ead like

d herself in her hut. The wells ran dry. Whispers of the Heir sw

w she cou

t before the sun crested the hills. Her grandmother pressed a silver pendant into her hand-a

destination was the ruined city of Lythenor, where the fir

s, a band of sky raiders who rode the backs of giant hawks. She evaded them only by

ers dark and glassy. As she slept, a figure appro

shard," the

dagger drawn.

am Thalen, Guardian of the Sk

ystal

, breath held. The first

thering. And the true st