I took a stumbling step forward.
I knew that voice, but I couldn’t put a face or a name to it. It felt important—all of this did—but the lust fog had turned into something darker, something deeper, and it coated my skin, tugging me down, slowing everything about me.
My footsteps echoed against the stone floor.
No one turned to look at me.
I knew what this was. Given the way everyone was dressed, it could only be one thing.
“This is a funeral,” I whispered.
I tried to turn and leave. I didn’t want to be here anymore.
Instead, I walked forward.
The steps I took were deliberate, measured. But my body felt stiff and tired. I ached all over, and I was having a hard time catching my breath.
It wasn’t long before my eyes burned and my face was wet.
And I didn’t know why.
I was a quarter of the way to the front of the throne room. I didn’t know if it was the tears, the fog, or something wrong with my vision, but I couldn’t make out what waited for me. It was blurred and lost in a haze. I didn’t think it could be anything good.
I passed another row of mourners only to be stopped by a hand on my shoulder. I looked over to see a dragon made of stars watching me. No one seemed concerned that such a creature existed amongst them. His starlight pulsed low, creating shadows that crawled along their faces. He twinkled and he sparkled, and I felt sick to my stomach at the sight of him.
He said, “Hey, hi. Hello, Sam of Wilds. Did you know that
when an apprentice becomes a full-fledged wizard, their name changes? It’s a title, an honorific. It’s meant to show the progression of a wizard’s magic. You are Sam of Wilds. You must become Sam of Dragons. And I’m sorry to say that all of you will not survive until the end. There will be loss, Sam. And it will burn like nothing has ever burned before. You must remember to keep in the light, even when the dark begins to curl around your feet.”
Then he turned and bowed his head.
I moved on.
A choir began to sing. Their song was an aching one, burning bittersweet in my heart. I couldn’t make out the words, but it didn’t matter. I knew the tone of what it was.
The front of the throne room came into sharper focus.
The thrones had been removed. By whom, I didn’t know. It was a rarity when it happened. Usually only for funerals. And there were only funerals in the throne room when someone important had died.
I saw my parents first. They stood side by side, heads bowed. My mother’s shoulders shook. My father reached up and wiped his eyes.
“Mom? Dad?”
They didn’t look up.
A hornless unicorn stood next to them and a half-giant next to him. The half-giant held the unicorn’s head to his chest, running his hand through the mane.
“Gary,” I said. “Tiggy.”
Two wizards. Morgan and Randall.
A King. A Prince.
Anthony and Justin.
A fierce black dragon, his head through an open doorway that led to a garden.
“Kevin,” I said. “Guys, what’s going—”