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Not fight. Not strategize.

But engage in the delicate dance of diplomacy that twists my stomach like I’ve swallowed live eels.

The sunrise paints the snow-covered landscape below in watercolor grays and pinks. Below, the countryside unfolds like a fever dream. Prayer circles spiral outward instead of forming traditional rings, their stones arranged in patterns that hurt my eyes if I stare too long. Weathervanes spin against the wind, twirling in defiant opposition to nature’s currents.

Sterling flies slightly ahead on Tanwen, the green male dragon that’s often his mount. His back is rigid, his eyes fixed on an ice-covered lake we’re passing. “That lake is grieving.”

The words permeate the air, senseless yet somehow chilling.

No one responds.

What do you say to that?

Agnar, who’s flying to my right, stops checking the pack strapped to Nailah, an orange and yellow female dragon, long enough to capture my attention. His eyebrows lift in a silent question.

I give a tiny shrug in response. What can I do?

Agnar forces a laugh. “You sound like Rose. She’s been saying the trees are hungry and the rocks are angry. Thought it was just a child’s fantasy.”

Sterling blinks a few times, like he’s coming up from underwater. “What? Sorry, I was…” He shakes his head. The momentary fog lifts from his eyes, replaced by the sharp intelligence I know so well. “We’re nearing the capital. Remember, we need to appear both respectful and formidable.”

“Yes, because bringing several dragons and a squadron of elite soldiers doesn’t already demand that.’” I run a hand over Ryu’s smooth scales.

Agnar snorts. “Diplomacy, Your Highness. It’s all about the silent threat packaged in pretty words.”

“That’s why I’m terrible at it.” I release a breathy sigh. “I prefer my threats loud and my actions straightforward.”

We crest a small set of hills, and my breath catches in my throat. The heart of Tír Ríoga, a kingdom forged among snowcapped mountains and expansive forests, spreads before us.

“Look there.” Rafe flies up to my left atop Kaida and points toward a massive black stone temple rising from a clearing.

Hundreds of people orbit it, their bodies flowing in unnaturally synchronized patterns. From this height, they’re reminiscent of insects swarming around spilled honey, but there’s something deeply unsettling about the precision of their movements. They rotate and shift in perfect, eerie unison.

“I’ve seen battle formations less precise.” Agnar shakes his head in wonder, his coppery hair rippling in the wind.

As we fly closer, Ryu banks hard to the right, nearly upsetting my balance. The other dragons follow, wings stiffening as they veer away from the temple.

Sterling, who’s lying low against Tanwen’s neck, tenses. “What’s wrong with them?”

“They’re spooked.” I send soothing thoughts and questions to Ryu and the rest of the dragons. None of them have a real answer other than a disturbed feeling about that place. “There’s something down there they don’t like.”

We watch as our entire formation arcs wide around the temple, not a single dragon willing to fly directly overhead. Even the alicorns carrying the small military unit behind us veer around.

“There are more of them.” Rafe points to another temple in the distance, where similar synchronized movements are taking place.

The dragons’ resistance is palpable, their muscles tensed beneath our legs. Ryu actually trembles when I try to guide him back on course, so I immediately relent. I trust his instincts more than my diplomatic timetable.

Ahead lies Emraldae Keep, Tír Ríoga’s capital city. Unlike Aclaris with its rigid stone structures or Tirene with its sprawling, ancient architecture, Emraldae Keep was built in harmony with the landscape. Buildings rise organically from black stone, their surfaces gleaming with inlaid precious metals that contrast with the bright white of the powdery snow-covered ground. In the center stands the Great Keep, a structure that seems to spiral upward like the prayer circles we’ve witnessed on a more massive scale.

“Gods.” I momentarily forget my anxiety. “I forgot how beautiful it is here.”

We begin our descent, the dragons angling toward the enormous courtyard where swirling patterns on black stone gradually solidify into the shape of a giant eye.

I wrinkle my nose. “And creepy.”

Ryu lands with practiced grace despite his formidable size, folding his blue wings neatly against his sides. Around us, our entire diplomatic party follows suit. Four dragons with their riders, plus additional soldiers who dismount from the alicorns. We take up the entire landing area, the dragons crowding nearly half of it by themselves.

We’re an imposing force by any measure. The display is meant to demonstrate both respect, in that we sent our best, and power.