Kestra dreamt of flapping wings and fire.

It was one of those clear and sharp as broken glass dreams. One of the dreams that she had learnt to listen to over these long, long five years.

In the dream three thousand wyverns and gryphons took to the skies. On the back of a third of them were warriors. At the head was a familiar face.

Kestra fell back into her body—still in the dream, but at last in the dream as herself—and stared up from the burnt forest as they flew away.

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She woke with a start. If Rose really had found the gryphons, then she had to know to come here. To evacuate them. Kestra scrambled out of the makeshift sleeping bed and raced through the camp to find Nala.

"Lit a signal fire," she said, breathless and hurried.

"Why?" She asked. "No one can get here in time."

"Rose," she said, almost shaking the chancellor. "Rose might be close enough."

"She's one warrior and better served somewhere else, alive."  Nala shook her head. "It's pointless, Kestra."

"What if she found the wyverns and the gryphons? She could carry us out of here."

"The chance is impossibly low," Nala said gently. "As far as we know, Rose is dead."

"I dreamt that she found them," Kestra said firmly. Nala took a step back from shock.

"You mean you...you dreamt it." The chancellor repeated.

"Yes. And I dreamt before that she had to be the one to go..."

"Like dreams, dreams?"

"Of course, dreams, dreams."

"Light the signal fire, then, Kestrel. Light away. But don't tell anyone about the dream. Let's not get them false hope."

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So, this is it, Kestra thought blearily to herself on the dawn of the next day. The signal fire was unanswered. Her dream had been just that-a dream.

No one is coming to save us. This is the last stand of the valkyries. I will be their last Keeper Queen.

Millenia. Millenia had passed. Belle and Sarai had begun their race millennia ago. Warriors had fought to defend this land, this land that was Kestra's heart and home, the rugged and beautiful mountains that only a valkyrie could ever love for millennia.

They had faced down witches. They had faced down the elves. For millennia a great army and great cities of truth and learning and art had flourished.

The cities were burnt. The army had been slaughtered. Only this great and infinitely small flickering of hope remained. That too, would go out today or tomorrow, on an unnamed field before Sarai's unfreezing river and a burnt forest that had once housed them in that first, legendary battle.

Kestra Isidore, daughter of the Dragon, she who's name was Kestrel, she who her mother had named after the stars, was the last Keeper Queen. The last bastion of truth and learning and art.

She would not go down without a fight. Because although she was born to rule the peaceful, the scholars and the artists...her mother was the Dragon. Kestra Verena Isidore would fight to her last breath.

"I'm sorry, Beth," she said softly as the healer walked up to her. "I failed you. I promised you that what we fought for was worth it. Your sister died in vain and it was my fault."

"No," Beth said fiercely. "Don't ever think that. It was worth it. Dying here...it is worth it. Let it never be said that we cowered."  The healer gripped her shoulders. "We fight to the end; do you understand me? We fight for the ones that fell, for the ones who they hurt. My sister, my queen. Your mother. We fight. Because they can take away it all-the ones we love, our homes, our lives and our kingdoms-but they can't take away our strength. Our will to fight. Only we can take those away. Keep fighting, Kestra. Keep hoping. They don't win until we stop doing that."

"Oh Beth, when did you become so wise?" Kestra smiled. "I'll be proud to fight and die with you."

"You will," Beth replied. "And I'll be proud to die by the side of the last Keeper Queen."

A war horn howled through the world. They were here. The last stand of the valkyries had begun.

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"Today we fight for our honour, our dignity." Kestra declared to the waiting army. "We fight because they took away everything. Our mothers, our sisters, our daughters. Our friends and our homes. Our kingdom and our cities."

"We fight because they only win when we stop. We fight for the millennia that our warriors protected this queendom. This may be the last stand of the valkyries. But Miras will never truly die so long as someone remembers what we once were. So long as someone keeps fighting, the valkyries will never fall."

"We were a people that honoured truth above all else. A people of the arts and of learning. We are a people that will never break. And I am proud to stand beside the last remnants of the valkyrie army, to fight for our people and our land. I am proud to fight and die beside every one of you.

"I am your last Keeper Queen. You are the last warriors of Miras. And we will not surrender."

The war horn blasted again. The Kallian army emerged from the destroyed forest. At their head was the Dragon, wreathed in the darkest blue of the ocean.

Mother and daughter faced each other from across the field.