She resembled a living tree, with eyes of dark wood, a long mane of rich, golden brown leaves sweeping down her back, and great wings like enormous banana leaves. Her talons seemed to be spires of sharpened twigs, and her hide was dappled with soft green patches here and there amongst the expanse of gold. She surveyed the Knights and Frederick, Cole, and Hestia through her bubble for a moment, and they all gazed back at her in awe; then her dark brown eyes swiveled onto the dragons standing behind them, who were all staring back at her with the same blank, expressionless gaze as she was wearing. The dragon did not move; it seemed she couldn't.

“She's beautiful,” Ariana sighed, and Hestia nodded in agreement, her rosy lips parted slightly as she peered up at the dragon.

But Milius shook his head. “I don't understand, there are five dragons? And five swords?”

His light grey eyes had found the ornate, silver blade sticking out of the marble block again. It was identical to each of the swords clutched in their hands, but with different carvings along the hilt, and a large, octagonal topaz where Palpatunde’s amethyst was embedded.

“Five . . . or six,” Sirius said.

“What do you —?” Milius began, nonplussed, but Shakil had evidently understood. With a look of dawning wonder, he raised the blank stone tablet.

“What if . . . what if, when we find your piece of the tablet, it leads us to another Catacomb, and another dragon, and another —”

“— and another sword." Milius finished the sentence for him. Shakil nodded vigorously, but Milius shook his head again. “But, wait, this doesn't make any sense!” he said abruptly. “Why would there be another sword and dragon — possibly two of each — and no one knew about them? Why would the ancient Knights go so far to keep them hidden?”

“And why did they hide them in the first place?” Hestia, who now looked uneasy, asked. “Or . . . what if they didn't just hide them? What if they — sealed them away?”

“What do you mean?” Milius asked.

“Well, look. It's trapped in a giant bubble, and it doesn't even seem able to move, otherwise it would have tried to escape already, wouldn't it? What if something went wrong and they had to lock her away for her . . . for someone's own good?”

There was a deeply uncomfortable silence. They turned to stare again at the dragon, who stared right back, unblinking, unmoving.

“I suppose we could just ask her,” Milius snorted. “She seems real talkative, doesn't she?” He looked around and saw, to his astonishment, that Shakil was smiling.

“Well, why don't we?” he said.

Everyone looked at him.

“I don't know about you, Shakil, but the rest of us don't really speak hiss and growl!” Sirius barked.

“That's not what I meant!” Shakil protested. “Look.” He pulled his burnished brass scales from his own bag and held it out. “One of the scales abilities is that they can swap certain qualities that two beings possess, like strength, speed, healing. How about . . . the ability to speak?”

“Could that work?” Milius asked, as everyone else looked awed.

“Well . . . it's . . . I don't know if it would be recommended for use with humans and magical creatures,” he said hastily. “So there are some risks. But I think it'll work. We'll need a volunteer, though.”

“I'll do it,” Frederick said promptly.

“Frederick — !”

But Frederick waved Cole’s incredulous gasp away. “I know there are risks, but I've made my decision. How do I do it?” he said to Shakil.

“Well, first . . .” He turned to the treelike dragon. “Cerea? That — that's your name, right?”

The dragon did not respond.

“Well, we just want to ask you a few questions, all right? No need to panic.”

He held the scales aloft, one pan facing the still-grinning Frederick, and the other directed towards the large brown dragon. “Calabria!” he said. The same eerie green flames that Milius had seen their first day in the Armoury burst into life upon the pans. A light green aura enveloped Frederick’s body, as well as the brown dragon’s form. Then a moment later it faded. No one moved, no one made a sound.

“Frederick? Are you okay?” Shakil asked fearfully.

Frederick looked at him and opened his mouth, but what issued were not words of comfort, but a loud, rasping, snarling noise.

“Does that mean it worked?” Cole asked, watching him apprehensively.

“I think it does!” Shakil said. He turned quickly to face the dragon. “Erm — Cerea? Is that your name?”

“Yes.” The dragon’s mouth did not move, but the voice issued, seemingly, from the bubble itself, echoing around the room, female, but flat and expressionless. “Upon my creation, I was dubbed Cerea, the Dragon of Earth.”

“Of Earth?” Ariana asked.

“Yes,” Cerea repeated.

“By who?” asked Sirius.

“Your predecessors, the founding Dragonknights.”

“How long have you been here? How did you get here in the first place?” Milius asked.

“I have been here for thousands of years," Cerea said. "I . . . I was sealed away.”

“Sealed away by who?” Milius asked quickly. “The earlier Dragonknights? Why?”

“No, not by them. I cannot recall what had happened, but I am certain my masters are not to be blamed.”

“And you don't remember anything?” Sirius asked.

“I remember my brothers, Vrydius, Lumeus, and my sisters, Aleia, Verdona.”

“That's funny, because they don't seem to remember you at all,” Milius said.

“I do not know why they cannot remember me, but I assure you, I remember them.”

“We were led here, by a mirror that we found in pieces in the Catacombs of Vrydius and Verdona,” Ariana told her. “Do you know what the Catacombs are?”

“Yes,” said Cerea. “Our places of origin. Back when we had first been created, our Catacombs would be filled with worshippers of the Dragonknights. People seeking refuge.”

“Refuge from what?” Cole asked.

Cerea turned her dark eyes upon him and gazed at him for a moment, almost appraisingly. Then she said, in that same flat tone, “A terrible war. A dark ruler. He had enslaved our lands, were killing our people. The villagers had no chance to fight him on their own; he was too powerful, his forces too vast, too vicious. The remaining village elders took matters into their own hands, and in secret, constructed the Catacombs, and the dragons that lived within them, the swords that they were bound to. Verdona and Vulcatrix; Vrydius and Stormpyre; Lumeus and Palpatunde; Aleia and Oceannerva; myself and Gaiaden, and —” She broke off very abruptly, and for the first time, Milius saw confusion in her eyes.

“What?” he urged her. “Is it the sixth dragon?”

She did not seem to understand. “Sixth. . .?”

“She doesn't know about a sixth,” Ariana said, sounding crestfallen.

“No . . . she doesn't remember,” Sirius said. “It's like them and her.” Sirius gestured around at the overhead dragons. “Something — someone — wiped their memories. But . . . why?”

“I thought this would have helped to clear things up, but I'm more confused than ever,” Milius said, exasperated, rubbing his forehead.

“The flames are getting lower!” Shakil said warningly, and indeed, the dancing flames were flickering more furiously now, almost completely gone.

“Wait — Cerea, do you remember where Lumeus’s Catacomb is?” Milius asked urgently.

“In the heart of a small town known as Verdian Square,” she replied promptly.

Milius’s heart lifted. He looked around excitedly, but Shakil looked downcast. “What?” Milius said.

“Veridian Square was destroyed, Milius,” Hestia said sadly. “It's been that way for a long, long time.”

“But then —”

“Cerea,” Ariana interrupted quickly, as the flames began to sputter, “how do we free you from the bubble?”

“I . . . I'm not sure. The sword —” But her voice broke off again, her flat words replaced a loud growling noise. The flames had been extinguished.

Frederick gasped. “Agh!" he retched, bent double. "That felt so weird! But also, strangely, pretty cool!” He stood and beamed around at them.

“Great,” Milius said bitterly. “How do we free her now? She doesn't even know herse — Cole? What are you doing?”

Cole had broken away from the group and was walking, almost absently, towards the topaz-hilted blade protruding from the marble block. Sirius made to stop him, but Shakil flung out an arm and caught him in the chest. Milius suddenly became aware that all the dragons, including Cerea, were staring at Cole, who had stopped before the blade. He hesitated for a moment, then he seized the hilt, and pulled — the sword came free smoothly and easily, and Cole lost his balance. He righted himself just before he fell and, without warning, the topaz ignited, burning a bright, deep gold. Palpatunde’s amethyst began to glow as well, as did Stormpyre’s emerald, Vulcatrix’s ruby, and Oceannerva’s sapphire.

Something began to creep from Cole’s fingertips, spreading all the way down his body, and a moment later, to general astonishment, Cole was left wearing the same silvery Dragonknight armour as Milius and the others, with twinkling topaz plating. Before anyone could express their bewilderment, there was a loud cracking noise, and everyone looked up.

Enormous cracks were spreading along Cerea’s bubble, and seconds later, it shattered like glass. Huge shards rained down upon them; several people screamed and yelled in panic, but the shards simply bounced harmlessly off of them, then burst, like regular bubbles. The great brown dragon reared, and behind them, so did the original four. Streams of sapphire water, crimson flames, emerald wind, and violet electricity streaked into the air, and from the brown dragon's mouth erupted a massive plume of dust.

The streams crossed in midair and formed a spiral of glittering, multicolored dust, which sprinkled down upon them. Then the moment had passed, the dragons had settled, and everyone was staring around again, thunderstruck.

“But — what?” Milius spluttered. “How did you —?”

“I don't know!” Cole said wildly.

“Okay, stop! Stop!” Milius shouted. “Let's just — pause for a moment. What is going on?”

“I think he reactivated the sword,” Shakil said, “and that must have broken the seal somehow.”

“But why is he — you know —”

“He's been Knighted,” Ariana said, awed. “It's the only explanation. Think about it: the sword has been dormant for thousands of years. Whoever its first Knight was has long been dead. It must have been yearning for a new wielder.”

“And it chose him?” Milius said in disbelief.

Before anyone could respond, however, Cerea collapsed, landing upon the polished floor with a wall-shaking crash.

“What happened?” gasped Shakil.

“She's been severely weakened,” Ariana said, rushing over to her. “A thousand years of captivity — would take a toll on anyone. We need to bring her to the Elders, they might know what to do for her.”

“You two go,” Milius said, pointing at Sirius and Ariana. “We're going to Veridian Square, maybe find some clue as to what happened to the Catacomb.”

“Good luck,” Sirius said.

They looked around for an exit, and found a vast tunnel in the room beyond, leading upwards. Cerea, supported by a massive cloud created by Vrydius, went soaring up first, and the rest of the dragons followed. Verdona and Vrydius, who was looking quite strained, set off northwards, towards the castle, while Lumeus and Aleia, bearing Milius, Shakil, and Frederick took off to the west.