Fear Doesn't Matter

Part two of Matter Doesn’t Matter. Do NOT steal/edit. My only characters in this with pages are Whalesong, Rocky, and Sparkstriker. Complete. Part 3 now in progress.
==Introduction (Again):==
Hello again, reader. I hope you have found this second scroll; I'm afraid the first one filled up. If you are still reading this story, I am fairly surprised that my depressing narrative has kept you entertained for this long. Unless you're being forced to read this for class or whatever, but I'll just pretend you can't put this down. I mean, everyone should be proud of something, right? 
(Writer: Hmph. Look at her rambling on about herself and not even thanking me. What selfishness, am I right?)
Hey, I see that! Okay, okay, thank you, you annoying cutie. Happy?
(Writer: Well, I . . . I suppose.)
Ignoring my interruptive helper here, I will offer you, reader, a quick recap of the happenings of the first scroll, because I'm that helpful. This will continue right off scroll one. So, basically, I'm staying at what they call Jade Mountain Academy with this very nice SandWing teacher named Sunny. I met those two 'interesting' dragons, Rocky and (bleh) Sparkstriker. Sparkstriker is this haughty NightWing dude with prophetic powers (that he can never brag too much about) who had a creepy prophecy apparently about me. Not scary at all.
I do hope that was assisting. We don't want you to be all confused, don't we? Well, shall we get back to the drama then? Just kidding; pfft, like your answer matters. Sit tight, dear reader, or I will haunt you forever once more.
Hmm, that statement makes me wonder: who do you think is creepier, me or Sparksmiter? (Er, Sparkstriker.) Choose wisely; I will know your answer.
(Writer: Do you hear yourself? . . .)
==Chapter Nine: Confused Excitement==
My mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, one that can never seem to find life-giving liquid no matter how many times it repeats the motion. This dragon, who can evidently glimpse the future, confirmed what I'd been fearing to hope.
Was it really going to happen? Soon? Was somebody going to lift my curse and be successful? It sounded too pure and good to be possible.
I have no idea how long I stayed frozen, staring into infinity while the two boys tried to snap me back into reality. The reality I was imagining was much more beautiful and prosperous than this one. In my other reality, I was genuinely cheerful. I chatted up storms and laughed at any little comment that was made. I was able to eat and drink and feel, savoring every moment that passed by. I danced on the grass, feeling the gentle blades underfoot for the first time, spinning and swaying to a song that was only audible in my head. And, of course, I did it all with Rocky, and it made me happy.
For some reason the word happy always gets associated with him in my mind . . . I need help.
I finally, reluctantly, sank back into the more unfortunate reality when I thought I heard Rocky accidentally call me "Whalegong". (Seriously, what is with these guys and the terrible names? Do they have some kind of pact?) I blinked rapidly, noticing that Rocky's snout was right at my ear, as though he'd screamed into it. Maybe he had; when I get out of it, I get out of it.
"Ah, at last she returns," the ever-old-fashioned Sparkstriker said wryly, massaging his shoulder and neck. "I was beginning to think you'd be wandering forever."
I shot him a tiny sneer. "Do I detect disappointment?"
Striker split his jaws to snap back, but Rocky intervened, standing in between us. "Hey, no fighting. You okay, Whalesong?" He turned to me once again, face holding a caring, hoping look.
Oh, why did he have to give me that look? It made all my normal brain functions go awry and start panicking, willing to do anything to keep that face pinned on me. What did he say again? Ah yes. "Y-yeah, I'm . . . I'm good," I muttered awkwardly. "Just, well, th-this is all so wild, you know?" Nice, Captain Obvious.
Rocky nodded with sympathy, then yawned. It was probably already passed midnight. "Yeah, I get it. Sooo, how did you two get off on a bad roll of the scroll? I mean, aren't you just meeting?"
Me and Striker shared a look that held mutual, hidden annoyance. I tried to speak first, but he beat me to it. "We do not, exactly . . . agree on most matters, I'll put it like that." Oh, sure. Matters.
Rocky frowned lightly, glancing at his clawmate. "What does that mean?" he asked innocently.
It was my turn to interrupt Sparkstriker. "It means, it's still really late, and I'd like to get some sleep right about now, and we can talk tomorrow." My eyes are droopy enough when I'm fully awake; my eyelids were nearly shut with exhaustion. Though, putting my sleepiness aside, I couldn't help feeling ecstatic. All I wanted was a chance at a normal life, and it was so close. The world would finally make some sense (but not much).
Well . . . I guess there was something else I wanted.
"That quirks for me," Rocky said quietly, yawning again. He gave me a melting smile before returning to his bed.
"That's works, you impossible dragon," Sparkstriker hissed irritatedly, then allowed a sneaky grin to grow on his face, eyeing me from the side. "Oh, now you want to get sleep? What about watching—"
I darted to his side and futiley attempted to shut his big mouth, but I still managed to startle him, which thankfully stopped his sentence short. I nearly sank to the floor in relief as his eyebrow shot up but he kept silent. I looked over at Rocky, now lying down on his mossy bed, who seemed to not care about what we were saying and wanted to fall back asleep. He didn't even cast us a questioning look, only a quick shrug. Soon his eyes were closed and his extraordinary snoring resumed.
I crossed my arms and gave Striker a triumphant, toothy smile. "Nice try, Sparksmiter. I'll see you later, if I'm unlucky," I cooed. I got up from my sitting position and strutted out of the cave, purposefully exiting partially through the wall.
I definitely know I heard him snicker, but I wasn't entirely certain when I thought I heard him say something like: "Oh, you have no idea." I didn't let myself be disturbed.
I really was very tired, and was finally able to actually fall asleep when I reached Sunny's cave. I have always been grateful for the long, unconscious hours of sleep.
~
I woke up with snail-like slowness, gradually becoming aware of my surroundings as I moved my head to rest on my chin. The world was blurred at first, then began to slide into focus, foggy colors forming solid shapes. I lifted up my upper half wit my forearms, bending my neck and stretching my wings.
When my vision was normal, I scanned the beach to see if Reef was there yet or not. I nearly had a heart attack when I remembered all that had happened the day before. I've been waking up in that mindset almost every morning since Reef's passing. It never seemed to get less disturbing. Or sad.
I looked around for Sunny, but the only company I had was my partial-reflection in the small mirror she possessed, propped up against the wall in a corner of the room. I gazed at it for a second, pondering how I had any reflection at all.
Although I am, by all means, no vain dragoness, I couldn't help studying my transparent facial features critically. I have always hated looking at my reflection; it felt like staring at the future cause of my own death. However, at that moment, I felt different. On many levels. Apparently one of which I actually somewhat-thought about the concept of beauty.
I didn't often notice dragons for this trait. It had always been that "everyone looks different but the same" to me, so what does real beauty look like? The shape of your eyes, the angle of your horns, the grace of your smile? Or was it all just silly foolishness from frivolous dragons with no lives?
As I looked at myself, I could tell nothing that marks me as 'beautiful'. How could I, with no good idea of what that might be described as? I saw, under closer inspection, that my form gave off a subtle, gleaming sheen of sorts, making me almost, almost glow. But it was mostly cancelled out by my transparency. I also noted that my horns swirled smoothly towards each other above my head, nearly as dark in color as my eyes. My eyes, sloped as ever, held a dreamy gaze, and I finally understood what Reef had meant when he'd once said, "Your eyes are like staring into a mesmerizing, bottomless trench, darling."
My talon subconsciously reached up to touch my face, gently brushing my right cheek. I shamefully caught myself wondering what Rocky thought of how I looked. I shook my head, startled. No, don't be ridiculous. That doesn't matter. There's better things to do right now.
I had barely turned away from the mirror when Sunny walked in, carrying with her a scroll and a smile. She greeted me, "Morning, Whalesong. You slept in for longer than I'd thought you would."
I frowned. "How long—what time is it?" I asked.
"Almost midday," she answered calmly, flashing me a curious look. "Did you not sleep well?"
I bit my lip. Bit of an understatement. "Not really?" I tried.
Sunny gave me a reassuring expression, but behind it I could have sworn I peeked suspicion. I wasn't certain. That's when I remembered what Sparkstriker had declared dramatically the night before. My face lit up almost immediately, which made Sunny curious again. "There's something I need to tell you," I said excitedly.
"Oh boy," Sunny said after I'd finished telling her what happened last night. She rubbed her talons against each other anxiously. "Another prophecy. Tsunami is not going to like this."
I gave her a questioning frown, but she waved a talon dismissively. "Nothing. If whatever he said means that you'll be a regular dragon, then that's awesome!" She once again appeared to want to hug me, but stopped at the pointless idea. "I contacted one of the dragons I'd trust to do this sort of thing first last night—"
"With that?" I inquired, gesturing towards the pretty, blue, star-like crystal that I'd spied her grasping last time I saw her.
Sunny looked surprised by my guess, and her expression itself told me I was correct before she herself could. She nodded. "Yes, it's also animus-enchanted. It's called a dreamvisitor. We use it sparingly to talk to dragons far away while they're sleeping—if it's urgent, mostly. I'm assuming you glimpsed me holding it last night while I was sleeping. Anyways, the dragon I talked to is unable to come here until at least a week or two, unfortunately. I hope you don't mind waiting that long."
I snorted. "I've waited nine years. Trust me, I can wait two weeks. Thank you, again." I smiled at her gratefully.
She smiled back. Quite the sunny character. "You're welcome, Whale. I'm glad to help. So . . . are you going to tell me why you went to that particular cave last night?" she asked mischievously.
I began to back up into the wall behind me, saying laughingly, "Uh, yeah, you know, I have stuff to do, and, um, dragons to haunt and, ah, all that. I'll just, um, see you later, okay? Okay bye!" I leaped through the wall, landing in the hallway. I vaguely heard Sunny chuckle from where she still was in the room, even though I couldn't see her. I shrugged it off, slightly relieved yet amused.
"AAH! Where'd you come from?"
I jumped out of my scales and whipped around, wide-eyed, to discover Rocky standing right there in the tunnel, trying to relax from his scare.
==Chapter Ten: No More Fear==
My throat tightened and I tucked my wings as close as possible to my sides. I managed to choke out, “Hey, Rocky, n-nice to see you.”
I must’ve seemed unfriendly and hermetic to him after all he’s seen me do, but I tried my best to smile naturally. What was a natural smile again?
Rocky shook his head in amusement. “We have got to stop meeting like this,” he joked, emitting a small laugh.
I joined him with a chuckle, though not quite as mirthfully. “Yeah, I guess I’m just that terrifying, huh?”
“Totally,” he said, wearing that smile that always somehow melted my soul. He glanced over his shoulder, almost warily. “I was coming to talk to you about last night . . . And to get a moment away from Sparkstriker, to be honest. He’s been completely insufferable, now that he has a ‘claim on a prophecy’ and what-not.” He spoke the last words quietly.
“Ah.” I rolled my eyes. For some reason a grin sprouted on my face. “It never took that much in the first place, right?”
I was subtly surprised when Rocky made an unsure face. He slowly said, “Well, I—I suppose, but, he’s not that bad, once you get to know him.”
It was my turn to make a face. “Really? We are talking about Sparkstriker, right?” I gave a weak attempt at joking. My voice came out a bit stiffer than I thought it would be. Why was my throat so tight?
Rocky almost looked uncomfortable, and I suddenly felt guilty for making him feel so. But why was he uncomfortable? "Yep. But, hey, it's a free period, so could we talk somewhere where no students might casually walk by and run into you? Oh, no offense!" His eyes enlarged in embarrassment. He stammered, "I-I'm sorry, that's, not what I—"
"It's okay," I quietly assured him. A little grin threatened to grab the corners of my mouth, thinking he was absurdly adorable. "I li—um, I think, yeah, we should. You've been here longer than I have; do you know where we could talk besides you and Striker's cave?"
Rocky's closed mouth puffed out to hide his laugh. "Yeah, I might know a few places, but fair warning: do not call Sparkstriker by any nickname to his face. I called him Sparky once; he nearly set my tail on fire." He again concealed a laugh.
I snickered at the thought. Though, deep down, the idea of injury coming to the dragon in front of me infuriated me. Silly, yes. Supressable, no. "I'll be sure to remember to call him that, then," I tried to kid. "So, where would you like to go?"
He glanced over my shoulder, then attempted to grab it, quickly realizing I was immaterial. So he settled with whispering "run" and whipping around, leaving me in his imaginary dust, startled and confused.
Well, I was confused until I heard voices chattering from behind me. I instinctively leaped into the closest wall, listening and waiting for the voices to recede. I was kicking myself; if I hadn't hesitated, I wouldn't be stuck in this pitch-black rock waiting for some simple schoolkids to pass by.
After about two minutes, I couldn't hear them anymore, and poked my head out of the wall cautiously. The coast was clear, so I dragged the rest of my body out. The students had been discussing collaboration projects and assignments that made me glad I hadn't needed to go to school. (Although, I suppose Grandpa Reef was my school.)
I crept down the direction that Rocky had run into, whisper-shouting his name. "Rocky? Rocky?"
"Over here!" the familiar voice called back, bringing with it the form of my sweet acquaintance. He came out of a tiny room that appeared to be strictly for extra storage space. I of course based my guess upon the surprising junk stuffed in the back of it.
Rocky grinned impishly, glancing at the randomness strewn everywhere. "I mean, I guess this place could work for right now, bright?" he said, picking up an ancient box that looked like it had suffered the Scorching.
It took all my will not to correct his words. I didn't wish to aggravate him. "Sure, why not. Was there something you wanted to tell me?" I inquired slowly. I was twisting the end of my tail around my talons nervously before I caught myself.
He nodded, carefully setting down the thousand-year-old box. “I wanted to talk to you about what Sparkstriker said. Also, I never really got a chance to personally introduce myself, with all the suddenness of everything.” He smiled toothily and bowed with exaggeration. “Rocky, though you already know that. Eight years and counting, with four wild siblings who will eat you alive. Tall and terribly clumsy.” He looked up at me expectantly.
I returned his bow, trying not to giggle. “Whalesong, though you already know that. Nine years and counting, with only myself for company. Preposterously short and certifiably scary.” I stood normally again, grinning like an idiot before forcibly toning it down.
“You’re really nine?” he asked with amusement. Clearly he was noting that I was more than a head smaller than him.
I huffed in pretend offense, looking down (or up) my snout at him. “My size for my age doesn’t matter, mister. I’m just as good as any other nine-year-old, thank you very much.” I flapped a wing sassily.
Rocky laughed, bringing warmth to my heart. "I never doubted. Anyway, what do you think about . . . Sparkstriker's predictions? I've always thought he'd been sorta silly and braggy about them, but this seems different."
I tilted my head in pensiveness, but it was kind of difficult to concentrate with Rocky staring at me in wait. I found it shockingly easy to talk to Rocky; he was such an open, friendly-seeming dragon that I couldn't help wanting to. Finally, I put together: "Well, honestly, it's a little . . . creepy, to start with. Just two days ago I believed the NightWings had lost their powers, but I've gotten a lot of slap-to-the-face moments recently." I paused, doing my best not to meet his eye. My brain processing would slur if I did so while trying to think. "But, I'm crazy glad that it claims I'll be normal soon, if it's accurate. I'm really just a bit concerned about the 'reaping hearts' thing, whatever that means."
He frowned in what appeared to be deep, slightly-worried thought. He scratched his head. "See, he's told it to me like three-something times already, but I can't seem to keep it in here. Maybe I can persuade him to write it down . . ."
I too wanted to discuss and dissect the prophecy thoroughly, but not at that moment. Not when I finally had a chance to speak to Rocky alone, without any condescending clawmates or nosy teachers. Only, now that I did have an opportunity, I inwardly balked at it. What was I going to say to him? Friendly small talk? Deep revelations? How did mingling with dragons around your age work?
I settled with saying, "Yeah, we'll remind him later. Honestly, I'm not too keen on talking about this right now. Is that okay with you?" I added, fast and questioning.
I was oddly relieved when he nodded and gave me a reassuring smile. "No problemo. I can't even imagine what it's like for you, now or ever, living as you have. Has it all been bad?"
I winced. It wasn't that the inquiry stung, but when I thought of my past, and my family's history, it just . . . hurt. Now reader, I know that many, many dragons have terrible lives or terrible pasts, and I recognize that, however, the majority of you "ordinaries" are not hatched ghosts. Have not desired to be even capable of eating, feeling, loving. Just saying.
Rocky's question made me sift through my dark memories, searching fervently for any one piece of my life that had been good. Maybe when I would sometimes laugh at Grandpa Reef's looney stories? Was there any other time where I was happy for a mere moment? Oh, there was that one day, years ago, when Reef had sat down with me and talked to me for hours just about my mother. He told me who had named her, what her favorite color was, her favorite animal, some of her daily routines and habits, what a rebel she was, how she had no common concept of manners, how old she was when she had me and passed away. Yes, that was my most joyful memory. My mother comforting me from the other side of the universe.
Despite myself, I grinned, just the smallest grin, but one nonetheless. Thanks, Mom. "Most of it, yes, you have no possible idea, but . . . there has been one moment or two in my life that wasn't so bad. Since my great-grandpa died, I haven't had any purpose but wandering aimlessly in an ignorant world. That is, until I tried to hide in the river." Suddenly, I felt so embarrassed, I thought my scales would turn pink like a RainWing's. I averted my gaze to the strange assortment of junk to my side, pretending to be curious.
I half-expected Rocky to laugh at me, but he only looked at me with sympathy and openness. "Well, I'm glad that I was craving salmon when I was," he said heartily. "Seriously? Only one or two? That's it: from this talk forward, I solemnly swear to help my friend Whalesong have a good time while she stays at this school, 'cause two happy moments in a lifetime is not enough." He placed a fist to his chest as he spoke, as though uttering a life-depending oath.
The butterflies in my stomach fluttered wildly when he said 'friend'. Rocky's promise made me feel like I was glowing (oh wait . . . I do glow). I was stupidly surprised by how nice he was to me, especially just after knowing me for naught two days. He gave me hope for the world that Reef had not possessed. I smiled up at him, thankfully with every atom of my face. "Thanks, Rocky. Um . . . can I ask you something?" I asked, unsure.
"Why not?" Rocky said simply. He was clearly unconcerned by being asked an awkward-leading question. "I don't have anywhere better to be. Classes don't count; those are super boring while this is interesting."
I wasn't quite certain what to make of the comparison, but I shrugged it off, setting it aside to ponder about later. "Okay, well, um . . . ugh, I'll just say it: Why are you being so friendly to me? I grew up thinking and being told that dragons hate my kin, and here you are, chatting with me leisurely. Why?"
Rocky looked at his talons. Was that shame? "I've been told I'm a friendly dragon in general, but, to be perfectly honest, I'm worried." He grabbed some kind of instrument I've never seen before that was sitting near him, fiddling with it. The scene reminded me of a dragonet I'd once spied on during my travels, who was playing and messing around with some kind of toy.
My brow cast shallow shadows over my dark eyes as I frowned in confusion. "You are worried? Am I aloud to ask why?" 
Rocky experimentally tugged on of the strings on the instrument and let go, creating a high yet calm echo with the resulting noise. He hurriedly set it back on the floor, glancing around as if the whole school had heard it. I couldn't help but get the vibe that he was trying to change the subject. He shook his head. "It's nothing."
I narrowed my eyes at him, but I wasn't in an interrogating mood. Whatever he was hiding might reveal itself in time. I said, "Well, fine then, I won't ask. But, still, thank you. I never expected to find a . . . friend, while I was wandering. If that's—I mean, if you want to be—" I started tripping over my words uncontrollably. Curse his cute face.
Thank greatness Rocky interrupted me before I could embarrass myself even more. "Of course I want to be!" He grinned goofily, in a way that made me think that happiness was a normal thing. "Have you never had a friend before?" he asked, quietly and curiously.
I shifted my feet uncomfortably, glancing at my right wing. "Unless you count my great-grandpa . . . no. The whole concept isn't exactly easy for me to grasp. Ghosts aren't the most socially apt, I guess."
He barked a laugh. "Don't worry, I'll help you. You've got to be easier to teach than Sparkstriker, right?" 
I wasn't entirely sure, but I think he was joking.
"Um, okay, sure," I said uncertainly. I used my awesome willpower (more like my unbearable, crush-clouded reflexes) to look at Rocky's face instead of any of my body parts. "Am I supposed to, like, tell you secrets, or share opinions, or . . . ?"
Rocky shrugged. "You can say whatever you want, I suppose. I hope you don't mind, but, could I ask you questions about your curse? Please? It's totally okay if you don't want to—"
I gave him a meaningful look. I wasn't really sure what type of meaningful look, or if he even fully registered it, but it felt like the right thing to do. I broke into his sentence by saying, "You can ask, Rocky. I don't mind that much if you're the one asking about it." An incredibly shy, weird emotion flowed through me like a tidal wave, forcing me to duck my head away from him. I immediately hated myself for saying that last part. That was probably the worst thing I could've said to him. How ditzy and stupid am I?
Honestly, I don't even know if Rocky noticed or not; his demeanor stayed the same. "That's . . . flattering?" he offered politely. I both liked and despised the expression he was giving me: like I was some kind of adorable, wounded animal that he wanted to keep and nurture as a pet. "Okay then, question one: What are some specifics on what you can and can't do?"
I raised an eyebrow. "What I can do: move through everything but solid ground, not effect anything physical, move around often unseen if I want to. What I can't do: everything else you can think of."
Except tend to be rather emotionally and mentally unstable. And somehow, thanks to universe cruelty, be capable of falling in love with someone I can never be with as long as I remain a ghost.
Of course, I did NOT list those out loud.
Rocky whistled in a low tone. "Yeesh. And I thought Sparkstriker had a tough life." He shook his head, as if there were gnats flying around it.
That piqued my curiosity—ha, as though it were a difficult feat. "What's wrong with Sparkstriker?" I asked, hoping I wasn't being nosy.
Rocky's spirit deflated visibly, despite however much he tried to hide it. Oh, why couldn't I at least give him a hug? He started, "It's really not my place to repeat, Whalesong. Maybe in time, he'll tell you." 
Why could I not stop smiling? He wasn't even saying something nice! Argh, cursed emotions! "Maybe sometime I'll ask him, then." There was a pause as I was slightly reluctant, then continued nervously, "Just call me Whale. Save a syllable."
Rocky, for some reason, appeared conflicted. "But, Whale isn't a flattering word; y-you're too pretty to have a nickname like that." If any dragon besides a RainWing could blush, I might have sworn he was doing it.
It took every molecule of my strength not to squeal or run away. But there was no suppressing my sheer happiness and the grin that followed it. I fiddled with my talons demurely, still smiling. Did he really just say that to me? "Oh, um, th-thanks," I barely managed to stutter. "Call me what you w-will, but Whale's the easiest."
There was some bustle in the hallway as several rowdy students passed by. Rocky and I clung to the walls as they did so. Well, he clung; I sank. Neither of us moved until the pounding of many rushing talonsteps retreated from our hearing range. We glanced at each other, and I nodded in the assurance that the coast was clear. 
I was strangely reminded of when we'd met. Rocky's face whipping around, freezing just a breath from my snout. Our eyes electrifying the other's, both striking terror and shock and astonishment. Not me or him being able to move for a moment of forever.
I had to shake my head to dislodge the strong memory. 
We both eased off the walls of the cave, Rocky casting wary frowns at the entrance. Aw, where had his smile gone?
"I should probably go hide out somewhere," I reluctantly admitted. Argh, why did a bunch of dragonet scaredy-fish have to mess with my barely-existent social life?
(Oh, by the way, readers, I, Whalesong, have a request for you: Can you PLEASE stop telling your dragonets freaky stories of ghosts? It's highly irritating. Trust me, if you were one, you would know. Thank you. Now, back to my tragic conversation skills.)
"You don't have to," Rocky suggested hopefully. "We can stay here until someone finds me and drags me to my next class. I've asked you questions; it's only fair you ask me some. Anything come to mind?"
Oh, many things came to mind all right. I just chose not to ask them for both our sakes. I cautiously went with the first thing I thought of that sounded appropriate: "When did you start attending this 'school'?"
He pondered this for a moment, glancing at the ceiling (and nearly bumping his head on it while doing so). "A few months, I think. I leave every once-in-a-while to visit my siblings in the Mud Kingdom. This is a great place, you know; most of the teachers are awesome. But classes are still often boring, at least for me. And I'm not much of a reader. Are you?"
I simply deadpanned, then sat on my back legs and held up my ghostly talons for display, staying silent.
Rocky slapped a talon over his eyes in embarrassment, grimacing. "Sorry, wow that was thick, sorry."
I released the smallest of giggles, much contrast to my normal character. "No worries. I actually can read, just not without someone holding or positioning the scroll for me. Gramps taught me at an early age."
He lowered his talon, casting me a look of sweet concern. "Oh, your grandpa. How are you doing with that right now? Do you need to talk about it?" he inquired gently.
No. No, no, no. I never talk about what I feel. How I feel. Rarely had I even done that with Reef; I had only known this dragon . . . could it really have just been two days? Was I actually going to express my inward grief to an acquaintance?
Yes, I answered myself. Because Rocky's not the usual acquaintance: he's Rocky. He's friendly and sweet and vocally clumsy and cares about my feelings, even though I strike terror in children's hearts. Because he views me as a possible companion and I don't want to sabotage any trust he might have with me.
When he'd run into me the second time, in the cave, he'd pled that I don't cry. It was extraordinarily difficult to oblige when I knew someone cared about my emotions who barely met me and wasn't my only living relative. 
I relaxed my shoulders, realizing I had gone completely tense. "I'm . . . well, I'm dealing with it, you know? As best as I can. But, it's still a fresh wound; every day, I wake up thinking I'm back on one of the beaches I grew up on, with Reef somewhere closeby, waiting to give me some kind of educational lecture. And every day, it hurts when I remember where I am, and that the only dragon I've ever known is gone. My—" Why does my voice always crack? "My only friend."
Rocky took a step towards me, sitting just less than a tail's length from me. When he smiled, the world suddenly made sense. "Not only," he pointed out kindly.
With merely that singular statement, he made me possibly happier than I've ever been in my whole life. My throat was so swollen I could not speak for a brief time. And for once, it was not from sadness.
==Chapter Eleven: Reality==
I woke up, panting and sweating, saliva oozing from the corners of my mouth, wide-eyed and alert. I couldn’t take in my surroundings fast enough; couldn’t get rid of my memories fast enough. I realized I was having a panick attack, and forced myself to cool down, however slow the process was.
I blinked rapidly, rubbing the spit off my cheeks and chin with the back of my talon. Vision would not return to me; all that existed was light. It must have been the sun, beating brightly down upon my sleep-riddled eyes. I covered my face with a talon as I waited for my poor eyes to adjust without burning in pain.
The complaints of a needy seagull sounded in my vicinity, relentless, annoying, and comforting. The peaceful whoosh of calm ocean waves reached my ears (which one was ringing). A salty, chill breeze brushed my face, gentle as a caressing talon. Hot, soothing grains of sand soaked up my feet, threatening to wedge themselves in between my scales and never come out. Even with my eyes closed, I knew this place. This was home.
“Whale, my little jelly? Are you okay?”
The voice I knew so well, but had barely heard because of the state I woke up in. The voice, so soft, so warming, so loving, grasped a special, secret place in my heart. Thank goodness she was here when I woke up from that terrible nightmare. If only my sight would clear so I could see her. She helped me know what was false and what was reality. She had been horribly absent in my vivid nightmare.
“M-Mom?” I asked, lowering my talon but still not opening my eyes. Too much light after an eternity of darkness.
She laid a comforting wing on my back. “Another bad dream? Were you a ghost again?” she questioned gently. She understood how harrowing my dreams could be.
When Mom’s wing was placed on my back, I noticed I was shaking like a leaf. My ear had finally stopped ringing, but my eyelids remained shut thanks to the cursed sun. “Mom?” I repeated, voice high. “Are y-you really there?”
She nuzzled my head with her snout affectionately. “Oh, darling, of course I’m here,” she said reassuringly. I felt her talon cup my chin and tilt my head up. “My little jelly, you must have punched yourself again. You have blood smearing your snout!”
I released a low sob. “I’m sorry, Mother, but my dreams . . . You said they would get better, but they’re only getting worse! It’s hard for me to know what actually exists anymore! Please, Mom, make it stop!”
She made a sound that led me to suspect she was crying, then hugged me tightly. “Shh, shh, it’s okay baby, it’s okay. I’m right here. I’ll always be here. Please don’t cry.”
I stopped breathing at her last sentence. My whole body tensed. Those weren’t Mother’s words. But whose were they?
I pushed her away from the hug, backing away. My limbs were shaking even more now. “No, no. Oh, please no, please no. No more! What is this?!”
Mother grabbed my shoulders, claws digging into my scales. I gasped, getting more and more confused by the second. I finally tried parting my eyelids, desperate to see my parent's face. Except, they wouldn't part; my eyelids seemed locked, no matter how hard I willed them to open. Panic settled in me once more. What was happening?!
Mom shook me by the shoulders which she grasped. "Wake up, Whalesong! I will not have you die on me again! Whale, open your eyes! I miss you!"
As soon as I was commanded, my eyes abruptly shot open, revealing the world to me sharply. And I screamed bloody murder because of it.
The creature holding me was not my mother—or rather, not what my mother looked like when she was alive. Before me was a dragon skeleton, with bits of flesh clinging to several bones, still dripping blood. The skull was directly in my face, bare jawbone hanging limply, like it was close to falling off. The empty eye sockets stared at me, making me feel almost as hollow as themselves. It was easily the most terrifying and saddening sight I had ever beheld. I vomited on the spot.
"What's wrong, dear?" it inquired curiously in that same caring voice. "Didn't you want to know what I looked like?"
Then, as I watched, the beautiful blue sea turned a darker red than any sunset could make it so. The sky became a blinding orange, and ashes fell from the heavens like snow, choking me as I inhaled. The sand beneath me started to swallow my legs, trapping them and climbing higher still. I struggled against it, flapping my wings frantically, but it was no use. 
A second skeleton rose from the sand, next to the first one. It appeared to be missing more bones than my mother's, and the bones that did remain looked grayer and thin. It approached me with a casual stride, as though we were old friends and this meeting was totally normal. Its jaw moved with its creaky, male voice as it hissed, "Whale, you made a promise! I taught you better than this! You have fallen in love, just like your mother, and look what it did to her!"
I shrieked and wailed, covering my ears. It was Reef.
"Baby, you've always wanted to know me, right?" said Mother's skeleton. Plugging my ears did nothing. She reached out to me with her left talon. "Then come with me. We can live together, with your father, like you've always wanted!"
"Don't listen to her!" Reef snapped. Blood materialized in his mouth and started to drip out, building more and more like a silent, growing little waterfall. "She's only caused you grief and misery! End your chosen course of action this instant young lady!"
I shook my head back and forth fervently, sobbing and coughing and choking all at once. Tears streamed from my eyes, aiding with the ashes. "STOP!" I shouted pleadingly. "I'M BEGGING YOU, PLEASE STOP! You're both DEAD!"
"I'll always be alive," Mother assured calmly. "In your heart, whenever you need me."
The sand was up to my chest and belly now, my arms and legs completely sucked under. I held my head up as high as it could go, crying as hard as possible. I looked the blurry form of my mother's skeleton in the eye sockets. "N-no. You—you're dead. Leave me alone, you c-corpse! HELP!"
"We can't help you anymore," cooed my great-grandpa. "You disobeyed us, and now you must pay."
The word pay echoed grandly in my ears, sending serpents up my spine. The blood falling from his jaw that stained the sand began to slither towards me slowly, forming collective clots of the red liquid as it closed the distance. I was now stuck all the way up to the base of my neck, with my wings sticking half-out. The blood soon reached my scales, crawling up my neck like slimey beetles. I shut my eyes once again as they climbed up my face and horns, smearing all over. I let out a tortured wail, spending the last of my voice, but blood snuck into my mouth and oozed onto my tongue, so I spit and closed my jaws. 
"Just think, Whale sweetie, we could be a real family!"
"Do what you were told to and you'll survive!"
"I thought you've always wanted happiness!"
"Stay away from him and I might forgive you!"
"Whale, never doubt that I love you!"
"Whale, wake up and see sense!"
"Whalesong!"
"Whalesong!"
"Whale!"
The blood flooded my nostrils and ears, clogging them and entering my system. The sand finally consumed my snout, and the only thing left was the rest of my head. I risked opening my eyes one last time to see the dead bodies of my loved ones hovering over me, blood still flowing from mouths and falling onto me. Then, as I closed them, I was totally eaten by the sand, the world gone as it was before, overcome by blackness.
"I absolutely love you . . ." was the last thing I heard.
~
I bolted upright, my adrenaline racing faster than light. I scanned my surroundings as quickly as dragonly possible, praying that I had not entered another nightmare. A wave of relief swept through me when I took in Sunny's cave, with herself sleeping on her bed, lightly snoring. All was quiet that I could tell.
Gradually, I relaxed, easing back onto the ground where I slept. I was using my night vision to see, with the torches out. So my vision was back to normal. What else? I stretched a wing to the closest wall, for once in my life hoping it would disappear into it. I let my head rest on my arm when it did, dropping my wing and leaving it there. I was back.
Memories of that nightmare haunted my mind, not giving me peace. The burning sky and the scarlet sea; the carnivorous beach and the slithering blood; the skeletons of my dead relatives, one coaxing and one chastising. Everywhere, red, sand, bones, echoing voices never-ending and soul-numbing. 
Worst was my mother, hugging me, caressing me, loving me, telling me that I could have the happiness I've always desired. Talking about Dad. Insisting we could be together like we always should have been. But what most disturbed me, was when she said she loved me. Because I knew it was true: Reef had stated it many, many times, never putting it lightly, every time ranting about how much she cared for me without even knowing me. It was touching and heartbreaking at the same time, so I had often done my best to tune Reef out. I loved and respected him, but it was too much for me to handle.
A single tear escaped my right eye from reminiscing the dream. I love you too, Mom.
All of a sudden, a strange feeling seeped through my scales and scurried up my spine. I froze, already afraid enough. Where was this feeling coming from? Why did it seem like it was coming from behind me?
Because I have the worst luck in the universe.
Hesitantly and worriedly, I lifted my head off the ground and cast a fearful, dreading look over my shoulder.
Sparkstriker was standing in the doorway, simply staring at me without expression. His dark eyes were lifeless. He didn't move the tiniest twitch, only stayed deathly still.
It startled me so much that I shrieked before I could cover my mouth. I jumped up, forcing my wings to quit shivering. It wasn't just that he was here in the middle of the night; something was awfully wrong with him. Something unnaturally wrong.
"S-Sparkstriker?" I squeaked, taking a step back. "What are y-you d-doing?"
As I stepped backward, he stepped forward, keeping the same distance between us, almost in synchronization. Striker's face remained completely, creepily placid. I whimpered. 
At last, he said flatly, "Whalesong, I tried to warn you. I hate to say I told you so, but . . ."
I scowled at him, extremely confused. "Look, it's late, I'm tired, and you're—"
"They agree with me," he continued, letting out a hollow laugh. 
I growled threateningly at him. "Striker, you weird little snake, tell me what's going on! Who's 'they'?"
"Whale," said a calm voice to my back.
I yelped, leaping at the sound. I whipped around and saw Sunny standing behind me, which was impossible; I just saw her on the bed, sleeping!
"He was right all along," she murmured. Something was wrong with her, too. It was even more clear to me than Sparkstriker.
"I can't believe you lied to me, Whalesong," added a new dragon.
I gasped, paralyzed by that voice. No. Not him too. What was going on?
Standing right next to Sparkstriker was Rocky, and unlike the other two, he was displaying emotion: he was angry. It absolutely broke my heart into hundreds of pieces seeing him so furious at me, especially for no apparent reason.
I approached him, ignoring Sunny and Striker as best as I could. Gazing into his fiery eyes, I was not joyful or content like I usually was when I was with him. Instead, my soul sank into a dark abyss of fear from his expression. Still, however, I refused to look away. "Rocky," I tried to soothe, "this isn't you. I don't know wh-what's happening or why you're mad at m-me, but—"
Rocky lifted up his left wing, revealing the apparent source of his rage. 
I stumbled back, wide-eyed and slack-jawed as a fish out of water, gasping for air even though I didn't need it. 
"You couldn't hide it forever, petite girl," Sparkstriker declared triumphantly. 
Under Rocky's wing was a pale blue egg, one that I could somewhat see through. It was small and normal-shaped, with whorls of deep blue and a shade lighter that almost looked brown. I choked on my spit.
In some way, Rocky was able to pick it up, and he held it out to me with a steely glare staining his once-kind face. "You didn't tell me the truth, and I trusted you. Either take your precious egg or leave it behind like you did me," he spat.
The world was collapsing on top of me and crushing me. Nothing made sense. When did I have an egg? What's wrong with my friends and Striker? How could Rocky ever be that angry? I shook my head. "No. Rocky, whatever else it is I did to anger you, I still love you. Stop all this and give me my egg."
"Gladly," he said, and dropped it.
"NO!" I screeched, but it was too late. By the time my talons reached it, the eggshell had splintered, with a tiny, twitching, baby body left to die in the miniature rubble, not fully formed yet. My baby.
I lashed out at Rocky, infuriated that the guy I fell for committed such an act to my unborn daughter. I slashed at his face with my claws, but being a ghost it did no use. He merely smiled grimly at the scene before him.
Alongside my fury, horrible sorrow scratched and tore my heart apart, grief for both my innocent little dragonet and Rocky. I sobbed and wailed as I attacked him, screaming out for the losses I've suffered. No more. Striker was enjoying himself, cackling wickedly by my side as he spectated. 
My talons began to tingle, and I halted my attack to study them. They were fading, first the claws, then my fingers, then my whole talons. Soon my arms and legs. My torso. My tail and wings. My neck. And then my head.
All blurred from my sight as I died the death of a ghost mother, soon to join my baby girl.
And I could still hear Sparkstriker laughing.
~ 
"Rocky . . ." I gasped as I woke up for the third time that night. Another nightmare. Where would it end? When would it end?
I propped myself up with my forearms, blinking away slumber. If only there were a way to determine if I was truly awake or not. That's why I despised sleeping so much: the dreams circulated my head over and over until either the sun rose or someone woke me up. And they seem so real, it was difficult to tell them apart from real life. Sometimes, I even wish certain nightmares were my reality.
I glanced over my shoulder to check that Sunny was sound asleep on her bed.
She was nowhere to be seen. 
I did my best not to lose my cool. Perhaps she had gone in search for a midnight snack? Yes, I'm sure that's what happened.
Unless . . . unless this is another dream.
I looked at myself. I appeared to be normal (well, normal for me). I stretched out my wing again, and like before, it passed through the wall—though the proof was not as comforting as it had been last time. Not so dream-like so far, except for the fact that Sunny was missing from the spot she has always slept in every one of the seven nights I’d spent there.
Don’t freak out, I told myself repeatedly. Ah yes, the one being I could rely on in dire (dream) times: my second-thoughts. This probably isn’t another one, but if it is, just remember that you’ll wake up eventually.
The sub-present vibe I got that this was a dream was reinforced by a true anomaly for me: I felt something, something that was not mental or emotional, but physical. I could not quite identify what was different, but, as far as I could tell, I felt . . . Would normal dragons call this discomfort?
I was stunned, then hopeful, then dreadful as I came to realize this must be a dream. Or, in my case, a soon-to-be nightmare.
I stood up warily, readying myself for anything my wicked subconscious would undoubtedly throw at me. As I stood, the feeling strengthened, enough that it caused everything to blur for a moment and I stumbled a step to the side. I shook my head and blinked rapidly to get rid of the . . . was that dizziness?
(Okay reader, cackle your tiny little mortal heart out! I’m not exactly experienced in the field of physical wrongness, understand?)
(Writer: Sorry, she’s a bit grouchy today. Threats and flying fish. Long story. SHOOT I FELL BEHIND—)
. . . I peeked cautiously out of, feeling like a spy on a mission. And like a spy, I couldn’t get caught, or else, who knows what my mind would conjure?
The mountain was dead. Not a sound reached my perked ears. No living creature revealed itself to my attentive eyes. Despite it being night still—don’t ask how I knew, call it a sixth sense—the school should not feel that utterly empty. No place should, unless it was abandoned.
Which was exactly the aura this place had.
It can’t be my imagination now, I thought wearily. Something’s amiss, and I’ll find out soon enough. 
I gazed pleadingly at the ceiling of the tunnel I found myself in. The familiar arched stone had begun to feel safe in the week of my stay, but as of the moment, it felt like a prison. A dark cage, devoid of souls, waiting for me to make a move that will ensnare me in a devious trap.
I needed an ally. Someone I could try talking to before anything escalated. Someone I trusted and could confess my conflicting situation to.
I’m making this too easy for you, reader, aren’t I?
After a couple days, I’d memorized the way to Rocky and Sparkstriker’s dorm from Sunny’s cave. The two students and I had chatted frequently in the last few days, though I must admit, I always tried to get Striker out of the conversation. I did feel, to an acute degree, guilty about it, but the NightWing often snapped me out of my remorse with some hidden backward comment or subtle boast of his power.
I would have been just nervous, approaching their cave in the late (or early) night, had this not been a dream. Instead, I padded soundlessly to it with terror and hope. Hope that I’d be aloud to speak to a friend. Terror that said friend would either receive or bestow a horrible fate once I arrived there.
When I at last step foot in the doorway (and not hearing even one voice on the way), I was further disturbed by what I beheld with my night vision:
Rocky was sitting upright in his bed, panting lightly, glaring poisonous daggers at his slumbering clawmate. I could practically see smoke coming out of his ears. I’d never once seen his eyes shine with such anger before; it hit me like a meteor, knocking the hope out of me. Most of his body twitched violently. Unless . . . unless he was shaking.
I found myself unable to even blink, I was so astonished and fearful. I wanted so badly to speak with him, but was this a mistake? What if he lashed out at me? Why was he so mad?
Before I could make a decision, Rocky noticed me standing there, stiff as a statue. His expression almost immediately relaxed, like a fire with a bucket of water splashed on it. There was a great amount of relief in his eyes as he stared at me. He sighed deeply. “Oh, Whalesong, it's you. I’m glad you’re here. Can you sit?”
==Chapter Twelve: Everyone’s Afraid of Something==
I stared at him blankly, uncertain of what to do. I lingered in the threshold, awaiting the sinister trap that my dreamscape would mercilessly slam upon me. Surely, Rocky would not be awake at this hour? Surely, he would be more surprised to catch me standing in his doorway, sneaking around at night?
Except, neither were true. Instead, he appeared to be (almost) his normal self; he offered me that same, soul-melting smile that he always did, no matter the meeting. He seemed like the (greatly tired version of) Rocky I’d gotten to know over the last week. Absolutely nothing resembling the Rocky from my previous nightmare. No palpable hatred was emanating from this dragon.
But that did not make me any less terrified.
Rocky tilted his head at me, face etched in concern. I guess I do give off a bit of a ghost-glow, or else he couldn’t have met his eyes with mine in the dark. “Whale? That is you, isn’t it? What’s wrong?”
I lifted a talon as I tried to respond, but I couldn’t find the right words to say. I had to choose carefully. I wanted to ask what was wrong with him, but I had a feeling that would not go down so well. And I was still scared of him, after our last encounter in my subconscious. Very, very scared, but I had to try. 
At last, I managed weakly, “Rocky, I— I know this is a dream. So I’m going to be honest here and say that I’m . . . really afraid. Are y-you . . . mad at me?”
Rocky’s face fell so quickly, dragging my heart with it. I was practically choking on my fear of that moment. This was it, when he would expose his anger towards me and I will be helpless against it.
However, instead of anger, Rocky’s face only remained sad. Or was that pity? Both?
He sighed again and gazed at me with abruptly hopeless eyes. All of a sudden, he looked older than he was, as if the happy, careless dragon I knew him to be were merely a daily façade. His eyes swam with confusion, tinted with slight distress. I sensed it had something to do with the mysterious reason he had been angrily glaring at Sparkstriker. Whatever that reason was, I was not too anxious to figure it out. As long as I could keep Rocky stable, lest this dream cause otherwise.
"Bad dreams too?" he asked sympathetically.
With evidence that this was indeed a figment of my subconscious, I did not care as much about my dignity as I normally would. Which is a dignified way of saying that I let a few tears fall in front of him. The vivid trauma of the whole night had been like an avalanche hovering just above my head, and the second Rocky spoke those three words, it decided to come crashing down on me and my sanity. I was already troubled enough without horrid nightmares haunting me in what is supposed to be a safe haven of unconsciousness. I sniffed quietly and nodded. I rubbed my cheeks dry with the backs of my talons like I was being paid for speed. "Y-yeah. If"—I choked on the lump in my throat—"if you're going to lash out at m-me or something, then just do it fast, please. I want to wake up."
"Hey, it's okay," he assured me gently, only making my tear ducts work harder. He hopped off his bed and approached me, my heart rate rising with each of his steps, even as he sat himself down in front of me. "What are you rambling about? I'm not mad at you, Whale. I never have been. You don't need to worry; this isn't even a dream."
I wasn't sure how to respond. I couldn't trust a thing he said, especially if that thing was "this isn't a dream". But . . . he seemed so purely real, so present, I was beginning to think he was correct. The only fact that kept my belief at bay was the unnatural, physical feeling I'd gotten as I woke up (for the third time). Nope. As much as it pained me to admit, this had to have been a dream.
I chose to play along with him, however. I replied cautiously, "Thanks. I just exited from a nightmare where . . ." I hesitated, recalling certain parts of that dream I preferred not to tell him. I went with a blunt, roundabout version: "Um, you were furious at me for some reason, and you sorta, erm, killed me. Yeah, it's silly, b-but—"
"Not silly," Rocky argued in a caring tone. "I understand. Dreams can mess with you more than dragons recognize. I should know, I just came from one too." The tall MudWing glanced warily at Sparkstriker's calm, sleeping form behind him.
That's when I remembered what happened the last time I'd seen Sparkstriker's "calm, sleeping form". The NightWing could easily be eavesdropping on our personal conversation, listening intently like the snoopy brat he was. He'd find some way to convince Rocky that I was a no-good freak like he'd been trying to do for the past several days. Only now, he'd have more proof, what with me helpfully coming to clearly stalk Rocky in his sleep. GOSH, I did it ONE TIME!
"Could we, um, talk somewhere where . . . nobody can overhear?" I gave Rocky a significant look, jerking my head at his roomate. 
His eyes followed my motion and he nodded silently in comprehension. He whispered, "Where do you want to go?"
I thought for a moment, scanning my memories of the layout of the school that I'd explored so far. The hallway I was in led to a deep, empty cave system that I've visited many times because no one ever ventured down there. It's not that it was dangerous—that I knew of—just that it was so out-of-the-way and pointless that none of the dragons bothered with it. Mighty convenient for a ghost searching for some alone time. "I do know a place, kind of nearby. If you want to go there, that is."
Rocky's face bore the shadow of a grin. "Sure. I need to clear my head anyway. You guide me; I can't see in the dark, but I can see you, as long as you stay close."
Oh, you don’t have to tell me twice.
I led him stealthily down a dark, winding hallway, utilizing my night vision, all the while pondering what I would say to him once we reached our destination. Rocky didn't sound too concerned himself. But then, Rocky never really seemed like the concerned type, so at least that was normal. I wanted to be filled with the relief of knowing that what I'm experiencing is real.
I was just about to announce that we were almost to the place when Rocky asked from behind me, "Can we stop?"
With confusion, I turned around to face him. He was using his fire to give himself some tiny kindle of light every minute or so. When he let out another puff, the flame brought orange visibility to his fearful expression. Deep shadows hauntingly covered his eyes as he frowned. His ears were pressed flat against the back of his head. He almost appeared panicked.
"What's wrong?" I inquired nervously. "The cave is just around the corner."
Rocky shifted uncomfortably in the darkness, jerking his head back and forth. I began to worry even more. Uh-oh. Something's gonna happen.
"Um, well, it's just that—" He avoided my eyes suspiciously. He took a deep breath before continuing. "Aren't we going a bit too far? I think we're good. C'mon, let's go back." He spun around, taking a step away from me and back the direction we'd come.
I impulsively jumped through him (which struck me as a strange ocurrance) and landed in his path, blocking him (as much as a ghost can block someone, that is). It took me a second to be embarrassed that my face was barely a snout's length from his. I fumbled for the words. "What's wrong?" I repeated. "Are you— are you scared?"
Rocky's eyes darted left and right wildly, as if searching for an escape. My night vision allowed me to witness his manically-twitching (shaking?) wings. He suddenly met my gaze; my ghost-glow must have aided that. "I s-suppose there's something I should've told you earlier," he whispered nervously.
"Are you afraid of the dark?" I guessed softly.
"No!" Rocky exclaimed defensively, drawing himself up. I tried and failed not to think, Boys. "It's just that, well . . . I'mclaustrophobicokay?" He cringed at his own words.
I tilted my head at him. "Really? Rocky, why didn't you say something? I wouldn't have dragged you this far down! Why didn't you?"
I wondered if Rocky thought I missed the shameful look in the lightless tunnel. There was a pang of pity in my chest for this distressed dragon. Poor guy. I'd inadvertently exposed my friend to his fear when he was already having a bad night. Why do I always mess things up?
"I . . . don't like to talk about it," he muttered, obviously feeling humiliated. "Let's just go back, okay?"
He walked right past me, not even looking back as he was swallowed by darkness. How he was going to find his way back on his own, without knowing the way, I didn't know.
I admit, I was hurt. Seeing Rocky walk away from me on those terms, all scared and anxious to get back to his room, leaving me without a second thought. He was always kind to me, despite the fact that I am a mythical freak among regular dragons.
Yes, I am a creature that dragons tell tales of horror about to their children: a ghost. They fear me, as some kind of monster that lurks in old houses and haunts innocent dragons, murmuring from behind the walls. Rocky, when he first laid eyes upon me that day in the river, had been afraid of me. I could see it, plain as day in his warm eyes. A monster in real life, that's what he'd seen.
But he'd changed since that moment—that same day, in fact. When he beheld me again, his eyes had not worn fear, but astonishment and curiosity and joy and pity and . . .
And here he was, having given me that terrified look once more, before stranding me alone in the dark.
I had, unknowingly, forced him to reveal a big insecurity in an insecure environment. And in that moment, as I saw Rocky's tail disappear around a corner, I did not feel like a freak, or a ghost. I felt like what dragon culture thought I was. 
I felt like a monster.
(Writer: Wow . . . that is a complicated brain.)
(Don't. Just don't.)
I wanted to sit and stay there forever, staring into oblivion, but alas, I am as stubborn as they come.
"Wait!" I called, louder than I intended. My voice reverberated off the stone, making the atmosphere even more disturbing. I ran to catch up to him, desperate for this memory not to become a scar on either of us. "Rocky, please wait!"
I rounded a corner sharply, ending up with his right wing through my body. Rocky looked startled, but then, he'd already carried that expression before leaving. He noticed his wing in me and pulled it into his side. He let out a puff of flame, lighting up his handsome features. "I-I'm sorry, Whale, I can't stay here. It's— it's too much at once. I have to go."
I gave him a pleading look, having to crane my neck to do so. My tail instinctively tried to twine itself with his, to no avail. Thankfully, he didn't notice. "Rocky," I spoke gently, "I'm sorry. But . . . maybe I can help you."
The MudWing frowned in worry and confusion. He asked uncertainly, "What do you mean?" I noticed his eyes continued to dart all around him, as if doing so would stop the mountain from collapsing on top of him.
I wanted so badly to comfort Rocky in some physical way. The poor dragon seemed about ready to curl up into a ball. "What I mean is, I can try to help you get over your fear," I offered quietly. "That's what friends are for, correct?"
Rocky immediately shook his head. "N-no thanks, I-I think I'm good. Let's head back now."
I once again stepped in his way. "Rocky," I begged, "please, just give me a chance?"
He grimaced. I wished I could brush my wings with his to halt the shivering. "I don't know, Whale. I don't think I can do this." The more scared he sounded, the more guilty I felt. He started hyperventilating.
"It's okay," I assured gingerly. "No walls are moving. See? We're totally fine."
"Easy for you to say," Rocky said, very uncharacteristically. I blinked at him. "You're a ghost. Nothing can crush you."
Your words just did, I thought, losing hope that this night could have any good outcome. I forced myself to shake off that sense of despair. No, the night's not over yet. There's still hope. I just have to figure out how to help him.
The shadow of an idea surfaced in my head. I was no expert on dragon habits or socialism, but I knew a thing or two about fear. I'd always had it lurking in the back of my mind when it came to thinking about how Mother passed away. It had consumed me when I'd met Rocky, plaguing my thought with the possibility of having a daughter and condemning her to the same fate as her maternal line. Rocky's may have been different, but I, of all dragons, understood how raw and awful fear was. This very night proved that even further.
And that's when I realized that the life I live isn't a life . . . it's a nightmare. 
Following my idea, I placed my left talon in Rocky's, as silent and graceful as moonbeams in water. I stretched my neck as tall as it could go, aligning my eyes with his. I poured as much emotion as I could muster into my gaze. Butterflies swarmed wildly in my stomach as we stayed there, so close, and yet so far away. 
"Just focus on me, Rocky," I commanded softly in a voice that disturbingly reminded me of my mother's from earlier. "Don't focus on anything else. I promise, nothing's going to crush you while I'm here."
Rocky did exactly as I instructed; his face was motionless, and his eyes froze on mine. Slowly, I witnessed the panic leave him; his limbs stopped shaking, his breathing eased back to a normal rate, and his whole body relaxed. He did not vocalize any acknowledgment of what I said, because he didn't need to. We were perfectly synced, our hearts and identities exposed to one another and not requiring speech. It was a beautiful, indescribable moment that I wished would last for the rest of time.
Yet the most painful and surprising part, was the part of me that strongly desired to kiss him.
I'd grown up wondering why dragons "kissed", thinking it to be pointless and, frankly, gross. Bleh, why do they do that? I would ponder any time I read a love story scroll or was unfortunate enough to stumble upon a very clingy couple on my recent travels. What is wrong with them? Glad I can't do that.
Now, standing there, locked in our own wonderful world that only fit the two of us, I finally understood. There was no putting into words what it felt like, it was . . . heart-pounding and ground-breaking and palpable and incredible and nauseating and amazing and. . . .
Is this love?
An image of Reef flashed in the background of my head, reminding me of the promise I made to him. A promise that now seemed so distant and insignificant I ignored the guilt of breaking it. Not when it could ruin such a time as that. 
I really, really loved that feeling. My heart was on fire, wanting nothing more than to be with this wonderful dragon before me. For me, everything about that moment caused my wings to want to wrap around him and never let go. Rocky was like medicine I'd discovered for all my lifelong ailments: he made me laugh, he made me hope, and he made me smile. He heals my wounds when everything else just pours salt in them. If I had been given the choice, I would change precisely nothing about him. 
Except, maybe, his feelings for me. 
This is so hard, not knowing what he thinks of me, I worried. What if he just feels sorry for me? What if he thinks I'm scary after all? What if—
Shut up and for once live in the present, said my second-thoughts. Stop acting like a dying chicken and ask him directly.
But, that would be so embarrassing! No!
Your loss.
There must have been a roundabout approach. Though I was afraid, I was ill of waiting in ignorance. I needed to know what he was thinking, even if it cost me that timeless moment between us. 
It still, miraculously, remained unbroken. I felt passion for this dragon as we stared at each other, enraptured by one another's eyes. I couldn't keep it bottled up forever; I had to ask him.
Only, he spoke before I had the chance to open my mouth. Keeping his gaze pinned on mine, Rocky uttered, "Thanks. That . . . helped a lot." He inhaled and exhaled deeply, then tilted his head, just barely. "You know . . . you have beautiful eyes," he whispered distantly.
My lovesick heart couldn't take any more. I lost control of all bodily functions, so you really can't blame me for what I did next.
Quicker than Rocky could react, I stood as tall as possible, moved a step forward, and planted a peck on his cheek. 
Never have I ever wanted to feel someone as when I did that. It was torture, having Rocky so close to me, but not even being able to feel his warmth, with my talon being in his still. We were inches apart, yet we might as well have been in separate galaxies. It almost made me cry, it hurt so much.
I anxiously awaited Rocky's reaction, my wings involuntarily shaking from fear. I shrank down, crouching low but still looking at his face. 
Rocky's eyes were nearly as large as they'd been the day in the river, when we'd met. His mouth hung loose, twitching ever so slightly. He gawked at me like I'd lost my mind. Maybe I had. What was I thinking?
I tried to save it: "I-I'm sorry. I don't know why I did that. Sorry sorry sorry." Well, of course I knew why I did that, but that didn't mean he needed to know.
We remained in those positions for a lengthy amount of time. The longer the tension stretched out, the more nervous I became. I was debating on whether or not I should bolt for it and never show my face in that school again. 
No. Remember what I told myself? No more fear. Stand tall and face him.
It's not like fear matters right now anyway, said Second-Thoughts. You can't exactly take back your act. You're stuck now.
Oh, how reassuring. Thank you, logical part of my brain.
You're welcome.
Just as I was about to apologize again, for the silence was too deafening for me to handle, Rocky decided to talk (after five billion years). My appendages continued to quiver as I was trapped in hanging suspense, dangling above a pool of ravenous sharks with my wings bound. 
I was another second away from shutting my eyes when he surprised me by muttering softly: "Darn it, Sparkstriker was right."
==Chapter Thirteen: A Long Night==
I blinked. Then blinked again. And again. Until all I could respond with was blinking. What . . . what does that . . . What?
I was so confused . . . and relieved . . . and a little angry. Really? THAT'S what he says?
At least he's not mad at me, right?
. . . For now.
Rocky quickly realized I was not going to say something anytime soon, so he spoke instead. Though reluctantly, as though he regretted what he'd said a minute before. "Oh, not that— it's not that I didn't—" He sighed deeply, shaking his head at what seemed like himself. "Gah, I can't even talk to you. I guess what I meant to say was, that was, really nice. And unexpected." He turned his head away bashfully.
I opened my mouth, but hesitated out of fear of what might come out of it. I was more embarrassed than anything else when he said "unexpected". How was I supposed to respond to this? My socially-inapt brain can't function properly under these circumstances!
But after an unfocused time, my senses sort of went numb, so I said at last, "S-sorry. I hope you can forget about it."
Rocky raised his head to face me. His warm, calming, round eyes breached the weak barricade that guarded my heart. And he had no idea. Gaining some confidence, he hesitantly replied, "But, I— the thing is"—He gulped—"I kind of, d-don't exactly, want to."
I inhaled sharply. I stared at him blankly, devoid of all but one circulating thought: He just said that. He just said that. He just said that.
What does that mean?!
I voiced my inquiry without hardly noticing. "What does that mean?"
Rocky was looking scared again, but I got the feeling it was not from claustrophobia. He fiddled with his talons, as if trying to distract himself. He glanced at his lowered talons as he spoke, "It, well, it means that, um. . . ." The MudWing drifted off, waiting until his tongue caught up with his mind. After another few seconds, he confessed at the pace of a turtle, "I think you're really . . . mute? In many ways? I-is that okay?"
My snout wrinkled in perplexity. That had not gone the way I'd expected. "You . . . find me mute?" I echoed uncertainly.
He looked back at me with an identical expression. "What? No, I said cute."
My first reaction was to go "ooooooh" in understanding; my second reaction was to pull back my eyelids in realization and think I was in a dream once again because how in Pyrrhia would he ever say that to me in real life.
Grandpa Reef's voice from the earliest nightmare played in my head in warning:
"Whale, you made a promise! I taught you better than this! You have fallen in love, just like your mother, and look what it did to her!"
"End your chosen course of action this instant young lady!"
"Do what you're told to and you'll survive!"
"Stay away from him and I might forgive you!"
I should turn away right now. Leave Rocky behind, just like he blamed me for in the last dream. Save us both any possible future pain and loss. Be true to my promise to my great-grandfather, and not disrespect and throw away all he's taught me. This was not meant for me. It's written in my destiny not to have love. If Rocky did even remotely like me, that like could potentially morph into something deeper later on, and I'm not aloud to let that happen, let alone support the idea. 
It would be wrong. So wrong. Which is why, I refuse—
I stepped closer to Rocky, raised my snout to his right ear, and in my daring rush, whispered, "I find you adorable."
As I retreated from his head, I saw what I'd expected: a shocked, blank, distant expression. What I did not anticipate, however, was the goofy grin that spread across his dark brown face, like a cloudy sky parting to reveal a bright sun. He got a little dreamy glimmer to his eyes. His right wing lifted up to brush through my left one as he joked in a soft voice, "Is that a good thing or a bad thing if it is concerning my recent panic attack? I hope that was not 'adorable'."
I laughed, partly with relief, partly with his question. I shook my head at him with a great smile on my face. "I think you know what it means. I hope you know what it means."
Rocky wrinkled his snout in pretend pensiveness. "Does it mean that I would make an adorable classroom pet, or . . . ?"
I rolled my eyes at him and withheld a giggle at the thought. I met Rocky's gaze with an abruptly renewed sense of seriousness and warmth. Still smiling, I spoke. "It means that . . . that I . . ." Wow. I wouldn't have thought in a billion years I would ever be stupid enough to be doing this. Voicing my forbidden feelings was a lot harder than I'd once presumed. Gathering up the last remains of my bravery, I continued, "I really . . . like you."
Rocky was already a little flustered with the whole adorable thing, but he became immensely more flustered when those words escaped my mouth. The tone of my words let him know I was definitely not kidding around. That for once, this was not the time for him to throw about his usually friendly jokes. I'd confessed my true feelings to him, exposed my heart hopefully to him in that dark tunnel. I almost felt bad for him as he clearly searched for something appropriate to say for my statement. His jaws parted and sealed repeatedly, thinking of words but suddenly changing his mind before they rolled off his tongue.
Out of everything I've ever imagined, I thought, inwardly smirking with amusement, of dishonorable death, heartbreak, and love, I never considered awkwardness. How . . . ironic?
With a deep inhale, Rocky readied himself, and I knew he finally figured out what to say. I looked on in anticipation, hanging on to every second that passed by. 
When, really, what had I expected from Rocky other than the silliest, singular word: "Woah."
I waited for him to say more, but I soon realized I was waiting in vain. I nearly shook my head in exasperation. Seriously, was that it? All he had to say? Woah?
"What exactly does 'woah' mean?" I inquired warily. It was difficult in a scenario like that, but I tried to remember that the Rocky I know would never hurt me. He was too kind. If he just thought I was cute, and didn't really like me in return, he would let me down gently. That was the Rocky I knew. Not the heartless creature from my dream.
A strange, nervous snorting sound came from him. He flopped his tail into mine and gazed at me in a way I'd yet to see. He stared at me similar to when I'd ordered him to what felt like hours ago, which was only many minutes, except for a new emotion that I didn't dare pin. Oh, why did his face have to be so cute and aesthetically pleasing? It was impossible for me to glance away. I swear Rocky's eyes are some kind of supernatural trap.
And then, the unspeakable: Rocky's talon materialized next to my head, and silently, slowly, brushed my left cheek. It was the most heartwarming, invigorating motion anyone's ever done to me, and I cherished every nanosecond of his claws through the side of my face. A shiver ran through me as he lingered there, like he was trying to cup my snout. The MudWing ducked his head slightly, making our snouts nearly meet, then whispered, "Woah as in, I think I like you back."
Only two words existed in my vocabulary right then: unbelievable and exhilarating. And at that point, a child was the last thing on my mind as I lunged and, as much as I could without slipping through him, wrapped my arms around him in an embrace. The coldest, emptiest embrace possible, with no true grip or warmth from either side, but it was a hug nonetheless. Who cares if I was trying not to fall through him? I was unstoppable.
Rocky was surprised at first, but quickly recovered and—don't ask how I knew without looking, because I don't know the answer myself—reached his arms around my shoulders. I was pretty sure it doesn't count as a hug if you can't physically feel the other, but who cared about logic again?
I wanted to stay that way with him forever, but I knew it would only get awkward and reluctantly backed away from the MudWing. I was smiling uncontrollably, of that I was certain; I was giddy with Rocky's revelation, but could not be fully content with what was meant to be a delightful embrace. I forced myself to dispose of the rotten thought. I was still in a circumstance I never thought I'd be in. That's when the truth of it all sunk in: I just hugged Rocky. I just hugged Rocky!
Rocky grinned down at me. There was no longer any trace of the terror that had wracked him minutes ago. It was nice to see his happy self again. He said, "Thanks. Thanks for helping me. Everyone else I've known has just mocked me for my bad claustrophobia." He shook out his wings.
A subtle frown etched my face as his last sentence reminded me of something. "Speaking of mocking dragons, what did you mean when you said, 'Darn it, Sparkstriker was right'?"
Rocky winced lightly. "It's, well, complicated. He's been going on about . . . uh . . . weird stuff he 'has foreseen' ever since the day before I met you. Things that sounded preposterous and random and, frankly, stupid, until they started coming true. Like when I bet you in the river—"
"You mean met?" I corrected, trying not to laugh. I knew he got annoyed whenever anyone informed him of the words he'd spoken wrong.
This time, he just ignored me, which somehow made it even funnier. "—that was the first thing he'd told me about, I think. I won't go through all the scenarios he's predicted about you, but I will say that he seems pretty obsessed with you. I'm not sure why or in what way, but it's strange. I said darn it just 'cause I don't like it when he turns out to be right."
Now that's very strange. I thought, wondering why in Pyrrhia my friend's creepy roommate was secretly stalking my possible futures. That new knowledge sent chills up my spine. Why would he be "obsessed" with me? We hardly even know each other! I knew Sparkstriker was weird, but I didn't think he was that weird. Well . . . nevermind, maybe I did. But in any case, he deserved it.
I must have looked as puzzled as I felt, because Rocky interrupted my pondering by saying: "Don't worry about him right now. I'll try talking some more sense into him. Again." Rocky sighed. "He'll be bouncing off the walls with questions and predictions in the morning after all this, you can count on that."
"Hold up." The more he spoke, the more confused I became. I was nearly bouncing off the walls with questions. "You said again, as in you've been trying for a while? What will he be asking you about? Does that mean he—" My voice cut off abruptly as the thought occurred. "He knew everything that was going to happen tonight? That is happening?"
That elicited another wince from Rocky. "Um, well, I was— I thought that you might have picked up on that when I said that he was right." His deep voice was slow and cautious, like I was a bomb and if he said the wrong word I was going to explode.
Hot rage boiled in my bones. I felt betrayed, but that didn't make sense. The NightWing had never really been on my side, even before we'd met. Sure, he had issued that cryptic prophecy that was supposedly about me, but was it possible he had made it all up? No; I still remembered how raw and otherworldly Sparkstriker's voice had been, how his whole body had seemed to glow with an invisible power as he had spoken. That prophecy might have been a little helpful, but snooping on me and Rocky's personal lives? Nuh-uh. Not cool.
There must have been a reason why Sparkstriker held such contempt for me. I was going to find out whether he wanted me to or not.
"That's . . . frustrating," I managed through gritted teeth.
Rocky eyed me warily. "Yeah, I know. Sorry about him. He can be pretty annoying, but, I still can't help feeling bad for him."
I thought my curiosity would finally come in handy for once. "Why?" I asked quietly.
His eyes lingered on the tunnel wall for a few seconds, then they trekked back to mine. A thin layer of guilt coated them. "Usually I wouldn't say anything, since I promised I wouldn't, but I think this makes us even for the spying. You see Whale, before Striker came here, he lived with his parents in the rainforest where most of the other NightWings live now. But he was abused his whole life by his parents—mostly his father. He said they split up when he was four, and he went back and forth, though he tried to stay with his mom more often. She eventually sent him off to this place. She told him it was because he needed a good education. Spark says it was because she couldn't stand to see his pathetic face anymore."
I sat there, stunned, appalled, staring at the wall ahead of me. I would have never . . . Poor guy. No wonder he's all messed up. I've always wanted to know my parents, but I would rather have none than have terrible ones. For the most part. 
My stray thoughts went to my father. He was a good dragon. That's what Reef said Mother said. He was not aggressive, rude, or anything like Sparkstriker's. At least I can go on with that knowledge.
"Oh," I whispered distantly. I, too, felt somewhat guilty. "I had no idea."
Rocky nodded sympathetically. "We once asked each other what our worst fears were. I said losing my sibs. He said his dad."
I glanced down at my talons. Maybe I shouldn’t have been so hard on him. Yes, he was extremely irritating, boastful, and sneaky, but from the sound of it, he’d never known any better. I still didn’t trust him—I doubted I ever would—but the new pity I held for the NightWing made me think twice.
Rocky brushed my face again with his talon as he asked me gently, “What’s yours?”
Being distracted with my thoughts, I blinked myself back to reality and said, “What was that?”
He repeated the question, but quieter and with less confidence. “What’s your worst fear? While we’re getting things out there.”
Oh, blast. (I’m just going to pretend I actually did think “blast” and not something else. This is a student’s scroll, after all.) What am I supposed to say? A lie? I certainly can’t tell him the truth. But will he hate me if I lie to him?
I suppose I’m not very good at hiding my feelings, for he read them plain on my face. “It’s okay if you don’t want to,” Rocky said. “No worries. I got a little personal there. My fault.”
I gave him a smile full of thanks and relief. I didn’t have anything to say.
After a bit of comfortable silence between us, I gasped almost soundlessly as he whispered, “Whalesong, I . . . I know there’s more to your curse than you’re letting on. Some things just don’t add up. So why don’t you tell me? I want you to understand that I’m your friend, and I would never make fun of you, or do anything mean to you. I swear.”
I did everything I could to keep tears from welling up. His tone was so caring, but he had no idea what he was asking for. There was no way I was going to inform him of how we bore daughters, or how all of my maternal line had died. I had barely managed speaking of it to Sunny, but to Rocky? No. He’d insist on staying away from me, I just knew it. There was no way I was going to allow that to happen. Besides, I was, admittedly, embarrassed by it as well.
I made an odd huffing noise before saying, “Rocky, you’re”—I choked on the growing lump in my throat—“you’re so kind to me, but, I’m sorry, I can’t tell you. Maybe later there will be a time and a place, but not now. Not tonight. I can’t.” The last part was a mere inaudible whisper. I shut my eyes for a second, wanting to get myself together. Crying was not a healthy hobby, especially around Rocky. “Please don’t ask again.”
“It’s okay, I’m sorry, I won’t,” he assured, his voice like stroking cotton. Then, he added with a small laugh, “Hey, I thought you were supposed to be comforting me, not the other way around.”
I couldn't help the miniature smile that tugged at my mouth. Always Rocky trying to lighten the mood. So many thoughts circulated in my brain, including ones that observed how I didn't deserve him. Or rather, how he didn't deserve me.
"I find that events tend to turn tail quite quickly, when you least expect it," I muttered, opening my eyes. 
A flicker of amusement crossed his face. "Is that wisdom from petite girl I hear?" he joked.
I rolled my eyes and released a low groan. "You know I hate that nickname."
Rocky chuckled. "Oh, I know. Why do you think Sparkstriker uses it so much?" He grinned mischievously.
I pretended to ponder the rhetorical question. "Oh, it's clearly because he respects me," I said sarcastically.
Rocky's mirthful spirit faded a bit. His gaze got a certain steel to it. "Look, we'll figure out the reason for why he doesn't like you. It can't just be nothing; I've known him for months now, and that isn't like him. Just don't let it bother you."
"Oh, it's not him I'm worried about," I said flatly.
Rocky opened his mouth, but before he could ask the question I just knew he was going to ask, I faked a yawn. "Ugh, it's still the middle of the night. It might even be close to morning. We should be heading back now." It wasn't really a suggestion, but I glanced at him anyways as I stood up and turned around.
He nodded in distant agreement and also got to all fours, ready to follow me back to the rooms.
"Lead the way, you walking glowworm."
I was concerned a couple times on the route back that I'd taken a wrong tunnel, but we thankfully returned to Rocky's cave without trouble. There had hardly been any words exchanged on the trip; we were both suddenly exhausted and didn't want to wake anyone up. 
I felt like I could buckle from tiredness as I walked my friend into his room. Sparkstriker was still sleeping—if that's indeed what he was doing—and appeared to be in the exact same position as when I'd entered the room earlier. After all the information I'd heard about him that night, my emotions were so mixed towards him that my face merely remained placid when I stared at him briefly. 
I'll figure you out. One way or another.
Rocky hopped onto his mossy bed and laid down on his back, then angled his head to look at me. His light brown eyes were narrow slits caused by creeping sleepiness. "G'night, Whale," he whispered with a quiet yawn. "Keep the nightmares, away . . ."
But I was so exhausted from a sleepless, terrifying, and stressful night, that I collapsed onto the floor of the cave where Rocky's bed met the ground. My eyelids slid closed, and the last thing I saw was a MudWing's dangling foot. "Night . . ." I somehow managed to utter, before I was overcome by welcome sleep.
==Chapter Fourteen: Magic==
I paced back and forth in Sunny's room, anxious and excited and scared and emotionally sick to my stomach. Today was the day. That's what Sunny said. The mysterious animus would be appearing at that very school, supposedly intent on making me a normal dragon. I could barely process it. It's something that I've been fantasizing about for nine long years; there was no way it could actually be happening, right?
Yet the facts told me otherwise. Here I was, excavating trenches with my repeated circling in a teacher's cave, waiting for however many hours it would be till the stranger's arrival.
The wait was harrowing. My feelings were playing a nasty game of tug-of-war inside my chest. My hopes would rise higher than the clouds, only to be dragged down to the center of the planet, which was a tiring cycle the repeated itself more times than I bothered to remember.
Ack, I can't take this! Think about something else! I demanded myself.
My troublesome brain wandered to all the events that had occurred the night before. My feet immediately stopped in their tracks without my consent.
What was I thinking?! I contemplated as memories of last night flooded into my head. The most amusing part that came to me was probably from that morning, really. I received a distracting (and therefore useful) flashback:
I woke up confused, blinking wearily at my clouded surroundings. It didn't feel like I was in Sunny's room. So where was I?
My vision took what seemed a decade to clear, but when it did, I was no longer confused. I was shocked, suddenly remembering all that had taken place merely hours ago.
Did I seriously fall asleep in Rocky's room? I thought with wide eyes.
I was lying with my underbelly to the floor of the cave, and I lifted my tired head up. When I stared over at Sparkstriker's bed, I saw him snoozing away silently, which was about as fishy as he could get in my paranoid eyes. As per usual, he didn't snore, didn't shift position, didn't move at all except for his chest that rose and fell steadily. The NightWing's black wings were wrapped tightly around himself, and he was curled up in a way that made me think he was dreaming about something harming him. Or someone harming him.
Though I dreaded it, I lifted up my upper body with my forearms and looked over the side of the bed at Rocky. He was also still asleep (with a light snore), and I thanked the three moons that he was. Now I could slip out of the room and not have to have an awkward conversation about last night with him.
Not that is was any better than glancing over my shoulder and leaping out of my scales when I discovered a sitting Sparkstriker scowling at me.
It was hard to be mad at him when I was so startled and freaked. Mere moments before, he'd been perfectly asleep. Now, he was upright in his bed, smoke practically coming out of his nostrils, having yet to make a sound. It sent shivers down my spine and my heart jumping like a rabbit.
"Dude, you can't do that to a dragon!" I hissed under my breath, wanting to avoid waking Rocky. I approached the livid NightWing. "You'll give someone a heart attack!"
"You," he snarled, staying quiet with my same idea in mind. His dark green eyes burned into my deep blue ones, fire meeting fire. "What did that traitor tell you?!"
I gave a clipped gasp. I hadn't wanted to believe it, but there was no denying it now: Striker had indeed received a vision of me and Rocky last night. There had been a part of me that hoped that the MudWing was incorrect, and that our special time would remain just ours. Alas, the so-called seer had seen us after all. The fact made me angry, concerned, and embarrassed. But the real question was, why was he so straight mad?
"Why should I tell you anything?" I snapped, returning his scowl. "All you've done to me is cause trouble!"
Striker sneered. "Trust me, after what my clawmate must have told you, anything I've done so far will be nothing compared to what is to come."
My face squirmed in disgust. "You know what Sparkstriker? I was going to apologize to you, tell you I was sorry for things I thought about you. Because I felt bad. Yes, now I know about your abusive childhood, but so what does that matter to you? Whether I know or not makes no difference; I was never going to tease you, 'cause unlike you, I'm not a mean dragon. But now?" I shook my head. "I don't know what to do with you. I have done NOTHING to make you dislike me so much. Just tell me, what is it! What have I done to you?!"
For the first time in my knowing him, I witnessed guilt flicker in his shadowed eyes. Guilt and surprise. I could see regret in his facial features, plain as a clear blue sky. Was he actually having second thoughts?
That hope wasn't long-lived as he was quick to glare at me. Like he remembered the reason why I was a threat. "Someday, you will find out. I have foreseen it; the time is coming soon when you will be relieved of ignorance." Then, the NightWing dragonet curled his lips in his signature nerve-tickling smile of hatred. "I'm quite looking forward to that . . . particular time ahead."
I growled low in my throat at him, sick of this dragon’s behavior. With a dramatic swish of my tail, I turned away from Sparkstriker and stomped out of the room, too disturbed to even glance at Rocky on my way out.
I had to admit, knowing that Striker was "looking forward" to something involving myself was rather unnerving. If he was anticipating it, that couldn't mean anything good for me.
The flashback was abruptly severed by Sunny’s unexpected entrance. I shook off the creeping feeling that Sparkstriker’s remark had given me, dodging the thought that he could have foreseen this day not ending well on my behalf. I simply could not permit those thoughts to circulate in my brain. 
Today, it was all or nothing. No looking back. 
I prayed with all my soul that I would not need to look back.
“You’re early,” I stated from my corner of the room, trying to withhold the excitement from my voice. “I thought you had another class about now?”
Sunny waved a dismissive golden talon. “Tsunami is filling in for me right now. She said she’d do it in return for me babysitting her son whenever she needs someone to watch him next. I agreed easily, mostly because her son is totally ADORABLE.” The SandWing (whom the other day had informed me that she was actually part NightWing) smiled happily, pleased with the deal she had made. 
I smiled back, glad to have Sunny’s company for however long it may last. It’s difficult to bring her spirits down; a helpful balance for me, in a way. 
"Now, before you start throwing any questions at me," Sunny said, indeed blocking the passage of the words that I had been about to speak. "I believe introductions are in order."
She leaped back through where she'd entered, not leaving me any chance to prepare myself for meeting the stranger. I gulped.
They're early. They were supposed to be here later in the day!
Oh? I thought you wanted this to be over with? interjected Second-thoughts.
Well, maybe, but I'm still not ready! This is what I've been dreaming about for my entire life! How am I supposed to just accept the fact that this unknown dragon is going to snap his claws and suddenly end my curse? The same curse that has tainted the blood of my family for generations?
You don't have to accept it, the other half of my mind argued. All you can do is trust and hope.
But, what if some part of me stops the spell from working? I fretted. What if . . . What if I'm expecting, and I don't know it yet?
Even if you were with egg—which is highly unlikely; you aren't even in a relationship with Rocky—how on Pyrrhia would that affect the spell? You need to stop freaking out.
I AM NOT FREAKING OU—
My whirling thoughts were thankfully interrupted by Sunny returning, this time with a male SeaWing at her heels. 
I absorbed every detail of him as he stepped into the room. His scales were like emeralds that adorned his body, which was just a little bigger than Sunny's. His eyes were a deep green, subconsciously reminding me of Sparkstriker. Judging by his face and size, I guessed he was an adult, but I knew that appearances could be deceiving. A gold armband was secured tightly to his upper right arm, a few indentations across its metal surface. His expression was that of uncertainty and concern. I expect uncertainty when dragons meet me. 
Uncertainty and fear.
"Whalesong, this is Prince Turtle," Sunny introduced, gesturing at the dragon she said the name of. "Turtle, this is Whalesong, the girl I told you about."
Turtle nodded at me politely with a distracted smile. "Hello," he greeted in a low voice. "Nice to meet you."
I glanced around nervously. "Hi," I said shyly. That was all I said. There were so many things in my head to say, but all I could utter was a pitiful Hi. I felt on the verge of losing my nerve. Keep it together.
"I, um, can see the problem," Prince Turtle said, looking me up and down. Although I sensed he meant no harm by it, I took some offense by the statement, feeling like I was some science experiment gone wrong. His green gaze landed on mine. "I'm guessing Sunny already told you why I'm here?"
I nodded. Then I remembered these strange things Reef had taught me called manners. "Thanks for coming. I really need your help."
"Glad to help," he said kindly. "So, before anything else, can you please tell me everything you know about your enchantment? It will help me figure out a way to word the spell."
Here we go again, I thought with slight exasperation. I hope I never have to explain my curse after today. 
"Okay, but you'd better sit down first."
I stared down at my pale talons as I completed the eccentric anecdote. They say letting things out is healthy and makes you feel better; that never is the case with me. It only causes the pain to weigh more, become something that is not solely in my imagination.
Turtle released a low whistle. He had a blank scroll laid out on the ground and wielded a quill with ink, scribbling profusely. I wasn't sure if he was taking notes or writing a spell. "I'm sorry. I've seen enough magic misused, with very bad consequences. I know how harsh it can be."
Hah! I'll gladly switch places with you. "What are you doing?" I asked, purposefully changing the subject. 
The SeaWing prince glanced up at me briefly. "Writing a few drafts," he answered. His brow furrowed in deep pensiveness. "Sometimes spells can be really tricky. The only thing I'm really concerned about is a potential . . . block. Like, if this 'curse' has any defenses put there by the dragon who cast it."
"You guys can do that?" I inquired worriedly. I fidgeted with the end of my tail.
Turtle immediately sensed my fear. He looked up from his scroll and tried to give me a reassuring smile, but I spotted the shadow of doubt creeping into his eyes. "Don't worry; most animus dragons don't think of doing that. And your spell is so complicated, it's hard to believe the dragon who bestowed it would've added blocks to it on top of the mountain it already is."
And I'd thought I'd been nervous before; my anxiety was building within me faster and faster by the second, ready to burst. So much anxiety that I wanted to curl up into a safe ball and never leave it. Alas, I had to stand tall in the face of my demons. In the face of my chance to destroy my demons, once and for all.
"Is there a way to detect blocks?" I asked, not allowing my voice to crack. 
He grimaced a little. "Yes, but that would be another spell, and, um, I . . . I don't want to waste any bits of my soul on something that could be pointless. Please don't take it personal or anything, it's just that, well, if I use too much magic, I will eventually go crazy and start killing everyone." He looked at me apologetically. "I'd especially like for that not to happen right before my wedding. I hope you understand. Really."
I rubbed the spot between my eyes, attempting to calm myself down. "Yeah, yeah okay. That makes sense. Okay."
"Congrats on the wedding, by the way," Sunny spoke up. It was the first thing she'd said in a while. "Glory told me Kinkajou's bouncing off walls with excitement."
Turtle grinned, his eyes dancing with wonderful memories. He was somewhat flustered. "Thank you, Sunny. And yeah, you have no idea." The SeaWing chuckled warmly.
"Congrats," I said quietly. Oh, how lovely that would be, to marry the one you love. It sounded so magical, so beautiful. But that was reserved for dragons who weren't ghosts. I felt a pang in my heart. 
This has to work. For all my ancestors.
For Grandpa Reef.
For my father.
For Mom.
"Okay," Turtle said after a comfortable silence of while me and Sunny observed him write. The prince sat up on his haunches and held the scroll up to his face. "I'm pretty sure one of these should work. Could you go over them and tell my what you think?" He displayed the long piece of parchment to me, thoughtfully holding it so that I could scan it.
I nodded. I went over the dark words carefully, scrutinizing every detail and double-checking every sentence to see which of the three spell ideas he'd written was the best option. My claws tapped soundlessly on the floor in my nervousness.
The second one stuck with me the most; I had a feeling if any of these were to do their job, it would be that one. I looked up at Prince Turtle with a certain steel to my gaze. “I think the second one.”
“Then let’s do it,” he said, sounding optimistic. 
I gulped. Please work. Please work. Please work. My family has suffered enough.
“It’ll be all right, Whale,” Sunny soothed, getting up to sit next to me. Her smile was as warm as her name. She whispered, “No matter what happens.”
No matter what happens.
Quicker than I’d expected, Turtle began to recite his intricate spell in a clear voice. In my tortured suspense, I slammed my eyes shut and bit my lip. I forced myself to think of Sparkstriker’s prophecy.
She of glass and tainted blood, reap the hearts will she.
“. . . That she will lead a mortal life . . .”
A war of tears may cause a flood, but soak them up will she.
“. . . and be rid of her former enchantments . . .”
For she who cannot break or bend, there shall be a way to mend.
“. . . it will not pass on . . .”
Release her bonds when the time is right.
“. . . like a regular SeaWing . . .”
Or only one soul shall be taking flight.
“ . . . rest of her life.”
I gasped. He was finished. I was almost sure I was shaking from terror. I couldn’t bring myself to open my eyes. Like the nightmare with Mother, I needed someone to command me to do so.
The others were silent, undoubtedly awaiting my reaction. But I was so scared I didn’t want to look. So I did what I always do to test my tangibility.
I stretched out my right wing slowly, ever so slowly, to check if it would go through the wall I knew was there or not. 
Lift.
Stretch.
Cold.
==Chapter Fifteen: No Matter What Happens==
The cold of emptiness.
Dread the size of a humpback whale collapsed onto my hopes. No. No no no, this can not be happening. It just can't. No no no no NO.
My eyes did open at some point in history, but when they did, tears were ready and waiting. They pooled in my eyelids, but I refused to free them yet. This wasn't over. There was something else, I just knew it. Something we were missing.
"Whale . . ." Sunny began quietly. She reached out to me with a gentle talon.
"No," I muttered, voice filled with sudden strength and stubbornness. I looked up at the dragon sitting across from me: Turtle. There was no mistaking the determination in my demeanor. "There must be another way. Something we're not seeing."
Turtle was practically squirming under my gaze. He was clearly sympathetic for me, but he was also worried about what I might ask, what I might insist. He scratched the back of his neck. "I don't know. I thought I covered everything . . . It must be some kind of block. I'm sorry." 
I grasped my snout in my talons, closing my eyes again, this time for a minute. Keep it together. "So what, that's it? We're just gonna give up? After one failed spell?"
Turtle glanced forlornly at his scroll on the floor. "If it is a block, it has the potential to be irrevocable. Even if I tested for those, it may very well be unchangeable. I really want to help you, Whalesong. You seem like a very nice dragoness who deserves a better life. But I don't want to risk what could be pointless."
"Where do we end up in life if we never take risks?" I whispered, staring off into space. 
Sunny attempted to intervene: "Now, Whale, don't—" 
"I can't give up, Sunny!" I exclaimed in her face. I could not contain my sheer disbelief and disappointment. "I won't let this become my legacy! There's more to my life than just some ghost story! I—" My throat finally decided to constrict until my speech was cut off. I paused to regain control of my voice. I barely uttered, "I can't go on like this."
"Oh, it's okay Whale, maybe—"
"Everyone always says it's 'okay'," I whispered to myself. "Is it ever really?"
"There are ways to make your life more tolerable," Sunny said, looking at me with a pleading to not say anything I'd regret. "Maybe there's something else we could try, but—"
"I have an idea," Turtle interrupted slowly, like he was extremely reluctant to do so. He fingered his armband. "It might work. A different spell."
A shadow of guilt darkened my insides, making them twist. I was asking a lot from this very nice dragon; he had already taken one chance for me at the expense of a shard of his soul, and now I was pressuring him to do it again. With the odds even less in my favor this time. Either way, it was another clipping of his sanity taken away by me. There should never be a cost for helping someone.
But was it worth the risk, if I became normal?
In my opinion, absolutely. It just wasn't my final decision to make. I wasn't the one getting my soul chipped at.
"Turtle . . ." Sunny said, glancing back and forth between him and I. She seemed unsure whose side to defend. Deep down, I didn't blame her, but I felt slightly, just slightly, betrayed. Yes, it was selfish, but after nine years, I'd lost most of my patience. With a clipped sigh, I tried to calm myself down on the inside. Stop this. Just because you've been put through a lot, doesn't mean another should be put through anything for your sake.
That's the same kind of thinking as the dragon who cursed you.
"It's . . . it's okay," I relented, giving Turtle an apologetic look. I was practically fighting the words as they escaped my mouth. "Don't waste yourself on me. I'm sorry."
"No, I'm sorry it didn't work," Turtle said. He continued to scratch lightly at his gold armband. The green SeaWing frowned at the scroll that was currently residing on the ground in front of him. A new determination glittered in his emerald eyes. "I don't think one more little spell will do much to me. At least with this one, we'll have a chance to change you and figure out your block."
Sunny bit her lip in uncertainty. "Are you sure?"
He thought for a moment, then nodded at the speed of his namesake. "Besides, I don't think I'd feel good about myself if I didn't try one more time." He inhaled deeply. "What do you say, Whalesong?"
For some reason, my gaze averted to Sunny, like I subconsciously awaited her consent. The hybrid only tapped a claw on her lip and looked at me like, I might not support it fully, but it's your decision.
Think about Turtle, said Second-thoughts.
Think about Mother, I thought back. Think about Rocky.
Isn't that all you do?
Not funny.
With a squeeze of my tail, I said, "If it's fine with you, I want to try it. Please."
Turtle took another long breath. "Well, what are we waiting for, right?" He said anxiously, attempting to lighten the mood. He leaned over and started scribbling on the tattooed scroll again. 
I turned to Sunny. "Sorry," I whispered. "I don't want to give him trouble, but . . ."
"I understand," she replied, also using a quiet voice. "If . . . if this doesn't work either, I want you to know, I'll still let you stay here with me."
My eyebrows shot up in shock. "Really? But . . . No, surely you don't want a ghost wandering around your room all day."
"I would if it were you," she joked, giving me a minute smile. "You're a surprisingly good roommate."
I grin teased my mouth. I couldn't believe the generosity of this dragon. "Thanks . . . thank you so much, Sunny. You're amazing. And nuts, if you are fine with a ghost as a roommate."
"It's all in perspective," Sunny said, forcing her voice to sound serious and failing terribly.
"Done," Turtle exclaimed. "This should suffice." he once again scanned over the scroll's contents with a nervous stillness.
I shifted my weight from talon to talon. My tail wrapped itself around my hind legs. I swallowed hard. Please, oh, PLEASE let it work this time, I prayed fervently. Please please please PLEASE let it work. If it doesn't, I won't be able to see Rocky again. My heart would break, probably beyond repair. PLease work, please work, please.
"Ready?" Prince Turtle asked me.
I nodded.
He held the scroll before his eyes, squinted, and declared, "I enchant this scroll to show me all the reasons why any spells may not work on Whalesong, and if there is a way to take away her current enchantment, take it away."
This time, I didn't close my eyes. I was a statue, watching Turtle recite his spell with an unblinking gaze. When he finished, he regained some spent oxygen and lowered his scroll, looking straight at me. I didn't dare interpret his expression. I didn't want to know, but I had to. My fate was decided, and I needed to know if it was a decision in my favor. I felt no different, but that could have been for many reasons. Like the numbing fear that had taken hold on my body. 
"I c-can't look at myself," I confessed, staring off into space. "Someone tell me."
Turtle exchanged a glance with Sunny, and my heart sank like a dead SeaWing. Please, please, please let it have worked. Please, I can't take the unknown any longer.
Silence
Then, Sunny said, "I'm so sorry."
Buried somewhere far down, I had had a feeling it was a fruitless endeavor, but I had hoped with all my being anyway. What a tragic waste of hope. I crumbled to the floor, shielded my face with my talons, and cried soundless tears. I didn't care one bit if this was considered embarrassing, or if Turtle judged me. Nothing was worth worrying about anymore. 
I'll never change. I can't see Rocky anymore. What's another way for me to die? Losing the will to live? Did I ever really have that?
"This doesn't make sense . . ." Turtle thought out loud, sounding subdued. I barely heard the crinkling of paper, which must have meant he was reading the scroll. "Wait, it's writing something. Hang on . . ."
There was a pause, the only noise being the unintelligible fuzz surrounding my brain. Until Turtle gasped suddenly.
"What is it?" Sunny inquired, verbally mirroring my own piqued curiosity. I couldn't find the strength to remove my talons from my face, however. I just awaited the reply.
Whatever it was, he wasn't keen on spilling it. I heard much movement and claws scraping against stone, like Turtle had stood up and walked over to either me or Sunny. He must have been showing Sunny what the scroll said, because I heard her gasp as well, though her's was significantly more horrified. 
"Oh no," the hybrid uttered to my left. Neither said a word, like they were afraid to. What could be worse than telling me I was condemned to a spirit life?
In pure Whalesong fashion, I gave in to my curiosity. I let my talons drop, revealing my damp face. I looked up at both of them, and they shared concerned, frightened expressions. I frowned in puzzlement. "What is it? What are my blocks?"
They glanced at each other, and Sunny ducked down so her head was at my level. "Honey . . . Your block—"
"Looks like my timing is impeccable, as usual," said Sparkstriker, who was leaning on the doorway. He smirked at me. "Congratulations. It's a girl."
==Chapter Sixteen: Vaquita==
I guess I always thought that if I ever found out, I would either faint, scream, or cry. Or all three, in opposite order. Instead, all I did was fade. I faded from the world, falling into the ravenous mouth of darkness.
Some part of my body could tell that I collapsed to the ground, but my brain only registered focused, echoing thoughts.
Egg. I'm having an egg. I'm going to die, in the way I've always feared. Reef warned me; I didn't listen. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Grandpa. Please forgive me!
I could practically hear his voice in my skull, telling me what was best for me. Telling me how Mother regretted so much, but more than anything she loved me.
I'd become uncautious ever since Sunny had proposed possible freedom. I'd figured if I was going to be normal soon, then hanging out with Rocky would be fine. Some of my mother's rebelliousness might have contributed.
But no, I was a fool. I'd followed my heart instead of my head, like the supernatural idiot I am. Reef was right, like always. And now I have to suffer the ultimate consequence.
When reality finally began to sink in, I realized there were tears streaming down my pale face. My arm was over my head, protecting it from view of the three dragons in the room, but I wouldn't have cared otherwise. Who cares what they think of me? What does it matter compared to finding out you were going to die bringing someone into a terrible, solitary life?
"I'm sorry, Whalesong. I honestly hope the best for you," Turtle said before I heard him leaving the room. I assumed either Sunny had told him to leave, or he'd felt awkward and in the way.
I loosed a quiet sob into my elbow. "How could I let this happen?"
"Well, let's take a look at the facts . . ." Sparkstriker said mischievously. 
"Sparkstriker!" Sunny hissed in shock and anger. "Why would you say that? How are you involved in this?”
He chuckled. "Let's just say I have a . . . history with her family."
That made me look up at him, his form blurry through my misty eyes. “You liar! You’re younger than me; there’s no way you could know my family!”
Striker sighed. “Unfortunately, there is a way,” he argued mysteriously.
“Sparkstriker, this is not the time!” Sunny chastised. This must have been the first time she’d caught Sparkstriker misbehaving. “Don’t you have a class you should be in right now?”
“Wait,” I interjected, shakily standing up. I glared at the NightWing. “I want to talk to you,” I seethed.
He smiled grimly. “I will gladly oblige, my friend. Where would you prefer to converse?” He glanced at Sunny.
Sunny gave a clipped sigh, rubbing her eyes. “I can step out for a minute. But don’t think that you are excused for skipping class without permission. We’ll discuss that later.” She narrowed her eyes slightly at him before she left, brushing past him on her way out.
Sparkstriker fully entered the room when she left, plopping himself down in front of me. I’d never seen him look so pleased before, but with what, I didn’t know.
He spotted Turtle’s scroll on the ground, off to the side. He reached over and picked it up, scanning the contents with quick eyes. Until he reached the last part, which he smirked at. “Want to see why your egg is keeping you from your greatest desire?” 
I growled, my throat rumbling with fury. “After I get some answers out of you, psycho.”
(I didn’t actually call him a psycho; I used a much less proper word, one that I should not write in this dragonet’s scroll.)
Sparkstriker whistled softly. “You should watch your language. There is a child present.” He gestured to me with one talon.
I scowled and wrapped my wings over my stomach protectively. “How about you answer my questions for once?”
“I was going to anyway,” he assured calmly. “What do you want to know first, petite girl?”
“You knew I was pregnant, didn’t you? Answer honestly,” I demanded.
“What is with you and the rude language?” he asked with amusement. “Fine. Yes, I knew. I’ve known since before I met you. Why do you think I tried to keep Rocky from seeing you? I knew that if I told him something, he’d only do the opposite. It’s the way he is.”
Hot tears sprang into my eyes. “You . . . you wanted this t-to happen? Why?! And what about your prophecy?”
Although Sparkstriker appeared smug, there was some pity and guilt hidden behind it as I started to cry. I wished I could read minds so I could see what was going through his head. He cleared his throat. “There is nothing wrong with my prophecy, you simply misinterpreted it. We can talk more about that later. As for why, well, I felt like I needed to settle a score, you could say.”
My wet face contorted in confusion and anger. “What score?!” I yelled. “Tell me what it is, you sicko! Why do you hate me so—"
“Vaquita.”
I froze, gawking at him in pure astonishment. My insides twisted dreadfully. “What?”
“Vaquita,” Sparkstriker repeated in a flat tone that terrified me more than any snarl. 
I choked on air, eyes bugging out. “H-how do you know my mother’s name?”
He exhaled a hollow laugh that resonated within my soul. “I know someone who was . . . acquainted with your mommy,” he said suspiciously.
“What are you talking about?” I inquired quietly, my mind spinning like a tornado. “What does my mother have to do with anything?”
Another empty chuckle. “Everything, petite girl. What did your great-grandfather tell you about your parents?”
I thought for a moment. “A lot. Everything I need to know.”
“Apparently not,” Striker said. “Vaquita met your father in a bar, correct?”
I tried to answer, but he interrupted me. “Correct. Your mother snuck away every night for quite a long time. She would meet with your daddy as much as she could. He was a bad boy, one of the many things she liked about him. He was charming, handsome, and smart, except when he was drinking. He loved her just as much as she loved him. But then, out of nowhere, Vaquita stopped showing up. Without so much as a goodbye. Still, he waited. He waited for two years. She never came back.”
He paused to catch his breath. “He was heartbroken, and became bitter. He gave up on life when he gave up on waiting for her. His drinking became consistent and problematic, even addictive. He was never the same after he lost the love of his life.”
I gaped at Sparkstriker, unable to say anything. He just told me more about my parents than my own great-grandpa. And I haven’t even known him for more than a week.
Striker continued speaking, “He still tried a little, however. He got married to someone he didn’t care about nearly as much as Vaquita. They had one dragonet together, but they didn’t love him like they should’ve.” Here his voice grew disgusted and angry. “The dragonet’s father beat him mercilessly. Most of the time he was drunk. But sometimes he would tell his son about life before the dragonet existed. Life when he and the mysterious ghost-girl Vaquita had been madly in love, and life had been good. Those were the only times he didn’t abuse his son.” Sparkstriker’s dark green eyes were starting to get shimmery, so he looked away from me before it got worse. “Those were the only times he didn’t abuse me.”
My mind was blowing up slowly from what Sparkstriker was confessing. Did he just say . . . He couldn’t be. . . .
“Y-you,” I finally managed to croak. "You mean—"
“Yes, you’re the reason I exist. And I hate you for it. Whalesong . . . I'm your brother.”
TO BE CONTINUED . . .
__NOWYSIWYG__
Category:Fanfictions
Category:Fanfictions (Semi-Canon)
Category:Content (MistydaAwesomeSeaWing)
Category:Genre (Romance)
Category:Genre (Tragedy)
Category:Genre (Prophecy)
Category:Fanfictions (Completed)