walls, a girl with tears in her eyes, a lucky finger, and fear that froze her.
Armor clanked, swords hissed, and boots thumped. Orin ran up the wall, his men behind him. They formed ranks upon the battlements, and their scent filled Mori's nostrils: the smell of oil, leather, sweat, and safety. Her brother clasped her shoulder, staring at the flaming birds that rose in the south. He was a tall man, ten years her senior. His hair was brown like hers and his eyes the same gray, but his face was so much harder, his soul so much stronger. His armor was thick and his sword heavy, and Mori clung to him. He was Orin Aeternum, Son of Olasar, Prince of Requiem, and he was the strongest man she knew.
"What are they, Orin?" she whispered.
His men leaned over the parapets, frowning, each burly and bedecked in steel. Their breath plumed and frost covered their beards. They were the finest warriors of Requiem, sent here to guard this southern fort, this border, and her. Their hands clutched the hilts of their swords. Orin stared with them, frown deepening.
"I don't know," he said softly. "But we're going to find out." His voice rose. "Men of Requiem! We fly!"
He tossed back his head, outstretched his arms, and drew his magic, the magic of Requiem's stars. Silver scales flowed across him. Wings unfurled from his back, claws sprang from his fingers, and fangs grew in his mouth. Soon he roared upon the walls, a silver dragon, fifty feet long and blowing fire. His men shifted around him. They too grew wings and scales, and soon fifty dragons took flight, their fire crackling.
Mori took a deep breath and prepared to shift too. She could not become a burly, powerful dragon like these soldiers, but her scales were still hard, her breath hot, her wings fast. Many called her the fastest dragon in Requiem. Yet Orin, flying from the wall, looked over his shoulder and glared.
"Stay here, sister!" he called, wings churning the falling snow. "Go into the hall, bar the door, and do not emerge until I return."
With that, he roared flame and soared, howls ringing in Mori's ears. His fellow dragons flew at his sides, scales glimmering and breath flaming. Mori watched them, clutching her eleventh finger behind her back.
Help them, luck finger, she prayed. In the distance, the phoenixes screeched, moving closer.
She could see the birds clearly now. Their bodies were woven of molten fire, coiling like storms upon the sun. Their beaks were white and blazing, their eyes swirling stars. With every flap, their wings sprayed fire. Their heat crashed against Mori, even from this distance. The forest wept beneath them, melted snow running in rivulets toward the fort Mori stood upon. Ten thousand firebirds flew there, maybe more. The fifty dragons seemed so small before them—specks of dust flying into a furnace.
"Fly back, beasts of fire!" Orin cried to them, voice thundering. His wings fanned their flame. "Turn from our border."
The phoenixes screeched and swooped toward him.
Mori watched in horror, clutching her finger so tightly she thought she might rip it off. The phoenixes reached out claws of white fire. Flames swirled around their wings and their eyes blazed like stars. The firebirds crashed against the dragons, engulfing them with flame.
"Orin!" Mori shouted. She could barely see him, only the fire and smoke… but she heard him. She heard him scream.
What could she do? He'd told her to hide in the fortress, but… they were killing him! She stared, biting her lip so hard she tasted blood. The dragons were howling, kicking, and clawing. She glimpsed their lashing tails, their scales, their maws crying in agony. They tried to fight. Their fangs bit only fire, and their tails only scattered sparks. A few dragons were blowing flames, but that only stoked the phoenix fire.
"Orin, come back!" Mori cried, tears in her eyes. The heat blazed against her, drenching her with sweat. Her gown clung to her body, and her damp hair stuck to her face. She coughed, struggling for breath.
His roars tore at her, cries of pain. Mori wanted to fly to him. She wanted to hide. She could barely breathe, and she knew the phoenixes saw her; their eyes blazed against her. One dragon cried in agony, a sound like tearing flesh. A phoenix claw slashed him, and Requiem's magic left him. Where a dragon had flown, a man now fell, blazing, and thudded dead against the trees. Three more