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  Then a dragon’s cries erupt from underground.

  I serve the gods of wing and flame,

  I live and die in their names,

  Those who oppose will meet their ends,

  May their blood be spilled as gods intend.

  —The Dragon Knights’ Prayer

  CHAPTER THREE

  THE BRAZILIAN PESADELO’S ROARS HADN’T BEEN THIS SHARP, THIS high-pitched, and they hadn’t lasted this long. Back then, I’d frozen for just a second, then ran as her fireballs hunted me.

  It’s been more than a second, and I still can’t move. My bones are weighed down with every unearthly note in the dragon’s song of fury. How the hell did a dragon get inside the shop?

  Customers scramble to the elevator doors. No one can Transport in or out of a Waxbyrne shop. Madame Waxbyrne, one of the few Gold Wands alive, has enchanted all of her shops to prevent anyone from breaking and entering. The guards are frantically pushing people back from the doors. The tallest guard slips past the chaos, beckoning the doors to open with a push of the button, but nothing happens. No matter how many times he tries, the doors won’t budge.

  BOOM!

  The floor explodes behind me.

  I’m launched a few feet ahead, screaming along with everyone else. This time, I land on my backpack, which cushions me from the fall. My knee is still throbbing. Wands keep darting across the room with ungodly speed. They smash into glass vases and bounce off the walls and even get stuck in the metal chandeliers. The piercing screams never end. As I’m sitting up, there’s a sizzling noise farther ahead, as if something were hurtling flames through the tiled floor.

  When I peer back, time stands still. “Oh my God …”

  There’s a huge, circular hole in the floor. The shelves that had once been standing in corridor four have now disappeared underground. The edges have been charred to a crisp, blackened and shrouded in graying smoke. Clouds of dust and debris are covering most of the area, but I still spot dozens of witches and wizards dangling off the edges, holding on for dear life. They’re about to sink right into the hole, where the dragon cries out once more.

  I scan the hole in a craze. There’s no sign of either Mom or Samira.

  “Samira! Samira, help me!” someone yells from the right side of the hole.

  Todd.

  He’s driving his nails deep into the floor, clawing his way out, but he’s slipping away. “Samira, please!” Todd’s voice is the loudest of them all. “Help me!”

  I bolt after him.

  I crash into people running in the opposite direction, some knocking into me so hard that I almost lose my balance, but I’m flying through the terrified mass of customers. The graying smoke and dust cloud blinds me as I get closer to Todd. I swat at it and hold my breath, never stopping. When I find Todd, I drop to my knees and grab his wrists.

  “I got you!” I start pulling him up. He’s using all of his strength to lift himself closer to me.

  BOOM!

  Another quake strikes. It’s stronger, longer than the first one.

  I’m launched forward again. I slam right into Todd’s chest.

  We plummet into the hole together.

  Screams rip out of me as I flail. Todd’s screams are even louder. We slice through the clouds of smoke like bullets made of flesh and fear. I can’t see how long I have left until I smash into concrete. Everything is gray and black and certain death.

  Water breaks my fall.

  I sink into a chilly, almost dead current. My screams die out as I inhale and swallow what seems to be water, as if I’m sinking into an underground lake. I can’t see a damn thing in this cold darkness. I need to get back to the surface, where the ceiling lamps are shining bright. I’m kicking up as fast as I can. My chest is seconds away from bursting, but I push onward. When I break for air, I cough out every bit of water I swallowed, spinning around in search of Todd.

  He’s floating on his back two feet away, his eyes pressed shut.

  “No …” I swim toward him at full speed. When I grab his shoulders, he doesn’t even stir. At least he’s still breathing. “Todd? Can you hear me?” I try shaking him, but he’s out cold.

  The nearest stretch of shore is six feet away. I hug Todd close, then swim toward the caramel-colored soil. Everything burns and begs me to stop. With deep, continuous breaths, I push Todd up onto the ground and settle beside him.

  There are fir trees in front of me. The lake is more like a pit filled with water, twisting in a serpentine shape at the center of the room. Farther ahead, the fir trees lean side by side, doing their best to block the muddy, brown, cavernous walls behind them. One wall has a giant logo in black script. It reads LEVEL FIVE. This is the shop’s lowest level.

  And it’s a dragon habitat.

  Why the hell is there a habitat inside a wand shop? Habitats are supposed to be located far away from populated areas. What kind of illegal crap is Madame Waxbyrne pulling here?

  The dragon roars again behind me.

  I’m stiff as a board, cradling Todd with shallow breaths. If this dragon is Un-Bonded, it’s going to strike once it sees me. Especially since it’s already pissed off.

  Remember what Papi taught you. No sudden movements. Stay down until the dragon tries to attack. They won’t hurt you unless they think you’ll hurt them.

  I turn my head little by little.

  I spot the scarlet horns first. Four on the left side. Four on the right. The two smallest horns protrude directly above the dragon’s forehead. The rest jut out farther back. I swallow hard as the dragon stomps forward on its hind legs. Its scales are the color of molten gold, as are those spindly wings. And right at the center of its chest is a small, heart-shaped crystal.

  Holy crap. This is a British Fire Drake. It has a crystal heart. It’s not a real heart that beats and pumps blood, but it does make this Fire Drake different from its brethren—it can grant wishes to its rider. Fire Drakes, wish-granting or otherwise, are only supposed to be found in England, and yet here I am looking at one in Florida, hiding in the lowest level of a wand shop.

  There’s a guy standing before the dragon. He’s about five foot eleven or so, with cropped black hair and a matching leather trench coat. His gloves are black leather, too. There’s a large silver scale sewn onto the back of his coat. The same silver scale the Sire has for skin.

  Oh. My. God. I’m stuck here with a Dragon Knight.

  What do I do, what do I do, what do I do …

  The Fire Drake opens its gigantic mouth, revealing a small spark creeping past its throat. The spark grows bigger and bigger until it’s a fireball the size of a boulder.

  The Dragon Knight raises his fist at the Fire Drake. He throws something at its chest.

  A golden glow bursts to life upon impact, and the Fire Drake gulps down the fireball. It falls onto its side as the glow spreads all over its body. With an earth-shattering thud, the Fire Drake slams onto the ground, encased within the glow as if it’s a shield. The dragon tries to writhe its way free, but it’s no good. It stays down, moving slower and roaring louder.

  That’s not a shield. It’s a Paralysis Charm.

  For that spell to work on any dragon, this Dragon Knight has to be a Gold Wand: the only wizards capable of slaying dragons. He pulls out a bright golden orb from his coat’s pocket. A smoky wisp glows from within the orb. He throws the orb at the Fire Drake’s chest.

  With a softer roar than before, the Fire Drake lies as still as a corpse. It’s still breathing, but it’s like the dragon’s been hit with a second, and far stronger, Paralysis Charm.

  The Dragon Knight isn’t carrying a wand. Gold Wand or not, he shouldn’t be able to channel his magic without one—or be able to contain spells inside objects. And he’s attacking a dragon. He’s not revering it or setting it loose like the Sire’s henchmen are known to do.

  My heart hammers as I ponder how to save both Todd and the Fire Drake.

  This Dragon Knight is taller than I am. He’s probably tra
ined to fight everything under the sun. What if I can knock him out? I’d have to get closer. Even if I had a billion stones lying at my feet, my aim sucks so hard I’d end up tossing them in vain. If he’s here to kill that Fire Drake, maybe I can get it to fight alongside me? Can we take this Dragon Knight down together?

  Save the dragon, save us all.

  When the Fire Drake stops roaring, the Dragon Knight pulls out a dagger white as snow. The blade isn’t steel. It’s … a claw. Or, I should say, claw bone. It’s about the length of a police officer’s baton but much, much thicker. The sharpened tip curves upward like a hook. The Dragon Knight walks straight for the Fire Drake’s chest.

  He’s not here to kill the dragon. He’s going to steal its crystal heart.

  I jump to my feet. “Stop!”

  The Dragon Knight freezes. Then he slowly turns around.

  I slap both hands to my mouth. His black hair is shorter now. His brown eyes have dark, heavy bags underneath. His skin is duller, too, and he’s not smiling anymore. It’s him, though. This is the boy who spoke to those kids at IBF headquarters in Japan about compassion. The boy who vanished after his dragon steed was killed two years ago.

  Takeshi Endo, my forever favorite, is a Dragon Knight.

  I drop my hands as I step forward, hoping for a different face, different eyes, and a different reason to feel like the universe has cracked into bits. “Takeshi? Is that really you?”

  He says, “Unless you want to die, stay where you are. This isn’t your business.”

  That’s his voice. Low enough to make him sound older than seventeen, but soft enough to make anyone feel like they can trust him. I’m too dumbfounded to speak. Takeshi is a Regular. Whatever magic he’s using, it doesn’t belong to him, and he’s ordering me to let him hurt a dragon. This is the same boy whose dragon steed was murdered by a Gold Wand. Now he’s acting like dragons are disposable. And he’s wearing the Dragon Knight uniform.

  Takeshi walks up to the Fire Drake, raising his claw dagger in the air.

  I run.

  My clothes are sticking to me. My throbbing knee is killing me with every step. I still pump my arms and soar around the lake. I race toward the boy I never thought I’d stand against.

  Takeshi lowers the dagger.

  I tackle him before he finds flesh.

  “Ugh!” Takeshi crash-lands beneath me. He loses his grip on the dagger. It rolls a good seven feet away, just shy of splashing into the water.

  Before Takeshi can push me off, I lunge at the dagger as fast as I can. The stupid thing is heavier than it looks. I try to pick it up with one hand, but it clangs back down.

  Takeshi seizes it in a flash. “You don’t know what you’re doing! Get back!” The kindness in his voice is long gone. Now there’s only a cold, foreign slice of rage.

  The Fire Drake roars the loudest yet.

  Takeshi and I face the dragon together. The Fire Drake shimmers three times brighter. It’s trembling, too, as if it’s going to rip itself to shreds. The spell. The Fire Drake’s writhing its way free of its hold. And it’s not actually trembling. It’s trying to spread its wings.

  “Take cover!” I yell at Takeshi, but he’s marching forward again, right to where the Fire Drake can kill him in seconds. “Takeshi, stop! You can’t do this!”

  The Fire Drake’s wings fold out into the air, cracking the spell apart.

  Golden shards shoot all over the place. I shield myself with both arms as the Fire Drake stomps the floor repeatedly. A few shards graze my skin. They leave tiny cuts that sting, but there’s barely any blood. When the shower of shards ends, I find another fireball queued up in the dragon’s mouth. It’s aimed in Takeshi’s direction. Which also happens to be my direction.

  I snatch Takeshi’s wrist. “Come on!”

  To my surprise, he breaks into a run with me. I hear the blast of flames biting at my ankles. Heavy drops of sweat roll off my skin from the scorching heat. I push onward, dragging Takeshi like he’s my shadow, then catapult into the lake. Takeshi dives in right beside me. We look up as a steady stream of fire darts above us. I hold what little breath I have left, but the fire doesn’t stop. The Fire Drake aims its stream all over the lake’s surface.

  Everything within me is about to burst. I need air now.

  One more minute … Just wait one more minute, and it’ll end …

  The fire stops.

  I kick my way to the surface, gasping in the open again. Just as I’m about to sink back down, Takeshi rushes out of the water at full speed.

  “Takeshi, no!”

  My cry for him is useless. He’s pulling himself onto shore where his claw dagger landed, while the dragon queues up a brand-new fireball.

  Something rattles to the far, far left of the chamber.

  Footsteps echo across the whole floor, as well as angry shouts. Dozens of security guards are dashing into the room, their Silver wands out and ready.

  Takeshi has about five seconds before the Fire Drake burns him to raw bone. He grips his dagger tightly, whipping out another gold orb, and looks right at me. “The world you know is a lie,” he says. “The world that’s coming, that’s the one you should believe in.”

  He smashes his orb on the floor. A gust of ashy-white wind swirls around him.

  He’s gone.

  The fireball misses him by a split second. It scorches his footprints and the mark his dagger left on the ground, but still the Fire Drake keeps venting its frustrations. We both stare at the spot where Takeshi once stood, but only one of us has more questions than rage. The Fire Drake stops firing once the guards approach. It slowly retreats out of respect, not with the frenzied fear of an Un-Bonded dragon, and watches them pull me out of the lake. It doesn’t try to attack me again as I lie on the shore. The real threat has disappeared.

  “Are you okay, miss?” one of the guards asks.

  There’s so much I want to tell the guard, so much I want to ask him back.

  Todd is stirring back to consciousness, swatting at the air and mouthing something I can’t understand. He doesn’t know Takeshi Endo is no longer missing—or that I’ve lost my shot at competing in the Blazewrath World Cup.

  Tears mix with the lake water soaking my cheeks. I’m wiping myself clean and holding in the swear words desperate to shoot out. It hadn’t been the Sire who killed my dream. It hadn’t been Mom or Todd. It had been the boy who was once all things good and right in this world.

  “Miss? Can you hear me?” the guard says. “Let me help you up.”

  I sniffle, standing up on my own. “We have to get my cousin to the hospital.…”

  Since its debut in 1965, the Blazewrath World Cup has taken the world by storm. Perry Jo Smith, British football legend and Silver Wand, founded the International Blazewrath Federation and began the tradition of handpicking which nations would compete every two years. Smith had been keen on including non-rider athletes in the tournament as well, which led to the creation of the Runner position. “Anyone can be a Runner,” Smith once said. “You are not less because you do not have a dragon steed. We hope to encourage youth from all walks of life to try out for their country’s team. It will be an honor for us to witness you thrive among marvels.”

  —Excerpt from Harleen Khurana’s A History of Blazewrath Around the World

  CHAPTER FOUR

  THIS ISN’T HOW I PLANNED ON GETTING FAMOUS.

  For the past hour, all sorts of people have been trying to get a picture of me. Paparazzi. Newspaper photographers. Random Floridians who saw me when Waxbyrne’s surveillance footage interrupted their programming. The Regular police had to cordon off the lot. Since the incident on Level Five involved a dragon and magic, this isn’t their jurisdiction per se, but I’m grateful they’re here. It’s a straight-up circus, and I’m the main event.

  The ambulance doors are shut. I’m sitting on a stretcher with Samira, who’s flipping through her phone in search of Sire and Takeshi updates. Her parents are on their way. Mom’s outside tryi
ng to get in touch with Papi, while Todd’s been rushed off to the hospital.

  I press my knuckles to my sore, stinging eyes. I stopped crying after leaving the shop, but that itchy redness still plagues me. The throbbing in my knee has faded to a dull ache. At least my clothes, hair, and backpack aren’t wet anymore. The police allowed a Waxbyrne guard to use the Insta-Dry Charm on me. My minor cuts have been magically healed, too.

  They won’t let me go home, though. An agent from the International Bureau of Magical Matters is coming to interrogate me. The faster I cooperate, the faster I can leave.

  “Unbelievable,” Samira mutters. “Some people are talking about how hot Takeshi is. I mean, he is hot, but come on, world. The guy just tried to steal a crystal heart. He’s all dressed up like a Dragon Knight now, and y’all are focused on his abs? I can’t.”

  “Why would he even need the heart? It only grants wishes to the dragon’s rider.”

  Samira puts down the phone, her gaze narrowed and alert. “Did you see those golden orbs Takeshi had? Not only were spells trapped inside them, but I think the orbs themselves were spells, too. Gold Wand magic in physical form, similar to Madame Waxbyrne’s wands. Nobody in the magical community can trap magic like that.” She grimaces as if she’s about to say something unpleasant. “I think Takeshi needed to bring the crystal heart to a Gold Wand working for the Sire. Maybe they’re strong enough to force the heart to perform magic.”

  It does make sense, I guess, except for one thing.

  “Why have Takeshi steal it? Why couldn’t the Gold Wand get it instead?”

  “Because I think the wish is for Takeshi. I think he wants real proof of Hikaru’s killer.”

  My eyebrows shoot up. Antonio Deluca, the Runner from Team Italy, remains the only murder suspect because he hates Takeshi. He’d also fled Edinburgh hours before Hikaru’s body had been found. Only Gold Wands like Antonio have the magical strength to execute a dragon, but while everyone believes Antonio’s guilty, no one can back it up with proof. The surveillance cameras at Hikaru’s habitat had been torn apart with magic. The guards outside of the habitat had been struck with an irreversible Memory-Erasing Charm. If Samira is right, Takeshi’s going after the one thing that will guarantee Antonio’s imprisonment.