CIRCE

xii

The wind is the only relief as they soar through the parching desert sky. They had left promptly that next noon after the gala, by foot through the mountains and then by dragon as they reached the bottomless Okia Ravine, a gaping score through the land that separated Orende from Selenia. Desert dragons, these are, mighty beasts of tan and brown scales freckled like sand. Lonan sits behind Princess Kahle atop a dragon affectionately named 'Beetle', and behind Lonan sits Tannier, his arms wrapped securely around her waist and a blanched hue to his cheeks.

Lonan's joints ache in the heat. Though the wind provides her momentary soothe as it gusts by, it's not enough to keep a lightness from her head and makes it difficult to breathe, like cobwebs in her throat and a fog in mind. Her blood has always run hot as a fire mage, and though it's a blessing in cold weather, it's agony in hot weather, particular with her autoimmune goeteitis. Her body is too sensitive to the heat, and stuck upon a dragon, all Lonan can do is close her eyes and bite through her pain.

Tannier knows something is wrong as his hold on her becomes gentler. He lets her lean back against him and takes one of her hands, entwining them together. Though that does nothing to alleviate her torment, it does provide her with comfort, even if small.

"We've been traveling for the better part of a day," Tannier says. "When do we land?"

"Soon," Princess Kahle promises.

She glances back at Lonan. She can tell something is wrong as well, her brows furrowed in worry.

The Sun-Dried Desert is a lifeless expansive of sand and sun, pale dunes rolling beneath waxen skies. Lonan spots nothing below, nothing but the wind toying with the sand. There are no little creatures that burrow and play, no structures built by ardean hands, not even natural carvings in the land. It's a featureless stretch of pallid yellow. It's bewildering. Isn't Selenia supposed to be a full and thriving nation?

Yet, as they reach the western regions of Selenia, their party begins to circle around. Closer and closer to the ground they fly, until they're only a few steps above the sand, gliding forward. Lonan squints. Ahead, there is a break in the sand. A shadowy pit that cuts down beneath the sand, hidden away from aerial eyes.

A nation beneath the desert.

They slide through the opening, just big enough for a dragon, and are consumed by the shadows. The air is coarse with plumes of sand, flaxen clouds in a bruised, purplish light. Lonan tugs up the collar of her shirt around her mouth and squeezes her eyes closed as the sand plumes prickle her face, tiny speckles that pinch as they fly through, following the decline further into the shadows.

The decline steepens. Shadows and sand flutter past, trembling beneath the beat of dragon wings, swirling indigo and navy. Far below comes the speckle of a warm, golden light. The feathery drift of sunlight. The leafy shape of treetops takes slow form as they near it. A forest beneath the desert.

The sunlight surges as they break from the shadows and the decline becomes a near-drop, giving away to a vast palm forest. They glide above lush, broad-leaf treetops that tower above pale sand and blanched pebbles and expansive shrubbery, beneath sunlight that seeps through a tarp far above. It's an expansive ravine, hidden beneath the sand by a cover the Selenians put up, carved by a wide, shallow river of crystalline water that meanders calmly by.

Part of the ravine branches off across the river, cradling a city made from foot-worn paths and buildings of reddish clay, faded palm wood, and brownish sandstone. It's bustling with civilians that mingle and meander through neighborhoods in the outskirts of town and markets nearer the center. They follow the central road through town, and as the shadow of their dragons fly over, there are a few who glance up to wave at them as they pass.