Matter Doesn’t Matter

This fanfiction was written by MistydaAwesomeSeaWing. Do NOT steal/edit (non-purpose typos may be editted). My OCs in this with pages include Whalesong, Sparkstriker, and Rocky. Subtle warning: Lots of suicide talk, and one alcohol reference. Complete. Part 2 complete and Part 3 in progress.
There is more to ghosts than scary stories . . .
There is more to ghosts than scary stories . . .
There is more to ghosts than scary stories . . .
== Summary: ==
The tragic tale of a condemned ghost, self-named Whalesong. With a cursed bloodline, this desperate female SeaWing strives to find a way to end her family’s horrid ethereal torment. Seeking rare knowledge, she travels the continent of Pyrrhia, unbeknownst to many, intent on completing her lifelong quest . . . until her plans take a wrong turn when she meets someone. . . .
== Prologue:==
Deep under the sea, two SeaWings waited, attitudes ranging from somber to sorrowful. It was night time, but even the light of the three moons didn’t fully reach where they were stationed. Everything seemed terribly still, even the aquatic life . . . as though they knew something momentous was about to occur.
One of the SeaWings, a female, had a little, pale-blue egg within her grasp carefully. Very carefully. She didn’t want to mess this up. Even though, she should have. This wasn’t right. Her dragonet shouldn’t have to suffer like she had, and her mother had, and her mother’s mother, and possibly farther. She should just kill the tiny, unhatched dragon while she could. It would save the poor innocent soul from a life of torture.
But . . . no matter how hard she tried to will herself . . . she couldn’t bring herself do it. This was her daughter. How could she kill her own daughter, even before the tiny thing hasn’t seen sunlight? Which option was more cruel?
This debate was tearing her apart on the inside, making her sob uncontrollably. If only she hadn’t been stupid enough to fall in love. She could have lived out the rest of her long years in solitude, and ended her tainted bloodline. No other descendant would have to endure what her and her ancestors had, and the curse would be finished. 
No, everything just had to happen like this. She just had to be obstinate. Among other things, she hoped that her daughter would not be as stubborn. Maybe she would listen to the dragon next to her.
The other SeaWing, an extremely old male named Reef, had positioned himself opposite of her, watching both her and the egg with a concerned gaze. His deep eyes contained the wisdom of decades, much more than she wished she had acquired before this day. He had been her grandmother’s love, and had stayed beside their family to help the descendants and give them as much knowledge as possible. So, in a way, he was her grandfather. Reef had promised to look after her daughter as best he could, which gave her some comfort, but not much. 
She both resented and loved the father of her egg (her love always won out, though), for many complicated reasons. He had died a month ago—to her great sorrow. The only good thing that would come from this night was that very soon, in another place, she would be with him again. And maybe, hopefully, she’ll be able to touch him this time.
She closed her dark blue eyes shut tightly, thankful one could not see tears underwater. If she could have one wish in the world, it would be to stay alive just for another two minutes, enough time to witness the dragonet fully hatch, to hold the baby in her arms, wrap it in her blue wings, stroke its neck tenderly. To look into her daughter’s new, curious, adorable eyes.
I’m sorry, she thought painfully, an impossibly-tangled knot in her throat. I’m sorry I did this to you. Please, darling, forgive me. Please don’t be as sad as I always was. I know you’ll never hear this from me, but I love you, sweetie. Despite the fact I’ve never met you, I absolutely love you. Be as happy as you can. I want the best for you, but I’m afraid I’ve given you the worst. Daughter, I ask that you don’t hate me for something I can’t control. I won’t blame you if you will, but I hope you do not.
When she dared to open her eyes, she discovered a piece of the eggshell had fallen off. And another. And another. She noticed Reef staring dreadfully at her, expecting what was going to happen any second. He swam closer and brushed her wing comfortingly with his—though it went straight through—the least he could do to give her solace. This was it.
Frantically, as more chips of shell broke off, she thought, Darling, I’m sorry, but, before I go, please, don’t fall in love. I know it’s harder than it seems, but if you don’t, then this horrendous curse will be over with. The world would be rid of our kind. Daughter, I want so bad— No. I’ll see you again. In time. She took a final, deep breath, managing to look down at what she could now see of a protruding wing. Somehow, she was capable of the faintest, melancholy smile. Until then, goodbye for now, little one.
Then, as her pale dragonet emerged fully from the splintered egg, she closed her eyes, and faded completely from the world, leaving behind not a single trace. Not even a body.
== Welcome to My World (Introduction): ==
I remember dying.
I believe I am the only dragon in the universe who remembers that. What incredible luck, right? A ten-year-old dragoness who remembers when she died. Which happened to be the very moment she hatched. I know, confusing, right? Well, let me start over.
My name is Whalesong (I’m self-named; did you honestly think anyone else would come up with such a strange name?). I’m a SeaWing, and, like I mentioned, ten years old (at least, I was when I wrote this). I’ve been told that looking into my eyes could be compared to staring into a mesmerizing, bottomless trench. My scales are practically IceWing blue, and shine in the sunlight. I’m tragically short, but have a long wingspan to semi-make up for it.
You’ve probably got a decent enough picture in your head, right? Okay, a weird-looking sea dragon with a weird name. So what?
Well, I left out the most important thing:
The fact that I’m a ghost.
Stop laughing, reader (I know you are). It’s the truth. And it’s the sad truth. If you believe me, some of you may think this is cool. “Oooo, awesome! A real ghost! I’d love to move through walls and disappear into thin air!”
If you said any of these things, order the nearest living creature to smack you in the face three times.
There is absolutely nothing cool about being hatched a ghost. My whole life so far has been nothing but endless sadness, loneliness, and attempted suicide. If you are concerned about the suicide part, don’t be. Apparently, nothing can kill me right now. Trust me, I’ve tried. Or more accurately, I’ve failed.
If you’re wondering, “How is she writing this if she’s a ghost?” Well, I’m having a . . . friend help me out. Wait, why did you puts the dots there, mister? 
(Um, this is the writer here. She told me to write down everything she says, which is very difficult. And I put the dots there because . . . nevermind.)
If you are also pondering possible reasons why I might be writing this, well ponder no further. I am telling this story for many reasons, the main one being that I will not live much longer. Why I won’t live much longer will be revealed later in this tale of woe. 
No one alive can fathom how completely awful being a ghost is. I can only touch the ground. Everything else is air to me. I don’t need to eat or drink, nor could I even if I needed to. It’s all part of this moons-blasted, coral-snorting, squid-sneezing, thrice-cursed spell. 
Oh, not only do you not believe in ghosts, you don’t believe in magic, either? Interesting. Well, the ‘real world’ is not as ‘real’ as you normal dragons make it out to be. Maybe after reading my story, you’ll feel different. Or, actually, never mind. You’ll feel ordinary, if anything.
Whatever teacher or adult who dragged you over to sit down and read this scroll, for the ‘benefit of your education’ or whatever they call it, thank them. My tale isn’t as boring as normal history scrolls. In fact, if you do have this, I’m probably dead. Good.
(Again, this is the writer; don’t believe her. That’s not a good thing. She won’t listen to me.)
Reader, I understand you must be terribly confused here. Let me go back to a time after my death, but before my life. Yeah, it’s not just my story that’s confusing.
Sit tight, dear reader, and listen, or my spirit will haunt you forever. (A bit of ghost humor for you. Ha ha?)
== Chapter One: The Beginning of My End ==
"How much more information do you desire?" Reef demanded angrily, his voice creaky and hoarse with age. At least, I always assumed it was age. I'd never known him when he was younger after all. I'd have felt bad for him if his voice had been so raspy in his earlier stages of life. "I already told you, there is nothing else I can offer you. I have given you all my knowledge of your family that I am aware of; no more will come of you gleaning me."
I, the "pestering" dragon in question, groaned, filled with frustration and anxiety, but not from the lecturing old geezer in front of me. There wasn't much more of these nothing else we can do discussions I could handle. Being the determined spirit I am, I approached from a different direction.
"Can you tell me the story again?" I asked with deep, droopy, pleading eyes. Keep in mind, I do not normally plead. This was about a year ago, when I was whiny and annoying. (Writer: You mean more whiny and annoying?) "The one about Mom and Dad?"
With an aggrieved and heavy sigh, the dragon before me, Reef, nodded. "Okay, but after this, you must let me rest. I'm terribly exhausted."
I refrained from rolling my eyes. Don't get me wrong, I loved Reef. He was technically my great-grandfather, after all. But sometimes, he just wore me out. Like all old dragons, I suppose.
We were on an abandoned island, in the Bay of a Thousand Scales, sitting on the beach. That spot was often the place Reef preferred to educate me, which I was perfectly fine with. It was a beautiful place, but the calming scenery never even once quenched my everlasting thirst for freedom. Nothing on this planet could.
Oh, how Reef would fill my head with abundant knowledge and wisdom. Every day, as long as he was feeling well enough, I would learn a wide variety of subjects. But the information that I truly quested after, was something far greater and more difficult than your ordinary schooling:
I needed to find a way to lift my curse.
"Where would you like me to begin?" Reef exhaled with a wheeze. He made himself comfortable on the sun-warmed sand.
At least, I was told it was warm. I wish I could've felt more than emptiness. Sure, I could stand on the ground, for that I am thankful, but I can't actually feel it. Not near-microscopic grains of sand wedging themselves stubbornly in between your scales, not wanting to come off in the water. Not the rush of wind trying to convince your wings to soar. Not the cool, inviting waves of the ocean water lapping at your feet.
I thought for a moment, then said, "What about when they met?"
I summed up it was my imagination, but I could've sworn I saw him roll his eyes. "If you so wish." He took a shaky deep breath, then spoke: "I was supposed to be looking after your mother--rebellious thing, she was--but she had snuck off without warning me. She was wandering for a while, passing into a nearby town, through walls when she was positive no one could see her, until eventually she stumbled into a bar . . . on accident, of course." He added that last part after I giggled.
Reef continued, "Your mother stayed hidden in the walls, but peeked through to watch the crazed entertainment. That's when she spotted him--an attractive SeaWing sitting alone in a more quiet corner of the room. She grew curious, and decided to 'probe' him." The old dragon paused to smile faintly at the sand below him. "Meaning, she tried to figure out how he would react to a ghost. But, considering the fact that he was slightly drunk, she thought it would be worth the risk.
"Once he walked out of the bar, she followed him, careful not to be seen by anyone else. Eventually, he turned around and noticed her presence. Still being somewhat intoxicated, he didn't think much about the fact that this mystery dragon was see-through." Reef chuckled to himself.
"And then when he came to his senses, he flipped out, right?" I continued for him.
"Correct. Though, to be perfectly fair, so did I the first time I saw your great-grandmother," Reef confessed.
(Writer: Whale, your family is even weirder than I thought. . . .)
I snorted. "You flipping out doesn't quite fit in my head somehow," I said quietly.
"If you ever pull anything similar to the schemes of you mother, then me flipping out will fit quite well in that pretty head of yours," Reef wheezed. It was difficult for me to tell if he was joking or not. "But anyways, she convinced him not to tell anyone, and to stop freaking out. And, eventually, they fell in love. Which, I must remind you"--he cast me a stern, yet caring look--"was her downfall."
I rolled my large, dark blue eyes. I'd heard this lecture one too many times. Something attached to my heart tugged painfully as I felt guilty. "Yes, yes, yes. I was the worst thing that happened to Mother, I know." Despite my will, I couldn't fight past the lump in my throat. I averted my gaze from him, pretending that nothing was bothering me.
"Now, Whale, that's not what I meant, and you know it," Reef argued softly. He gave a long-suffering sigh. "Sweetheart, I only want to help you. I want you to stay here apart from other dragons because I don't want what happened to your mother to happen to you." I huffed, choking back a sob. "I don't want you to be hurt like she was."
Alas, stubborn me would not let go. "Well, maybe I'm stronger than she was," I muttered, loud enough for him to hear. Just saying those words made my heart throb.
"Whalesong." Uh-oh. He used my full name. That meant I was in for a long-winded speech. Reef said, "I know you have mixed feelings about her, but you should not resent her or feel guilty about her choices. You can make your own, better choices." He glanced out over the blue horizon. "Before you even hatched, my granddaughter loved you, Whale. With all her heart. Never doubt that. Do not waste her love and hope on making self-centered decisions. That is all I ask."
I had to turn my head before he could spot the silent tears on my cheeks. Yes, I know my mother had loved me, but that didn't change the fact that she had left me. Yeah, it was a very selfish thought, I'm aware, but it just didn't feel right. She should've been there, not taken away by some stupid curse.
Keeping my voice as still as possible, I croaked, "Yeah, okay Gramps. I get it."
Reef nodded slowly, then coughed profusely. I gave him a concerned look, but he just waved a talon dismissively. "I'm fine." Another cough. "I must got to sleep n--" Out of nowhere, he cut himself off as he collapsed to the ground, clawing for breath.
Panic overcame me, and I rushed to his side, momentarily forgetting that I could not touch him. "Grandpa! What's wrong?" I cried frantically, trying to lift up his head before remembering I was a ghost. I cursed under my breath. He continued to cough, even spluttering up a bit of blood. "Grandpa?!"
Reef writhed in unseen pain, squinting up at me. "I'm"--he choked--"too . . . old . . . sweetheart. . . ."
I could not ignore the sorrowful fear gripping my heart. He was the only dragon I had; I couldn't fathom a world completely alone, without my caring mentor and friend. "I don't understand . . ."
"And you--you . . . shouldn't have to," he managed to whisper, gasping between words. He held up a talon to brush it through my face. "Whatever happens . . . it's okay--" More terrible coughing fits wracked his weak frame. A thin trail of blood snaked its way out of the tilted corner of his mouth.
My eyes leaked hot tears. Even they defied the laws of nature, falling straight through Reef's head. I wanted so bad to help Reef, but I was utterly useless. That made everything ten times worse: the fact that I could do nothing to save him.
"Gramps, you're all I have left," I murmured. "Please don't go. I don't know what to do." In spite of myself, I sobbed.
"I have taught you . . . all I can," Reef croaked. "Do not stay--cough--here. You will--cough--lose your mind. But, my dear . . . I plead that you . . . do not fall for another. You know--cough--what will happen if you do."
Without even thinking, I said, "I won't, I promise."
Seeming satisfied with my answer, Reef focused his gaze on the clear, blue sky. For once, his wrinkled face displayed nothing but effortless peace.
I knew what was occurring, and I tried one last time, "Don't."
It was too late. His eyes froze, glazed over, staring unblinking at the heavens. His chest no longer rose and fell. His raspy, wheezy breathing had ceased. Not a single muscle in the old dragon's body moved. Reef was dead.
Not only with the weight of his loss, but also with the dread of knowing that I would be entirely alone in the world, I curled up next to his still, silent body, and cried endless tears.
==Chapter Two: Whale the Wanderer==
Four excruciatingly-long days after Reef’s passing, I was traveling towards the main continent. I had never seen any parts of Pyrrhia, other than the island I’d grown up on, so it was definitely an ordeal. As I first touched down on the ground, near what I guessed was the Mud Kingdom borders, it was like entering a whole different dimension. Although my heart was still painfully heavy with grief, part of me was unable to contain the wave of excitement that washed through my transparent body. I was free.
Though the type of freedom I truly desired was much further away from me than I wished it were.
The reason why I had stayed for a few more days on the remote island was because I wanted to make sure somebody found Reef’s body. I couldn’t stand the thought of just leaving him there on that beach to rot for years. Thankfully, a male SeaWing with swirly patterns on his wings had come to check out the place, discovering Reef in the process. Sure, I’d felt bad for the adventurous dragon with unknown intentions, but I was filled with relief and gratefulness when he took my great grandfather away with him. That gave me some peace of mind.
So I explored. I had no map, and talked to no one, just wandered endlessly. I let not one soul lay eyes upon me for even a second; I feared what would occur if Pyrrhia knew they had a depressed ghost in their midst.
I tried not to keep track of time, letting the days roll by without concern. I was in no rush. Why, travelling the continent was the most interesting thing I had ever experienced. Though, I had to do so by constantly hiding behind walls and trees.
And then, when I was adamant nobody was around, I’d leap from the ground, soaring higher than any ordinary dragon could, for I need not breathe. Once I reached even the lowest of altitudes, as long as the sky was light blue and cloudy, no one could see me from the ground. My scales blended in perfectly with the lightly-colored sky (and honestly, being see-through aided quite a bit).
Flying was one of my favorite things in the universe. When I’m in the air, that’s when I feel most normal. There is nothing near me that can be touched, thus creating an environment without any physical obstacles to pass through. So, although most SeaWings enjoyed the ocean, I have always been wonderfully content with the sky.
The only exception to this fact is when there are a dozen dragonets flying towards me out of nowhere. 
Sound oddly specific? Allow me to explain.
It was midday, and I was soaring above mountain peaks that were taller than I ever imagined they could be. I’d seen at least two dragons that day so far, either flying low or walking in between trees. That day had been relatively boring, and I was, as usual, sulking about my life as a transparent freak.
That’s when it happened.
Suddenly, I heard the loud noises of rambunctious dragonets, and immediately jerked my head down to the earth in horror to see where it was coming from. 
A group of mostly-young dragons was filing out of a yawning cave in the side of an enormous mountain below me. They began taking off into the air, splitting into smaller groups and pairs, flying in different directions.
I, admittedly, freaked out. What if they spotted me? There were plenty of dragons not too far beneath me. I was hovering in place, but even with my level of stealth, I feared the worst.
I frantically scanned the area for the closest hiding place, and settled on a river that seemed wide enough to crouch in. I dove for it, faster than I’d ever flown (or fallen) before, and soundlessly entered the river. The water was not disturbed for even a millisecond as I was engulfed by the liquid.
A moment later, I was startled by an unsuspecting fish swimming right through my head, but other than that I was relieved. I laid against the riverbed, keeping my wings and tail tucked as close as possible to my torso. My neck and shoulders were hunched up, and my claws fruitlessly tried to grasp the ground beneath me.
This water hid me even better than the sky, for it was rushing by rapidly, and, like the sky, I blended in almost perfectly under the cascade of bubbles. So unless one of the dragonets entered the river, I was nearly positive they wouldn’t see me.
Of course, right at that moment, a dragon decided to jump into the surprisingly-deep river, just a few feet away from me.
It took all my willpower not to shriek in terror. One, because I was startled, and two, because it was another dragon. I was more shocked than I thought I would’ve been; during the length of my travel, I had never been that close to a dragon. I prayed with all my frightened soul that they wouldn’t see me. 
The mystery being seemed to be looking for something. Probably some fish. Although I wasn’t sure (for the moving water distorted my sight), when I barely glimpsed the side of their face, I guessed it was male. And almost certainly MudWing.
Oh no. Don’t turn around. Please please PLEASE don’t turn—
My begging line of thought was abruptly severed by a set of round, light-brown eyes suddenly poised a claw’s breadth from mine.
I froze. That’s it: froze. Not even time mattered to me in that emotion-filled moment.
Everything was collapsing down on me at once. Fear, surprise, dread, and some serious I-should-be-running-not-staring-right-now vibes. But for that quick moment, I had no control over my body. I was awaiting the other dragon’s response, for there was nothing else I could do right then anyway.
The MudWing appeared just as shocked as I was. After two seconds, he opened his mouth to let out a muffled scream, then leaped out of the river with untold speed.
Once he was gone, I somehow managed to collect myself, blinking slowly. Now one of the worst emotions I was feeling hardened like a rock in my chest: dread.
What was he going to do? Run back shrieking? Tell the others? Look for me?
When I worked up the courage, I peeked out of the water, hoping nobody was there. If the coast was clear, I could fly for it.
Voices could be heard getting closer to the river, and my heart sank. I didn’t want to believe it, but he had gone back to inform one or two of the dragonets about the “creepy pale SeaWing girl” hiding in the water.
Before they could get within my range of sight, I dashed out of the cackling river and darted into the forestry, ducking behind a large tree trunk. I knew I should’ve run away from them at that point, but my rebellious side wished to stay and observe. I didn’t often eavesdrop on younger dragons (they could be very irritating), yet my curiosity was piqued. 
The MudWing came charging into view, heading directly for the river, with a male dragonet close in suit. He was a NightWing, and looked younger than the first one. I wasn’t too good at guessing ages ordinarily, but that MudWing was most challenging indeed. He was noticeably tall—almost to the average adult size—while his expressions and eyes spoke volumes of excited youth. If I had to have assumed an exact age, I would’ve chosen six. Or seven. Or eight.
“C’mon!” Chocolate-Eyes encouraged his companion, who seemed merely amused and not worried at all. He ran up to the muddy riverbank and pointed accusingly at the rushing water. “She was right there!” 
“Yep, sure,” said the NightWing sarcastically. From what I could figure, I didn’t like him. Or his condescending face. “The pretty, weird-looking SeaWing who scared away your lunch.”
I tried not to blanch. Pretty? Was that in his description? An odd sensation of wonder came over me. I’d never really been complimented before. It made me feel . . . warm.
Stop it. Focus.
“Oh shut up, Sparkstriker,” said Chocolate-Eyes. He waded into the water, went up to his chest, and stuck his head underneath. He moved around, searching, with his wings and tail occasionally slapping the surface. 
After one confused moment, I remembered that MudWings can breathe underwater up to an hour or so. He had almost started to worry me. Wait. Why would I be worried? I’m not worried. Nope.
He came back up, soaked and spitting out freshwater. His face was painted with astonishment and disappointment. “She’s not there!”
“Ha!” Sparkstriker laughed. “Told you! Why didn’t you believe me when I told you about my vision? This is proof, Barky!”
I didn’t blink. Uh-oh. They still have powers? Reef said the NightWings lost them! Just shows that Gramps didn’t know everything.
Still, though, my heart tightened a bit thinking about Reef. He had been a good, kind, loyal dragon who deserved to die peacefully in his sleep. Not helpless and coughing up blood on the beach.
What would he say to me now? 
“It’s Rocky, and I still say that’s gibberish!” Rocky insisted. “The only thing this proves is the fact that there’s a ghostly-looking sea dragon somewhere nearby, and I wanna know who she is.” 
“Why?” Sparkstriker inquired, amusement glittering in his dark blue eyes. “She was probably just some other student pulling a prank. Why does it matter?”
Oh, but it did matter to Sparkstriker. Just by studying him, I could tell he was hiding something. What or why, I had zero idea. He definitely appeared to enjoy watching events unravel before him.
Rocky huffed. “I . . . don’t really know. I’m just curious, I suppose.” He cast a long look at the river, then turned and started walking back the way they’d come. “There was something strange about her . . .”
As the duo moved farther and farther away, I exhaled a breath I didn’t know I was holding. I wanted to follow them, oh, with all of my heart and soul, I wanted to follow them. Naturally, my will was strong enough to listen to my brain about leaving the vicinity, which was clearly the wisest choice. And I always chose the wisest course.
Yeah right.
== Chapter Three: Just Because You Can’t See Me, Doesn’t Mean I’m Not There ==
I moved soundlessly from tree to tree, making sure neither of the two boys noticed me. I was somewhat disappointed when they took flight, what with me not being able to pursue them as easily. No matter, I could still see where they were headed, right?
My dark eyes never left the duo for a second as they flew southwest, towards the huge mountain I recalled seeing all the dragons come out of not too long ago. So, assuming that's where Rocky and Sparkstriker were heading back to, I decided to . . . investigate.
"I should not be doing this," I muttered under my breath to myself, swiveling my head every which way to double-check no one was nearby. Not a soul I could see, though I could've sworn I'd heard the faintest of voices. "I should not be doing this."
After a minute of constantly scanning my surroundings and moving forward swiftly, I realized I had taken my gaze off of my two dragons of interest. I quickly jerked my head back to the sky, and couldn't find their distant frames anywhere.
I cursed before I spotted one brown figure and one black figure landing on a yawning cave entrance on the twin-peaked mountain. A sigh of relief escaped my lungs.
"Ugh! Get away from me, dork!"
I leaped a mile when the new, female voice spoke, very much close by. Oh no. Not again. Hide!
But more and more voices were getting inexplicably louder, and therefore closer, which didn't leave me much time or options.
So I ran.
Right then, I was almost grateful for my curse, as it allowed me to speed through every tangible thing, and without so much as a sound. I ran in fear, urgency, and, to be objective, stupidity. If there was even one dragon that I ran into other than Rocky (who had already witnessed me), my secrecy would be in even greater jeopardy.
I didn't look back, not even once. Before I knew it, I had arrived at the base of the mountain, at a safe distance from whoever those other dragons were. A shiver crawled up my body. I must be more careful.
I flew, gracefully and speedily, to the entrance cave that I had seen Rocky and Sparkstriker slip into. With another grateful sigh, I discovered an empty cavern hollowed before me. I glanced at the surface of the room that I was miraculously standing on, amazed and perplexed that I was not fading into the mountain. Odd; I'll have to figure that out later.
That's when I noticed it: A large, colorful banner hanging on the back wall in between hallways that in bold, vivid letters, read 'WELCOME TO JADE MOUNTAIN ACADEMY STUDENTS!'
I squinted at it, then started noticing torches burning in their holders and flowers decorating different spots of the cave. "What the? . . ."
"Hello! You're a bit late, aren't yo--OH!"
I screamed like the idiot I was and, without getting a good look at the loud and startlingly-stealthy dragon, bolted down one of the hallways as fast as my transparent talons could carry me.
"Wait!" called the female voice desperately. I didn't slow for a millisecond. "Come back! Who are you? I did not have a vision about this. . ."
I kept running until I was convinced that she wasn't giving chase. I stopped to lean on a wall; even though I needn't breathe, I still wearied from exertion. But when I put some of my fourth-dimensional weight against the wall, it fell straight through--or more like, I fell straight through.
"Eep!" I yelped in surprise as I flopped clumsily onto the ground. When I hadn't gone through the floor, I'd assumed since the walls were part of the natural mountain, that I wouldn't seep into it. None of this makes sense. I wish Grandpa were here to help me with his theories.
Grunting, I pushed myself up off the floor, hoping grandly that I didn't just stumble into a dragon-filled cave. I felt no pain from the fall, which, ironically, disappointed me. Even if it was pain, I wanted to feel. And, if I could feel pain, maybe I could find a way to kill myself. Wouldn't that be an alleviation. Oh, how I wished merciful death would take me already.
There was one way that I knew of that could kill me . . . but it would be a terribly shallow and cruel choice to make. It was almost tempting, but being aware of the consequences was too overwhelming. No, if I could kill myself, I would have to find a better, less-selfish solution.
I looked up, ready to leap back through the wall where I'd accidentally entered at the sign of sentient life.
Thankfully, I had come across en empty room, significantly more compact than the entrance cave. Enough space to comfortably fit at least five dragons. It was dimly lit, with one smoldering torch held by the wall opposite the hallway opening. Two beds--one a comfy-looking hammock, one a rocky outcropping sticking out of the lower half of the wall with a blanket resting on it--were the only current occupants of the room. A few scrolls lay askew on the floor, and an old, browning apple had been tossed under the hammock.
"If this is a school," I muttered to myself contemplatively, "this is probably a dorm of some kind. Which means the students staying here could be back any minute . . ." Writing this is going to sound funny, but yes, I, the ghost, paled. "I gotta get out of here. What was I thinking? You can't go around following random strangers, Whale! Pull yourself together and leave this place--"
No.
I smacked my face, gaining no satisfaction in the nonexistent sting. "I'm not talking back to myself. No impulsiveness in here. Nope. None. Zilch."
I'm not leaving. I want to know more about Rocky and his evil sidekick. Besides, I can't be alone forever. Like Reef said, I'll go mad.
"Nope. I-I am gonna leave. Right now. Not being stopped. Not by impulsive curiosity. I am a strong-willed dragoness who does not give in to the ever-intriguing unknown--"
But I'll go insane eventually. If I am constantly wallowing in my self-pity and depression, who knows what I'll end up doing. Come on, what do I have to lose?
I gulped. This was becoming too much. Too much resisting inner-conflict. Am I losing it? "Oh, I don't know, security, peace, dignity--"
What dignity?
I let out a soft groan, grasping my head. I could see the tipping point crawling closer. "Sh-shut up, self. I . . . I am going to fly out of here, right now, and th-that . . . is . . . f-final . . ."
My single-dragon dispute was cut short by the sound of quiet voices, coming from another possible room on the other side of one wall.
I let go of my head, blinking away the tears that had begun to brew. My inner-voice was regrettably correct; my curiosity tended to outweigh any of my other attributes. Moving over to that wall, I slowly slipped my snout inside it, then the rest of my head, horns, and some of my neck, careful not to go entirely through the wall. I hate to imagine what would've happened had I accidentally done so.
In some paradoxical way, my heart rose and fell simultaneously as I recognized the speaker's voice: Rocky. Of course it was him; it couldn't have been anyone else in the whole school, it had to be him.
What confused me is why I cared so much. He was just an interesting stranger that had seen me, that was all.
"I'm telling you, Sparksmiter, I am going to see her again! Someone as odd as that is bound to turn up again soon!"
I held in an annoyed huff. Rocky's evil sidekick was with him. Maybe they shared dorms, like the one I was partially-in. The NightWing spoke: "Oh, I do not doubt that, simple dragon. I merely doubt a thing or two that I am choosing not to inform you of for the amusement of it. I'm also certain she'll appear once more. But, Rocky, I must tell you two things: one, that you need to quit mispronouncing words, my name is Sparkstriker; two, that you should be wary if you do ever see her again. She's not what you expect."
That hit me like a tidal wave. I didn't want anyone to be scared of me; what was there about me that was scary? And how did he know of me? Visions? Does that mean I actually meet them in the future?
Oddly enough, a cascade of foreign, warm feelings washed over me at that thought. I wasn't in any particular hurry to meet Sparkstriker, but the idea of being face-to-face with Rocky again . . . that gave me the smallest shrivel of happiness against my darkened and dampened soul.
However, according to Grandpa's facts, that one lone happiness was a potential future chink in my armor. So my tiny glimmer of hope was painted over with practicality. I lowered my gaze and backed slowly out of the wall, once again fully occupying the first dorm. I laid down on the floor, no longer caring if someone walked in on me, and stared at my talons forlornly. The guys' voices could still be vaguely heard, sounding too cheerful and careless to deserve anything good in their sweet little lives.
Putting out that spark of hope was one of the hardest things I could remember committing. All of a sudden, uncontrollable rage and sadness overtook my everything, commanding my thoughts and movements and speech. I barely noticed my clenching fists, my shaking wings, my tail flicking in and out of the wall in tirelessness. I was nothing but a pitiful spirit with a heart that was gradually shattering into hundreds of tiny, vile shards stabbing me from the inside. My righteous frustration began expelling itself from me via boiling tears, streaming down my face faster than any waterfall.
I pounded a fist on the ground repeatedly in indignation, desperately desiring to bring pain upon myself. Any physical pain whatsoever could distract me from my true pain. ANYTHING. I'd rather have had my chest melted slowly by RainWing venom; it would've been significantly less torturous.
I punched the ground; I slapped my face; I stepped on my own talons; I slashed my neck; I stabbed my arm; I choked myself; I scratched at my eyeballs; I jumped, flew through the ceiling a bit, and nose-dived into the floor.
Nothing. No physical pain. No feeling. No damage.
All the damage was on the inside. And I couldn't release it.
I was trapped. Trapped in a body that wasn't really there.
And if I'm not really there . . . where am I?
Lost in the throes of crazed, caged emotions, I let out a fear-inducing cry that rivaled the loudest dragon roars. I held that cry for roughly eight seconds, in absolute dire need of a way to channel my fury.
It did not matter what the dragonets that suddenly crowded the door-less entrance thought and whispered as they saw me sobbing in a corner of the room. It did not matter that Sparkstriker was one of them, observing me with that mischievous yet knowing smirk on his pompous face. It did not matter that I had probably alerted the whole school, and now everyone would know of me: the ghost that haunts this school and dragonets' nightmares.
In my case, even matter doesn't matter.
== Chapter Four: Please Don't Cry ==
I don't know how long I laid there, crying my heart out to the point where I thought my eyes would go completely dry. My body had curled in on itself, wanting to ignore the students in the doorway, most of which had run off, screaming for their lives. The others I heard whispering stayed out of curiosity, but too freaked and wary to step into the room with me. Good. I probably would've lunged at them and raked my claws right through their solid necks if any dared come close to me.
I just . . . I couldn't handle my curse anymore. There was absolutely nothing positive or worth anything about me; I am only a pointless spirit trapped in the fourth dimension devoid of the promise of merciful death. Why bother hiding anymore? What was the point of keeping my enigmatic self a secret from the world?
Then, commanding adult voices joined the bustle behind me, and, from the sound of it, began shooing away the incompetent dragonets. In between my pathetically-loud sobs, I discerned one male and two females. Once (I assumed) all the students had been ushered off, they grew quiet, uttering things to each other. It almost made me scoff; even the grown-ups were too afraid of a ghost.
I couldn't decide if it was more surprising or horrifying when one of the females addressed me. Not one dragon besides Grandpa Reef had ever talked to me before. Without my consent, my body started to quiver.
Should I speak? What if I mosey on through the wall and never come back? Will they turn and fly away in terror if I lift up my head and say "hi!"?
Only one way to find out.
The same dragoness repeated herself, clearing her throat: "Hello?" I heard no talonsteps.
Even though I don't need to breathe, crying made oxygen pump through my lungs, and I continually huffed it out as I sobbed subconsciously, so I halted that process. My tears gradually slowed to an almost-complete stop. I wiped them dully with the back of my right talon. Not wanting to leave my safety ball, I merely raised my head to glare at my onlookers and answer them.
The one who I guessed had spoken was small for an adult—not unlike myself—and a (strange-appearing) SandWing. The other female was a muscular SeaWing who was giving me a startled yet slightly-suspicious look. The male, a large and soft-seeming MudWing, was looking at me like I had just grown four more eyes and six more wings, but trying to hide it.
Enhancing my splintered courage, I managed to say, "Go away."
The dragons were uncertain what to do, I could tell. The SandWing, with kind eyes, actually took one step forward. "Who are you?" she asked gently.
A low and quiet growl rumbled in me when she stepped closer to me. She wisely retraced that talon's path. Coldly, I muttered, "A terrifying ghost who is irrelevant to this universe and wants to die in a hole. So unless you can kill me, go; flee, shrieking like frightened little birds into the sunset. Leave me alone." With that, I lowered my head back into its place on my arm, covering it with my wing.
"You—you really are a ghost?" asked the MudWing with a shocked tone.
"Shush Clay," chastised what sounded like the SeaWing. There was an 'ow!' from him, as if she stepped on his tail.
"Oh sweetheart," the SandWing continued, ignoring them. There was a thick layer of pity in her voice, but it was also somehow soothing. "No one is going to kill you. Can you tell me your name?"
I realized at that moment that nobody had ever asked me that question. I sniffed. "If you won't help me, I can't tell you my name." Yep. Classic stubborn me.
The SandWing sighed. "Well, my name is Sunny. This SeaWing here is Tsunami. And the . . ."
Noises of a struggle in the hallway interrupted her, and I had the sense to look over my shoulder to try to see what was taking place.
From my limited vision, I could only see the MudWing's (wasn't it Clay?) tail in the hallway. I heard him and another, younger voice arguing (rather loudly). The SeaWing—Tsunami—speedily jumped towards the two fighting dragons and brought silence to them by blatantly shouting: "SHUT UP!"
Now, with my dampened thoughts distracted by my curiosity, I cautiously stood, keeping a fair distance from the diverse dragons. The hallway conversation was going strangely, as though someone was trying to get past the adults. A shiver ran down my spine as I guessed who the trespasser was by his voice.
Now's my chance, I couldn't help thinking as they all had their eyes averted. I can slip through the walls right now! Dang it, Whale, just do it!
I straightened my neck and lowered my shoulders, making not one sound as I slowly backed one rear talon into the solid mountain wall behind me.
To my chagrin, I was relieved when Sunny glanced back into the room and noticed me attempting an unwitnessed escape. She shot me a pleading and caring look, one that I couldn't possibly say no to. I sighed, bringing my talon back to its former spot and letting my wings droop. Sunny smiled at me gratefully.
Ugh, how can a dragon seem so happy? Normal dragons no nothing of what I've had to endure!
But, as soon as I thought that, Clay, Sunny and Tsunami reluctantly moved out of the way to allow the dragon I both dreaded and desired to see the most barrel into the room.
Seldom had I ever seen a face as emotion-filled as Rocky's that moment. He stood merely two feet in front of me, panting, gaping at me like I was the answer to every problem in the universe. His big, soft eyes bore into my soul (almost literally), and my deep blue ones bore into his. Neither dared move and break the link, staying perfectly still. All was silent. As I stared, I noticed things I hadn't before: how dark brown his scales were, how he was a little plump, how his claws and tail were constantly twitching with nervous energy . . . how he was actually kind of handsome.
And when I noted the latter, I couldn't resist the oncoming tears threatening to leak out. Caused by the knowledge that I could never become close with this dragon—or it might end in grave consequences—I fell into a ball again and let the hot tears flow freely.
"It's not fair!" I yelled, without hardly realizing I said that out loud. A string of sharp, sob-mixed curses rolled off my tongue at rapid pace.
"Hey! We don't use that kind of—”
"Shut up, Tsunami!" Sunny demanded, quietly but angrily. "You and Clay go help Starflight deal with the students. I'll handle this."
I paid them no heed as I cried unhaltingly, talons sheltering my face. I was inconsolable at that point.
Now, this next part may not make much sense, but I don't know how else to explain it: I felt Rocky's talon rest gingerly on mine, even though it passed straight through. Not literally, but . . . I could feel him trying to touch me, unlike anything I'd ever experienced. I did not feel him physically, but, somehow, in some way . . .
Startled entirely, I removed my talons and lifted my head up, tears still streaming, but not as quickly. Opening my droopy, dark eyes, I immediately found myself face-to-face with Rocky, and experienced yet another paranormal and thought-impossible feeling: my heart stopping.
Rocky was just . . . looking at me. But the way he was doing it, with the expression of pure sympathy and emotions I couldn't place . . . I felt . . . No. I'm not allowed to feel this. This is nothing. I can't. I won't. 
It would be wrong. So wrong.
Which is why, I refuse—
In a soothing, deep voice, he gingerly pled, not looking away from my eyes for a second, "Please don't cry."
And, just like that, I fell.
I only wish it were the ground I'd fallen through.
== Chapter Five: Questions==
It was Sunny who interrupted our otherworldly moment.
“Rocky, you really do know her?”
He turned his head to nod over his shoulder at Sunny. I wondered if he noticed his talon was still in mine. “Sort of?" he answered. "Ish? Like, I ran into her earlier on accident? Does that count?”
With great disappointment, I too looked at the SandWing. I still wished not to speak if I didn't have to, so I remained silent.
Sunny kept switching her gaze back and forth between us, so quickly I worried she would ruin her eyesight. Finally, her visual destination rested on Rocky. She walked fully into the room with us, albeit keeping her distance. "Okay, just, tell me what happened first."
Rocky cleared his throat, then out of his peripheral vision realized where his right talon was placed and hastily removed it. A tiny portion of my heart left with it. He began, "Well, um, this morning when I went out with the hunting party, I wandered off to catch some prey on my own. Then I came across this liver--"
Sunny's snout scrunched up. "Liver?"
"I said river," Rocky insisted without the slightest iota of doubt. He continued, "And thought there might be some good fish in it. So I jumped in and . . ." He paused to glance at me in emphasis. "She was there, just spitting on the riverbed--"
"Do you mean, sitting on the riverbed?" Sunny cut in again with confusion.
Rocky's eyelids lowered at snail-pace. "That's what I said. Anyways, I turned around, and suddenly BAM she's in my face." He scratched his neck. "I kiiiinnda flipped out and ran like a maniac. Sorry about that." He looked down at me apologetically. "I'm not exactly used to . . . you know, goats."
Sunny sighed. "You mean ghosts? Oh, no offense honey," she added that last bit towards me with a small wince. I glared at her, but hollowly.
Rocky rolled his light, warm eyes in subpresent irritation. "That's what I said! Then, I went back to the river with Sparkstriker, and she was gone. I wanted to find her again to see if I'd gone mad and she was just a really-pale SeaWing, or if I was somehow right and I'd seen . . ." He drifted off politely.
Sunny went over to the hammock, carefully sitting in it. From the way her shoulders slouched, she appeared very tired. "Thank you Rocky. You can go now, if you like."
"No!" both me and him cried at the same time. Don't ask where my abrupt impulse came from; I have no idea. To my embarrassment, Rocky looked at me with surprise.
"I, would like to ask him a few questions first." Nice. Way to be smooth, Whale. 
Sunny grinned, though I wasn't quite sure why. There was a barely-present sparkle in her eye, one that I almost found creepy. "Okay, but before any other questions are asked, can you please tell us your name?"
My name. One of the only ordinary parts of my existence. I backed up to the wall until my tail disappeared into it. Although Rocky was gazing at me expectantly, I focused totally on the SandWing. ". . . Whalesong."
Rocky smiled softly. Why did all of my insides suddenly become mush? "Mysterious Pale Girl turns out to be Whalesong. That's a pretty name." He glanced down at his talons bashfully, as though he'd embarrassed himself.
Sunny nodded in agreement. "Thank you, Whalesong. I appreciate you staying and talking with us."
I made no acknowledgment to either of their statements. Only stared at the floor as determinedly as I could.
There was an awkward silence between the three for many seconds, until Sunny brought sound back to it. "Whalesong, hon, would you be comfortable telling me and Rocky, um, where exactly you came from? Or how you're a . . . What term do you prefer?"
I snorted. "Dragon is what I prefer, but if you're referring to my supernatural-esque, then I suppose ghost is acceptable."
Sunny nodded. "Well, then continuing my question, how you're a ghost?"
I knew she meant no harm, but hearing someone call me a ghost was like they were confirming your most dominant insecurity. It was . . . difficult.
I sat down on my haunches, trying to put together how I would start. Why not with the bane of my existence? "I'll just jump to the key point in my story: I am the only current recipient of a terrible curse," I spat out the last word like it was the cause of a continent's death, "one that has been passed on through my ancestors for several generations. Animus magic, from what I was told. The whole picture is extraordinarily strange and complicated, so I'll spare each of you the mental exertion and say a few things.
"One, that only one 'ghost' may live at a time. Two, that I was raised on a remote island by my great-grandpa and never knew anyone else. Three, that he was pretty sure every dragon of my mother's line was a 'ghost'. Four, I can't touch anything but the ground. Hope that was very helpfully," I added sarcastically.
It was almost amusing, how they were gaping at me. More so Rocky than Sunny, however. That made me curious.
"I have more questions," Sunny said slowly, raising a talon like a student in class.
Rocky verbally agreed with her, still staring at me aptly.
All of that attention . . . and just talking to dragons in general who weren't my grandpa, felt so weird to me. Exciting, aggravating, and nerve-wracking all at the same time. And, although I wasn't comfortable revealing my history to strangers, it was sort of like lifting a bit of the immense weight off my shoulders.
I waved a talon in unenthusiastic encouragement. "Shoot. I don't have anywhere else to be."
Just then, two girls bounced into the room, one SandWing and one RainWing. Or . . . she looked mostly RainWing, anyway. They were laughing a something loudly when the came in, before they looked around and noticed the random trio occupying their dorm. I had to hold back a giggle as they blankly gawked at us in confusion.
"Oh, sorry girls," Sunny apologized without much penitence. She got out the hammock, still weary-eyed. "We'll be on our way."
But the newcomers weren't paying attention to her; both of their gazes were stuck on me, eyes larger than the moons themselves. Neither one dared move or look away.
It was different from when Rocky had done it. His face bore a sympathy and softness that I'd never witnessed; these girls were ogling at me like I was some horrifying, outrageous abomination. I found myself angered by their reactions.
Out of my peripheral vision, I think Rocky sensed my growing defensiveness, and took one step toward me, trying to calm me down. It made me madder because it was working.
"Now, wait, don't freak out," Sunny soothed, reaching out to them. "This is just Whalesong. She's completely harmless."
Finally, the RainWing snapped out of her reverie. "Why is th-there a ghost in our room?" she demanded with fear tainting her voice. I did everything I could not to growl.
Rocky lifted his wing and subtly brushed it through mine. "Stop that. You're scaring them," he muttered out of the corner of his mouth.
I almost turned and yelled at him that I wasn't scary, before realizing he meant my involuntary scowling. I forced my facial muscles to tone it down a bit, which was strangely easy with him next to me.
Then guilt replaced the anger, and my throat began to swell. There was no way I could let my feelings get in the way of my goal. If they did, then my life would be forfeit in the most heinous way.
At least I still hadn't spoken directly to him yet. Maybe if I could just keep dodging him . . .
"It's just a spell of sorts," Sunny assured them as best as she could. "Don't worry, she won't stay here."
I withheld a blanch. Were they really going to ban me from that place? Would I ever see Rocky again?
No, that would be a good thing. The farther away from him I am, the better.
Apparently, the SandWing student was having similar thoughts. "Are you gonna kick the freak out?" she asked coldly.
"That's very rude!" Sunny chastised sharply. "Apologize, Dust!"
Dust ticked me off, but my fury was also a disguise for my hurt from her inquiry. I shrank closer to the ground, laying my wings over my legs as I crouched. I kept my mouth tightly shut, glaring at Dust.
"Hey!" Rocky added, coming to my defense, "Don't be mean!"
While he was distracted, I risked a thankful smile at him, letting my scarred heart pour into the expression before he could see it. Rocky was protecting me despite that he'd only know me for a few hours. Oh, if I could have just one wish in the world, I would wish to be tangible, to be able to brush his wings with mine, hold his talon but once, twine my tail with his.
I was absolutely mortified when I turned my attention back to the three by the doorway, and discovered Sunny glancing at me, almost suspiciously. My claws suddenly grew very interesting.
"Fine," Dust said reluctantly. "Sorry. Now can you get out of my room?" There was no true penitence in her gruff voice. Mostly impatience.
Sunny sighed softly. "You should be nicer to fellow dragons. But yes, we're leaving." She gestured for me and Rocky to follow her, at which I stood up and we complied.
As I walked silently passed the room occupants, Dust glared at me, knowing that the others wouldn't see it. But, it was not a glare full of anger . . . it was ridden with hidden terror, trying to be covered up by a false emotion. I almost scoffed. Nice try, Dust, nice try.
We walked in quiet, not wanting to discuss anything while in the hallways. Thankfully, everyone seemed to be in class, for we came across no one. I was sick of explaining myself already.
We walked past many more dorms similar to the one we'd been in, but finally, Sunny stopped at a larger one and stepped aside, letting me and Rocky enter. She followed directly behind us, going to sit down in a chair with a camel-fur rug laying askew over it. Rocky had only just sat down on the ground when Sunny addressed him: "Not you, Rocky. Thank you for your help, but you still need to go to class. You can come visit Whalesong once you're finished, not before." Her words were stern but not unkind.
Did I imagine the slight drop of his shoulders? Knowing me, probably.
Rocky nodded. "Okay, thanks. I'll see you guys later," he said hesitantly, glancing at me before he exited the cave like he thought I would disappear again the moment her turned his back.
As soon as he was gone, Sunny gazed at me inquisitively. Slowly, she asked, "So, Whalesong . . . would you be interested at all in, uh, staying here? Don't worry, you could sleep with me in here." She smiled hopefully.
I balked. Was this welcoming dragon inviting me to stay at the school? Without even knowing me? Up until then, I'd assumed most dragons were horrible, greedy entities who rarely cared for anyone besides themselves; now, my eyes were gradually being pried open, finally seeing a whole new viewpoint of dragonkind.
For a few moments, I didn't speak. My head and my heart were fighting for my action controls, tearing me apart. On the one talon, I knew the logical and moral thing to do was leave the school at once. I would not be present to 'terrify' dragonets, and I wouldn't bring any trouble. Most importantly, I would—my lonely heart throbbed just thinking about it—never see Rocky again. That was paramount priority.
But on the other talon . . . I already knew, deep within, I could not abandon this place so willingly. I'd only ever spoken to Reef my whole life leading up to that point, and I needed somebody to talk to. Someone who wouldn't fly away in cowardice from my transparent body; someone who is open to the idea of having a (semi-)normal conversation with me; someone who would at least attempt to keep me from scaling the brink of insanity.
Someone, maybe, like Sunny.
No. You can't stay, and you know it, I once again lectured myself. If you grow too fond of Rocky, you'll—
Straining my muscles, I managed to nod without the consent of my conscience. (Ah, it's always us rebellious ones, isn't it?) In a grateful (yet conflicted) voice, I answered, "Yes."
==Chapter Six: Talks ==
Sunny grinned with relief and hope. She clasped her talons together excitedly, though how much of that excitement was true, I wasn’t certain. And if it was true, I had no idea why. “Great!”
I rubbed my arm, feeling awkward and intruding. "Thank you," I muttered.
Sunny looked at me with a slanted head. She asked (almost reverently), "Could you explain some things, please? It's alright if I'm overstepping. Then, if you want, you can ask me questions."
I wondered what aspects of my life she wanted disclosed, but honestly thought that no bad could come of telling any of them. A gave a clipped nod, eyes darting around the room and scanning every object that lay within. With a flick of my tail, I said, "Sure. Ask away. You might as well know my story better, if I'm gonna be staying here."
Sunny looked at me with only curiosity and sympathy. She took a deep breath, then said, "First . . . what are you doing out here? Didn't you say you lived on a remote island?"
I glanced at the room entrance, paranoid about eavesdroppers. "Well, my great-grandpa just recently passed away." No, no tears this time, Whale. Keep a steady voice. "And he was the only dragon I'd ever spoken too until now. So I ditched the island and travelled a bit around western parts of Pyrrhia. Then I ended up here."
"Oh, I'm sorry for your loss," Sunny offered kindly, but her words fell upon deaf ears. "Have you considered seeking out an animus dragon to cure your curse?" she asked.
Suddenly, all time halted, and the only thing still going was one solitary yet powerful thought: There really is a way to end my curse.
 Was it truly possible? After all this time, all these generations . . . was there really a way to lift the spell?
In my daze of sheer joy, I admit, I gave a little, high-pitched shriek. I jumped up and was in Sunny's face within a fraction of a second. "B-but . . . he said animus magic was only used for evil! He said there had to be another way!"
Sunny, abruptly bewildered, blinked rapidly. She slowly shook her head. "No. Animus magic can be used for good just as much as evil. Do you want me to contact someone honey?"
For the first time in a very, very long time, I smiled, wide and tooth-filled. A lump swelled in my throat, a precursor to the tears of ecstasy that I felt coming on. "Could you really?! Am I asleep? I must be asleep. Somebody wake me up!"
For a moment, Sunny tried to hug me, but gave up after just grasping air. "You're not dreaming, Whalesong. I'll help you; we'll help you. Just give me a few days to contact a few dragons, okay?"
"Okay?" I echoed incredulously. "That's more than okay! That's the best thing I've ever heard in my life! Thank you so much!"I bounced rather uncharacteristically up and down, unable to contain my joy. "I have a chance!"
"Oh sweetheart," she mumbled sadly. "Don't tell me you've always been this down."
That stopped my bouncing. I gave her a sheepish look. "Maybe," I muttered.
Sunny shook her head just barely. "Well, I'm glad you came here. I'll tell you more about this place and everything tomorrow; I've got a class coming up soon to teach. But before I go . . ." There was a moment of silence as she tried to form the right words. "Did you follow Rocky here?"
Suddenly, I was very embarrassed, but I wasn't entirely sure why. My gaze became distracted. Carefully, I admitted, ". . . Yeah. I was worried what he would do or say after seeing me." The last part was honest, but only partially.
An uncanny grin began blossoming on Sunny's face. No wonder they call her that, I thought. The gold-colored SandWing glanced at the doorway, then softly inquired, "You like him, don't you?"
Right then, every obscene word I'd ever heard sped through my panicking brain like hunting cheetahs. My outward self froze in time, stiffer than a dead body; my inward self went into overdrive, trying to think of anything truthful that I could say to that without darting behind a wall. Say something, dimwit! You're making it obvious!
"U-um," I started numbly. My life depended on not looking her in the eyes. "Why would--what makes you say that?" I wanted to die when my voice took an abrupt, high pitch on the final word.
Sunny startled me by laughing. "Trust me, after all these years, with all these students, I can read signs clear as day. Besides, I saw the way you kept staring at him." She batted her eyelashes teasingly.
My wings immediately lifted to cover my head, an act of shame and mortification, and I made a pained moaning sound. "I'm so pathetic," I couldn't help muttering.
"Oh, I'm sorry!" she quickly apologized. I could hear her getting up out of her chair. "Liking someone doesn't mean you're pathetic! I was just joking, sweetheart. I honestly think it's cute."
"That's not reassuring," I mumbled from underneath my protective double-wing layer. I could not remember my face ever feeling this hot.
I heard her sigh. "That might have come out wrong. I didn't mean to be so straightforward. I'm just curious about that type of stuff, okay?" She was trying to get me to crawl back out of my shell.
I brought my breathing back down to a normal rate, then hesitantly dragged my face into view once more. I frowned. "I would kinda like my privacy to stay private, if you don't mind." That came out more snappish than I'd anticipated. A pang of guilt almost made me wince; this dragon was showing me kindness, and I was being secretive and rude. Yet, I couldn't bring myself to say sorry. A few rude things were nothing compared to the amount of emotional suffering I've had to endure for nine years.
Sunny let out a deep breath, resting a talon over her eyes as though she had a headache. I bit my lip with penitence, glancing at the ground. "Look," she began, "I know you're not used to anyone besides your great-grandfather, and we probably make you uncomfortable, but--I guess I just thought you might want somebody to talk to." When she finished, her talon dropped from her face, and in those vibrant green eyes, I saw only a dragon who wanted to help. It made me feel even more guilty.
I did something I'd observed many dragons committing when they were dealing with too much: I sighed. "I--I'm sorry, Sunny." Wow, point one for the ghost girl. "You're right, I'm not used to anyone else. Everyone seems like a far-away soul in my world. Well . . . everyone except, you know." I had such a difficult time trying to voice my feelings, especially these feelings. How pitiful; I couldn't even fathom the words. I rubbed my arm. "I . . . g-guess that's why I'm sort of drawn to him. His soul isn't like the others. He's different. He's special."
She smiled softly. "He's also cute." She was clearly holding back a giggle, biting her lip.
(Writer: Three moons this is embarrassing . . . Girls are so weird . . .)
"Uh!" I drew my face into an offended frown, mouth slightly agape. Though, hidden behind my wounded dignity, my chest warmed with a kindle of happiness. Don't smile. Don't smile. DON'T SMILE! 
I shrugged dodgingly. I stammered, "Well, I mean, I suppose, whatever, that too."
Sunny's dam broke and she released all her trapped giggles, nearly doubling over.
I harrumphed in exasperation. What a silly dragon. "Shut up," I muttered, running a talon over my snout. "Not that funny."
The golden SandWing was able to bring her amusement down to a tolerable level, which meant she was grinning knowingly and breathing deeply to control her laughter. "It's okay, it's not that big a deal. I'm not telling anybody, and having a crush won't exactly kill you."
She had no idea that that last sentence hit me like an explosion to the stomach, knocking me off balance. No idea. My gut twisted sickly, and my throat tightened. No, please, not the tears again, I begged myself. "Um, huh, actually . . ." I gulped. Yep. Here come the tears. "Actually, it k-kind of . . . will."
Sunny gasped with a mixture of confusion and horror. She approached me and sat in front of me. "What do you mean, sweetie?"
I twisted my neck and dipped my head, gazing away from the warm eyes of the dragon before me. In truth, I felt like launching a brutal diatribe about that specific cruelty woven into the curse; the magical factor that has been continuously dueling with what was left of my lifeless heart for what felt like an eternity. First, my internal struggle had originated from thoughts of my mother, who had died from that very reason. Now, my strife was doubled by the prospect of never being able to interact with the one dragon who made me feel. How could I possibly inform Sunny of that section of the spell, when I could seldom manage to even contemplate it without breaking?
You can do this, my second-thoughts encouraged irritatingly. You must do this. It is the only way she can know. The curse will be lifted soon, hopefully. Just do not think about Mother. It wasn't your fault.
I hiccuped, somewhat startling Sunny out of my peripheral vision, but I could not bother to look. Yes, it is my fault. If I didn't exist, she'd still be here. I'm the reason she's dead.
Sunny must have been awkwardly sitting there, awaiting my reply. She interrupted my mental discord with a voice not unlike a mother's. "I'm not going to mock or dismiss you, Whalesong. If you want me to keep quiet, then I will, but you should be honest with me. Yeah, I'm a stranger, but, you know, I think I'm nicer than most strangers, right?" She tried a smile.
I snorted with pretend amusement, not wishing to make her feel unwanted. There was, however, no true mirth in in my soul, as there rarely had ever been throughout my life span. I relieved my neck by straightening it and dragged my droopy, bottomless eyes over to Sunny's bright green ones, which I realized were alarmingly closer than I'd anticipated. She wasn't taller than me by much, but she was still taller; most adults were significantly larger than me (as I'm sure I mentioned somewhere, I'm quite short).
I gulped, then spoke in a pained tone, "It's just, well . . . You see, according to my great-grandfather, my 'ghostly' line has been all female, as far as he could tell." I paused and waited for her to nod in permission for me to continue. "And, um, when one of us meets someone we're . . . attracted to romantically, or if we are near them to much . . . we b-basically become with egg automatically?"
Sunny's eyes widened, both with astonishment and comprehension. She stared at me, then frowned in thought. "Didn't you say something about there only being one ghost at a time?"
I wrung my talons, for some reason feeling ashamed. My eyes were forced to close if I wanted to contain my tears. "Y-yes," I stammered, straining to steady my voice. "That's because, not only does having an egg bring another freakshow into this world, but when the egg hatches--" I parted my heavy eyelids once more, daring her to look away from my leaking eyes now. "The mother dies."
==Chapter Seven: Tired==
Sunny took a step back, blinking at me like I was an omen of death. When she could at last gather her thoughts, she stammered, “What—that’s awful! Who would cast such a terrible spell?”
I scoffed. “Whoever had a vendetta against my many-greats-grandmother, evidently,” I answered in a flat monotone. Someone who wanted us to suffer, my mind offered helpfully.
Sunny rubbed her emerald eyes with the back of her talon. With a sigh, she said, “Whalesong, I’m sorry you’ve had to live like this. No one should. Which is why I hope my friend will be able to help you.”
“It’s Whale,” I muttered, feeling extraordinarily grateful towards this dragon. “Saves breath.”
Sunny nodded in acknowledgment, a shadow of a grin tainting her face. "Okay, Whale," she said. "I believe I have a class coming up soon, so I'll leave you to your thoughts. One request, though: try not to wander about the school, maybe? It's just, I'd rather not deal with panicking students today, okay?"
Ha. I bet I could make most of the school run in circles shrieking from terror if I waltzed into but one classroom. I responded aloud, "Yeah, I get it. I've been doing this for many weeks."
The SandWing vocalized her thanks, cast me a nearly reverent look, and walked out of the room, leaving me alone once more.
Almost as soon as she was absent, the reality of that entire day weighed down on me like boulders strapped to my shoulders. Gradually, I sank to the floor of the cozy cave, shivering from trapped stress. All the hope I possessed for the possibility of being freed of my magical prison were semi-restrained; I was dearly afraid of getting my hopes too high and finding out that they would be incapable of fixing me.
What a strange analogy that was; how can one fix something that has always been broken, right from the start? I was not some bent blade that only required a simple blacksmith's job to repair; I was botched right down to my core, ever since I hatched. Maybe even when I was still in my egg. My physical form would not be an easy fix.
My mind, however . . . may be beyond repair.
~
Evening came swiftly, bringing with it my exhaustion. I had wandered about Sunny's room, investigating every crook and cranny, scanning every item she owned (snoopy, I admit). I was not as bored as I was tired, however. Yes, reader, even we ghosts need sleep. Well, at least I do. I carefully stepped through the wall opposite of the entranceway, snout-first, to see where the sun was positioned outside. I have seldom had any claustrophobic moments in my time, and passing through that solid rock was not one of them. It chilled me to reminisce those few, terrifying times in my life when I would seep into some deceptively-deep material and almost get lost in the plain darkness, foolishly wondering if I'd ever see the light of day again. Once my eyes came out of the mountain (I'd been right; Sunny's room was near the outside), a breathtaking (if one can breathe) view spread out before me, like a sugary treat for my ravenous eyes. I was facing roughly south-west, and found myself perfectly still, gazing fondly and nostalgically at the newly-revealed sunset.
The sky had been painted gorgeously with glowing orange, pink, and blue shades, soaking everything that was not cloaked in shadow. Very few yet glittering stars appeared in the darkest visible recesses of the heavens, winking at me. The sun was half-hiding behind the horizon, casting the last of its dying rays desperately. The sight actually made me smile, possibly the hardest feat the world could accomplish. I stayed there, soaking in the marvelous spectation, wishing everything else were as pure and beautiful as the sunset.
All too quickly, the sun was gone, and I sank back through the matter until I came into Sunny's cave again. The outdoor night was calling to me, begging me to soar freely within its dark folds, but my sleepiness was arguing otherwise.
I yawned and stretched my arms. I wanted to sleep, but hope was holding me back. Hope that Rocky would come and visit me, like they'd agreed.
Instead, I was greeted from a dark corner of the room that I hadn't paid attention to. A greeting so unexpected that I froze from being startled, unable to turn around.
The sudden greeting was: "Hello, wraith. I knew you'd show up soon, though I suspected from another wall. How pleasurable it is to finally meet you."
I clenched my teeth, hardening my resolve to stand tall and not flee. I kept the same position, leaving him staring at my back; I didn't need to look to know who was speaking to me. I recognized that condescending, oily tone anywhere. "The pleasure is all mine, Sparksmiter," I returned, putting Rocky's accidental name for him to good use.
The NightWing dragonet snorted. "If you want to pester me, you're going to have to try much harder, rest assured. Yet, petite girl, I can't help but notice you just confessed to spying on me and my clawmate earlier."
I rolled my eyes while I had the chance, then turned around to face my irritating acquaintance. "You don't seem so surprised," I observed flatly.
Sparkstriker was partly camouflaged by darkness in the corner he was tucked in, but he fully revealed himself once I rotated to look at him. He was, aggravatingly, a little taller than me, but he was clearly younger, visible through many features and traits. His scales were startlingly black, with twinkling starbursts of white on his wing membranes. He had dark, dark green eyes that gave off no cheerfulness whatsoever, unlike his clawmate's. He said calmly, "I am not surprised easily, petite girl. But I think we both know I'm not here for simple talk."
I sat on my haunches and crossed my arms, huffing. "Whatever you're here to say, you better say it fast; I bet Sunny will be back any minute now."
Sparkstriker grinned toothily, giving me an unsettling feeling at the pit of my stomach. What was this dragon’s problem with me? “The soft SandWing is of no concern to me. I was merely seeking a quick opportunity to . . . converse with you, and we seem to be off to a grand start; you evidently already know my name, or a version of it.”
I quirked an eyebrow. “Do you even know my name, or are you just going to keep calling me ‘petite girl’?” I inquired.
His mouth expelled brief laughter, but his eyes glinted with irritation. “Of course I know your name. Whalesong, is it not? I doubt my foresight gave me the incorrect name.” He spoke those last words with an annoying smugness, as though he was aware of many things that I was not and desired to rub it in my face.
I gritted my teeth. Don’t scare him just yet. “What do you want, Sparkstriker? I’m not a very patient dragon.”
“Yes, I summed that up for myself, thank you kindly,” Sparkstriker said placidly. He studied one of his claws boredly. “I’ve come to tell you about a vision I had around a day ago. Involving you.” His mention of me seemed to make his face twist in disdain.
I couldn't help the surprise that showed on my face. Although I didn't want to give him any satisfaction, I asked in astonishment, "What . . . what was in your vision?"
"Ah." Sparkstriker tsked, wagging a claw back and forth. "What's the magic word?" he sang, clearly trying to get on my nerves. It was working.
I slapped a talon over my eyes; it was annoying to look at his stupid face. "Tell me . . . please," I muttered angrily.
"Much better," Sparkstriker cooed in mock approval. "May I begin, or will you start growling at me no matter what I do?"
I lowered my talon and gave him a really? face. "I don't have all night. Despite what you might think, I need my sleep too."
Sparkstriker nodded, a hint of amusement curling his mouth ever so slightly. "Allow me to say one thing first: I know—"
The NightWing was cut off as Sunny walked into the room, wide-eyed at the scene she came in on. The SandWing stared, confused, at Sparkstriker. "Um, Sparkstriker, what are you doing here?" she asked him. "All the other students are going to bed right now, and you're no exception."
Now that there was another adult present (I guess I didn't count), he put on his pleasant, innocent dragonet act. He smiled apologetically at the teacher. "I'm so sorry, Miss Sunny, I was just having a leisurely conversation with my newfound friend here. Weren't we?" He glanced at me.
I refrained from an eye roll. "Yeah. You can tell me what it is you were gonna say tomorrow, okay?" My voice made the sentence a friendly offer, but my eyes made it a daring demand.
Sparkstriker gave me a deep nod, indicating that he got the message clear as crystal. "Sleep well, Whalesong." With that, the student finally exited the cave, quick to get away from us. Eerily enough, I did not hear any talonsteps in the hallway.
Sunny turned to me after seeing him leave. She appeared ready to fall asleep, as was I, but asked, "What was that about? You know him?"
I shook my head in a partial lie. "Not too well, to be honest. And I think I'd prefer it to stay that way." I let out a tiny laugh, then glanced up at her. I did my best not to let disappointment show in my gaze. "All of the students are going to bed right now?"
Sunny smiled in reassurance. "Don't worry, hon. You can see him tomorrow, if you like. Forgive me for asking, but . . . should you really be hanging out with Rocky anytime soon? I mean with, you know? . ." She gestured at me with a talon reluctantly.
I looked down at myself and sighed. "It's—it's complicated, you know? We ghosts get lonely so easily, and when we find someone we actually like being around . . . well, it's kind of hard not to be around them." I rubbed my face tiredly. "Ugh, this is all so wrong."
Sunny yawned, brushing my wing with her's, and although it went straight through, the gesture warmed me. "I agree, Whale, but it's getting late, and I'm exhausted. We'll talk tomorrow, okay?"
"Yeah, okay," I said quietly, also being exhausted. "Let's sleep. And no, I don't 'haunt' dragons like everyone thinks." I allowed myself a weak grin before turning around and lying down on the floor of the cave. Curling up into my normal protective ball and tucking my head inside my wings, I murmured gratefully to Sunny, "Thank you."
There was no response; either she didn't hear me, or had already knocked out on her bed. After hearing a tiny, light snore, it was safe to assume the latter.
I was truly beyond tired, but somehow could only manage roughly an hour or so of sleep. I kept waking up, every several minutes, thinking the former day had all been one extensive dream, and dreading coming out of it. The process repeated until I grew restless and fussy.
At some point in the night, I sat upright on the ground, looking at my new roomate—or as they called them here, clawmate—with dreary-eyed curiosity. The SandWing was sleeping peacefully, breathing evenly and lying on her back. I noticed that she clutched an odd-looking, blue gem of some sort in her talons, but tried not to think too much of it. There would be a time and place to ask about it tomorrow.
An idea popped into my sluggish mind. I grinned to myself and, without much thinking, walked out of the room. Everyone was asleep, right? Why not explore a bit?
At that late hour, all of the torches had been put out, leaving me to wander with nothing but my night vision to guide me. Not that I was in any danger of running into walls.
I would stray through the occasional wall (on purpose) and peak into empty classrooms. This place was much bigger than I'd first pictured; the differing corridors seemed to go on forever. I even thought I saw glitter stuck to the ceiling of one room, but that was probably my sleepy eyes deceiving me.
I stopped walking at one fork in the hallways, pensive as a sleep-deprived dragon could be, when I thought of a place to find. It was admittedly a bad idea, but dragons have bad ideas when they're bored all the time, right?
So, you can guess what I did.
Unfortunately, I found the correct cave I was searching for, after many twists and turns. I entered without making a single noise, glancing back and forth between the two slumbering students before me. One snoring hilariously loud, one silent as the grave. One twitching in his sleep fiercely, one suspiciously motionless.
I gazed fondly at Rocky's sleeping form. Watching his handsome face remain so peaceful, so relaxed, so worry-free, warmed my shadow of a soul better than a bonfire. I felt a smile beginning to tug at the corners of my mouth, and there was no need to stamp it out right then. That moment made me something completely foreign that I had seldom experienced: it made me . . . happy. Truly, very happy.
He made me truly, very happy.
That is how one describes that feeling, right?
More feelings started twirling around inside me, for although in that moment I have never been more content, a nagging longing squirmed in my heart. A longing to be normal. To be able to interact with the dragon I like without constant fear of provoking my own enchanted demise. That would be nice.
I was startled when Rocky began to stir, making light grunting sounds as he turned to lay on his right side, back against the wall. I instinctively darted to the hallway, waiting until I heard no more noise. When all was quiet, I dared to enter again, looking warily at Rocky.
It was his sly clawmate I should've paid attention to.
"NightWings are becoming more and more nocturnal these days, you know."
==Chapter Eight: She of Glass==
I leaped in fright, honestly scared by Sparkstriker's sudden sentence in the silence. It took me a second to realize the voice had come from him; he had been so motionless and quiet just moments before. He still was, with his sneaky eyes deceivingly shut. Even after speaking, he made no move to do anything else.
I rubbed my eyes, trying to calm myself down. Had Sparkstriker been awake all this time, spying on me?
Well, you were the one doing the spying, observed my second-thoughts wryly.
I was not going to talk out loud to myself in front of Sparkstriker, so I thought back, But, I wasn't being all creepy about it.
Oh, so watching dragons in their sleep is not creepy now?
Shut up! He just looks so adorable when he sleeps . . .
Do not tell anyone that. Ever.
I stepped up to Sparkstriker's bed and poked him with a claw (which of course he didn't feel). I whispered into his ear as to not wake Rocky, "All right, NightWing weirdo, we're alone again. What was it you were gonna tell me?"
Sparkstriker grinned slowly in his 'sleep', which gave me a bad case of the heebie-jeebies. He whispered back, "I admire the fact that you act like you weren't just stalking my roommate thirty-five seconds ago."
I gritted my teeth and slammed my eyes shut for a moment. What the heck am I doing? Striker's an aggravating idiot, and now he's witnessed me spying on them! What if he tells Rocky and I look like a stalker? Weeeeeellllll . . . I guess I kind of am. Dang it.
"Look, Mr. McSmartFace, I couldn't sleep, and happened upon this room, okay? Now tell me what was so interesting so I can leave Rocky in peace and you in whatever it is creepy nocturnal dragons do."
Sparkstriker opened his snake-like eyes at last, aiming them directly at me. "You were always too curious for your own good, weren't you? Careful. Curiosity killed the cat."
"And superiority killed the NightWing. Now talk." I sat on my haunches and crossed my arms stubbornly.
Sparkstriker chuckled softly before sitting up, surprising me with how silently he moved. I wouldn't be shocked if he turned out to be a ghost, too. In a hushed tone, he said, "Oh, petite dragon, there is so much you should know. About the future." He averted his gaze for a second to examine his clawmate.
I shook my head, frowning deeply. "Can you ever just—"
That sentence never finished. Because all of a sudden, Sparkstriker seemed to fold in on himself, doubling over in apparent pain. His talons clutched his head. His breathing grew fast. His tail curled around his back legs, twitching rapidly. A panicked yelp of distress was expelled from his lungs.
This all occurred within three seconds.
I didn't know what was happening, or if I should go get help, when Striker's head abruptly whipped up, eyes distant and hazy. I was ready to bolt in terror, but the echoing words that flowed from his mouth stopped me where I stood:
"She of glass and tainted blood,
Reap the hearts will she.
A war of tears may cause a flood,
But soak them up will she.
For she who cannot break or bend,
There shall be a way to mend.
Release her bonds, when the time is right,
Or only one soul will be taking flight."
Sparkstriker collapsed forward, falling off of his bed and landing on his snout. I instinctively reached out to grab him, but he went right through—which, I must admit, however mean, that it was quite satisfying watching him fall. Not that I could manage even the smallest of giggles after witnessing . . . whatever just happened.
What did just happen?
As Sparkstriker gradually recovered, I heard rustling of wings behind me. I looked fearfully over my shoulder, and dread crawled up my insides as I saw Rocky waking up, frowning and yawning and batting his wings slightly. I pondered running for a second, then rejected the idea. I wanted to stop running from him. No more fear. No more hatred. No more tears. Not if there was hope of breaking my curse.
The moan of someone waking up with a horrendous headache sounded from Sparkstriker, the last noise that made Rocky blink his soft eyes open. First, he looked as if what he was seeing were completely ordinary for him and closed his eyes again. Then, his eyes shot open once more and took in the scene before him with great confusion.
"Um," Rocky started drowsily, trying very hard to figure out what was going on and why his tranquil sleep had been unnecessarily interrupted. The thing he noticed most was me, standing awkwardly in front of a crippled-looking NightWing dragonet. He asked me, "Whalesong? Why are you here? Isn't it late?"
I know Rocky meant it as a simple question, but it hurt for some reason. Why am I here? Because of you, you dopey, adorable dragon. And just being near you could get me killed. And you have no idea that I've been following you and secretly—
"Er, I was supposed to talk to Sparkstriker," I half-lied, still whispering. Was that the first sentence I've spoken directly towards him? Carp. I tried to smile like nothing was wrong, but it came out making me look like there was something messed up with my left eye. What do dragons normally say to be friendly and casual? Oh, maybe: "How are you?"
Apparently Sparkstriker's injury and seizure-of-sorts wasn't enough to keep him from letting out a tiny, barely-audible laugh. I turned my head forward to glare at him. Was it something I said?
Rocky craned his neck to get a peek of his clawmate, from which the view of I was blocking. I took a step closer to the back wall, allowing Rocky to see his friend. If that's what they were.
"What's wrong with him?" Rocky inquired worriedly, glancing at me. He slowly got out of his bed and went to sit beside Sparkstriker.
I honestly didn't know what to think. Was Striker just putting on a show? For what reason? Nah, he wouldn't have landed so harshly on his face if that were planned. What about the strange, cryptic words that came out of him? What was that?
Thankfully, Sparkstriker saved me from having to explain something I didn't understand. "I just . . . I just had a prophecy," he uttered carefully. For once, he refrained from using either an offensive or annoying alias. Maybe he reserved most of those for me.
Both me and Rocky's eyes enlarge, disbelieving. I hadn't even thought of that. I knew so little of NightWing powers. Now I regret not paying enough attention to what he said.
Rocky was the only one who gasped, though. "Well, are you okay? What was it about?"
How nice of him to care more about someone else's welfare before a premonition.
No, no thoughts like that!
Striker nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine. I think . . . I think it was about her." He shakily lifted a claw to point at me.
I rubbed my arm uncomfortably. Had it really been? I vaguely recalled certain words that could have fit me, but could not remember how they were put. Could this dragon who just met me have a real prophecy about me? What an odd feeling. I said nothing.
Rocky returned his gaze to mine, curious and puzzled and tired and concerned. I forced myself to look away. "What did it say?" he questioned Striker, and I realized much of his concern was for me, not his NightWing friend. My heart fluttered joyfully, and I did my best not to let it show.
What if he does care for me? At least as a friend?
I believe those are the silly words of a lovesick fool.
Don't have to be mean, I lectured my second-thoughts. Turns out they aren't too helpful.
Striker also looked at me, but with very different emotions in his eerie, knowing eyes. A grin that was supposed to be cheerful yet covered a hint of mischief trekked across his face. "Congratulations, petite girl. You will soon be free."
To Be Continued . . .
 
Category:Content (MistydaAwesomeSeaWing)
Category:Fanfictions
Category:Fanfictions (Incomplete)
Category:Fanfictions (Semi-Canon)
Category:Genre (Romance)
Category:Genre (Tragedy)