The acrid smell of burnt wood roused Luna Lawson from her uneasy slumber. Her eyes, the color of molten gold, narrowed as she surveyed the charred remains of yet another village. The dragons had struck again, their relentless pursuit of human females leaving a trail of destruction in their wake.

Seven years. Seven years since her father, the king, had been killed. Seven years since her five sisters had been abducted, swallowed by the insatiable hunger of the beastly creatures that could shift between man and monster. She was the last, the sole heir to Sunfield, disguised as a male warrior to evade capture, her heart a raw wound of grief and burning vengeance.

"Enough!" she muttered, gripping the hilt of her sword. The whispers of fear from the surviving villagers were a painful echo of her own past. She was tired of running, tired of hiding. It was time to fight. Time to make them pay.

As the night deepened, the tell-tale roar of dragons echoed through the new, makeshift camp. Black, ominous shapes descended, transforming into human forms as they landed. "Who among you killed our men?" a commanding voice boomed. Luna stepped forward, her hand already on her sword, her disguise about to be shattered. This was her chance. Her weapon.