Chapter 1

The sun beat down on the worn people of Fjora as they milled about their day. Humans in their mortal towns and villages laboring away as Dragonstone Keep loomed over them like a shadow. Ember didn’t particularly care for the cruel king who lived in that stone prison. But she did find joy in the ease that let her rob the humans silly under his ‘protection’. She laughed at the wanted posters hung in Drakon square. For a man who hated dragons and had them hunted and killed, he sure loved to use their namesake for everything in his territory.

She pulled one of the wanted posters down from the board where it was pinned and admired the handywork on one of her many faces. My, was she stunning. That little number had a been a blonde, plump as a peach and as sensual as a courtesan. Today Ember wore no skin but that of her own as she made her way down to the market center. This was the last time she would be in King Harrow’s territory. People were beginning to catch on to the shifter’s ruse. Where she would go? She didn’t know, but there were only so many places she could go. The Horn of the South was all human lands. Maybe she would shift to look like an Elf and head to the Forrest of Stars, only in her dreams she mused.

A con artist and a thief, no shame in it she told herself as she pushed through people on the cobblestone streets. Drakon square was a nice town built before the keep. Its walled city let the wealthy separate themselves from the poor souls outside the gleaming white walls. Market day was always the most popular as vendors and merchants stepped foot into the city limits.

Ember threw up her black hood—even a shifter must take precautions. It was simple enough to blend in with the crowd as shouts from vendors selling their wares created a sea of people. She spied her first target, a merchant selling rare and exotic jewels and gems. She felt the change like a breeze ruffling through the leaves as green eyes shimmered blue and waves of brown became curls of blonde. She watched from a few feet back as the man indicated which gems were the rarest and the finest. The trick was to swipe something fine enough to buy a horse, but not so rare it would be noticed missing right away.

The crack of bone as it became smaller and more compacted as she shifted into a black cat left her reeling. The pain of shifting forms was the worst part. It was always weird seeing the world from a different body. The only thing about animals she didn’t like was the sense of smell. Drakon may be pretty but it smelled worse than the farms just outside its gates. Cat Ember weaved between busy feet jumping onto the table, purring as she rubbed herself against the vendor. In one swift movement her claws drew blood and she hopped off the table with a shiny turquoise gem.

She heard the shouts of the man as she padded off. Once in a dark corner she shifted back, pocketing the gem in her purse. Where her clothes and belongings went when she shifted, she didn’t know nor care as long as all came back—which it did. As she strode back into the light, she was a little red head with a taste for diamonds and pearls as she approached a jeweler. “Is that a rat,” she screeched pointing below the table.

And indeed, there was. The man quickly looked beneath his stall and bumped his head sending pearls scattering about. Ember stashed several diamonds before her buck teeth snagged the pearls as she scurried off. But not fast enough as a sharp pain in her tail told her someone had stepped on her. She squealed in pain as a man dug his heel deeper into her fleshy tail. She had two options, shift into something bigger and make a break for it before she was caught and done with her…thrifting or let the man take the pearls from her rat mouth.

But the insignia on his robe and sword at his hip told her enough. The dagger titled to the side dripping blood, it was the insignia all mortals in Fjora knew, the mark of King Harrow. And this man was likely a guardsman for Dragonstone. He knew, from that smirk in his eyes as he bent down to pick up the scared little rat, he knew what she was.

Her mind raced as she thought of something anything to shift into, never once daring to touch the true shifter form her magic was meant for. She became a slimy toad who slipped from his hands hopping through the crowd. And then a woman with plain features as she waded through the masses. She had to get out of the city gates. Ember placed the pearls in her bag swiping coin purses as she went. There was no more time for subtlety as she made her way out of the square into the city streets where she shifted into a raven, flapping her wings as hard and as fast as she could. But all that magic was beginning to take its toll and she didn’t have enough strength to bank as an arrow ripped into her wing.

She cried out as feathers became flesh and she began to plummet, a spray of blood following suit. Ember clawed to grab onto anything that would slow her fall. Her fingernails dug into a windowsill before slipping into a circle of awaiting guards. She snapped and hissed. Men laughing and jeering at the girl, but she had just enough magic left to shift into a buzzing bee as they went to grab at her.

It wasn’t much, but it was enough. Enough to get her over the gleaming white wall and enough to let her flap her one good wing just into the tree line of the forest.

Her breaths came in harsh and fast as she sagged beneath the safety of a tree. But it wouldn’t take long for the guards to race outside the gates and storm the forest. They had been waiting for her. There had been too many of them at the ready. She needed to go and fast, but her arm was still dripping blood, a trail any armature guard could easily sniff out. She sighed as she ripped material from her tunic, it was her favorite, and bandaged her right bicep as tight as possible.

Ember was faint as she stood on wobbly legs. Her face paling as she forced herself to stand steady. Too soon, the guards were at the edge of the forest too soon. She could hear their shouts as the order to search the forest was given.

She ran.

Branches cracked beneath her feet as she made a break for it. Brambles and thorns catching at her pants. She couldn’t think straight as the panic began to set in. Left? Right? She couldn’t remember as her feet carried her. She had to make it and she would make it but where the hell was that blasted entrance. Soon she was at a clearing, one path led to a dead end of rocks and boulders leading up to a small cliff. She could climb or…

“Hey! You there, stop.”

She froze. A big burley man in a guard’s uniform approached, sword in hand. She took a step back stumbling over a fallen branch. Ember reached for the dagger hidden beneath her cloak. How badly she wanted to fight as a snarl rippled through her. The ach in her arm screaming louder than a banshee. She cursed beneath her breath. Instead, she thrust out her hand, doing her best to make herself look menacing. “I wouldn’t come closer if I were you,” she said lowering her voice.

The man smirked, “You’re just a shifter, not a witch.”

Ember smiled a wicked smile. “You don’t know anything about shifters, do you? Well,” she started. “Did you know shifters hail from the old dragons?” she took a small step back, shifting her eyes to a clear escape. “That means, all that fire is at my very own fingertips,” she lied.

“You’re bluffing,” he spat. But he looked scared as his eyes darted back and forth and one-foot inched back.

She took a small step forward. “Come closer and we’ll see who’s bluffing.”

He faltered. And she took off.

She knew he wasn’t far behind, but that armor would slow him down just enough as she weaved through trees. So close, she was so close to home as she heard the babbling of the creek to her left. She knew where she was as the stream grew wider, becoming a rushing river. She could see the waterfall and knew she was home free. She hadn’t heard the footsteps of the guard for half a mile now, but still checked behind her. Nothing. She scaled the waterfall, slipping behind half way to the top and into the hidden cave. She let herself finally rest on the wet rock. She was sweaty and exhausted as she tied back her mess of dark hair.

So close. She was so close to home.

Ember stood, keeping her pack of jewels close. Friends they may be, but honorable thieves the lot of them. Thieves Wood is what it was called, the special little city hidden behind the waterfall. Unlike the dwarves, their secret place didn’t dwell within the cave, but rather on the other side. A place with only two entrances, both hidden and both secure. Ember always hated the cave entrance, damp and dark, it sent chills up her spine. But she felt her way through, feeling for the subtle markings to take her through each channel in the cave.

Finally, the light broke and she rushed to it. Happy to see the sunlight again. She pulled back the curtain of ivy vines to her home. Small yet beautiful. Apartment like homes were stacked above shops and kids played in the meadow. Thieves Wood sat at the bottom of what appeared to be a large crater, but the thieves of Fjora had found it and made it a home. Bakers and blacksmiths, tailors and carpenters, it was its own city.

Gruff men nodded as she passed and women eyed her. This was how it was. No one trusted the other, but all lived in harmony. As beautiful as this hidden place is and as welcoming of a haven as it had become, it wasn’t her true home. Her true home she could never return to in the north, Gods Ledge, the tallest lone mountain and home to the dragons. But there were no more dragons. And if any of the shifters escaped, she had no knowledge of them.

So, she was better off here. In the Horn of the South, in the human lands where she could blend in. She probably couldn’t even find her way home now even if she wanted to, but she missed the place that was a haze in her mind, a distant memory she could never fully grasp. But she missed the magic in the air, she could remember her journey south. Ember could still remember how she showed up dirty and hungry to the human lands, and she could remember the way the world no longer sparkled with magic.

A part of her sank with each step down the dirt road between buildings. She tuned out the shouts of people as she walked without a care for those around her. Ember finally made it home. A small room above Mr. Finn’s. Mr. Finn was the oldest thief around, one of the first to find Thieves Wood and call it home. But he was still the sharpest of all of them. Many of the younger thieves would come to him for advice or if they needed help finding buyers for their goods.

The little bell on Mr. Finn’s door dinged as she stepped into his shop. It was full of assorted stolen items on each shelf. Ones he couldn’t bare to part with. But the one she hated the most was the dragon skull in the corner. Beautiful dragons, dead at the hands of humans. Each time she passed it, she had to remind herself that Mr. Finn had found her and raised her as his own. That he wasn’t the one who murdered that dragon, just the one who found it. That not all humans were evil. But it didn’t stop the bile that rose in her throat or the clenched fists. It didn’t stop the rage in her heart. Her mother. Her people, dead at the hands of humans. She was cursed to be part of them. To look like them. And she would always hate them for their hatred.

“Ah, Ember. There you are,” Mr. Finn said shuffling around the corner. His white hair and round glasses spoke his age to the world. He tried to straighten his hunched back that just made a loud crack as he came closer tapping his cane. “Blasted old bones, what did you pocket today?”

Ember laughed, taking him by the arm and leading him to his work table in the back room.

“Thank you dear.”

She gave him a soft smile sitting down from across from him. Her sack was worn at the seams and began to tear when she dumped its contents out onto the worn smooth wood of the table. The light from the windows caught on the crystals as they sparkled. A necklace of jade and one of gold inlaid with rubies were also among her finds. Nothing special or rare except…gingerly she reached beneath her bag. The burlap had covered it, but the silver chain had caught in the sun. It was an onyx ring hanging loosely from a silver chain. Ember held it up, studying it. Her mind hurt staring at it, she couldn’t place it but she felt like she had seen it before.

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” he gasped.

“Neither have I,” she mumbled still trying to place it. In the light she could see markings, but couldn’t make them out. They looked as if they had been carved with ashstone. A type of rock formed by ash, but only from the hottest of fires like a dragon’s breath. Mr. Finn reached out for it but she yanked it back. “I’m sorry,” she blinked, lifelessly handing it over.

He didn’t say anything as he took it, just studied it closely. Ember sat there trying to figure out why she would have done such a thing. She had never greedily hidden her trove from him. Not once. Her mind began racing, her head pounding until she couldn’t take it anymore and stood with such a force the contents on the table rattled.

Mr. Finn eyed her. “Everything alright, dear?”

She snatched the ring from him, pocketing it. “Yes, just a long day. Tomorrow I’ll set out to find a buyer.”

He touched a wrinkled hand to her shoulder, motioning her towards the back staircase. “Go and rest. I’ll find one for you.”

She turned back to him, but he was already shuffling off into the shadows. It’s not that she didn’t trust him, but he didn’t need a secret place in the forest for no reason. Ember paused once more before dragging her feet up the old staircase. It felt like a journey of its own to make it up all thirty steps. Her room was small, but it was cozy. It wasn’t much, but it had become a type of home. One small bed lined the paneled wall with an old dresser stuffed up against another. She never kept many keepsakes, just the money she got from them—which was hidden beneath a worn floorboard.

She had been saving up. Where she would go? No clue, but she couldn’t be here anymore. Under the rule of the king who waged war on the dragons. The dwarves might accept her, they had been known to trade with the humans, but the thought of living in the mountains under rock and stone…she shivered. And she’d be damned if she found herself in the bogs of the Forest of Lost Souls. Or she could buy passage on a ship and sail far away from Fjora soil for good. Explore the islands and the continent of Rivana.

More than anything though, she wanted the head of the king who murdered her mother. Sometimes she fantasized about how she’d return the favor. Part of her wanted revenge on the young fire mage who burned the body, but how could she? She remembered the look on his face as he stumbled forward, pushed by the young king. How he looked back, fear and sorrow coating his sapphire gaze as he did what he was told. Closing his eyes before the smoke began to rise, the smell of burned flesh coating the air as her mother became nothing but a pile of ash. She had watched every horrible gut-wrenching second from the tree line beneath the cover of a bush. A wolf pup’s heartbreaking cry escaping from her mouth. Scared and alone. She remembered sleeping in that pile of ash weeping unable to change for two days before hunters came by and at last, she heeded her mother’s last words and ran for the Horn of the South.

Maybe she would stay a little longer. Just to watch this kingdom burn to ash. The dragon inside shifted just beneath her skin. She could feel hands aching to become claws, but she pushed it back. Not yet. She was supposed to shift into her dragon at sixteen, that would have been three almost four years ago. It was a rite of passage for young dragon shifters. Not all shifters could take the mighty form. Shifters who muddled with humans mostly, but her linage was pure. But today still was not the day. She was saving it. Saving it for the King who took everything away from her with one flick of his wrist and the blast of a dragon spear.