you won't have much say in what happens. Our people have been preparing for years."
Bastian kept in an angry retort. He knew exactly what they were planning. The children, elderly, and a select group of strong adults to protect them would fly away to the west, over the sea, to a fabled land. The rest would stay to fight, allowing them time to flee. Whoever survived would then follow.
What waited on the other side of the sea was a mystery. Most believed it would be preferable to the enemies they faced in the Dragonlands. In preparation, the people of the Meadowlands had been systematically turning their people into Green dragons, including Bastian, who they'd found dead on the beach of the Isle of Repose.
The Red and Yellow dragons had punished the Green for sharing the secret of turning humans into dragons and trapped them inside the Meadowlands for years. Only recently, Tressa had enlisted the Black dragons to free the Green. The Green had helped the Black fight the Red. They had worked as a team, but now the Green were abandoning the Dragonlands to save their own scales. Bastian understood their intentions. At the same time, he was angry they wouldn’t stay to defend their homeland. The other realms wouldn't run. They would fight, to the death if necessary.
Bastian and Connor followed Renny into the building they'd seen last time they were in the Outpost, where the Green kept their sacred texts. It was also where Blythe had shown them the prophetic illustration of their world under attack. Bastian hadn't wanted to believe any of it, but now he stood in the shadow of the coming war.
"Bastian!" Blythe said, a strained smile on her face. "You're back."
"You knew I would be," he grumbled, unhappy that her prediction had come true. When Bastian left the Meadowlands, he had no intention of returning. Unfortunately, prophecy had forced his hand. When blood fell from the sky he had to seek safety for his children in the Meadowlands. He grudgingly admitted the Meadowlands were the only place that was prepared.
"We have begun preparations for the migration west. Tomorrow our first dragons will fly from the beaches on the sea. We will send them in sorties throughout the day. If they find danger in the land across the sea, they will return, warning the rest of us to hold back. It is better than sending everyone at once into an uncertain place.”
"Does a dragon have enough strength to fly so far?" Connor asked. "Have you ever tested it?"
Blythe looked up at Jakob, who stood across the room sorting through the codices and scrolls. He paused for a moment, then grabbed a cylinder. Jakob pulled off the end cap and gently withdrew a scroll. "No."
"No?" Bastian fought to contain his anger. "You're sending your people across the sea, and you have no idea if they can even make it to the other side?"
Jakob ignored him, rolling the scroll out over the table. "This is an ancient map of the Dragonlands." He pointed to the western edge. "Do you see this?"
Bastian squinted his eyes at the smudge on the edge of the paper. "What of it?"
"We believe it is land," Blythe said. "If that is the case, then our dragons should be able to fly to it."
Bastian threw his arms in the air. "Oh, well then. By all means, let's all fly toward what is probably an ink stain. It has to be better than staying here to face our enemies."
Blythe rested her hand on Bastian's arm. "It is better than dying here. At least we have a chance. The prophecies say—”
"Nothing," Bastian interrupted. "They say absolutely nothing useful. You are gutless. All of you. You're just flying away to your deaths." He sank down in a chair, resting his elbows on the table and his head in his hands.
"Forgive Bastian's frustration,” Connor said. “We hoped you’d know more than this. I echo Bastian’s concerns. I’d like to say I believe that mark is land, but it is impossible to tell. We came here hoping our children could go with yours. How can we be sure we aren't
Bastian kept in an angry retort. He knew exactly what they were planning. The children, elderly, and a select group of strong adults to protect them would fly away to the west, over the sea, to a fabled land. The rest would stay to fight, allowing them time to flee. Whoever survived would then follow.
What waited on the other side of the sea was a mystery. Most believed it would be preferable to the enemies they faced in the Dragonlands. In preparation, the people of the Meadowlands had been systematically turning their people into Green dragons, including Bastian, who they'd found dead on the beach of the Isle of Repose.
The Red and Yellow dragons had punished the Green for sharing the secret of turning humans into dragons and trapped them inside the Meadowlands for years. Only recently, Tressa had enlisted the Black dragons to free the Green. The Green had helped the Black fight the Red. They had worked as a team, but now the Green were abandoning the Dragonlands to save their own scales. Bastian understood their intentions. At the same time, he was angry they wouldn’t stay to defend their homeland. The other realms wouldn't run. They would fight, to the death if necessary.
Bastian and Connor followed Renny into the building they'd seen last time they were in the Outpost, where the Green kept their sacred texts. It was also where Blythe had shown them the prophetic illustration of their world under attack. Bastian hadn't wanted to believe any of it, but now he stood in the shadow of the coming war.
"Bastian!" Blythe said, a strained smile on her face. "You're back."
"You knew I would be," he grumbled, unhappy that her prediction had come true. When Bastian left the Meadowlands, he had no intention of returning. Unfortunately, prophecy had forced his hand. When blood fell from the sky he had to seek safety for his children in the Meadowlands. He grudgingly admitted the Meadowlands were the only place that was prepared.
"We have begun preparations for the migration west. Tomorrow our first dragons will fly from the beaches on the sea. We will send them in sorties throughout the day. If they find danger in the land across the sea, they will return, warning the rest of us to hold back. It is better than sending everyone at once into an uncertain place.”
"Does a dragon have enough strength to fly so far?" Connor asked. "Have you ever tested it?"
Blythe looked up at Jakob, who stood across the room sorting through the codices and scrolls. He paused for a moment, then grabbed a cylinder. Jakob pulled off the end cap and gently withdrew a scroll. "No."
"No?" Bastian fought to contain his anger. "You're sending your people across the sea, and you have no idea if they can even make it to the other side?"
Jakob ignored him, rolling the scroll out over the table. "This is an ancient map of the Dragonlands." He pointed to the western edge. "Do you see this?"
Bastian squinted his eyes at the smudge on the edge of the paper. "What of it?"
"We believe it is land," Blythe said. "If that is the case, then our dragons should be able to fly to it."
Bastian threw his arms in the air. "Oh, well then. By all means, let's all fly toward what is probably an ink stain. It has to be better than staying here to face our enemies."
Blythe rested her hand on Bastian's arm. "It is better than dying here. At least we have a chance. The prophecies say—”
"Nothing," Bastian interrupted. "They say absolutely nothing useful. You are gutless. All of you. You're just flying away to your deaths." He sank down in a chair, resting his elbows on the table and his head in his hands.
"Forgive Bastian's frustration,” Connor said. “We hoped you’d know more than this. I echo Bastian’s concerns. I’d like to say I believe that mark is land, but it is impossible to tell. We came here hoping our children could go with yours. How can we be sure we aren't
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