in the valley. Over and over again. She used her gift at a speed beyond conscious thought, a skill she’d honed through the years as the number of faithful increased. If she became too impassioned, she lost her trancelike concentration. Yet passion was exactly what she needed to impart.