SENA

He shoved the gruff, bearded man forward, holding a knife to his throat. Everyone stared at him. Everyone judged him. Everyone thought him a villain. Sena trembled and felt tears stream down his cheeks, and he pushed the knife a hair's width closer.

"Stand back!" he shouted. "Stand back or I slit his throat!"

This battle, like all of this autumn, had been a feverish dream. For so long Sena had languished in Aerhein Tower, chained, starving, mad with his thoughts, the demons flying outside his window to torment him. Since fleeing that place, he had found no solace.

They said the north would be safe, Sena thought, the blade trembling in his hand. They said this would be a home.

But here too people hunted his kind. Here great vultures, each larger than ten demons, slew dragons.

"I can't live like this," Sena whispered, voice shuddering, as they stared at him. "I'm a prince. I'm a prince!" His tears flowed. "I can't live in the wilderness, hiding in caves, hunted, hurt. Look. Look at the blood. Oh Taal . . ."

The dead spread around him. He saw scattered limbs blackened with fire, white bones thrusting from the torn flesh. A severed head lay before him. Globs of flesh and puddles of blood lay everywhere. A dragon claw had disemboweled a roc, and pink entrails spilled across the ground, wet and stinking.

A home? This was a morgue. This was a nightmare.

The burly, bearded man grunted in his grip. Sena held the brute tightly, pushing his blade closer against the skin.

"Be still!" Sena said. "Be silent! I will cut you."

Upon the boulders, Maev leaped up and glared. "Sena! You pathetic little snake. You foul piece of pig shite. I saved your backside from that tower. You hold my father now!" She hopped across a boulder, moving closer. "Drop your knife or I'll smash your head against the canyon wall."

"You will stand back!" Sena said, staring back at her. Tears burned in his eyes, and his legs trembled. He pushed the blade a little deeper, nicking the man's skin, and Maev froze. Blood dripped down Jeid's neck. "Stand back, Maev, or your father dies."

Ahead, a short young woman was holding a severed head. She had been shouting something earlier. Crouched in the forest among the dead, Sena had been unable to make out her words. The woman looked about his age, maybe older, but haggard and small, frail as if after a long illness. Her black hair was cut short, and her mouth was slanted, her chin thrust to the side. She stared at him, tilted her head, and approached slowly.

"Why do you do this?" she said. Her voice was vaguely slurred, perhaps due to her crooked jaw.

Sena glared at her, clutching Jeid. "I am a prince of Eteer! I don't belong here. I can't live in this place. I have to go home." A sob fled his throat. "If I kill a weredragon, my father will forgive me. If I bring him this man's body, his demons will sniff the weredragon curse. They will know I killed one. And my father, the king, will forgive my own curse. He will let me return to my palace. Maybe not as heir, but a prince again." His chest shook and he cursed himself for weeping. "I want to go home. I just want to go home. Oh Taal . . ."

The young woman with the short, black hair stepped closer to him. She raised her emptied palms in a gesture of peace.

"You are . . . the Prince of Eteer?" Her voice was soft, and she tilted her head. "You are Sena Seran, son of Raem."

He nodded, peering around Jeid's shoulder, keeping the knife in place. The bearded man was silent save for his gruff breath.

"And who are you?" Sena demanded. "Another one of this man's daughters who wants to crack my head?"

The young woman shook her head, and a tear streamed down her cheek. "My name is Laira."

Sena snorted. "I had a sister named Laira once. It's a name of Eteer, not this forsaken place. She was exiled years ago and—"

He froze.

Laira stared at him, eyes soft, and moved closer. She reached out her hands. "It's me, Sena," she whispered, tears falling. "It's me. Your sister. I'm here."

Sena lowered his head and closed his eyes. Sobs wracked his body.

My sister . . .

"Oh Taal. Oh righteous god of purity. What have they done to you, sister?" He looked at her through his tears. "We have to go home. Both of us. We have to kill the others so Father forgives us. I want to go home."

Laira smiled tremulously. She stepped across the boulders toward him, reached out, and gently touched his arm.

"We are home, brother. We are home."

A clank sounded below, and Sena realized he had dropped his knife. With a grunt, the bearded man moved aside, and somehow Sena was embracing his sister, crying into her hair. She was so short—the top of her head barely reached his shoulders—and he held her slim body, nearly crushing her.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "Laira, I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

She looked up at him, smiling, tears spiking her lashes. She touched his cheek. "Hello again, dear brother. After so many years, hello again. I love you."

He embraced her tightly and they stood for a long time, holding each other upon the boulder, a sea of blood around them.