Fate Doesn't Matter

This will be my last story, and my last bit of life on here. I will no longer be active once I complete the Doesn’t Matter Trilogy. I have my reasons. I hope nobody ever takes these down even when I’m gone, because they are still mine, and I still wish for my stories I put here to not be in vain.As my friend Whale would say, thank you, dear reader.
This is the third and final installation of the Doesn’t Matter trilogy. It is preceded by Fear Doesn't Matter. The characters in this story that have pages are: Whalesong, Rocky, and Sparkstriker.
Credit to Solstice for the title, and Polaris.
Alcohol and suicidal thoughts warning.
==Last Introduction:==
So, here we are again, dear reader. Scroll number three. The last one might have left you a bit shocked. I bet there might have been some, "Oh no!" or "How could this happen?", possibly with "Is this story gonna have a happy ending?"
If so, then I am mildly surprised. If you recall from the first introduction, I stated quite bluntly that I do not have that much longer to live. I figured that might have clued you in some bit. Either way, I am impressed with how you've persevered to this final scroll. Hopefully it is because you want to and not because you are being forced to (you know how some teachers can be).
Even though this is growing tiring, I shall give you once again another quick summary of what we've written:
I grew to know my friend Rocky more and more, which was evidently a terrible mistake on my part. I fell in love with the sweetie, and now I'm expecting a dragonet because of it. Meaning that I am going to die sooner than I'd imagined. The student Sparkstriker tried to manipulate me, as a way of getting revenge for him being beat up all his life. 'Cause apparently that's all my fault. You know, since I was the reason that Mother left Father, and that's why Father went mentally downhill and became careless about his family. Yada yada ya. I'm so evil. Oh, and I almost forgot to mention, Striker's my brother now. Yeah, I know, gross.
Well, I hope that was useful! I'm going to start now with the help of my very good friend here. Say hi!
(Writer: Hi. Save me. I beg y—
Okay, ready to see what happens next? Even I'm not entirely sure yet. After all, I am still alive.
Right?
==Chapter Seventeen: Family==
"Well, half-brother, I should say," Sparkstriker corrected himself. He tapped his chin with one claw thoughtfully. "So, sister? What do you have to say?"
I couldn't think of what to say. He could have been lying. Easily. Right? There's no way that this NightWing brat could possibly be my half-brother. There must have been some other reason why he knew so much about my history.
He sighed lightly. "I knew you were going to react this way. Disbelief in your own family member. How could you?" he said with mock hurt, placing his right talon over his heart.
I scoffed. "Well, why don't you completely convince me first? Why should I believe you, a liar and a sneak, when my trustworthy great-grandfather gave me real information? Huh?"
He shook his head at my "incompetence". "Is it really that hard to believe? That your mother, a troublemaker, lied to her grandfather to at least make it seem like she hadn't fallen in love with a dragon from another tribe? He had a prejudice outlook towards that stuff, didn't he?"
I hesitated. Now that he mentioned it, I did remember Reef talking about such subjects as interbreeding tribes. I vaguely recalled that he did not like the idea of it. "I suppose," I reluctantly admitted.
"Look, Whale, you're not stupid," Striker said, clearly beginning to lose patience. His dark green gaze held mine with a stiff seriousness that was not to be questioned. "Look at the facts. The hints. How else would I know all this? How else could I know your mother's identity when you never even mutter her name to yourself?"
I wanted to snap a quip, respond with something clever that would prove him obviously wrong. But my mind came up hopelessly empty. It seemed so impossible, so inconceivable, that I could barely believe it. If belief is what one would call it. Sparkstriker, my half-brother?
Sparkstriker?!
"You must have come to the undeniable and inevitable conclusion," Striker said heavily. A smile creased his face, and it shockingly appeared to be sad and sympathetic. He rubbed the spot between his eyes, which I suspected was a technique for avoiding looking at me. "Listen Whale, why on Pyrrhia would I lie to you about this? Doesn't it all fit now? How else can you explain my vast knowledge and dislike of you? Please believe me, Whale. Too many dragons have turned me away. And this time, I'm not tricking you."
My eyes narrowed. "Swear it?" (Hey, what would you have said, huh?)
He inclined his head solemnly. "I swear on your daughter's life," he promised, mischief hiding behind his serious expression and voice.
I growled quietly. His words hit hard, and he knew it. "You know, for my so-called brother, you're exceptionally mean," I observed, making sure to pour every iota of hurt I was feeling into my voice. Scratch anything else I'd wanted to do first had I become normal; a punch to Sparkstriker's face was now at the top of the list.
Striker shrugged his black shoulders almost casually. He made no indication that he'd registered my sadness. "I've seen mean. This is nothing. I want you to suffer like I have. If your stupid mother hadn't left Omen, I wouldn't be here, and simply having no life would be better than this life. We have more in common than you think, petite girl."
Hot rage boiled in my bones, my fists clenching and tail whipping dangerously. Sparkstriker can lie to me, spy on me, and mock me, but he can not, and I mean CAN NOT, call my mother stupid. Never.
"Y-you . . . How dare you," I hissed with so much fury I was surprised he didn't run away shrieking. "M-my mother, was many things, but stupid is not one of them. You are so lucky I'm still a ghost. Otherwise, you might be missing a limb or two."
"Ooooo, I'm so scared," he taunted, gasping dramatically. "And you say I'm the bad sibling."
My right eye twitched. "I want to kill you."
"Oh I know," he assured me with a smug grin. "Don't worry; that'll pass soon when I help you with pain."
My anger dissipated a little to be replaced by confusion. "What? What pain?"
He waved a dismissive talon. "Later. What else do you want to know? I don't want to get in too much trouble by skipping more than one class."
I glared at his dumb face. I would have to continue interrogating him another time. After a minute or two. "Did you say our father's name is Omen? WAIT." I abruptly cut myself off, realizing something that made me feel stupid.
My father is alive.
Sparkstriker read my face clearly. He nodded. "Yes, he's alive. Unfortunately." A flicker of genuine strong fear crossed his expression.
Under different circumstances, I would have been bouncing off the walls with excitement. Yay! My dad is alive after all! Now I can find him and we'll be a happy family like we should've been! Problems solved!
Nope. Instead, not only did I learn my father was alive, I also discovered he was a total jerk. A careless husband and abusive father. I couldn't imagine my mom falling for a dragon apparently capable of those sins. Could it all be true? Was my dad a terrible dragon? Had he always been a terrible dragon, or had his heartbreak morphed him into Striker's described monster?
I had to trust in the latter. I refused to believe my parent (or parents) were awful. I had a feeling in my soul that simply knew Mother had fallen in love with a good-hearted guy. It was Mother's disappearance that had made him the way he is now, I just knew it.
The real question was this: Did I really want to see him?
Yes . . . and no. I didn’t want my dreams of my father to be crushed by meeting him and seeing his cruelty for myself. But what if I died, knowing my father was alive, and never got to see him? Which option could I live with?
“Where does he live?” I inquired, not looking at Sparkstriker.
I heard Striker gulp. He answered carefully, “He moves around sometimes, but most often he stays in a tiny house just a little ways away from the biggest NightWing village in the Rainforest Kingdom.”
I've seen the Rainforest Kingdom on maps before, but have yet to journey there. It would probably be easy for a ghost to sneak around in there, but I wouldn't want to go alone. I wasn't that desperate yet. 
"When was the last time you saw him?" I asked curiously.
He glanced at the doorway as he replied, "It's been a lengthy amount of time, thankfully. Several months maybe? Nearing a year? But trust me, you don't want to meet him. You'll regret it. Better to just forget about it."
I squinted at him, suspicious of what he was trying to pull. He'd just admitted to manipulating Rocky by telling him what not to do. Was he attempting the same with me?
He merely chuckled quietly at me, shaking his head. "Do what you will with my advice. Heed it or not, you're in trouble, and whatever I say makes no difference anymore. Fun chat." He stood up and strutted over to the exit, not looking back at me when he said, "Talk to you later, sis."
The NightWing strolled cheerily out of the cave, humming to himself. A few seconds later, Sunny came back in, eyeing the path Striker took on the way out. She turned her gaze to me when I didn't say anything. 
I was staring off into another world, wishing I could ignore everything. Leave everything and everyone behind. I didn't want to discuss anything with Sunny, no matter how nice she was to me. I wanted to lose all consciousness and simply forget, like Sparkstriker had advised. Sleep wouldn't help; my nightmares had the potential to be worse than my reality. Was there no escape?
"How are you doing, hon?"
I was drawn back to focus by the simplicity and care of the question. All the crushing information I'd received within the last hour seemed to finally had built up in me at an unbearable level, the pressure about to make my sanity burst. I had . . . to hold it in . . . If I didn't, I'd never be able to stop . . .
I had . . . to stay . . . strong. . . .
For who? Mom? Dead. Dad? Lost cause. Rocky?
. . . Rocky?
Oh, Rocky.
The pressure burst at last, releasing all my sadness and horror and sobs in one forceful, brutal wave. I channelled all my pent-up agony through the gracious tears, letting myself crumble on the inside and out. 
My talons reached to clutch my throat, squeezing harder than I've ever squeezed before. The throttling halted my sobs, but despite how hard I tightened my grip, my life didn't cease. The pain didn't stop. Everything continued, stomping mercilessly over my heart.
But I kept squeezing.
"Stop!" Sunny ordered in vain. "This doesn't help you, Whale! Please, just, calm down and think!"
"Think about what?" I demanded, my voice raspy and cracking since I released my death grip. "About how I'm a terrible dragon?! About h-how I betrayed my family?! About me not being able to give my baby a happy life?! About there always being a cost f-for love?! WHAT, Sunny? What is there to th-think about? Huh?!"
Sunny was silent.
I hiccupped and sniffed. "That's what I thought," I wheezed.
"Whalesong," she began, searching for healing words that didn't exist. After a significant pause, she ventured, "Who do you care about most in this world?"
Rocky, I almost answered, but I didn't want to appear even more desperate than I already did. In place, I muttered shakily, "I-I don't know."
"Well, say your mother were here. Do you think she'd want to see you like this?"
That made me hesitate. I pictured my mother the way Reef had described her, looking almost exactly like me, but taller and with less dreamy eyes. He'd detailed her energy and beauty and clumsiness, noting that I was much more graceful than she'd been. She'd possessed the most undignified snort-like laugh, and when she cried, Reef had said that it seemed the world had lost all goodness, it was so painful to watch.
Would I want Mother to see me like this?
I didn't stand up, but I uncovered myself with my wings and just laid on my side, mentally and emotionally exhausted. I gave another sniff and rubbed my slick face with my talons, gradually gaining some control over my sadness and fear. My body was facing Sunny, but I couldn't bring myself to meet her gaze. My tail was curled up near my stomach, barely quivering. Like I said: gradual.
Sunny exhaled a breath she must have been holding in. "Okay, we're getting somewhere," she said warily, like saying those words would make me start sobbing again.
I closed my eyes wearily. I didn't say anything, but my left talon drifted down to rest on my abdomen. Oh, we're getting somewhere, I thought wryly. Is that somewhere good?
"Is there anything you want to talk about?" she asked gently. "Or do you want some alone time?"
I shrugged helplessly, still ignoring her face. The cave was losing its sharpness again, details becoming more and more blurred. "I don't know," I whispered, almost soundlessly.
“How about we talk, okay?” she decided with much uncertainty. “How do you feel right now, physically?”
I frowned, glancing fleetingly at my wings and torso. I searched for what you couldn’t see, anything inside me that was physically wrong or abnormal.
Then I suddenly remembered the night before, when I’d woken up for the third time, and thought it was another dream because of the discomfort I’d felt. I’d forgotten about that after my long talk with Rocky. It couldn’t have been a coincidence; it must’ve been some side effect to the egg or something. I never felt any physical wrongness. How had I not seen that?
I didn't want to get distracted. Or maybe I did; I wasn't sure which one sounded better. I replied, "Fine right now."
She nodded, clearly trying to be optimistic. As usual. "So, you're fine right now. There is nothing to be scared of right now. See?"
Barely a second after she spoke those words, The walking incarnation of my hope stepped into the entryway, looking like his normal, cheery, goofy self. He glanced between Sunny and I uncertainly, immediately sensing the tension in the air. He smiled awkwardly, addressing both of us with: "Hey, what's up?"
For some totally unknown reason, my throat constricted so tight I made a choking noise, and I'm pretty sure my eyes bugged out. In an abrupt panic, I scrambled to my feet and, giving neither dragons a chance to utter a protest, escaped through the wall opposite the entrance.
I can't tell him.
==Chapter Eighteen: The Wall==
I hid outside of Jade Mountain until the sun crept down to the horizon, a half-circle of brilliant gold that covered the land in a blanket of the same glowing, calming color. The sky was a beautiful gradient of yellows and oranges and pinks and purples, from the setting sun to the rising moons. The gradual transition was gorgeous.
It was mocking. So pure in comparison to my situation, and knowing it.
I was crouching, my body inside the mountain where it meets the ground, but my head sticking out. Watching the sunset to my left, I shook my pale head silently. Why was I doing this? Why was I waiting to go back?
You need to leave.
For the first time, I couldn't tell if that was my Second-thoughts or my other thoughts. Or maybe both.
There's no reason for you to stay anymore. You're already doomed. Why not be considerate and save them some loss?
It must have been Second-thoughts, since I was feeling slightly in disagreement. Nothing more conflicting than arguing with yourself.
I turned away from the remaining sliver of sun and trained my hollow eyes on the shining blades of grass nearby. That's exactly what Mother did. Did that do her any good? Or Father? No. It made him terrible. What if that happens to Rocky?
You really think he loves you that much?
I squeezed my eyes shut and clenched my talons. 
. . . No. I don't see how anyone can. But he does like me.
Like is not love. Get your head on straight.
I growled lowly. This is idiotic. I'm wasting away down here. I should at least get back to tell Sunny I want to leave.
But do I really want to leave?
I sighed, leaping into flight without much care of being stealthy. I assumed the evening air was chill and crisp, had I been able to feel it. The only thing I did feel was the slightest discomfort whenever I suddenly lurched in flight. The smoother I flew, the less upset my abdomen was. It was better than feeling nothing, I supposed. 
I'd been trying to familiarize myself with certain parts of the mountain recently, so from my aerial view of the eastern face of the mountain, I had a pretty good guess where Sunny's cave was. I flew down carefully, spotting no dragons wandering about anywhere in sight. Once I reached the stone, I submerged myself in it, first my front talons, then my head, then the rest of me. It was always a comfort, being somewhere you knew no one could see you. That might be the only fact I've ever liked about being a ghost. 
It's difficult to explain what it's like to move through solid structures and objects. I won't bother going into too much detail, but I will say that no, I don't have to fly through the mountain, I can walk without falling. Yes, it's weird and doesn't make sense, but honestly, what about me does?
The first opening I entered was a hallway, one that must have been close to Sunny's room. But it wasn't empty.
"There you are! I came back to wait for you after a few more classes, but you never came! Nobody will tell me anything! What's wrong?"
I physically and mentally winced. Oh, come on. Really? The one dragon I needed to avoid? REALLY?
Rocky stood up from his place beside the entrance to Sunny's cave. He approached me quickly, almost as though he were afraid I was going to flee again.
Which was a logical fear, since I did just that.
I whipped around and merged myself with the stone I'd just emerged from. I didn't even bother replying; I simply ran away. I wasn't ready to talk to him yet. Actually, I didn't think I would ever be ready to talk to him. Was that an option?
"Wait!" he called after me, but it was severely muffled by the rock barrier between us. I glanced over my shoulder, feeling extremely guilty, but there was no chance I was going to face him. Yet.
I knew I couldn't avoid him forever, but for now I desired to stay far, FAR away from him. Mostly for selfish reasons, but also for him. I didn't know how he'd react if he found out I was going to die partly because of himself. Hurting him was the last thing I ever wanted to do. I'm pretty sure he was he sweetest guy ever, only making matters worse.
I stood rigid in the wall, resting in empty silence. There was no muffled noise whatsoever, not even talonsteps. He was just standing there, waiting for me to come out. I would've heard the tiniest something otherwise.
"Oh," I whispered softly, lifting a talon up like I would if I were placing it on a solid surface. I closed my eyes, lowered my head, and made an almost inaudible keening noise. He was waiting for me. He believed in me. He thought I was worth something. 
He was the reason I was going to die. But I loved him anyway.
I guess that was the problem, wasn't it?
I'm not sure how long I was frozen in that position, not wanting to let him go. He must have been doing the same, remaining vigilant on the other side of the wall. Why would he wait for me for so long, though? He couldn't care for me the way I cared for him, however much I wished it so.
Let him go, Whale, Second-thoughts said gently.
I shook my head obstinately, a tear streaming from each eye. I don't want to. I can't. It would be wrong. So wrong.
Which is why, I refuse, to say goodbye.
"Hello?" I couldn't help whispering as I stuck my head into Sunny's room from the back wall. Rocky had finally left the hallway a few minutes ago. 
The torch in the sconce right beside my head was alit, telling me that Sunny was coming back soon. The dread in my insides deepened, until an idea came to mind: I could pretend to be asleep in my normal corner, so I wouldn’t have to talk. Talking sounded absolutely torturous.
I was a little concerned as to why she wasn’t in her room at this hour like she usually was. Were there some problematic students to take care of? Behind-the-scene teacher drama, perhaps? Or was I desperate to discover another topic to fuss over?
I trod to my sleeping spot, curled up tight, and sighed through my nostrils. My head rested on my left arm, and my exposed wing was wrapped comfortingly around my torso, legs, and tail. My eyes swept over the cave, lazily checking to see if anything was out of place or new.
One object caught my droopy eye, immediately making it enlarge with interest. The object was Prince Turtle’s magic scroll, and it was rolled out, with a pebble and piece of jewelry holding it open at opposite corners. Odd. Why would Sunny leave it open? Had she done it for me, so I could read it if I came back?
I chose to investigate it. I wanted to know the exact reason why I was to remain cursed, even if it made me hurt more. I couldn’t possibly hurt more.
I crept toward it in a crouch, glancing at the doorway. I should make this fast.
The scroll was now drowned in my half-shadow, as I loomed scared over it. I shook my head, disgusted by myself. I was no coward. I could read the enchanted parchment without fear, I knew. Or, I told myself. Whatever it said couldn’t have made a difference anyway.
Looking down, I hesitantly scrutinized every word with care, keeping deathly still. The ink was being burned into my brain the slower I read, but I couldn’t bring myself to read faster. For it spoke of the technicalities of my curse, how if I managed to carry an egg, I would have no chance of turning back. No new enchantments. No fixing the broken. Only the promise of swift, painless death by daughter. The usual.
And at the bottom of the scroll, in the neatest handwriting I could remember seeing (and not the same as Turtle’s), was a signature. It was fresher than the rest of the words, that I could tell by the darker, shinier tint to it. I was startled at first when I read it, needing a confused double-take.
The signature read:
You’re welcome.
With care and thoughtfulness,
Your brother.
I held my head tiredly in my talons. Why was I not surprised? This was totally something he would do. To me, anyway. But I actually was a little grateful; now I didn’t have to ask anyone to hold it open or read it aloud for me.
I ditched the scroll and trudged back to my corner, curling up on the stone floor once again. I laid my cheek on my forearm, studied my flat stomach ruefully, then shut my eyes at last.
Sunny came, several minutes later. Sleep never did.
I heard the kind hybrid when she stepped into the room on light claws. She softly whispered “Whale?” to test if I was awake. I of course didn’t answer, and even though she was facing my back, I kept my eyes coolly closed. After some relative silence—other than her steady breathing and the resonant fuzz in my head—she padded to her bed, to my great relief. Thank you, universe.
Ha, never thought I’d say that.
When sleep finally took me, it was fitful and stress-ridden. Strange, as well— I was slipping in and out of consciousness throughout the few hours I could manage to get in. But frightful nightmares plagued me like a stubborn disease, constantly bringing me into the real world only minutes after falling asleep. I was barely able to stifle a scream when I awoke from a particular dream about the image of my father that my imagination conjured and Vaquita hugging me lovingly after murdering Sparkstriker in front of me.
Eventually, I gave up on the idea of sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the gruesome, sickening scenes from the previous dreams, and every time I flinched and whimpered. The anxiety in me built up the longer the night stretched on, driving me to the brink of insanity. Blunt panic had begun to set in, making me sit up and hug myself with shivering wings, feeling like my head was going to burst. The only things that calmed me down were the happy memories I’d made with Rocky. (Also known as the only happy memories I have left.)
(Writer: Girl you’re making ME depressed.)
(Just do your job mister!)
The memory that made me smile, was one from the night before, when Rocky was gazing heart-throbbingly (don’t judge) at me, and I was gazing right back at him, without remorse or shame. Only . . . only something I didn’t have the belief, or right, to say.
But could it be true? 
==Chapter Nineteen: Hard to Get==
It was a cheerful morning the next day. Students were bustling and laughing, the sun was blazing bright outside, and Rocky was stalking me.
In case you didn’t notice, that was sarcasm. That morning was the epitome of the phrase “kill me now.”
I woke up, having gotten roughly a full two hours of sleep, with snatches of shut eye here and there. Being a ghost (or half NightWing, apparently) doesn’t mean my need for sleep is any less than other’s. So you might imagine how beautiful and lively I felt that day.
In addition, Sunny entered my field of vision about ten minutes after I woke up (which, I was still lying on the ground like a hopeless doomed dragon) and informed me that Rocky was asking for me.
“Come on, just give him a chance?” she pleaded, making her big sad Sunny eyes.
“No!” I insisted again, sitting up so I might be somehow taken more seriously. My ears laid flat against the side of my head unconsciously. “I can’t, Sunny!”
The hybrid exhaled a long-suffering sigh, rubbing her left temple with a talon. “Give me good reasons why you shouldn’t talk to him, then.”
I hesitated. I felt in my gut that there was NO WAY I should’ve told him anything, but now that I was being directly asked the question . . . I couldn’t find the words to explain. It was a big deal, wasn’t it? Wouldn’t Rocky freak his brains out if I told him everything? Would he be scarred for life? Would he think I was a complete idiot for not staying away from him in the first place? Would he be mad at me for keeping this part of my curse a secret? Just the thought of him being mad at me made me what they call ‘queasy.’
And now that those buried reasons surfaced, I had it.
“Because,” I began softly. As I spoke, the words began to roll off my tongue automatically, with my ears hazily, distantly receiving them. “I don’t want to do anything wrong to him.” I glanced at my talons that fingered my tail. “I don’t want to scare him with this sudden news. I don’t want him to yell at me and decide I’m no longer his friend. I don’t want him to be disappointed in me that I lied to him. I just—“ At an abrupt loss for words, I did not bother trying to find one to end that sentence with.
There was solemn silence as Sunny looked at me with pity. That’s all I ever got was pity, from her, from Turtle, from Rocky. Sparkstriker didn’t make the list, as far as I was concerned. I was growing tired of pity. I wanted happiness. I wanted a sense of reality and equality.
“Whalesong,” Sunny said at last, snapping the noiseless atmosphere like shattering glass. It felt like glass, with her sharp voice cutting through my surreal world of thought. The corners of her mouth curled downward, barely noticeable. “I’ve known Rocky for longer than you have. From what I’ve observed, he’s probably the most forgiving student here; I know he’ll give you a second chance. Trust me?”
I narrowed my eyes at her, turning my head slightly. “Second chance?”
Sunny scrunched up her snout to hide an obvious grin of amusement. “I mean, doesn’t it count as one to make friends with a ghost in the first place?” she pointed out.
I snorted. “Touché.”
Sunny gradually raised her eyebrows in a questioning expression. “So . . . are you willing to try, at least?” A few of her claws tapped in rapid succession as she waited for an answer.
Am I? I thought, entirely uncertain. As usual, I was relying (for some unseeable reason) on the blunt insight and commentary of Second-thoughts.
And you expect me to know? was the wise response I unsurprisingly received. You DO know I’m just another thought function of your brain, right?
I gave an internal eye roll.
As I opened my mouth, I knew that whichever word rolled off my tongue next was going to forever change my friendship with Rocky. Whether in a good or bad way, I could not perceive. Oh, how I wished I were a NightWing seer and could know the best choice!
Do I have to tell him everything? Or just a version of the truth? Wouldn’t that soften it for both of us?
Avoiding the truth is just another way to lie.
I’m not sure I possess decent moral standards, I pointed out bluntly. All I want is for him to care about me, or at least not despise me. Yes, this must be the best option for now. No back-talking, stupid self.
I squeezed my eyelids closed in brace. “Okay, I’ll do it. I-I’ll talk to him.”
Sunny did a silly little clap of approval. “Thank you Whale! I mean, this might’ve been awkward otherwise.”
I snuck one eye open, making sure I hadn’t combusted yet from agreeing. I squinted at her. “Why?” I asked slowly.
Sunny winced, though it was so subtle it was barely noticeable. She smiled sheepishly. “Um, maybe because I told Rocky to come over here in a few minutes?” She offered me an apologetic shrug, as if that would reduce the horror of that statement.
I blinked at her, wide-eyed for an amount of seconds that was so lengthy I lost count. I raised a single claw in a gesture of protest. Words came to mind, but they were jumbled and incoherent. “You . . . Why . . . Evil . . .”
Sunny shook her head, and I KNOW to this day that I glimpsed amusement in those green eyes. “Look, I apologize, but you needed to talk to him at some point! Preferably before your dragonet hatched.”
I winced. There goes that idea. “Why do you always make good points?”
She shrugged. “I’m a teacher. It’s kind of my job, right?”
“Another good point.” I rubbed my eyes with a talon. “So, when exactly is Rocky going to be here?”
“That’s my cue!” exclaimed a voice that was much to cheerful in comparison to the mood of the room. As if by my mentioning his name magicked his presence, Rocky jumped out from the hallway and into Sunny’s room. The MudWing student sported a simple, lopsided grin that I believe was meant to calm me. Similar to how a dragon might try to approach a starved, scared child in the street with a slice of bread. Only I was that poor child, and Rocky’s friendly demeanor was the bread.
Except that smile did nothing to ease my trepidation. I instinctively yelped, leaping backward at Rocky’s unannounced arrival. I stayed where I was after the jump, in a crouch, staring unblinkingly at him. My tail started to shake. Then my talons. Then my wings. Despite the promise I’d made with Sunny, I could not find my voice to speak the words I knew must’ve been floating about my head. The best I could do was let out a pitiful squeak of shock.
Rocky immediately backed off a step when he witnessed my surprised reaction. His reassuring smile dwindled just a bit. He shot an uncertain side-glance at Sunny, then looked back at me. “You okay, Whalesong?”
I gulped. “Yeah. Yeah, of course, why wouldn’t I be?” I made my best attempt at a carefree grin, but I must’ve looked slightly insane.
Sunny gave me a hard look behind Rocky’s back.
My shoulders sagged.
“I’ll let you two talk alone,” Sunny said, nodding at me just before walking out of the room. I was tempted to call her back, so that I didn’t feel so solitary. Come back! Private talks are overrated!
Rocky’s smile began to fade the more he soaked in the serious atmosphere. I was grateful that he respected my space, staying where he was at a decent distance. Once again, he seemed wary to move, like so much as a tail twitch would send me flying away.
I glanced at the stone floor.
He looked from side to side.
“How’re y-you?” I asked innocently (and totally not dodging the subject of our meeting).
“Good, good,” he answered quickly, nodding his head with his words. I found his reply hard to believe. He raised his eyebrows at me expectantly. “Isn’t there something you want to tell me?”
I winced. “Where exactly did you get that idea? Besides Sunny?”
He shrugged simply, then gazed at me with concern. “I don’t know, the fact that you’ve been avoiding me all strangely? I’m worried about you, Whale. It seems like you’re . . . scared of me.” The concern on his face increased tenfold, and I almost feared his voice would crack with it. He sat down and fiddled with his claws anxiously. “What did I do wrong?”
My fears took an abrupt turn. I gave Rocky a mournful look, and took one light step towards him. “Oh, Rocky I’m so sorry. There’s absolutely nothing you did wrong. This is all my fault.”
Rocky frowned thoughtfully. “What’s your fault?”
I clenched my teeth, thinking in the back of my mind that I’d be slicing my gums open had I not been a ghost. I resisted the impulse to say “my stupidity.” I had a momentary pause to form the ideal words—though any form of the words I was coming up with seemed appalling, despite my efforts.
“More than you could ever guess,” I said solemnly, staring glumly at the ground. I couldn’t bring myself to look those sweet brown eyes in the . . . well, eyes. Going through with my promise to Sunny was a lot harder with Rocky actually present, awaiting my response. My talons were still shaking.
Avoiding the truth is just another way to lie, echoed Second-thoughts from only minutes earlier.
I glanced back up at him. He was gradually inching closer to me, becoming less wary with every word spoken between us. He gazed at me with honest care, silently and gently willing me to expose my deepest secrets, without a shred of nosiness. All he conveyed as he looked down at me was affection.
“Whale, you’re scaring me,” Rocky admitted. That statement brought a tremendous weight crashing down on my heart. I flinched as though I were expecting to be struck by a raised fist. “Please, please tell me what’s wrong. You’re acting like somebody’s whipping you. Why are you so horrified?”
Stand tall. Be courageous. No more fear, remember?
. . . What if I just ran away? I thought darkly, ignoring Second-thoughts. “Like Mother?
I nearly shook my head to dislodge the outrageous and terribly cruel idea. No. Never, ever, ever. I would never do that to the dragon I care about the most. No no NO. BAD WHALE.
I swallowed my tears as best as I could. But before I spoke, a new idea came to mind. One almost as dangerous as what I was supposed to say, but much easier to get out. I met his gaze waveringly. “Rocky, I know this is going to sound random and awkward, but, I need to know this for certain before I say anything. How d-do you, um . . . feel, about me?”
Rocky started. He shuffled his wings and looked at them as he did so, clearly trying to distract either me or himself. “Uh,” he muttered in an attempt to speak coherent words. I doubted the sentence he was about to say would make much sense, given his reputation. “Um. Well, what exactly do you mean by feel?”
I shot him a lightweight glare. “Rocky, I think you know very well what I mean.”
He ducked his head in embarrassment. No more playing dumb, buddy. “Maybe. I . . . It’s . . . I don’t know, Whale, everything is confusing.” He grasped his head with one talon. “One day, I’m running about, carefree and, for the most part, content. The next, I’m neck-deep in some supernatural situation where I meet a real life ghost. A very beautiful ghost,” he added quietly with a bashful smile at the floor of the cave.
I smiled back, and rubbed my arm, suddenly feeling very self-conscious. “Thanks,” I whispered.
He inclined his head. The thickness of the air lifted to a breathable level for me. “As I was swaying—“
Another spark of relief lit within me at the familiar misspoken words. “Saying?” I corrected quietly. I could not keep still the corners of my mouth.
Rocky shook his head at me, instead of his usual annoyed glare. “When will anyone ever let me talk? ANYWAYS, I feel so much different about some things. I’m confused by myself, and just, by everything. I mean, it’s not every day you meet a ghost, right? And now I feel like I want to be around you all the time cause you always smile when I am and I’m pretty sure your smile is the most amazing thing in the world and I love making you happy and . . . I’m rambling aren’t I?”
I beamed at him. I was so distracted by his words that I nearly forgot why we were there. “I don’t mind,” I said, with actual joy trickling into my voice. “I think it’s wonderful.”
He grinned with all his teeth. “I was worried what you thought of me after the other night, honestly. I’m not exactly the bravest dragon. Sorry you had to see me like that.” He gave a slight wince at the memory.
My face filled with sympathy. “I don’t hold your fears against you. That’s petty and hypocritical. I’m the one who’s sorry; sorry for making you feel exposed and frightened. I had no business going to you and Sparkstriker’s room at night in the first place.”
“Whale, you’re always so hard on yourself. I don’t want you to be. You’ve done nothing wrong, can’t you see that? So why aren’t you telling me what’s bothering you so badly? Please? I can’t stand seeing you look so scared of me anymore.”
I retraced one of my forward steps. “Rocky, you don’t understand. I’m a mess-up just by existing. You don’t know all the horrendous things that have happened and are about to happen just ‘cause I was hatched. I’m nothing but an unforgivable wretch.” I choked on my own voice at the end. Every word I said chiseled another fragment of my happiness away, because every word I said was true, and the truth hurts. It hurts more than getting a thorn to the eye.
Rocky scowled and approached me, this time not being respectful of my personal space. He didn’t stop moving until he was directly in front of me. Then, before I worked up the strength to run, he enveloped me in his large wings.
For a moment I was petrified. Part of my vision was clouded by brown scales, and I thought I saw one of Rocky’s horns in my face. I blinked, stunned by the sudden action, but then melted into him and hugged back (as much as I can “hug back”). We were physically in different dimensions, but I’d never felt closer to him. Not even when I last hugged him.
We stayed that way for a quiet moment, until he spoke: “You listen to me, Whalesong,” he said passionately. “There is nothing, I repeat, nothing wrong with you. I may not know what you’re talking about, but there’s nothing wrong I have ever seen you say or do. You’re kind, Whale, but you’re scared. I saw it in your eyes when I met you, and I’ve seen it in them every day since. I don’t want you to be afraid anymore. You don’t deserve to live this way. Now, you’re going to tell me what it is that’s bothering you so much, and I promise not to react badly. Okay?”
My mouth hung open. Tears spewed from my eyes, tears of every kind. I couldn’t fathom anyone ever being as sweet and amazing as Rocky. He really was a miracle. “Okay,” I agreed slowly and softly. “Thank you so much. That means more than you could ever imagine.”
We let go of each other—an easy task, since we technically weren’t holding each other in the first place. We both sat down, this time not putting any distance between us. I looked up at him with so much joy, to see his caring face. A face that promised forgiveness and kindness, no matter my wrongs.
I gave a startled yelp when I heard a sarcastic-sounding “aww” from behind Rocky. Both me and Rocky’s eyes enlarged as we immediately recognized the voice.
“How adorable,” seethed Sparkstriker from the threshold. He clasped his talons together and grinned at us. “You two are so cute I almost vomited.”
“SPARKSTRIKER?!” Rocky and I yelled at the same time. Rocky stood up and marched towards his roommate, filled with confusion and anger. He glowered at the NightWing. “Why must you be so NOSY?!”
Striker waved a talon airily, then met Rocky’s expression with his own glare. “Gosh, it must be so hurtful, having your secrets exposed. After trusting someone with your privacy.” He tapped a claw to his chin. “Oh, wait.”
Rocky frowned. “What on earth are you rambling about? I don’t understand.”
I sighed. “Sparkstriker, can you listen for once and leave? We’re kind of busy.”
“Oh, you didn’t need to tell me,” he replied quietly with a mischievous smirk.
“Hold on,” Rocky said carefully to me. Worry replaced my happiness in one cold sweep. He looked back at Sparkstriker. “What did I do now?”
Striker shot him a deadpan look. “You spilling my well-kept secrets only the other night to your little sweetheart over there? Sound familiar?”
Rocky gasped and glanced at me with astonishment and guilt. “Look, Sparkstriker, I really didn’t mean—“
“Of course you didn’t.” Striker agreed hastily with a flourish of his right talon. He then gave Rocky a sympathetic pouty face—much to my confusion. “Rocky, that’s all been forgiven. I know you didn’t mean any harm. Besides, being able to glimpse the future is often a burden. And since you are such a good friend, I’m afraid I have to break some horrible news to you. Something that I have foreseen.”
Here he turned his gaze to me, where it became fiery. “I can’t let my powers go to waste when I could help lower a friend’s pain with them instead. I’m truly sorry, classmate, but there’s no way for me to say this lightly.”
I started cursing violently in my head at my half-brother. He wouldn’t. He isn’t.
“Sparkstriker . . .” I said in a warning voice, scowling at him with such loathing that he should’ve started crying. “What is this?”
“Rocky,” he continued softly, completely ignoring me. He laid a talon on Rocky’s shoulder that I guessed was supposed to be comforting. (Nothing that came from Sparkstriker was ever comforting.) “She’s going to break your heart. She’s going to leave you without any remorse. She’s playing with your feelings. Isn’t it obvious?”
I blinked in pure disbelief, then lunged at him. I’d never been so full of fury. “WHAT?!” I shouted, wishing I could pound him. “You are the MEANEST dragon EVER! I can’t take it anymore! I HATE you! I REFUSE to let you ruin the ONE good thing I have in my life! Go away!”
Both boys watched me in shock, unable to move. I stopped my ghostly attack on my brother gradually, but my anger never wavered. How DARE he do something so evil!
Sparkstriker composed himself surprisingly quickly, and he gestured at me pointedly. “See? She lies to you about everything. She hides who she really is. Is that someone you want to be around, Rocky? How do you know what she tells you is the truth?”
Tears of rage and horror slipped from my eyes. I turned to Rocky desperately, only to see him staring at me with . . . uncertainty.
“No,” I insisted to him. “No, you can’t possibly believe him. This is Sparkstriker for crying out loud! I would never intentionally hurt you, I swear!”
“Oh really?” Striker questioned from my side. His voice made me feel like I was conversing with a snake. “Then why have you lied to him about your little problem? Because you don’t want him to know you’re ditching him?”
“Are you kidding me?” I exclaimed with outrage. “I was going to tell him right now! But then YOU dragged your SORRY BUTT down here to twist my situation!”
“Wait,” Rocky interrupted, looking like he’d rather be in the middle of a battlefield than there. “Whale, you really are leaving? You just admitted . . .”
I held my frustrated scream in my throat. “No! But . . . Well, I . . . You see, I’m . . . SPARKSTRIKER, GET OUT OF MY FACE AND LET ME TALK PRIVATELY.”
He grinned, chilling my fourth-dimensional bones. “Oh, you cruel little thing. Don’t worry, I’ll tell him for you.” He jerked his head to Rocky.
Dread encased my whole body. “Please, Striker, don’t do this. Let me. You’re doing something terrible.” I trembled helplessly.
He shrugged. “It’s your fault. Like I always said. Now, Rocky, it pains me to tell you this, but—“
“NO!”
“—she’s leaving you for her soon-to-be daughter. Your daughter.”
==Chapter Twenty: A Brother’s Revenge==
I waited for Rocky to scream. I waited for him to jump. I waited for him to breathe. Yet he did none of those.
What he did do was gawk at me with fresh eyes, scanning me over in absolute astonishment. It was like Sparkstriker had disappeared to him; like all dragons had disappeared to him, except for me. “Is . . . is it true?”
I ducked my head in shame. “Yes,” I answered, barely a breath. “That’s what I was about to t-tell you. I’m having your dragonet, Rocky.”
He looked like he was trying to keep his brain from exploding. He took a deep breath. Then another. “I promised I wouldn’t react badly,” he said to himself. “Whale . . . HOW? How did this happen? It makes no sense! You’re a ghost! I can’t even touch you!”
I winced. I shot my brother a deadly look. “Leave,” I snarled dangerously and quietly in his face.
Striker made a sad whine. “But it’s just getting good!”
“Now.” It was no suggestion.
“Fine,” Striker spat with a huff. He made a dramatic leave with a sweep of his black wings, rustling the scrolls that lay scattered around the room with the motion. 
When he lifted his wings momentarily, I caught a glimpse of something I’d never noticed before: scars, raking his side and the underside of his wing. They were small and fine enough that they were invisible at a passing glance, and in a location that was often hidden from plain view.
My mind travelled back to Sparkstriker’s story. How his—how our father has treated him. My ears pressed against my head. 
I felt stuck; stuck in between right and wrong. What was I supposed to do with him?
“Whalesong,” Rocky whispered flatly, dreadfully pulling me out of my reverie. He was still awaiting my reply.
I made it easier on myself and simply stared at the doorway in an empty fashion. “Rocky,” I said in return, and then felt even more foolish. “He’s lying. He trying to trick you. I swear I—“
“I know.”
I eased my gaze towards his. “You . . . you do?” When I spoke, it seemed as though my words were a quiet breeze: light and hardly audible.
Rocky was looking past my head, avoiding it but obviously still seeing it. “Yes. I’ve known him for a while now, and I knew he was kind of mean, but I never would’ve guessed he’d stoop this low.”
I nodded. 
“Whalesong,” he repeated, sounding absolutely desperate. His eyes were bulging from urgency. In a voice as commanding as a general, he demanded: “Tell me everything. Now.”
I ran a shamed claw along the end of my tail, flicking it off the tip. “It’s my curse,” I uttered, hollow and ill-feeling. “There’s a bit of it I haven’t told you yet. If I—“ 
Hesitation seized my throat. He knew I liked him. He didn’t know I . . . 
Do I? Am I just being silly, and it’s all in my head?
You wouldn’t have an egg if it wasn’t real. Just because you are a ghost, doesn’t mean your love is.
“If you?” Rocky asked, trying to get me to continue my sentence. He was clearly growing more impatient by the second.
I cleared (most of) the reluctance out of my throat. No, scratch that—the reluctance wouldn’t leave me if it were being threatened by a mad animus with an axe. Neither would the grip on my heart that reminisced of an IceWing: chilling, sharp, and warning. 
“If I—if any ghost, I guess you c-could say, you know . . . loves somebody, in a certain way, then the magic of the spell will just . . . give her an egg. Very much without permission from the ghost, by the way.”
He ogled at me. I thought he was going to faint on the spot, or spontaneously combust. Either would have made more sense than what he was actually doing: staring. Just, staring. I was tempted to ask if he was breathing. Though, it was still an improvement from the reaction I’d played over so many times before in my head. 
He tends to stare a lot, I internally noted with a hint of annoyance. Say something. Oh please, please say something, preferably supportive.
Rocky let his mouth open just enough to let his teeth be visible in thin strips. He looked like he was trying exceptionally hard to speak, but his voice wouldn’t work. I was just relieved he couldn’t use it to shout at me.
“. . . Okay,” he uttered hollowly, like he couldn’t come up with any better word. “Okay. Okay.”
I bit my lower lip so hard that a normal dragon would’ve shredded theirs had they done the same. “I didn’t mean for this to happen, I promise,” I explained somberly. “It’s just a part of the spell to make my line continue. If this weren’t a part of the curse, I wouldn’t exist in the first place.”
Why couldn’t that have been an option?
“But—SO MANY THINGS!” Rocky exclaimed in frustration. “Why? Why didn’t you tell me sooner? How long have you known? What plans do you have? Three moons on fire . . . does this mean I’m going to have a dragonet? At EIGHT? WHALE, I’M SO CONFUSED!”
I raised a feeble talon in a hurried attempt at calming him. “I know, I know.” I scrambled frantically for the right words, but what could there possibly be that was right to say? “I’m so sorry. I was utterly stupid, and I should’ve known better. I should’ve stayed away from everyone like I’m supposed to instead of getting attached. I got attached to you, and it’s too late to turn back. I guess I’m no stronger than my mother after all.”
My eyes began to moisten. I had hit an all-time low. Not only was I a complete idiot, but I’d caused so much grief even from before I’d breached my eggshell. And now there was no way I could ever regain Rocky’s trust. 
I must be the lowest point in all my ghost line. Look what I’ve done to Sparkstriker, to Omen and Mother. I ruin every life I touch. I’m a monster among monsters.
I brushed a feather-like claw subtly over my belly But not you. You are my promise. You will be our savior; our end. And you will be so, so much better of a dragon than I ever could be. I love you, and I will always love you, despite how very far away I am going to be from you when the time comes. Distance is pitiful in the shadow of my undying care for you, my sweet baby.
Rocky shook his head like he was trying to dislodge a shred of kelp from his horn. “Stop,” he demanded. “It’s too much to take in. I don’t know what to do, or say.” He paused to catch his breath, for he was slightly hyperventilating. “Striker mentioned you leaving . . . Is it true?”
I swallowed hard. Oh, no, this is not the right time. At all. No no no. “Please, hear me out, please,” I begged, sounding pitiful even to myself. “It’s not what you think.”
Rocky jerked his head this way and that, looking at everything in the room to put something else in his mind. His face was full of confusion, fear, sorrow, and uncertainty. He took a deep, shaky breath. “Stop. I can’t take in any more right now. I need to go.”
In a haze, I saw him depart for the hallway, walking in the likeness of a dazed zombie. My hope sunk to the bottom of the quicksand pit that had overtaken my heart. He would’ve left without any more words, had I not called out to him: “What can I do to fix this?”
Rocky froze in his mindless movements. He did not so much as glance at me as he said: “You don’t trust me, and now you’re leaving me. If you’re gone, there’s nothing you have to fix.”
He left, taking with him my dreams of a kind world.
~
I sat inside rock, the only place where I was safe from dragonkind. Safe from the dragons who made my life miserable, and safe from the ones that made it worth living. 
I felt sick, emotionally. I felt as if my head were about to self-destruct, and there was no escape. I couldn’t find peace no matter what I tried to think about, for my mind just kept circling back to Rocky’s last words.
I wanted to sit and weep for however long I wanted, but I was too sick to cry. I hadn’t known that was possible; there’s a first time for everything, right?
I sighed to the best of my ability. “I’ll stay here for a bit,” I muttered to myself. Ah, the most therapeutic, forgotten pastime: talking to myself. 
Once my mind and soul had been sufficiently numbed enough to ice over all inner feeling, I tried to find my way back to Sunny’s cave. It took some wandering, and terrifying one or two unfortunate students, but I reached my destination eventually.
To my relief, nobody was in the room. I was met with silence, and the occasional passerby, from whom I always hid. I slipped into the wall for some attempted peace, maybe even a nap, if I got lucky.
I hadn’t been alone for long before I felt as though there was another presence in the room outside of my safety perimeter. I don’t even know how I sensed it; perhaps it was similar to the way one can sense a dragon watching them while they slumber. An eerie prickling in your bones, trying to tell you someone was there.
My cursed curiosity was about to get the best of me when I shook my head and willed myself not to leave the stone. I don’t want to talk to Sunny anyway. And there might not even be anyone in there.
. . . But on the other talon, it may not be Sunny.
I swallowed a groan. Why was I so weak-willed?
With silent caution, I moved my head close to the area I knew led to the nearby room. I did not, however, move the rest of my body. I had to be absolutely careful to make sure that only a tiny portion of my head would be visible, and even then for only a few seconds. I just needed to see who it was.
I was met with surprise as I peeked my tilted head through the wall and busted my half-brother scanning the room. Alone. I disappeared again before he could spot me.
What is Striker doing now? I wondered. I had only caught a fleeting glimpse of his face, and he seemed . . . troubled. Well, serves him right.
Yet a part of me wondered why he was troubled. Could he have possibly . . . felt guilty? Was that even an emotion he could feel? Given his record, I doubted.
I chose to wait in religious silence for a lengthy measure of time; I had no desire to speak with my sly sibling. And while I waited, I pondered, trying not to dwell on my impending demise.
Sparkstriker and I only shared one parent, but we were still somewhat closely related. So why were there no apparent similarities between us? That was my purposeful distraction-thought.
Maybe my mother’s ghost-related genes had been so strong as to not give me any physical likeness to my NightWing father. That was the best conclusion I came to, anyway. There didn’t seem to be anything about me that indicated I was a hybrid. It was bad enough that I was a transparent one, so at least I didn’t have to look like an inter-tribal accident.
No, wait. That was Reef in my head. He had instilled a feeling of moral wrongness in me towards the topic of hybrids. Growing up on the remote island, I hadn’t given any concern about the idea. It made sense: if there were too many hybrids, than the dragon tribes of Pyrrhia would no longer be so distinguished from each other. Maybe, even, the separate tribes would simply cease to exist. It was a horrific thought.
But, now that I knew Rocky, and discovered that I myself am a misbegotten hybrid, everything felt different. Could this be all wrong? Or could Reef have been wrong? If he’d known I was a hybrid . . . would he have abandoned me?
I shivered. The very notion was enough to make me sick. No, I could no longer share that ideal of Reef’s. Not only would I be a hypocrite, but I would bring even more judgement upon my daughter if I allowed dragons to treat her in such a manner. I would never let anyone—
Oh. I wouldn’t be there to stop them.
I felt even more sick. If I wasn’t going to be there for her, who was? Who would keep her safe from bullies? Who would she have to talk to to stall her sanity? And if she was going to be anything like me, who would keep her safe from herself?
I let out a pained groan. There is no worse feeling in the world than utter helplessness. And not being able to be there for my daughter . . . it was torture. Picturing the poor little thing, all alone in the world, maybe wondering why her mommy had abandoned her. Just like I used to. But at least I’d had Grandpa Reef. I remembered what I had gone through in my early years, and thought about my dragonet in my place. 
Then, seeing the suffering my child would go through because of my choices . . . something within me snapped. I don’t know what it was, but it released a wave of fury and resolve so powerful that I couldn’t fathom it existing until I felt it. It was so strong that I started to quiver. NO. She is NEVER, EVER going to suffer. I don’t care what I have to do; I will not let her pay for my actions. I must right my wrongs.
I’m done giving in. I WILL live to know my daughter. And the oldest curse in the universe couldn’t stop me.
==Chapter Twenty-One: Hidden Dragons==
I spent my evening thinking, thinking, thinking. Planning. Or, more accurately, trying to plan. It was difficult to conjure a sure plan when one has every odd in the world against them.
Every so often, my mind would betray me and wander back to Rocky and his parting words. I knew I had to find him and make things right. If that was even an option anymore. I refused to believe our friendship was beyond repair, despite how many times his scandalized voice echoed in my head.
Okay, first thing’s first: find Rocky. Only once we’ve talked can I figure out what to do next. And if he doesn’t want anything to do with me anymore . . . then I must find someone, anyone, who does.
Reader, I get the feeling you may be wondering in that mortal brain of yours, Wow, that was a sudden change. Why didn’t she act this resolute before? Would’ve been easier on herself.
Understand, I was no longer acting for myself. I had never behaved that way before because I’d never had anyone to fight for. Nothing was more important to me now than my baby. Without her, I was merely a weapon without a dragon to wield it. Useless, lifeless.
I searched for him, in virtually every place that we’ve ever conversed, but he was nowhere to be found. I gave a frustrated growl. Unless he was outside the mountain, that left only one place.
Notice how I said virtually every place? That’s because until then, I’d avoided his room. Take one long, hard guess why.
I shook my head. I couldn’t ignore Sparkstriker forever. He always seemed to be there, present in the background, no matter where you were. Besides, after the stunt he pulled, I felt strangely compelled to . . . have a chat with him. A very, very long chat.
I gathered all my strength (which had suddenly been replenished) and snuck down to my friend’s cave. (There I was, hoping we still shared that title.)
With a bit of mental force, I marched right into the dark room, shoulders squared in an attempt to look brave. I didn’t announce myself, which I was grateful for later.
Why, you ask? Because, when I stepped in, I beheld something that I would have never expected in a thousand years to witness: Sparkstriker crying.
I halted in my tracks, and the whole world seemed to freeze. I didn’t make a peep of a peep. If he knew I saw him cry, he’d hate me even more. Who knew what other schemes he’d come up with to avenge himself?
He was alone, with his back to me. He lied on his side atop his uncomfortable-looking bed, wings encompassing his body. I couldn’t see his face, and I was thankful. The only way I could tell that he was crying was by the sound of his quiet sobs.
The loathing I had just felt towards him began to dissipate in seconds. He might’ve been a monster with disregard for my emotions, but that didn’t mean I had to be that for him. Despite all the rude and downright cruel things he’d done to me and who knows who else . . . he was still my brother. Even if he did want me dead.
I carefully crept out of the room, before he figured out I was there. I ducked into a wall, where no unfortunate innocents would run into me. 
What reason could he possibly be crying for? As far as I was concerned, he was heartless. Nothing could put a mark on that empty chest.
Unless, however unlikely, he was finally feeling penitent. After that terrible scene he created, I felt satisfied at that prospect. He deserved to feel miserable for what he did.
. . . Didn’t he?
Does he really deserve this? He’s been through so much . . . Maybe he’s almost like me: crushing under the weight of his hardships, not knowing right from wrong, not knowing what to do or how to cope. Maybe he feels lost, or alone, like me.
Remember what he did to you. He hates your guts. Don’t be too free with your sympathy.
Shouldn’t sympathy always be free for family?
Maybe you should find out why he’s crying before you do something drastic.
(Writer: Okay, I’ve ignored this as much I can, but I’m too confused now: you talk to yourself, in your head?)
(Hey, if you were a ghost, you’d have some pretty weird habits too!)
I was highly curious as to the reason Sparkstriker was crying, though. He seemed perpetually placid, never showed emotion. At least, not in front of other dragons. Nevertheless, I could hardly picture him a secret drama king.
So whatever he was crying about had to be serious.
A part of me wondered if he’d had a vision, a vision of something horrible. Could he have foreseen an event so egregious that it caused him to curl up and sob?
If so, what was it?
~
The next morning arrived, and still no Rocky. My determination began to ebb into concern. This was more than just avoiding me; this was full-on missing.
I asked Sunny, and she confirmed my fears: he hadn’t attended any of his classes, nor had any of his friends seen him since the past day. He hadn’t even told someone he was going out for a flight, which was very unlike him. Rocky was more ghost than I was, at that moment.
Sunny also became worried, and assured me that the teachers would send some dragons out to look for him as soon as possible. 
“He probably just went to be alone somewhere near the mountain,” she said, trying to convince herself as well as me. “He’ll be back soon.”
Hours passed, and no sign of him. The only change was the arrival of a student’s parent, whom which a few adults had to consult with for some reason unknown to me. I didn’t care in the slightest anyway. All I cared about was making things right and making sure Rocky was safe.
I contemplated leaving to search for him myself, but I realized that when he was ready to talk to me, he would return by his own will. If I found him when he didn’t want to be found, he would most likely not appreciate the gesture. That might even make matters worse, actually.
So I waited, as I always do. I laid on the floor of Sunny’s room tiredly, not even bothering to pace. All the stress of the last several days was taking its toll on my energy, which I didn’t know was possible. Or perhaps it was the egg, or maybe even both; I knew practically nothing about eggs, nor what happened to the mothers that bore them.
 
I checked my pale abdomen, as I’ve developed a habit of doing over the past few days. Nothing yet. Still as slender as ever. I draped a talon over it. How long am I going to have with you?
My sluggish thoughts were interrupted by Sunny’s sudden presence in the room. I stood up urgently. I scanned her expression (which I was getting much better at), but deflated when I realized there was no news in her eyes. Instead I observed uncertainty and frustration.
“Nothing yet,” I stated for her glumly. I did my best not to look scared. 
She shook her head, avoiding my eyes.
I sat down, because there was no victory to keep me up. “Anything else?” I asked, pointless hope tainting my voice.
Sunny surprised me by nodding. It was a solemn nod, which was not a good sign.
I steeled myself for the worst. “And?”
Sunny bit her lip. I slowly noticed the bags under her eyes, which I’d somehow managed to neglect. “Whalesong, I’m afraid you can no longer stay here.”
My wings drooped, invisible weights of depression pulling them down. Isn’t it just fascinating, reader, when you think the dark hole you’re in can’t get any deeper, yet it does? I truly envy any entity that has not experienced such a feeling.
“Oh,” I replied, perhaps trying too hard to sound happy.
“I’m sorry Whale,” Sunny apologized with a heavy sigh. “My friends—the other school founders—think that your presence is starting to disrupt the students’ time here. Whether or not you hide yourself, rumors have apparently spread from those two girls you ran into when you first arrived. Possibly from Rocky and Sparkstriker as well, but I can’t really picture them as the gossiping types. Some of the students are even a little scared.” She winced. “No offense. They just don’t know you.”
I was a little bit taken back by that news. Children were scared of me? I mean, I knew ghosts weren’t too popular with mortals, but . . . I was a dragon, too. I had emotions, dreams, empathy, even if I couldn’t touch the world. 
But then, I recalled when I’d met Rocky in the river. What a terrified expression he’d worn. I also remembered Sparkstriker, how, when confessing his past, he’d honestly thought of me as the cause of his pain.
I may never have blood dripping from my teeth, but there’s more than one way to be a monster.
It’s all in perspective, I realized.
“Are the other teachers scared of me?” I inquired, very curious to know the answer.
Sunny hesitated before shaking her head. “Not exactly. This isn’t the first time we’ve seen magic. They’re just . . . unsure of you,” she said slowly.
I frowned. “Don’t they trust your judgement? Or, do you not trust me?”
The hybrid grimaced, making me fear her response. Though, as it turned out, I did not need to. “No, no, I trust you, but, they’ve always had a bit of tendency to ignore some of my opinions.” As she neared the end of her sentence, I was surprised to detect exasperation.
“It’s okay,” I assured her while simultaneously trying to assure myself. “I was never meant to stay anywhere; we both know that, I think. I don’t belong with other dragons.” I glanced downward.
Sunny sat down next to me, a look of sympathy on her face. “Whale, you may not be tangible, but that doesn’t mean you’re not one of us. It just takes getting used to the idea for us. You can stay for at least another day or two so you can sort some things out, okay? Please, have faith that you’ll find some place where you can be at peace.”
“Be at peace until my egg hatches?” I whispered gently, asking a question that there was no answer to. 
She scanned me over with her bright green eyes. What was she assessing? My weakness, or my strength? Or perhaps, my will to live?
Quietly she asked, “What do you wish for your daughter?”
The question took me by surprise. I pondered it for a few moments. “I . . . I want for her to be normal and happy.”
“You can’t be happy without being normal?” Sunny questioned curiously. 
I didn’t expect her to say that. “I suppose you could, but not this different. Not unnatural.”
“But you can’t be blamed for who you are, and neither will your dragonet be able to be,” Sunny reassured. “This is the fault of some awful dragon who messed with things he shouldn’t have. You’re paying the price for a deed you didn’t do. You’re an innocent, and someday, she’ll come to terms with that, too.”
I stared at her in in disbelief. “Why are you always so kind to me? I haven’t done anything good. All I’ve done is cause everyone here harm, even if some of them won’t admit it. Why?”
I was mildly surprised when she answered with a light shrug. “I’m just doing what I’d want others to do to me if I were you.” A tired smile crossed her face. “That’s the ultimate secret, no matter your struggles. Everyone needs someone to see them for who they are, not what the world thinks they are.”
That made me smile just a little, infinitesimal bit. “If only all dragons, including myself, thought like you, Sunny.”
A shadow of despondency befell her face, and she averted her eyes. All of a sudden, it seemed to me that she was more than the sweet teacher I knew her to be; the lines in her forehead were more prominent, and her leaf-green eyes revealed a knowing deepness that could only be worn by one who has seen more than their years should have allowed. I saw a dragon who had lived through war, and had been courageous enough to stop it. I saw a girl stuck in a world she didn’t understand. I saw someone who had helplessly watched as others suffered around her.
“Not many share your opinion, Whale,” she said with a trying lightheartedness. She moved over to her bed with a yawn. “Besides, I get more irritated than most dragons think I do. More so the older I get, I think. Wow, I feel so old these days.”
“You’re not old at all,” I insisted, amused for some reason. “You’re only like, what, twenty-five?”
“Twenty-seven,” she corrected, lying down on the bed. “But trying to organize rambunctious dragonets every day ages you.”
I chuckled quietly. “Well, you don’t look over ten.”
Sunny let out a dry laugh. “I should, after the parent I had to deal with today. What a beetle-brain.” She shook her head with her eyes closed. 
That spiked my curiosity. “What happened?”
Her tail flicked in annoyance, and she wrapped her wings over herself. “This student’s father, he’s just . . . There’s something about him I don’t like. He wouldn’t answer most of my questions, and he didn’t seem to care all that much about his dragonet that goes here. Or, if he did, he was too distant-minded to express as much.” She exhaled a puff of smoke. “I’m thinking of telling Glory to keep an eye on him. Just in case.”
I vaguely remembered her talking about her sisterly friend Glory, who was now the queen of not one, but two tribes. Though (as I hear it) the two tribes’ relations are not faring well, Sunny said that the RainWing is perfectly content with her family.
“Is that Mama-Bear Sunny talking, or do you really think there could be a problem with them?” I asked, partially joking. 
An echo of laughter reached the room, probably coming from some dragonets enjoying themselves not too far away. The sound was cheerful, but at the same time eerie, like a faint memory of dragons having fun long ago.
Sunny smiled at the echo. She waited a minute before responding. “I’m not really sure. But I want to be. I can’t allow anything to happen to my students if I can help it.” That made her hesitate. “Huh, I guess that does sound mama-bear-ish. Oh well, I’d just like a nap right now. Can I . . ?” She drifted off and looked at me expectantly, not wanting to directly ask for privacy.
I nodded, standing up. “Of course. I’ll go find something else to do, or rather, find someone else to bother.” I made my way to the nearest wall, savoring the last few seconds of being in the presence of the only dragon who didn’t currently hate me.
“Have a little faith,” she muttered when I turned around, as if reading my thoughts. 
There was something nagging in my brain that wouldn’t sit still. I had only lost an arm to the wall before I asked the question I couldn’t help but ask. Without looking back, I said, “Who’s that guy’s dragonet?”
I’m not sure when I heard the answer exactly, because it echoed in my head like the laughter had echoed on the walls.
“Sparkstriker.”
==Chapter Twenty-Two: Bad Omen==
I flew as fast as I could.
Their meeting had ended not an hour ago. Surely he wouldn’t be too far away. If I flew at my quickest speed (which was, admittedly, not very quick), there was a decent chance I could catch up to him. 
To Omen.
Was this really it? The moment when I meet the love of my mother’s life? I could hardly fathom the thought, much less believe it.
Sparkstriker’s warning kept repeating itself in my head, making itself painfully prominent in the worrying sect of my brain. It lingered somewhere in Second-Thoughts.
Yet other parts of me were urging me forward. They reminded me that Striker was an angry coward who lied every other sentence, either for his benefit or amusement. Nothing that slithered out of his mouth could be trusted.
You can’t bluff scars, Second-Thoughts pointed out.
Well, maybe he lied about where they came from, I reasoned desperately. I can’t afford to lose my father for real.
From there on, I blocked out all warnings and ideas that went against my father’s reputation. I was going to see him, with or without the cautionary words wanting to spring forth from my heart. I had to meet him, but most importantly, I had to believe that he was better than how he’d been described.
Not in the clouds but not quite close to the ground I soared, eyes ever watchful. I scanned every tree, every plain, every shadow of a shadow, as I headed in the general direction of the rainforest. I recalled Striker telling me that Omen resided somewhere in that kingdom, so I assumed he would fly in that direction to go home.
I didn’t care so much about discretion as I stayed in the sky; if someone spotted me, they could go screaming till their heads rolled off for all I cared.
After I’d flown for a while, I began doing circuits in the air, double-checking places I’d scanned before nearby. Fear that I’d gone too slow or in the wrong direction seized me, but I did my best to shake it off. Doubt was something that I couldn’t permit to sneak in until I’d tried everything I could.
Out of my peripheral vision, the motion of something dark caught my attention. I swerved down towards it as it disappeared into the trees. Excitement and sudden anxiousness fought for control over my movements, making me want to turn and run, and then making me want to barrel through every tall tree to find him.
Why is it that the wrong emotion always wins? (I hope it’s the same for most dragons as it is for me.)
Once I reached the ground (after what seemed like ages), I searched the vicinity, hopping through trees and shrubs and anything that might separate me from getting closer to my father.
I looked, and looked, and looked. Nothing. Not even a dragon, much less the dragon. No Omen in sight.
I thumped down on the ground, strangely tired. I let my wings droop limply. How fast had I been flying?
Maybe I should rest a minute, I suggested to myself. He can’t be too far.
I lied to myself far too often.
I closed my eyes and allowed the ongoings of nature to calm my nerves. The choir of birds sang in uncoordinated, lovely harmony. Light rustling sounds came from shivering bushes and leaves, where the rodents scurried around and caused mischief. Everything had a place in nature. Everything had a little, exclusive niche to fit into where it belonged. It was beautiful, but it was also cruel.
I had hardly rested for a few moments when a yelp of fright made me jump into the third dimension.
My eyes shot open as I leaped to my feet, head swiveling to find the culprit of the noise. It only took a second for me to spot him through the trees.
My talons started to shake.
A male NightWing, about two dragon’s breadth from me, stared at me. And I mean, stared. His dark green eyes were popping out of his head, and his gaze never faltered for a nanosecond. He gasped at me like I was his last connection to life, and I was deserting him.
“Vaquita?” He stammered, hope and fear and disbelief enveloping his voice. It was like he was learning to talk all over again. “Is that you?”
I gasped. Did he think I was Mother? Did I truly look so much like her?
Well, there’s not exactly an abundance of ghosts around here, Second-Thoughts pointed out wryly.
I blanked as I drank him in. Every little scale, every little movement his wings made. He was much more good-looking than Sparkstriker, but slightly older than I’d imagined him. His eyes were angled down at the back, just like mine: dreamy eyes. He carried a lightweight satchel, but other than that, his only adornments were a few scattered scars.
“I’m not Vaquita,” I answered at last once I’d found my voice. I wanted to get closer to him, but something held me back. “Are you Omen?” I double-checked, in spite of the fact that he knew my mother’s name.
The NightWing didn’t reply, but instead walked towards me in a daze. It’d been a little while since I’d startled someone into thinking they’re dreaming or hallucinating. It’s a very odd sensation: I always end up feeling like the last creature of a species believed to be extinct.
He walked one hesitant step at a time, lifting one talon in front of the other in a fluid, snail-slow motion. An emotion I couldn’t decipher stained his serious face; was that what someone looked like when they thought they were seeing a lost loved one again after losing them so many years ago? I was terribly notorious for my lack of skill in interpreting facial expressions (such things happen when one has only ever known four dragons in their life).
Omen’s mouth hung open, and before I knew it, he was towering over me, making me feel like a tiny dragonet again. A young, nervous dragonet subjected to the control of her imposing father.
He studied my face, my wings, even glanced at my tail. He checked everything with his eyes, ensuring I was not lying. “You’re . . . not Vaquita,” he uttered, his breathing increasing rapidly. I could practically see the memories dancing in his eyes, trying to trick his mind into thinking I was who he wanted to see. His claws dug into the grass, needing to hold on to something tangible. “Who are you?”
I’d pictured this moment for all my life, and yet, after imagining so many times what I would say to him, no great words came to mind. It was like someone had stuffed cotton through my ears and into my brain: nothing but fuzz. What was I supposed to say to the father I’d thought was gone forever?
So I simply said my name, and awaited his reaction.
“Whalesong,” he echoed thoughtfully. Why did I shiver when he spoke my name? “You’re one of them. One of the ghosts.”
I inexplicably nodded to the obvious statement. Although, it made me wonder. Did he know another ghost besides my mom? 
“Do you know her? Vaquita?” Omen asked, almost desperately. “You look so much like her . . .”
Suddenly, I wished I had a friend by my side for this meeting. It would be nice to have someone to lend me courage. I needed all the courage I could summon to tell Omen that I was his daughter.
And what happened to her because of me.
“Omen,” I started, squaring my shoulders and looking at him unwaveringly. “There’s a reason I resemble Vaquita. And it’s that same reason why I’m a ghost.” 
I hesitated, then reminded myself of my resolution. The resolution I’d needed so fervently, and the one I realized I would never stop needing. But need is not always weakness; need is the soul seeking help, and receiving it only as much as it requires. The need I had was a noble one.
No more fear.
“She was my mother,” I confessed bluntly.
It was as if Omen had stopped working. His hind legs gave out, putting him in a sitting position. His face had frozen over, and I suddenly knew where Sparkstriker got his not-revealing-what-I’m-thinking expression. That created an eerie resemblance in my mind as I thought of all the times I’d wondered what Striker was feeling.
Omen gazed at me in a new light, but it was still ridden with past shadows nonetheless. “Vaquita . . . She . . . She had eggs?”
“Only mine,” I said quietly, glancing at my claws. 
Now his face expressed a hint of confusion, and a bit of something else. “But, she’s not touchable. We never . . . How is . . . How are you possible?” A flash of wariness crossed him, and then anger. “Who’s your father? Is that why she disappeared? To be with some lowlife crab with her same predicament?”
I winced. Why couldn’t he figure it out on his own? Did Mother never tell him what might happen to her someday? My heart sunk as I came to the disturbing conclusion that she must have not.
“I was only possible because of the curse that my mother both had and gave me. Once one of us falls in love with somebody, then we sort of just . . . It sounds horrible, but we sort of just get an egg. That’s how she had me . . . And that’s how you’re my father.”
He took the news surprisingly well. He didn’t shriek, or growl, or run away from the strange and impromptu situation. But, he didn’t attempt to hug me or show any affection, either. The lack of reaction made me more and more worried the longer it festered.
I began to regret not heeding my brother’s warning. What if he’d grown to resent Vaquita after she deserted him? What if he was really such a horrible dragon as Sparkstriker says he was? What if—
Omen brought me back from my spinning brain by brushing a talon through my face. A faint smile dragged the corners of his mouth upwards. “You’re just as beautiful as her,” he said faintly.
My concern dwindled to an insignificant spark. He must’ve been used to supernatural explanations after being with my mom, so this didn’t come as the biggest shock to him. I beamed up at him. Did I just get a compliment from my DAD? 
“Where have you been living all this time?” he asked.
“I’ve been living on a remote island with a really old dragon,” I said bluntly. “Up until very recently, I thought you were dead.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Why did you think that?”
I waved a talon dismissively. “Long, boring story.” I grinned gleefully. “I can’t believe you’re alive. All my life I thought I was alone.”
Omen let his talon drop to the ground. He frowned. “Alone? What about Vaquita? Where is she? I need to see her as soon as possible.”
My smile faltered. How could I tell him that the girl he’d loved so dearly died almost ten years ago? 
He’s a grown dragon. He’s not going to react immaturely. Surely, after all the years, his feelings for her have lessened?
I sure hope so.
I absolutely despised ruining the happy meeting, but I couldn’t lie to him now. He deserved to know what happened to her.
“Father,” I began carefully, slowly. That word did not settle right on my tongue. “There’s something else you need to know. About Mom.”
Omen looked around at the wildlife hopefully. “Did she come with you? Is she nervous about seeing me again?” He paused, and a dark shadow came over him. “Why did she abandon me?”
His words inspired my next ones. Although, in hindsight, I believe these words were more for my sake than they were for Omen’s.
“I used to ask the same thing.”
A new emotion trudged across his face, and this time I recognized it: dread. He shook his head. “No. She isn’t.”
At his denial, a wave of sad memories crashed over me. I couldn’t bring myself to stare him in the eye as I said woefully, “Yes. She is.”
The NightWing backed away from me. All of a sudden, he radiated anger. Fury, even. His eyes burned with a hateful passion, and for the first time, I truly believed Sparkstriker’s plight could not have been a lie.
I backed away from him as well, even though he couldn’t harm me even if he wanted to. I just wanted to be far away from that anger.
“NO!” Omen shouted at the sky. His arms quivered. “You’re lying! She CAN’T be dead! She can’t be!”
He twisted around, grabbed the nearest bush, and uprooted it on the spot. He then proceeded to launch it at an innocent tree. Once that was complete, he gave the dirt a solid punch, and then another, and another. He bullied the ground until his knuckles bled. 
Is that where I get my outbursts from? I thought with a shiver.
“I’m sorry!” I tried to apologize to him, but he was too busy abusing the wildlife to listen. 
It was only when he finally stopped and turned around that I noticed he was crying. 
I bit my lip, trying not to cry myself. I’d once thought that seeing other dragons experience pain at the level that I was used to would be justice, would be fairness. But seeing my own father mourn the death of the dragon we both loved . . . It was as far from that as imaginable. I wanted to help him, heal him, make the misery go away. I felt his pain as my own; I knew what he was going through, because I’d known it since I was told that my mother died at my fault. He was suffering, and who knows how long he’s suffered after losing his soulmate?
“I know it’s hard to accept,” I said weakly, thankful he at least stopped destroying things. “But, I will tell you this: She didn’t want to leave you. She was forced to. And, I think she didn’t want to hurt you by telling you that one way or another, she was going to leave. She wouldn’t want you to grieve, I don’t think.”
Omen had smoke snaking from his nostrils and tears rolling down his cheeks. He didn’t respond, but instead fumbled for his satchel and feverishly snatched something out of it. The object was a flask, and he took several gulps of whatever liquid was inside. He crumbled to the dirt, resting his head on a black wing forlornly. He sniffed, then lifted the flask to study it gravely. “All this time, oh little ghost— all this time I hoped that she was out there, just waiting for the right time to come back. Which, I—” his voice cracked momentarily, and he looked away from me. “I just had to assume there was some stupid reason that kept her away from me. Not knowing drove me crazy. What was it, huh? Resentment? Loss of interest?”
Omen talked with an undertone of rage and sadness that, combined, caused his jaw to twitch maniacally and his teeth to clench in what looked like a painful manner. I scowled. His behavior seemed erratic and made me nervous just being near him. But I still felt horrible for him, and I owed him whatever solace I could give him. Right?
My eyes averted to his flask with suspicion. I said warily, “Neither. She found out about me and . . .”
Oh dear. I HAD to lie! This was absolutely the WORST possible time to tell him I killed Vaquita. He would lose his mind!
Not that he hasn’t already, Second-Thoughts observed.
Not. HELPING. Brain.
I said the best thing I could without lying. “. . . And was afraid of what you would do or say if you found out you had a dragonet you didn’t want.”
Omen stared hollowly at the grass below him, then took a swig of his drink. He swept a talon over his face, saying quietly, “She was right about one thing.”
I frowned. “What’s that?”
“I didn’t want a dragonet.”
My heart sunk a little further. “Oh. So you’re saying . . . she was right to leave?” I asked cautiously.
He squeezed his eyes shut as though he were in pain, then blinked them open and shook himself. He glanced at the blood still sticking to his knuckles. “I’m saying she was a blasted fool to—“ He broke off, and his head jerked in my direction. There was that scorching fire again. He growled, “Why should I believe you? I don’t know you! She’s probably still alive, and you’re just keeping her from me!”
The tall dragon rose to his feet, glowering down at me. I shivered under the scrutiny of that scowl. Had his smile had to have been so brief? He hissed slowly, “Where is she?”
I tried to back away, but Omen replaced every lost footstep of mine with his own. This is not good. This is in fact very, very bad. “I’m not ‘keeping’ her from you! I already told you, she’s gone! I would never lie about her to anyone!”
“And how do I know that?” Omen demanded. A thin trail of saliva leaked from a corner of his mouth. “How do I even know you’re my daughter, Dolphin-Song?”
“It’s Whalesong,” I corrected, standing my ground. I shot him a wounded look. “Omen, look at me. You thought I actually was Vaquita when you first saw me! You practically said I’m her spitting image! I know it’s probably hard for you to believe, but she WAS my mother, and you ARE my father. I need you to pull yourself together and stop denying the truth!”
Omen’s snarl melted away a little. He eyed me up and down, his mouth twitching every few seconds. He exhaled a puff of smoke. “You’re insistent and stubborn.” His wings fell to the grass. “You sound just like her.”
“So do you believe me?” I asked, hiding my hope.
Omen—very helpfully—shrugged. “I don’t have another option,” he lamented, taking another drink of his mystery beverage. To my gratitude, he wiped the spit off his chin. However, when he did that, a dash of blood from his talon smeared on his face. “Pushing me into a corner. You’re hardly better than my conniving son.”
At Sparkstriker’s mention, I glared at him. I needed answers, but I didn’t want them. Not if they were what I suspected they were. But, it’s like Omen said: I don’t have a choice. I need to know, no matter the heartache.
I steeled myself. Quietly, I asked, “Is it true? Did you abuse Sparkstriker?”
Omen studied his talons. He sighed deeply, shaking his head. “That little brat. Always causing trouble. Always finding ways to infuriate me . . . Whatever he may tell you, he’s not innocent. He deserves anything that comes his way.”
I gasped in utter horror and indignation. “How could you?! He’s only a dragonet! No one deserves an abused childhood!”
“He’s a whelp,” Omen hissed. “A freak. I didn’t even want him, but his idiot mother wouldn’t give him away. Bet she regrets that.”
I growled at him. Never have I ever been so defensive of my brother. Or defensive for him at all, really. “What do you expect him to be like when you raise him the way you have?! Anything wrong with him is your fault!”
“You know nothing about him, and you know nothing about me. If you knew what a sadist he is, you wouldn’t be so aggravated.”
Oh, I was livid at that point. Was he seriously trying to justify his actions? “Well, he had to get that from somewhere,” I commented with as much ire as I could expel.
Omen lifted a shaky talon to point at me. “This. This is one of the many reasons I did not want children. And now I have two. Both of which were accidents.”
I had to push back the tears that threatened to spill out from all my boiling emotions. I was not going to let him see me cry. “What happened to you? What happened to the guy my mother risked her life for? Huh? How could you have stooped so low after nine years?”
He pulled out clumps of grass, like he was trying to distract himself from what I dreamed was guilt. “I told you, you know nothing about me. Vaquita . . . Vaquita was the only good thing I ever had. For so long, she was the reason I woke up every morning. She was funny, gorgeous, adventurous, rebellious . . . And she was the first dragon—“
His voice broke, and he didn’t bother to finish his sentence. 
I lashed my tail and scowled at him with everything that was churning within me, from disappointment, to rage, to even a shred of pity. “I don’t care. It looks like you let yourself be consumed by her loss, and took it out on your blameless son. Dragonet abuse is monstrous, and no amount of alcohol can wash away that guilt.”
Omen narrowed his evergreen eyes at me, but didn’t say a word.
“I won’t let you hurt him anymore,” I continued. “I know what it’s like to grieve. I know what it’s like to want to sweep away your problems despite the cost. But I will never use someone else as a punching pillow for my feelings.” I turned my back on him, spreading my wings for flight. But before I took off, I said over my shoulder coldly, “She’s disappointed in who you’ve become.”
I was caught off guard by his hollow response: “I know.”
I flew from the ground, wanting to put as much distance between my awful father and me as possible.
I was close enough to hear the rest of his unfinished sentence, though. It was so woeful, so defeated, that I wondered if it had been uttered in my mind by a ghostly ancestor.
“She was the first dragon to tell me I was loved.”
==Chapter Twenty-Three: The Victim’s Remorse==
I flew back to Jade Mountain with a cloud of depression fogging up my head. How could my father be so horrible? Where did the caring, fun-loving dragon that my mother had felt for disappear to?
Those were just stories, said Second-Thoughts. Who knows what Vaquita lied to Grandpa about.
But she wouldn’t fall in love with a heartless drunkard! I argued in my head. I just know it! Omen fell into a pit of despair when she left him, and that’s all there is to it!
If you say so.
I groaned, letting my head sink. Flying had always been a bit difficult, because I didn’t have the wind to support my wings. I had to flap them non-stop, otherwise I would plummet. Being weightless probably helped me, though.
I looked down, watching the trees dash below me. The world looks so insignificant when one flies. When you fly, it feels like you’re the monarch of the land, because everything else is beneath you, and from up there, none of it can control you. None of it can defy you. None of it can make you feel like a naïve, useless child.
Yet, there are times when it can reach your peaceful solitude via irritating and stealthy half-brother.
“I heard everything,” came a strained voice from what I previously thought was empty air behind me.
My wings faltered, and it took me a second to recover. I stopped mid flight, turning around and hovering silently. I recognized the voice that spoke before I saw the body it belonged to, but I still gasped under my breath when my tired eyes landed on him.
He really is always there, in the background.
I recalled all the cruel things Sparkstriker had said to me and framed me for only recently. Before meeting my father, I’d wanted to teach Striker a lesson; tell him how awful a dragon he was, that he deserved to feel rotten for how he’s treated his harrowed sibling. He had been so mean, so merciless.
But after my argument with Omen, I was drained. I hadn’t the energy to curse my brother’s soul. That, and the added fact that I was once again pitying him for the harmful treatment he’d received from his terrible father.
“Why are you here?” I asked half-heartedly. I REALLY didn’t desire to converse with another sentient life form at the moment.
It’d been a long time since I’d seen him in full sunlight, and I was surprised how less dull he appeared. His midnight-black scales gleamed, and his eyes shone brighter. He looked a little more like a motion-filled, heart-pumping creature than the stone-like statue I was accustomed to.
“We need to talk,” Sparkstriker said, ignoring my question as usual. He flicked his tail at me and flew down. He was clearly not going to leave me alone until he got what he wanted. He was cryptic and stubborn like that.
I followed him, suspicion and dread and exasperation trailing me like loyal pets. Was he eavesdropping on the whole conversation? I wondered with concern. What is he thinking? Is he mad at me for no reason, like he always is?
I touched down, huffing as my talons met the grass. Don’t you just get so worn out, reader, when you keep having to meet your strange NightWing relatives who hate you in the middle of the woods? It gets old quickly, doesn’t it?
“How long have you been following me?” I questioned in my very authoritative, no-nonsense voice. At least, what I hoped was an authoritative, no-nonsense voice—it was probably more on the I’d-rather-be-left-to-rot-and-you-know-it side.
“Long enough,” Sparkstriker said, his tone significantly more serious than normal. Of course, his vagueness was still a behavioral trait I could count on being consistent. “Trust me.”
I wanted to change the subject badly, because I did not need to hear him say “I told you so.” He was insufferable enough as it was. 
Although, I was feeling horrible for him. Maybe I could apologize to him later, sometime after I’d recollected myself and recovered from the jarring experience of telling Omen his mate was dead.
“Striker, this is really a bad time to chat. I need to get back and help them search for Rocky.” Well, that was a pretty good excuse, as far excuses went.
“But you don’t really want to,” he guessed, squinting at me curiously. “Do you?”
I rolled my eyes. “No mind games. I do want to help find him, thank you very much. Now, if this is just pointless babble, I’m out of here.”
I spread my translucent wings out and raised my snout skyward. 
“It’s not a mind game,” Sparkstriker said hurriedly. A certain anxiousness slipped into his voice as he stated, “You’re afraid of him hurting you.”
I froze where I stood.
Am I afraid of him hurting me? I wondered. I reached deep into my heart, deep into my mind, and both talons came up with the same twisted answer: I’m scared what happened to Omen will happen to me.
You’ve only known Rocky for, what, a few weeks? Second-Thoughts butted in. You don’t have the same attachment he had. And you’re not the same dragon he is and chose to be.
He’s still my father. We are related through depression and desperation and heartache. I don’t want to be like him, but I’m afraid we’re already too similar.
That’s just the demons in your head talking. You can be whoever you desire to be. Omen is your father, not you. And even if you do lose Rocky, you won’t let yourself become what your father allowed to encompass him.
I shook myself out of my reverie. “Why would you say that?” I asked, looking at him again. 
Striker held his wings closer to himself. “Because, we have the same problem. We’re both afraid of getting hurt by the dragon we care about.”
My face softened a little. It seemed apology time couldn’t wait. “Look, Sparkstriker, I’m sorry about Father—“
“He is not my father,” he hissed unexpectedly, without hesitation. “I now see him for the pathetic pile of ash he is. However . . . that’s not exactly the reason I pulled you down to talk.” 
His scowl relaxed, and he lifted his star-speckled wings high. The sun allowed easy visual access to the scars that traced his body once his wings exposed them. For the first time since I’d known him, he let go of the frustratingly-placid gaze he always held so obstinately. For the first time ever, I saw Sparkstriker as he truly was, with feeling in his eyes and a woeful tale on his scales.
“Do you see these?” he asked me calmly.
I nodded solemnly.
Sparkstriker lowered his wings and sighed heavily. His eyes squeezed shut, as though he had a headache. Perhaps he just didn’t want to look at me. “Even years before I met you, I thought you were the enemy,” he began wearily. “That you were the one behind my suffering. I’d had a few visions of you when I was younger, and I knew it was my powers and not me losing my sanity. My visions gave me some insight into your story, and using what bits and pieces Omen has told me, I put together the truth. 
“Whale, I’m full of scars on the inside and out. After we met, every time I saw you with your perfect, stainless scales, I hated you. Hated you. You can’t be hurt, and all my life I’ve been tossed around between my parents in a terrifying, unpredictable loop. Not too long ago, I convinced myself that it was all the fault of you and your mother because I needed someone to blame. And you know why I didn’t blame him? Why I didn’t run away?”
Striker paused to catch his breath. His inhalations were awfully shaky. He continued, “Because deep down, I still wanted him to love me. I wanted him to tell me I was worth something, or give me a hug, or tell me reassuring words when I my first crush told me I wasn’t ‘cute enough’. But no matter how much I lied to myself, or blamed you in my head, it never changed the fact that I’ve never had a father, and I never will.”
He turned his head. I glimpsed a single tear trekking across his cheek, but it was swiftly wiped away. “I thought maybe he would’ve wanted you instead of me, which only made me despise you even more. But after your guys’ conversation . . . I realized how wrong I was. He doesn’t just lack love for me, but for everyone. Or, everyone who isn’t Vaquita.
“I was so bent on revenge that I shut out your emotions. You really can be hurt, even if your scars are only internal. I’ve tried to deny it as fervently as I could, but I no longer can. I see the pain in my eyes reflected in yours.”
Sparkstriker bent his forelegs, lowered his head to his talons, draped his wings over the grass . . .
Was he . . . bowing?
“I’m sorry,” he said, without a drop of insincerity.
I gaped, my mouth like a giant cave in my face. I couldn’t wrap my brain around the scene unfolding before me. Sparkstriker . . . Apologizing . . . Bowing . . .
My sneer-ridden, manipulative brother was BOWING to ME?
In my stunned silence, he did not move. He was awaiting my reply; waiting to see if I would accept his apology, or cast him aside like our father would.
No, I reminded myself. Not our father.
Did he really deserve my forgiveness, though? He was the instigator of most of my recent hardships. He’d used his only friend to exact revenge on his half-sister that he barely knew. Then he tried to turn that same friend against said sister. Why should I show mercy to the boy who showed none to me?
Because he’s your brother, Second-Thoughts spoke up. Not just in blood, but in affliction. It’s not his fault he was brought up so crudely. You have both endured much tribulation from hatching; you were meant to meet each other. Give him a chance to right his wrongdoings if he so desires. You may stand stronger together.
I searched my esophagus for my voice, and finally found it. I’d made my decision. 
“I will forgive you,” I said hesitantly through my teeth, stretching my neck up. “On three conditions.”
Sparkstriker looked up with a hint of annoyance in his eyes that he was clearly trying to conceal. “You know, usually it’s just one—“
I slipped a small glare into my expression. “Sparkstriker,” I warned.
He sighed. “And what would those be?”
Wow, that was surprisingly satisfying. I continued, “One: That you stop being a monstrous jerk to Rocky and I. And, also, everyone,” I added quickly.
He nodded, glancing to the side in embarrassment. “The others?”
“That you be the best uncle ever to your future niece,” I said with a deathly seriousness.
He nodded again, this time more sincerely. “Number three?”
My glare faded, slowly replaced with a reluctant grin. “That you stop calling me petite girl.”
He grinned back. The NightWing stood back up, shaking out his wings. He sighed in relief. “You, little sister, got yourself a deal.”
“Hey, I’m still older than you, remember?”
He smirked mischievously, shooting back, “Hey, I’m still taller than you, remember?”
I rolled my eyes and called him a name that wasn’t all too sisterly. But I was just teasing, so, yeah, that makes it all better. I think.
Striker whistled. “For a ghost who doesn’t know a lot of dragons, you sure have an extensive vocabulary,” he noted, hiding a grin.
“Oh, like you’re any better, Mister Dark and Evil,” I said lightly. I waved a talon dismissively. “Joking aside, I must say, I’m still furious at you for trying to turn Rocky against me.”
He winced. “Yeah, that was included in my apology, even if it went unspoken. I was just so . . . frustrated. I felt kind of rotten after I did that.”
Please understand my reasons for not thinking properly, reader, as I blurted these next words thoughtlessly. They just popped into my head and I didn’t think anything bad of it, such as how a question like this might affect the pride of a mentally-unstable boy.
“Is that why you were crying?” I asked curiously.
Sparkstriker blanched, and the spines on his back stood up. He looked like he’d been violated in the most offensive way possible. “You saw me?” he said, clearly hurt but attempting to disguise it with nonchalance.
I rubbed the back of my neck awkwardly. Too late to turn back now. “. . . Kinda?” I said carefully, hoping desperately that I hadn’t triggered his bad side again. “Only for a second though! I swear it was an accident. Besides, I’m sure you’ve seen me cry before. I do it way too often.”
Striker shook his head. “But, that’s not the same! No one’s supposed to see ME cry! It’s a sign of weakness!”
I raised an eyebrow. “Sparkstriker, there’s no contest going on for the ‘Who Can Cry the Least’ award. Keeping your emotions locked up isn’t healthy, and this is coming from a lonely ghost. Why do you think I’m always hitting the floor, or leaning on someone’s shoulder to rant about my problems?”
He smirked, but there was still a shadow of hurt on his face. “Yeah, those sound so much healthier.”
I huffed, glaring at him. I wanted to continue my line of questioning, but I had to cross this bridge first. I folded my arms. “I think that after all the grief and confusion you’ve caused me, I deserve full answers from you. From this moment on, no more dodging my inquiries.”
Sparkstriker opened his mouth—probably to dispute me—but I shoved one ghostly claw in front of it, immediately shushing him. “It’s not a request,” I said with a smile as sweet and lovely as rotten meat.
His eyelids fell so far that I could just barely make out his green irises—clearly the face of an amused dragon. He slouched in defeat. “Yes Mom.”
I rolled my eyes. “Is it so hard to simply answer an innocent question, Mass of Sass? I don’t mean any harm by it.”
My half-brother sighed indignantly. “Just because I don’t abhor you anymore does not mean I suddenly like sharing my feelings. Privacy is one of my only consolations, and I grasp it dearly.” He paused before saying, “And you are a disgrace to the war that is nickname-bestowing.”
I deadpanned. “Fine. Whatever you say, Master of Mystery.”
He wagged a talon tauntingly. “Mass of Sass was better.”
“You are already making me regret this.”
Sparkstriker’s glint of amusement visibly dialed down a notch. “Fine. You’re free to go now; that’s all I had to say. Go search for your honeyboo or whatever. I . . . need a moment.” He massaged his temple tiredly. 
It was only then, when I watched him scowl like he had the world’s worst headache, that I came to realize I’d never seen him happy. I’d seen him smile, yes, but that’s different; every smile I’d ever seen him wear had been tainted with mischief or sadism. I couldn’t remember a time where I hadn’t seen him callous, or angry, or saccharine, or sad. I was almost certain it was brought on by justified depression rather than simple malcontent. Nonetheless, I was startled at the recognition.
My eyes meandered over to his scars. His passionate words rang in my head: “. . . It never changed the fact that I’ve never had a father, and I never will.”
Maybe not, but if you right your wrongs, you will gain a sister.
“Okay, I’ll go look for him. But will you help me?”
Striker removed his talon from his eyes. “I suppose now that I’ve claimed to seek a positive relationship with you, that entitles me to assist you with trivial tasks,” he said with resignation, standing up.
I gasped in offense. “Rocky’s missing. Searching for him hardly counts as a ‘trivial task’!”
Striker subtly rolled his eyes. “Please, I had a vision last night showing that he’d come back in no time. No need to fret.”
I blinked. “You . . . You had a vision of him returning, and you didn’t think telling me or any school officials was a good idea?” I shook my head. “Maybe you are nuts.”
He chuckled dryly. “Trust me, that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever called me.”
“But, why didn’t you say something?!”
He shrugged. “If you recall, I didn’t particularly like you not too long ago.”
“Striker—and I’m saying this in the kindest way possible—you can be a real jerk.”
“I’m flattered you noticed my strenuous efforts,” he said snidely. Then he read my expression and sighed. “Okay, I’m sorry.”
“Better,” I said with a nod of approval. I spread my wings out, preparing for flight, and glanced back at him. “But I’m still going to look for him. The sooner we find him, the better. And besides . . . I don’t know how much longer I can wait to know if he’s forgiven me or not.” I bit my lip in worry as I uttered that last sentence.
I took off, and though I heard Sparkstriker follow me, I still peered over my should to be certain he was there. After all his tricks, I was paranoid beyond logic.
We flew in silence for a few minutes, until Sparkstriker surprised me by breaking said silence in a very un-Sparkstriker fashion. He spoke only two solitary words:
“He has.”
I looked down at him, momentarily confused. “What?”
The dark NightWing glanced up at me. He sported a knowing half-grin. “He’s forgiven you.”
My heart leaped in joy. “Really? Did your vision show you that, too?”
He looked straight ahead. “No. It didn’t need to.”
I smiled.
==Chapter Twenty-Four: Kindred Freaks==
We returned to Jade Mountain in no time. The flight was—to my utter disbelief—quiet and calming. Flying on its own was fabulous and all, but flying with someone at your side, lifting the sense of loneliness, was actually kind of soothing.
No, reader, I never thought I’d use the word “soothing” when referring to Sparkstriker’s company either.
Also, after encountering Omen, literally any company was a relieving change.
Upon return, Striker and I split up, him to go reassure the teachers about Rocky, and me to go look for said MudWing. It took some persuading, but I managed to get Striker to fulfill his side of the plan. If he really went to do it, that is. A part of me wondered if he was sneaking off to perform some new scheme, but I forced myself to shove that concern far down.
I had another long talk ahead of me to think about.
As I wandered past the exit to the school, my body began to shut down. I stumbled into the nearest rock of the mountain, tiredly massaging my eyes. All the drama of the day had apparently caught up with me; I was terribly exhausted. It’d felt like months since I’d last slept, and I wanted so badly to lie down, on the temperature-less floor, and let my eyelids fall. Oh, how I yearned for the sweet release of rest . . . 
Maybe a few minutes wouldn’t hurt . . . 
A yelp brought me back from the brink, and I turned around to peek outside the rock. I immediately noticed that my tail was still on open display, and quickly tucked it inside. I looked up and realized that miiiight have been why there was a strange IceWing boy gawking at me with confused interest.
The dragonet caught me off guard with his startling appearance. The first things that snatched my attention were his eyes. They were red. I was sorely uneducated about IceWings, but I was fairly sure they weren’t supposed to have scarlet eyes. Then I was drawn to his spines, which were tipped with black, and his wings, which were like  white blankets with drops of ink scattered across them. And the strangest of all: a diamond-shaped . . . thing in the middle of his forehead, gleaming in the reddening daylight.
My first thought? What the heck kind of egg did he break out of.
I smiled widely, trying to convey as much harmlessness as possible so that I didn’t scare him off and get the school in trouble (again). I lifted a weary talon to wave at him innocently. “Hello. Please don’t be frightened. I just really like, uh . . . immersing myself in solid matter, nothing horrible.”
He blinked at me. 
I grimaced awkwardly. “I’m Whalesong, if it helps to know that I’m not some nameless monster,” I offered.
He did something that I’ve never seen before upon a first-time meeting: he squinted in suspicion. His dark ruby eyes were narrowed into uncertain slits, and I had to suppress a shiver. With no hint of ill intent showing in his voice, he asked, “Umm . . . do you require help?”
I was taken aback by his relatively calm response, yet relaxed a little knowing that he apparently wasn’t scared for his life. “I was born like this,” I explained, having gotten more efficient at doing so over the last few weeks. (Ah, the benefits of socializing.) “It’s a spell, if you’re familiar with animus magic.”
A wave of understanding washed over the IceWing. He nodded seriously. “I am.” Then he lowered his gaze as if in embarrassment, fingering his wingtip. “I apologize if I stare,” he stammered. “I’ve never seen a ghost like you before.”
I was quite dumbfounded when he said that. I asked incredulously, “You’ve seen someone like me before?”
The boy didn’t seem to know how to respond. He puzzled with himself for a moment, frowning in thought. 
His brief pondering gave me a second to realize that he wasn’t the first dragon to not react badly to my ghostliness. Sparkstriker had been just as indifferent as him, even less so. That was . . . a troubling sign.
As I was about to ask his name, he spoke. “I’ve seen many unusual things in my life, as a light way of putting it,” he answered mysteriously. “Let’s just say you aren’t on the top of my list. Although I admit, I am horribly curious as to how you came to be.”
Huh. So it’s not just his appearance that’s strange, I thought. Where the heck did this kid come from?
I emerged from the rock fully, then sat on my haunches and folded my arms. “What’s your name?” I asked, purposefully dodging his roundabout inquiry.
The dragonet shook his head at himself. “Sorry, I guess I should have introduced myself. My name is Polaris,” he said, again unnerving me with his sense of normalcy. He inclined his silver head, regally crowned with glistening spikes.
Upon noticing his head spikes, I recalled the first—and only—IceWing I’d ever beheld in my days of travel. The memory was forever seared onto my ignorant mind, as were the memories of the other first dragons from every tribe I saw before.
The IceWing had been so alien to me, so visually brilliant. He’d stuck out from the crowd like a diamond among rocks. I remembered how I couldn’t draw my gaze from him, because he was so majestic in the way he held himself. I remembered how I’d thought we were complete opposites; from his snout to his spiked tail, everything about him was sharp and jagged—so different from the smooth, aerodynamic body of SeaWings such as myself. I remembered how I’d imagined him being an ice sculpture come to life instead of a biological creature. He’d been intimidating, but also strangely beautiful.
However, the dragonet before me was quite different from that one. Studying his black-mixed-white coloration, I began to suspect this ‘Polaris’ may not be full IceWing. 
Hybrid or not, I wasn’t interested in initiating conversation with an extra-strange stranger. Especially one whose calculating, scarlet eyes were continuing to creep me out. 
“That’s a peculiar name,” I said—in a polite way, thank you very much, reader. I tilted my head thoughtfully, wanting to leave the discussion without being rude. “Though I guess mine is weird too. Anyway, I’d hate to keep you waiting. Goodbye, Polaris. Hope you have a very non-haunting day!” I smiled in what must have been a sickeningly saccharine manner, then sidled away slowly into the rock again.
“Wait!” Polaris called after me. I hesitated. “I need to ask you something.”
I drew my gaze back to his reluctantly, part of me wanting to just ignore his wish and find some long-awaited privacy. Quiet, uninterrupted privacy where I could slumber heroically in peace. Oh, how that sounded so heavenly to my weary soul. Alas, my good nature won out, as it rarely did.
(Writer: I would argue otherwise. But then, it’s often dangerous to argue with you.)
(My heart swells at your vast knowledge of my bad side.)
“Yes?” I asked. I winced later on when I recalled how obvious I’d made my impatience.
The kid glanced around us cautiously, which made me the tiniest bit nervous. He took one step closer to me and said, “You’re not a part of a certain prophecy, are you?”
Okay I am officially ready to run away into the mountainside and never come out again.
How funny, Second-Thoughts mused. The ghost is afraid of the younger, tangible boy.
I’m not afraid of him! I retorted. I’m just . . . thoroughly weirded out by him. He knows about the prophecy! That’s a pretty high level of ‘Get away, this guy you’ve never met knows too much!’
Calm down. He’s probably talking about something else.
Just how many prophecies do you think are going around these days? I asked skeptically.
Even if it is Sparkstriker’s, Polaris probably just heard about it through some gossip link, Second-Thoughts pointed out.
I take no comfort in the possible fact that the few dragons who know about that prophecy are throwing it about willy-nilly, I snapped.
I withdrew from my mental argument, too tired to be overthinking things. I replied slowly, “I guess you could say that.” I scanned him up and down, no longer concerned whether or not he was comfortable. “So I assume you know Sparkstriker?”
Polaris shook his attention-absorbing, unusual head. “I’ve only heard mention of him from other students. I didn’t know he’d foretold anything,” he said. A pensive frown settled on his face, and something told me that that was his resting expression. “Then that means . . . Er, sorry, I thought you might be someone else.”
Phew, one less dragon to get involved in my circle of despair, I thought. Hopefully, he stays out of it. Just like the others should have. Although, that does make me wonder what he’s talking about . . .
“It’s alright,” I assured him. “I have much more pressing matters to attend to than a mix-up in supernatural predictions. It was nice meeting you, but I need to go find someone and apologize to him as fervently as possible. Dragons are more susceptible to forgiveness when they see you cry, right?” I joked, but there was truth behind my words. Truth and probability. 
His eyes grew hazy for a moment, like he just remembered something serious. He blinked back whatever memories were surfacing and nodded politely. “Well, I don’t want to be in your way. Goodbye, Whalesong. I hope your situation gets better,” he said sincerely.
I was in the clear to leave, but before I did I had one more hopeful ask tugging at my brain. I scratched my neck awkwardly. “Hey, um, you’re a boy,” I cleverly observed. “Do you have any advice for me? You know, for apologizing to somebody?”
Polaris tapped the tip of his tail on the rock thoughtfully. He gave a slight wince. “Sorry, I’m not the best dragon to come to with social dilemmas. The only tip coming to mind is ‘just be honest.’” He shrugged apologetically.
I sighed. “Okay, thanks. That’s still good advice.”
I was once again stopped before I could go, but this time for a better reason. A much sweeter reason.
“Hey, I could actually use some advice myself,” Polaris admitted, rubbing his wingtips together nervously. “You know, from a girl.”
I grinned in an eager-to-help way, and I was suddenly quite curious. Yeah, me, curious. Shocking, right? “Uh, sure. What’s up?”
He cleared his throat, glancing down at his talons. “I, um, did and said some things to my girlfriend that I very much regret. I was actually on my way to apologize to her when I saw your transparent tail sticking out of the mountain,” he explained, his tone sad. It seemed as though his defeat had caught up with him all at once, and he didn’t meet my eyes. “I’m open to trying anything at this point. I can’t lose her.”
I nodded understandingly, but on the inside I’m pretty sure I heard an Awwww from one of my thought processes. Not sure if it was me or Second-Thoughts. Maybe both. Shut up, inner-girl. 
“I’ll offer my best, but like you, I’m not the most socially-apt being in the universe,” I said, trying for humor. As you can probably guess, it didn’t work. “But from a dragoness’ view, I think that . . . I think that the best thing you can do right now is tell her what you told me. That you regret what you did, and you’re sorry. Tell her that you can’t lose her, and that you’ll do anything you can to make things right.” I smiled supportively.
Polaris hunched his shoulders and massaged his head. He inhaled deeply through his nostrils, then exhaled slowly out his mouth, and repeated that cycle a few times. I tried not to look pitying. The poor guy must’ve been anxious out of his mind.
Maybe like I was when I told Rocky I was with egg. NOT something I want to repeat.
But that rogue thought sparked in my imagination a depiction of Rocky, beaming gleefully down at me after I told him the news of our soon-to-be child. A beautiful, impossible image where he had not a care in the world, no fear, no anger. All he did was hug me, hold me, and I was able to hold him too. I squeezed him tight, not worrying once that I might slip through his warm scales. Which, they were warm; the foreign, comfortable feeling I’d heard describe so many things in my life, but never got to experience myself. And I could see why everyone liked it. Not only was his encompassing presence reassuring and loving, but even the warmth radiating from him was enough to make me feel like I was safe for the rest of my days, as long as I stayed close to him. As long as we were together, wrapped in each other’s wings, everything would be okay.
I wished dearly that it could be a fond memory, but alas, my imagination was inconceivably torturous. I shook off the unreachable idea, not trusting myself to sink further into it. 
“You okay, Polaris?” I asked quietly. I was concerned about him, but I also was checking to make sure I wasn’t going to have to deal with another horrible event that day. I was frankly quite sick of bad things popping out at me around every moons-blasted, thrice-cursed, sea-forsaken corner.
The IceWing—or whatever he was—sighed softly. He looked up at me wearily and said, “I’m fine. Sorry, I just need to relax myself sometimes. It doesn’t help that I’m scared out of my scales.” He ran a talon over his head. “Huh, I don’t know why I’m telling you all this. Nonetheless, thank you for your help. It’s deeply appreciated.”
I inclined my head briefly. “Always happy to help a fellow wanderer,” I said, and the impatience had disappeared from my voice. 
He smiled faintly with amusement. “Indeed. Hope to see you again, Whalesong.”
“You too,” I replied truthfully. I jokingly added, “Good luck finding me.”
You won’t have much time to do so.
He laughed, then turned and, squaring his shoulders, stepped through the school entrance.
My vision of Rocky and I had distracted me from my last bit of advice I’d wanted to offer Polaris. His leaving to talk to his girlfriend reminded me at the last second. I called after him just before he was going to march down a hallway. 
The dragonet halted in his tracks and peered over his shoulder at me. “Yes?”
“Do you love her?”
He didn’t even hesitate. “With everything I have.”
I beamed at his certainty. “Then tell her that, too.”
~
An enormous NightWing towered over me, crying and cackling in an inexplicable, harrowing way that ripped through the fragile threads of existence. The deafening, conflicted clamor pounded my eardrums and shook my soul to its core; it induced the most overwhelming, raw form of fear to be felt: panic. Unbridled, uncontrollable panic so horrendous that I attempted to slash my own ears off.
Then, just like it started, the ghastly cry ended abruptly. It was difficult to determine exactly when it did, though, as the highest pitch that had escaped the lungs of this dragon still echoed painfully, despairingly, in my head. There was a ringing throughout the universe that followed, one that made me want to claw my way out of my own body. When would the agony stop?
”It will never stop,” came the voice of a dragonet who has known too much. He stayed behind me, not wanting yet to reveal his vulnerable self. “But I can still change its course after you’re gone.”
The ringing stopped, and I was alive again. The gargantuan Omen was gone, to my deepest relief. The world morphed from a bleeding red to a weeping blue, and the only breath left was the little boy beyond my sight. I did not turn. I knew he was scared, and that he didn’t want to be seen with weakness displayed openly on his face.
”How will my leaving change you?” I asked the boy crippled by fear. “How will my leaving change anyone?”
The dragonet, my little brother, let out a sob. I wanted to look, but not yet; it wasn’t the time. With an unseeable talon squeezing his throat, he said shakily, “Please, Whale, you’re the only family I have left. I can’t go back. They’ll kill me! I’ll be ripped scale from scale! Don’t let me go!”
”Tears sprang from my eyes; they rolled down my cheeks, my chest, and then slithered up my wings of their own accord. I couldn’t stop them, just like I couldn’t stop my sibling’s pain. I needed to tell him, needed to turn around and say it to his eyes, but not yet. Instead I stared directly upward, gazing at the gray infinity that stretched out above me. Simply, I said, “I can’t let you go if I could never touch you in the first place.”
Brother began to cry. It was such an abnormal, unnerving occurrence with him that I didn’t know how to feel, what to say. It struck me in my soul, the core of my existence, as if trying to alter me from the inside out. I was shaken, shaken from the resonating wails that transferred his terror, his sadness, to me. I wanted—no, needed to help him, hug him, make his fear disappear in the warmth of my embrace. Alas, as I was too often, I was frustratingly helpless.
But still, I was held fast by an otherworldly insistence. I could not yet turn around. I would not yet turn around.
His crying stopped only to allow some brief speech through. “Will you stay if I vow to take care of her?” he sniffed.
I whipped around, at last meeting him creature-to-creature.
In his talons, cradled against his chest, was the tiniest dragon that ever existed. Her head—her sweet little head—was tucked under her wings, out of view. Blue paler than a clear sky colored her body, an even lighter shade than myself. Every facet of her, from her underdeveloped dorsal webbing, to her stubby little tail that lie dangling beneath her, was infinitely precious. Upon the first second of gazing at her, I knew without doubt what she was: pure. Pure beyond comprehension, pure with no exception. She was an angel; a melon-sized, sleepy, transparent angel.
The angel that would write my epitaph.
I took a hasty step towards her, but as I did, Brother covered her with his scar-striped wings. He was deliberately keeping her from me. This made me angry. Very, very angry. “Give her to me, now,” I demanded with a growl.
His crying had stopped when the hatchling had soaked up all my attention. His tears were gone, leaving in their wake mad desperation. The child of the night glowered at me, hissing warningly through bared teeth. “You had your chance to listen to wisdom,” he spat, “but apparently, wisdom is wasted on dragons like you. You can’t blame me for taking her if I’m the only one she has left.”
I advanced on him, slowly, like a cat allowing its prey a window to escape before it pounced. He did not retreat, but instead held his ground firmly. He seemed so confident now, so smug, that I wondered if the weeping dragonet I’d heard from before was all a trick. The baby he was withholding from me certainly gave me cause to think so.
”Sparksmiter, if you hurt my daughter, I swear by the three moons I will rip your claws off one by one and slice the corners of your mouth upward with them so that you will be stuck with a perpetual bloody smile,” I threatened fiercely.
He smirked. He shifted his position, causing the baby to do the same. I wasn’t sure if it was my imagination or not, but I could’ve sworn I heard her squeak in protest. The sound would’ve warmed my heart if not for the maddening circumstances.
”Then promise me you won’t let me go back!” Brother cried. He held the little one closer to his chest, making her poke her sleepy head out from from its refuge under her wing. She blinked wearily and looked up at her uncle, seeming irritated that her quiet slumber had been interrupted. He remained oblivious to her. “Swear it in blood across your wings! Do it!”
The child did not like Brother’s shouting, not one bit. She twisted and writhed in his grasp, trying frantically to break free. Her attempts were, of course, futile, and only resulted in him tightening his grip. She squeaked again, and when that yielded no gain, she started whining. And when that didn’t work, she resorted to crying. A heart-shattering cry that sounded something like all the joy in the world dissolving at once.
Before I could tell her that everything would be alright, Brother squeezed her in anger. I wasn’t quite sure if he meant her harm, or if he was just mad, but either way she squealed in pain. “Shut up, you little shrieking monkey!” he yelled coldly.
I lunged.
My webbed talons soared right through him, procuring only the emptiness of nothing. I was unfortunately unable to gain any satisfaction from tearing the black scales clean off his insufferable face. I landed on his other side, cursing my intangibility with vigor.
It only took me a fraction of a second to turn back around, but by the time I did, all that remained was the boy who couldn’t be trusted. No premature sidekick, no dragonet held hostage. My baby was nowhere in sight.
”Where is she?!” I demanded, poising for another pointless pounce.
Brother shook his head mournfully. “It couldn’t last, my dear monster. If you’re still alive, then she can’t be. Only one soul can take flight.”
His final words made the matter on which I stood crumble. Gravity wasted no valuable time yanking me down into the inky depths beneath me. I tried to scream, but some unseeable spirit had slithered down my throat and stolen my voice from me. The only sound that came out of me was a faint, breathy gasp as I plunged into darkness.
The last thing I remembered was the placid, emotionless expression of the boy who couldn’t be trusted.
Falling had never been a fear of mine, exactly, but when I woke up from my nap, I was momentarily terrified. I gasped as my eyes shot open; I took much too long to realize that I was awake. (I blame the rock I was surrounded in for that; you try waking up in a colorless, near-lightless mass!)
I regained my sense of balance quickly. There was a fracture of my brain that was convinced that I was still plummeting, but I managed to shake it off. The subconscious mind is nothing more than a demon’s playground, also better known as an ‘imagination’. Nightmares are just mirages, and no matter how horrible they are, they can never manifest in reality. 
. . . Well, most of the time, I thought, recalling the (ridiculously adorable) dragonet from my dream. The sound of her cries still resonated in my ears, filling me with anger, sorrow, and joy. 
You may be wondering, dear reader, why I felt a small amount of joy when listening to the wails of my child. Well, I am happy to quench your thirst for answers. Let me explain this phenomenon to your youthful brain:
I will never meet my child. It’s a simple statement that is obvious to you by now. But just because something is simple doesn’t mean it’s easy. It means I will never get to hear her first word, or smile at her exuberant laughter. It means I will never get to hold her when she gets scared, or sing her to sleep when she’s restless. It means I will never teach her how to fly, or be there to comfort her after her first heartbreak, or tell her it’s all going to be alright when she’s having a meltdown, or . . .
Well, you get the idea.
But seeing her right in front of me, hearing her cry . . . it was like I got to meet her. She looked so real, and so did her emotion. She was there now, lingering, whenever I closed my eyes; every time I did, I felt like I could reach out and touch her. Brush a gentle claw along her neck, nuzzle her soft forehead. I knew she really did exist, or would exist, because my subconscious graciously gave me a glimpse of the future.
There would one day be a little, precious, beautiful dragoness in this world. A dragoness with transparent scales nothing short of perfect. A dragoness without a mother, who will probably love and loathe the one she never had.
And that was okay, because I was going to make sure this ghost had a family, whether they volunteered for that, or not.
==Chapter Twenty-Five: The Ghost Whisperer==
Hello! This is the writer speaking. I realize that by suddenly addressing the audience (without being held hostage) that I am probably causing some confusion, but never fear! Whalesong is still telling her tale—she’s just not with me at the moment. I was requested by the ghost narrator herself to write this chapter solo, since she isn’t feeling too good today. So, consider this a special chapter, where I am free to express my thoughts without them being controlled by another’s tormented soul.
Oh no. I used the word “torment.” I’ve been spending too much time with Whale.
Anyway, please bear with me; I am not nearly as talented a storyteller as my ghostly friend. She’ll be back for the following chapters I’m sure, but for now, you’ll have to listen as I tell this part of the story.
From my perspective.
Nice to meet you, reader. The name’s Rocky.
~
It was cold at the bottom of the river. So cold that I had to wrap my wings around myself to keep me from shivering. So cold that I was finally able to take my mind briefly off of her.
Whalesong.
Even her name was enough to make me shiver, no matter how tightly my wings were wrapped around me.
She’d only been around for a few weeks, and yet she’d managed to change my life so quickly. Ever since that horrible and amazing night in the darkness of the caves, I’d felt . . . different, somehow. I don’t know how she did it, but she sparked something inside of me that has never been lit before. My feelings were so mixed, so uncertain. I had been struck dumb, with no clue what to do or what to think.
It only made things more confusing that she was a ghost.
I still had a hard time grasping that I was friends with a ghost. Well, maybe not technically, since ghosts are supposed to be dead, but I digress. I had made friends with an untouchable dragon. And not just any dragon: the most beautiful dragon I can remember seeing. From what I could tell, every facet of her was perfect. She was so . . . foreignly pretty. It’s difficult to describe what I mean, really. Only those who’ve seen her know what I’m talking about. Her dark-blue eyes were so thoughtful, so feeling, that I could’ve stared at them forever. Even her movements were captivating; every step was so light that it looked like she was floating, and she had a gracefulness to her that no material dragon could possess. There was a part of me that almost dreaded looking at her, because once I did, I could never look away.
Not that, you know, her beauty affected how I viewed her. I don’t mean that at all. I’m just stating the facts.
No, first it was pure curiosity that drew me to her. How could I NOT be curious about a real-life ghost? I mean, come on, who wouldn’t jump at the chance to meet a ghost if one came up? I obviously had to investigate.
Then it was plain interest. I wanted to know more about her, not just because she was transparent, but because that’s just who I am. When I look at someone, I see more than dragons normally do at first glance. I see their movements, their attitude, and whatever their real attitude is hiding behind the false one. When I look into someone’s eyes, I feel like I can see right through them. (Although I actually, you know, CAN see through Whale.) It’s how I learn so much about dragons when I meet them without asking them probing questions.
When I first locked eyes with Whalesong, in the very river that I was hiding in at this time, I was able to catch a glimpse of who she was. It was only for a second, so I couldn’t process much, but still. In that startled second, I saw not only a ghost, but a terrified and lost girl. I had to know more. I had to look right through her—metaphorically speaking—and find out everything.
I got my full look later that day, after I’d heard her screaming in the room close to mine. I was just concerned about whoever had screamed, thinking it was one of my friends; I couldn’t have known it was her. Nonetheless, when I fought my way into the room, there she was, ghostliness and all. She was real, not some figment of my imagination. I wasn’t scared; I was in awe. 
For some reason, being friends with her came so easily to me. It could have been that I was inexplicably drawn to her for her differences, or it could have been that hanging out with her made my roommate, Sparkstriker, angry. I usually try to be nice to dragons in general, but annoying Sparkstriker (or Sparky, as I spitefully nicknamed him) felt so gratifying. You’d know what I mean if you met the guy.
Once rumor got out that Whale and I were friends, the other students started calling me the “Ghost Whisperer.” I really didn’t mind that much, though. I honestly feel like they just did it to help ease the tension that Whalesong brought upon the school, not to be mean. When word about her spread, everybody was a bit on edge. They’d heard of bad things happening in this school’s past, after all. Although, one harmless ghost is nothing when compared to the terrifying Darkstalker. Neither me nor my friends had been alive during that strange time, but we all heard the stories. Whale’s sudden appearance made the NightWings and IceWings the most nervous. I even heard one NightWing whisper theories about the mysterious ghost being some kind of trick or reincarnation of Darkstalker. I had to shake my head at that one. I’d pictured Whalesong ten times the size and laughing wickedly while stomping on tiny dragonets. Yep, I could totally see it.
Things started to die down a little after Whale’s first week here. Nothing had really happened (except for a hilarious fiasco in art class in which the whole class ended up covering Sparkstriker in paint), so the kids weren’t as frightened. (Although Sparky was extra peeved after the art attack and didn’t talk to anyone for a whole day.) 
I’ll skip to the interesting parts. 
Honestly, for a while I was partly hanging out with Whalesong out of pity. It sounds bad, but after seeing her crying the second time we met, how could I not pity her? She just looked so beaten. But my pity for her quickly changed. I began to see that she was clever, creative, and very curious. She always wanted to learn everything about everything, even if she didn’t always understand it. Sparkstriker found it painfully irritating, but I honestly found it kind of endearing. Let’s keep that between us . . . at least until she reads this.
And then, there was that night in the deep caves. It was a night I will never forget, and certainly not rid my thoughts of anytime soon. I had just awakened from a gruesome nightmare about . . . well, something that might be too scary to write in a dragonet’s scroll. I can only say that it left me shaking and wondering why dragons need to sleep at all. It was not a pleasant waking.
Anyway, I looked up and saw her standing in the doorway, watching me with a wary, wide-eyed stare. She too looked scared, but I wasn’t sure what from. Me? I went ahead and guessed she’d had a nightmare of the same scale as mine. Strangely enough, she seemed to think she was STILL in a nightmare.
I must confess that that was the first time I’d ever been actually disturbed by Whalesong. I’m not even really sure why. Sure, I’d been startled and baffled by her when we first met, but I was never unnerved by her appearance that much. In that dark room with only her little bit of ghost-glow, she was more faded and spirit-like than ever. Not only that, but also her perfect stillness, her expression of frozen fear and uncertainty. She didn’t look like the dragoness I’d grown to appreciate as a friend—she looked like a real ghost, like a dead spirit come back to haunt me.
Like I said, disturbed.
But once I started talking to her and she confessed her nighttime troubles, she started to revert back to the dragon I knew. A normal dragon with feelings and a want for social interaction.
Well, you read the rest. 
She helped me, and gave me a light in the darkness created by my own mind. She probably hadn’t intended it, but she gave me the strength to overcome my long-lasting claustrophobia. I had been too ashamed to admit my fear to most in my life, and those that I did admit it to didn’t care. It had been a part of me since a horrible accident that happened in my childhood. But once I was able to meet her eyes, and she didn’t let me look away, I knew I was seen. I knew it was all in my head, the remnants of trauma that never healed. She touched me in a way that no tangible dragon ever could, and because of that, I felt something grow inside me. A certainty about Whalesong, a certainty about my blooming feelings for this quirky and amazing ghost.
After that night, everything was different. Whale started avoiding me, and it annoyed me that I had no idea why. Especially since I now knew that she liked me, odd as it was. For a while I thought she was avoiding me from embarrassment, but then I began seeing a powerful fear in her eyes every time they briefly met mine. I knew something was wrong on a deeper level, something that she was hiding from me, I just didn’t know what. It bothered me constantly.
Whale wasn’t the only one who’d changed after that night. Sparkstriker became distant. Usually he was just plain moody, but now he was staring at walls and pretending like I wasn’t talking to him when I was. It got pretty awkward since, you know, we were roommates. But even though I had plenty of friends to talk to, and I was very annoyed with him, there was still a part of me that worried about him. He seemed to be reverting back to the way he’d been when I first met him at Jade Mountain: cold, antisocial, and mean.
He’d confided in me about his life a long time ago, one night when we had stayed up for hours playing games and talking about girls. (Yes, Sparkstriker can be normal sometimes. He’s still just a dragonet, you know.) I’m not sure what prompted him to confess, maybe from confidence or maybe from deliriousness, but he did. I was shocked, but I believed him and felt sorry for him. He made me swear not to tell anyone, and I lied to him that I wouldn’t. What else was I supposed to do, let him go back to that hellish nightmare when the school year was over? I didn’t tell anyone immediately, but I was going to make sure that at least one of the teachers was aware of his situation before he left. 
That was the night that we actually became friends.
But ever since Whale arrived, he’d gone rotten all over again. I asked him why many times, but he never directly told me, just gave me vague answers that made no sense like “she’s my enemy” and “she doesn’t deserve my sympathy.” It honestly made me a little sad to see him lose himself all over again. I learned that it didn’t take much to push him past the brink.
As much as I was frustrated with the situations of both of them, I couldn’t let either one get off that easily. Like my friend Whalesong, I can be a particularly stubborn dragon when I want to be. I tried to speak to Whale whenever I could find her (which, let me tell you, is extraordinarily difficult), but she would always leap through the nearest wall whenever I did. She avoided me like the IceWing Plague, and I was growing impatient. I needed answers.
Naturally, I went to see one of the only dragons that Whale had a mutual relationship with: Sunny. Thankfully Sunny was my favorite teacher, so I was able to approach the strange predicament I was in with relative ease. She approved of me and Whalesong’s friendship, although that wasn’t something I’d been expecting. She’d said that Whale needed all the help she could get, and I knew what she meant. Even if there was nothing I could do to change her physically, just being there for her mental and emotional stability was a tremendous help to her.
Sunny wouldn’t tell me what was wrong, but she agreed to try to make Whale talk to me. I accepted anything I could get.
Later, she did manage to get Whale to stay in one place long enough for me to try to talk to her. I jumped at the chance, not wanting to wait one more second to find out what was wrong with my friend.
Things were going well until my lovely clawmate barged in and exposed Whale’s secret before she could herself.
I’m not really good at describing things like Whalesong is, but I’ll do my best. How I felt after her revelation . . . well, there aren’t exactly words for it. I was overwhelmed beyond overwhelmed, as well as confused. I didn’t know really know how to feel. Then she went into more detail, and made me even more confused than before. I was . . . Distraught! Yes, I think that’s the word.
But I was also hurt. Hurt that she didn’t come to me about it sooner. Yes, I now see why she postponed telling me for as long as possible, but right then I was too mixed up in my own feelings and thoughts to care. It was just so much at once. Not only had she been forced to confess her feelings, but she was also with egg? And she claims it’s my egg?! Curse or not, I needed time to process this insane news.
And that brings me to where I was now, hiding in the same river where that whole mess had started. Yes, I ran away and worried some dragons, but I desperately needed solitude. How else was I expected to process that I was supposedly going to have a dragonet when I was barely an adult?
I just needed time. Time to calm down, time to get my head straight, and time to figure out what my future might look like. I had zero idea what that might be, but then I remembered something my little sister once said: “Try not to have expectations, or you will only ever receive unexpected things.” My sister is also a lot wiser than I am, though. 
With that in mind, I was eventually able to accept my unexpected plight. I didn’t head back immediately, however. I went hunting for a little while to help clear my head. Only, that little while turned into a long while when I couldn’t find anything, and once I finally did eat, I became exhausted from the weight of my stress. Before I knew it, I was falling asleep under a tall oak tree, the orange sky shining through the leaves my last vision.
I didn’t mean to scare anyone. Okay, I guess I kind of expected there to be some concern, but I wasn’t really thinking about it in the moment. I of course felt bad when I came back the next morning only to be scolded and find out that everyone was looking for me. I know, I know, real smart move, Rocky. Something you should probably know about me is that I tend to act on my feelings before thinking things through. Sometimes it helps me live in the moment, and other times (such as this) it gets me in trouble. 
Principal Tsunami was the one who found me first, to my slight terror. She’s not exactly mean, it’s just that she can be quite scary when she wants to be. 
After she reprimanded me and escorted me inside, I was mauled by a group of friends who all took turns hugging me and slugging me. I was touched that they cared about me so much, and promised them it would never happen again. But there was still a great weight pulling me down, and it needed to be openly discussed before it to be lifted even a little.
Amidst the embraces and smiles, I couldn’t help but notice that Sparkstriker’s wasn’t among them. The nice side of me said that he was probably busy; the honest side of me said that he probably didn’t care about anyone; the friend side of me felt a pang of hurt from his absence.
The dragon I really needed to see, however, was going to be the hardest one to find.
Or so I thought.
Shortly after reuniting with most of my friends, I went to Sunny’s quarters to talk with her about . . . well, everything. I wanted as many things cleared up as possible. I also went to her in particular to ask if she knew where our ghost friend was. I was terribly surprised when I glanced in and found only one very pale dragon.
My throat tightened as I was hit with sudden remembered anxiety. How were we supposed to talk about this? What was there to even talk about? She’d already explained why it happened. 
Then I recalled a very scary and important thing she’d said about the curse: that it only occurred when you . . . loved someone.
I gulped. It was just so weird. I knew we were becoming a little more than friends, but I’d never imagined that she loved me. Me, of all dragons? I didn’t want to think about it because I still needed to figure out how I felt about her. Yes, I liked her, but loving someone is QUITE different. And I didn’t want to hurt her during the whole ‘figuring out’ process.
I sighed under my breath.
She didn’t notice me as I peeped in. I caught her looking at her reflection in a tall mirror, frowning at herself. Still feeling bad about how I walked out on her like a jerk the last time we talked, I took the opportunity to try to lose at least a quarter of a jerk point.
“Hey, did my ‘beautiful’ comment mean nothing to you?”
Whale whipped around, and broke into possibly the biggest (and certainly the most relieved) smile I’d ever seen on a dragon. “Rocky! You’re back!” She jumped to meet me, but then her smile faltered. “Oh.”
My grin also turned more solemn. “Yeah.”
It was very awkward. How is one supposed to bring this stuff up?
After a quiet moment, she said seriously, “We have some things to discuss.”
“Yep.”
“I shouldn’t have hid this from you. You should be mad.”
“Yep.”
“And you shouldn’t have run away like that. I should be mad.”
“Yep.”
“Do you wanna do this whole mad thing?”
”Nope.”
”Me neither,” she grinned again, this time much smaller. We shared a laugh. It was already going better than I thought it would’ve.
But we still had a pretty large rift between us to mend.
“Are you okay?” Whale asked. She looked me up and down. Without giving me a chance to respond, she continued, “That was ridiculous of you to run off without warning like that. We were all worried, especially the dragons who are in charge of your safety.” She sighed. “At least you’re back and well. What did y—"
”Whale,” I interrupted, my serious tone making her ears droop in disappointment. We both knew that the problem at talon couldn’t be avoided.
“I know,” she muttered dejectedly. She glanced down at her white-blue talons. “I’m just not really sure what to say.”
I nodded sympathetically. “Yeah, me neither. It’s just . . . how am I supposed to feel about this whole thing? First of all, you’re suddenly with egg, which is crazy and makes no sense to me. Second, I’m supposed to be fine with the knowledge that it’s mine? I’m new to animus magic, Whalesong! This is all EXTREMELY strange and foreign to me!”
She bit her lip. “Yeah I know, I know that none of this makes much sense, and I’m really sorry you got roped into all of this. I didn’t mean for any of this stuff to happen. You’re an amazing friend that I don’t deserve, and I want you to know that I never meant to cause you so much confusion and uncertainty. This was entirely my fault—you never asked to a part of my life for the long fly. So I won’t ask you to stay friends with me.”
I shook my head vigorously. “Stop stop stop. Before we decide to sever our friendship—or, whatever we have—just explain everything. Slowly. Start from the beginning. You have my undivided attention.”
And she did explain everything. But now I wish she hadn’t.
==Chapter Twenty-Six: Live==
I felt so alive when I saw Rocky walk through that door.
In certain ways, I've always felt like I should be dead. Not just because of self-hatred, but also because I'm a ghost. Ghosts are defined as the spirits of the dead, not just some creatures that can't be touched. I read a strange story once where the writer believed that the reason ghosts existed was because they didn't deserve a body in the afterlife, while others who were worthy in life were reincarnated as living things with flesh and bone. 
I never put any stock in that stuff; I thought it was superstitious nonsense, or a trick to make dragonets behave better. But nevertheless, those words stuck with me for a very long time, burned into my mind even though I never picked it up again.
No matter how many times Reef told me that I mattered, that I was meant to be here, the world declared me a creature come back from the grave. Something that either wasn't alive, or that didn't deserve to be.
There's lots of lessons to be learned from stories kids, and one of them is to not believe everything you're told. Just because you can see through me doesn't mean there's nothing in me. Just because you can't touch me doesn't mean I'm not here, living my life. I'm just as alive as everyone else with a beating heart.
Although, for a long time, I did feel dead. For most of my life, I felt like I wasn't really living my life. I was trapped for so long, with only one very old, very opinionated dragon for a companion. Looking back on my old life, I marvel at how much of my sanity I kept. Yes, the beach was beautiful. Yes, I loved my great-grandpa. But when you only know one place, and one dragon, for most of your life, on top of being a ghost . . . how could I not have fallen into such a dark depression?
After traveling and making friends, I've been able to push back the darkness. (With help, of course.) I've slowly come to realize that my old way of thinking and feeling was unlivable. Only recently have I finally discovered what it means to live. It's like I've been woken up at last from a nightmare that lasted much too long.
For the first time in my life, I finally knew what it was like to be happy.
Me being the naive dragon I am, I’d always pictured happiness as something that once you obtain it, you have it forever. I was as far from right as I ever could’ve imagined. I eventually came to realize that life isn’t just one thing or the other. You’re never all happy, but you’re never all sad either. I started noticing the few happy moments I had in that terrible darkness growing up. Me being the petty creature I am, I only focused on the hurt, and I subconsciously kept telling myself that I could never have happiness as long as I remained a ghost.
Yes, there is nothing positive about my condition. Yes, I despise my curse. But most of my misery came from me. I’d convinced myself time and time again that I was worthless—no, worse than worthless. I’d convinced myself that I was a curse, and that the world would be better off without the likes of me.
I only then realized how much of a fool I was. In my mind, everyone had been against me. Either dragons were scared of me, or glaring at me with hateful eyes. That’s what always flew around in my head, but there were few who ever actually had. I wasn’t aware of the fact that those hateful words were coming from my mouth, and my mouth only. I’d unconsciously created a kingdom of bullies that in some part I inexplicably wanted to believe. Maybe I believed it because I hated myself and wanted to prove that I wasn’t supposed to be alive. Maybe I believed it because it was an excuse to pity myself. Maybe I believed it because I didn’t think I deserved to be happy, so I kept myself in that cold cocoon for years and years, torturing myself. 
But dragons like Rocky and Sunny helped me accept that I never did anything wrong, and that I’m just as dragon as any of them. Even though I still felt guilty for my mother’s death, and knew that I would always feel guilty for her death, I came to terms that it wasn’t my fault. I’ve found healing in these wonderful dragons.
While happiness is still peppered with fear, anger, and sorrow, it was the most amazing, messy, beautiful thing I had ever known. I was so grateful to have known it, even if it wouldn’t last forever. It was like a curtain of black velvet had been covering my eyes my whole life, and at long last, it parted to reveal the warm, promising sunrise. I was filled with relief, and I knew the meaning of joy. Joy was not release from my curse, but freedom from the bondage that I secured around myself.
Like the dead come back to life, I finally found the happiness that I’d been keeping from myself.
As I made friends and learned things, I had been telling myself that there was no more fear—that there couldn’t be fear—but that statement was always beyond possible, no matter how much I repeated it. I would continue to fear my problems, and fear hurting others, as long as I lived. All along, what I really meant was that there was no more cowardice. I would deal with my fears instead of running away, like I used to. Like Rocky did.
I could still be brave, even if I’m terrified.
Which was exactly what I was as I faced Rocky in that room, his need for answers looming over me. My mind raced but my tongue was frozen. There were too many parts of the story, so much to put together at once. So many painful memories . . . and so much dread.
How would he react to the news of my impending death? I loathed the idea of telling him. He was the last dragon in Pyrrhia I wanted to hurt. But . . . I would only hurt him worse by lying to him.
If he wanted the truth . . . I’d give him the truth.
”Undivided attention, huh?” I murmured, trying to find filler words to delay the scary ones. “No running off this time?”
Rocky gave me a look. I think his frown was supposed to look frustrated, but I honestly thought it was cute. “You’re horrible, stalling like this.”
Caught.
I gulped. Just get it out fast, you’ll feel better after, Second-thoughts assured. 
Wanna bet?
”Fine,” I muttered, pretending to be a little mad so that I might feel less terrified. “You really want to know everything?”
”Yes.”
”Rocky, it’s a lot to deal with. I don’t think you understand how much.”
“. . . Okay,” he said with just an iota less certainty. He remained firm in his resolve. “I don’t care. I’d rather know, really. And I think I deserve to know, too. So please, Whalesong, just tell me everything.”
He sounded so caring when he said my name, like it was more than just that, a name. Like it was something dear to him that he kept close, that he kept safe. Like I was something that he kept close and safe. So often he spoke of me fondly, even though we hadn’t known each other for very long. It warmed my heart every time he said my name.
I’d found such a good, kind friend in Rocky. He was absolutely right—he deserved to know this. 
“Okay . . . okay,” I breathed, staring just to the side of him. I began, “You remember what I told you before you ran off, right?”
He shuffled uncomfortably. “Yeah,” he said uncertainly.
No turning back.
“Well,” I continued, twirling one claw around the tip of my tail, “Let me try to explain it this way. One aspect of my curse is that there can only be one ghost at a time. This curse has been passed down my line for multiple generations. Now, you’re probably wondering how that works, right?”
Rocky nodded curiously.
I sighed again quietly. “Well, you know how we, um, carry out the next generation, seeing as you remember our last conversation,” I rushed, face burning. “It’s an extremely strange and detailed spell, obviously. There’s a story behind its origin, but that’s for another time.”
”Wait,” Rocky interrupted. “If there’s only one ghost at a time, then—“
”I’m getting there,” I promised, growing more anxious as he started putting the pieces together. “As far as I’ve been told, all my ghost ancestors have been female, which makes sense. But . . .” I slowed down here, dreading the words that were about to come out of my mouth. My eyes flicked down. “I never knew my great-grandmother, or my grandmother . . . or my mother. And not because they abandoned me.”
I glanced back at him to read his reactions. I needed to know if he’d figured it out or not.
He was frowning in thought, and I could practically see the threads of ideas and probabilities connecting in his mind. I saw the exact moment when he completed the puzzle: his brown eyes lit up with a cold fire, wide and praying to be wrong.
“You don’t mean . . .” he drifted off, unable to finish his sentence.
I let my head drop.
Rocky gasped, his talon covering his mouth in shock. He shook his head. “No,” he breathed.
“Yes.”
I’d been trying to learn to control my emotions better, per Sunny’s suggestion and advice. With her help, I was able to think a little more than feel. I even cried a little less. I am proud to say that I never even teared up during this entire conversation, but I’m honestly not sure if it was from steeling myself, or the immense relief that coupled no longer having any secrets with my best friend. It was most likely the latter.
“As soon as the egg hatches . . . I’ll disappear from the world completely,” I explained softly. My brow furrowed lightly as I gazed behind Rocky, deep in thought. “I suppose I’ve always been on the middle ground between life and death, haven’t I? I am a ghost after all. I could never die, but neither am I really alive. Everything in Pyrrhia, breathing or lifeless, has always eluded me. I’ve never needed to sustain myself with food or water, and I’ve never felt any pain but emotional. Even the earth itself sucks me in, trying to rid its land of a thing that wasn’t supposed to exist.”
I couldn’t help a rueful smile. “You know, fate has quite an ironic sense of humor. Most mornings throughout my life I didn’t want to wake up. Sometimes, if I kept my eyes shut long enough, I could pretend that I didn’t exist—that I was just a speck of dust, floating aimlessly in space, something mindless that never needed to feel. It was just too maddening to wake up every day and only be able to see the world around me, not experience it. Like I was living in a perpetual dream that I couldn’t escape from.
“Only now that I finally have something to live for, does fate fulfill my old wish,” I chuckled humorlessly, hollowly. I turned my focus back on Rocky. “It’s almost funny, isn’t it?”
He did not think it was funny.
“I . . . I don’t know what to say,” he murmured so very slowly. He looked me up and down like he was afraid I’d fade away right that second. He breathed in shakily, trying to calm himself. “I’m sorry,” he said at length.
I gaped at him in confusion. “You don’t have to be sorry for anything, Rocky. I mean it.”
“I don’t? ‘Cuz from what it sounds like, I had some part to play in this. If it weren’t for me none of this would’ve happened, right?”
I shook my head fervently. “No, no none of this your fault in the slightest. I’m immature, naive, and careless with my feelings. I’m the only one to blame. I’ve always been desperate for company, desperate for friends, and I have no self-control. I knew this would happen if I mingled too much with normal dragons, but I just couldn’t help myself.” I sighed. “I’ve been talking to Sunny more, and she helped me realize that I have a very different mindset than normal dragons because of my upbringing and condition. Now that I’ve looked at myself more, I think I actually border on insane sometimes. Because I’ve never been able to hold onto anything, including relationships with others, I cling to every little thing I get like a stingy dragonet. I guess I’m subconsciously afraid that anything I have will be brief and will always slip through my talons without me being able to grab it.
“You are one of those things, Rocky. I found something unfamiliar and funny and kind that I couldn’t bring myself to let go of, no matter how hard I tried. I’ve lived without hope, without something worth waking up for in the morning. But meeting you, someone who laughs at ridiculous things that aren’t funny and tries to make his hurting friends smile—someone who actually cares—it gave me hope. It made me smile, to know that there are dragons like you who pretend they’re not afraid of tight spaces just so they can comfort their friend after a long streak of nightmares.” I grinned thankfully at him. “So, naturally, I clung. I’m only gonna tell you once more: none of this is your fault. Got it?”
He sighed in exasperation, shaking his head. “You’ve always been quite stubborn,” he laughed dryly, rubbing his eyes. 
I was about to say some witty remark, feeling relieved, when I was interrupted by a quiet sob. My eyes widened in dread as I realized that he was crying under those protective claws.
I jumped toward him in alarm. This was exactly what I’d feared would happen. I was causing someone I loved pain. The soft sounds of his sobs, though barely audible, were the saddest thing I’d ever heard and ever would hear. I discovered that the worst kind of heartbreak was watching someone else’s heart break. I couldn’t take it. “Rocky—Rocky, please don’t cry,” I begged frantically. “I’ll do anything if you stop, please. I can’t stand to see you like this.”
I meant what I said. At that moment, I would’ve done anything, anything, just to get him to stop. I’ve told you, dear reader, that I’m terrible with emotions. Seeing him cry was so horrible that I literally couldn’t handle it. I was desperate to make things right—to rid him of any guilt that I’d laid upon him. 
“Whale, please don’t plead like that,” he said quietly, drying his eyes. “This is already sad enough as it is. I’m okay, really.” 
I backed off, watching him warily. “I’m so sorry for laying all this on you,” I apologized sincerely. Through the curtain of guilt, however, something was tugging at my mind. I looked at him with the slightest ounce of curiosity. “Although, I didn’t think you’d react quite this badly to someone you barely know.”
Rocky glanced up in surprise at that. His dark eyes darted around, like he needed a point of focus to be able to process. He took a deep breath in. “Of course I would," he said like it was obvious. "I care a lot about my friends, and I would be pained to hear if any of them were dying.”
Hearing him call me 'friend' never got old, and it would've brought a smile to my face had the circumstances been different. But a friend was not what I needed anymore--that was just a want. Now I needed something bigger, something that I absolutely hated asking for.
"I guess that makes sense," I adhered. "I'm still not good with dragons, you know." I paused for a moment, trying to word my next proposal in the most nonchalant way possible. ". . . There's one last thing."
"You've got to be kidding," Rocky sighed, shaking his head with a disbelieving grin. He was blinking an awful lot, I thought. At this point, he just shrugged his shoulders and let the tired, hopeless smile remain on his face, not having the strength to be sad anymore. His face screamed "hit me with it". "And what would that be?"
I felt my face harden with determination. "I need to make sure that someone will look out for my dragonet." 
==Chapter Twenty-Seven: To Be A Friend==
Three months had passed since I first arrived at Jade Mountain. Winter was fast approaching, and I'd long since been escorted out of (cough kicked out cough) the school. In the rosy glow of dawn I soared, flying a great distance above even the peaks of a nearby beautiful mountain range. The Claws of the Clouds, I believe they were called. The trees were mere insects from my altitude, shrinking and growing as I dove down and came back up. It was a wonder to be talon in talon with the stars, watching and lamenting as they disappeared with the darkness. Oh flying: the only dragonlike ability I was allowed, yet an amazing one.
As the sun ever so tranquilly peeked over the horizon, I thought of my friends--and also the joy of the very word 'friend'. I thought about Sunny's engagement announcement, and smiled joyfully at the memory of her big grin as she told me. But then I frowned as I realized I'd forgotten her fiance's name. I was positively terrible with those, I'd come to learn. Wasn't it something like . . . Bobcat? No, wait, Meerkat! Yes! Either way, I was quite excited.
I thought about my latest encounter with that nice oddball, Polaris. (I guess "oddball" might be a little rude of a term, especially coming from a ghost. But I'm not being a hypocrite and saying I'm not an oddball either. He and I are both oddballs in a normal world.) We'd actually had a surprisingly enjoyable conversation, both of us having crazy magic-related issues that we had no idea what to do with. It was relieving to have someone to relate to.
I thought about my dear little half-brother, who last I heard from my informant (guess who) was unknowingly developing a crush on another NightWing student. A telepath, no less. No doubt that was going to end in disaster. It made me giggle just picturing what she might read in his thoughts about her.
And I thought about Rocky, and worried about the last serious and sad conversation we'd had so many weeks ago.
~
"I need to make sure that someone will look out for my dragonet," I began. "However, I'm not asking you or anyone to be a parent to my dragonet. That wouldn't be fair at all. None of you have anything to do with this. All I'm hoping is that someone, or multiple someones, would be open to checking in on her frequently, wherever she'll be staying." Those words scratched my throat as I spoke them. It hurt so much to know that I had no right to ask anyone to spend much of their lives watching over a ghost child. But that didn't exactly leave me many routes of reassurance. I knew she was going to end up alone, and there was nothing I could do about it.
Rocky stayed quiet for a long moment, pondering over my proposition. I felt even guiltier than before, asking something so big of the dragon who saved me from despair. He had given me hope, and in return all I gave him was a burden of immense responsibility. 
But what choice did I have?
After an eon of silence, he looked down at me and replied in a hushed voice, "Whalesong, I . . ." he paused. "I will admit, it is a bit of a weird, and scary thought. But . . . I don't think I could ever forgive myself if I didn't do something to help your child." He gave me a wan smile, just barely. "I can't promise what time I'll have, or that I'll do everything right, but I will promise to do what I can to help."
There was hardly a time where my heart swelled up to such proportions. I was almost brought to tears with thankfulness. He really was the best friend imaginable.
I beamed at him, overflowing with gratitude. "That's all I wish for," I assured him, wanting to cry with relief. "Thank you thank you thank you. You are the best dragon ever."
He was able to chuckle lightly at that. "Hardly. But I'm glad you think so," he joked.
I plopped on the floor, exhausted from the weight of the conversation. "I'm so glad it's overwith," I whined. "Keeping secrets was KILLING me."
"I'm glad to finally know why you've been acting so weird," Rocky exhaled. "I can't stand it when friends avoid me."
I quirked my facial features. "I'm sorry."
"That not what I'm concerned about anymore, it's okay," he said, going off in his own world. "I just can't stop thinking about . . . about you dying."
I winced. "You have to stop thinking about it," I ordered softly. "I don't want to hurt your feelings."
A hollow laugh. "How is this not supposed to hurt?" he asked. "How am I not supposed to be shocked, or sad? You just expect me to sit idly by as you fade from existence?"
". . . Kind of?” 
He ogled me in disbelief. “I thought you would’ve thought better of me, Whalesong,” he chuckled again without laughter in his eyes. He stepped closer to me—just a talon’s breadth away. Immediately I was taken back to that miraculous night in the tunnels, when we’d touched the other in a way more powerful and fulfilling than physical. The memory made me blush, but it also made me realize just how much I’d missed his company, his friendship. I’d been pushing him further and further away for days, and it had taxed both Rocky and myself. It made me remember that warm feeling inside my chest, a feeling besides the fear I’d been subjugated to. The feeling that some may even describe as love.
But what do I know? I’m just a ghost.
His face was mere inches from mine. It still annoyed me how short I was next to him, but none of that mattered. I couldn’t even think when he was that close.
The proximity was petrifying, but his expression was sad. Almost whispering, he asked, "Is there really no way to stop it?”
I lowered my eyes. “I don't think so, Rocky,” I said gently.
He breathed shakily. “Then I don’t know what to say. Or do.”
I raised my right wing and stretched it towards his left. He saw this and stretched his in return, and for a moment we just stared at the phenomenon we’d created. Born of different dimensions, overlapping seamlessly. Him trying to touch the intangible. What was literally inside me was worlds away; only the facade of sight gave some truth to our interaction.
I looked up at him.
He looked down at me.
“You don’t have to say, or do, anything,” I murmured. I was overcome with emotions too strong to tuck away. With every bit of sincerity I had, I said, “You’ve already done more than enough for me, Rocky. More than you could ever possibly know.”
“How?” He asked in a hushed, incredulous voice. For some reason it seemed both of us were afraid to speak any louder. “I don’t get what great things you think I’ve done. I’m just a goofy guy with close-quarters trauma and a nervous habit of mispronouncing words.”
I smiled at him, and was totally shocked to find that it was genuine. “I told you you couldn’t know,” I laughed. Then, turning serious, I continued, “You saved me. If it hadn’t been for you, I wouldn’t have come here. I wouldn’t have met Sunny, who brought me from the brink of insanity and showed me what kindness looks like. Thanks to you, I’ve had a home for the longest time since my great-grandpa passed away. I was allowed to ease peace back into my mind, ever so slowly. I even got to meet my brother . . . though that was honestly quite the windy fly.
“I’m not sure what divine spirit brought me to you, and I wondered that for a while. At first I thought fate was being cruel as usual, giving me someone who would ultimately be taken away. But now I think that fate was giving me a blessing in disguise. And you know why? Because I was absolutely miserable, and I was surely going to die eventually, but by leading me to you . . . at least I can be happy before I go. I’d rather have a short life with a happy ending than a long life alone in the dark.”
Oh, did I say I didn’t cry during this conversation? Yeah, I lied. Just a few tears though, not much.
”You made all this possible,” I said, gesturing to my smiling, crying face. The more I spoke, the more grateful I was. “Because of you I now have hope. I have laughter where there used to be screaming. I have friends. I have shady, semi-trustworthy family. I will never be angry at you or resent you for this."
He still looked so guilty, and I knew there was nothing else I could do to change that, but still, I had to try.
Before I could continue, he spoke in almost an echo of himself, "I didn't think I did that much." A pause. "You just appeared in my life and somehow took over it. You're constantly on my mind, and I'm not even sure when that happened. Everything you say and do is mesmerizing. It might sound weird, but it's true. You're so different from everybody else, in ways more than the obvious. You're willing to go deeper than surface talk, listening to my fears and hopes instead of just laughing everything off like other dragons my age. You're so understanding and kind, Whalesong, kinder than so many others that you call 'normal'. I don't get what you see in a wimp like me, but I also don't get what you don't see in yourself. You're beautiful, on the inside and out, and I will always be sorry that I'm the reason the world had to lose you."
We were both wet-faced at this point. I don't think I've ever had so many mixed emotions at once. I was so moved by his words and the affection in his glistening eyes that I started to wonder if this was more dream than nightmare. 
"Rocky," I sniffed with the biggest smile on my face. "That's more than I ever wished you would say."
Do it. Now's the time.
I couldn't tell if that was me or Second-thoughts.
You're going to die soon anyway.
Definitely Second-thoughts.
They were right. There was no better time than now. But I don't think I had a choice anyway. I didn't even hear myself as the foreign and passionate words escaped my mouth.
"I love you."
What I'd expected was some kind of shock. What I received was a caring smile, still sad as a rainstorm but also brighter than the sun. This wasn't exactly unexpected news, but it was welcome all the same.
I laughed. "I guess it was pretty obvious, huh?"
He laughed too. "Just a little. But you wanna know something that's not so obvious?"
I nodded.
"That I've come to realize," he said, "that I love you too."
Yeah, definitely more dream than nightmare.
==Time For The Epilogue==
Dear reader, I know you’re wondering what happens next. At least, I hope you are. I did work quite hard to bring this story to the scrolls. It’s time I tell you what became of the lost soul you’ve come to know so well.
Let me start by confirming this: Whalesong was truly a living dragon—as real as you and me. She might not have been able to touch our world, but she was able to touch me in a way that no one else ever could, and ever will. She had more heart than most of the material dragons I’ve ever met combined. It’s a crime that such a bright star was kept from shining by its sheer distance from everything else.
I’m the writer of this story, but it was her life. I want her to be remembered with fondness, and nothing else.
After she asked me to take care of her child, the days went by blindingly fast. Whalesong was sent away, albeit reluctantly, but we still hung out all the time. Even Sparkstriker took the time to sit her to my great surprise. He had begun mellowing out again, and even went as far as to apologize to me. It was honestly a big relief, and I was happy to accept it. Life is short, reader. Forgiveness is a fragile thing, and one you might never get the chance to give. Trust me, as hard as it is, it’s worth it.
The egg was premature—VERY premature, by several weeks. This added all the more worry to the situation. However, our concerns, as it turned out, were not necessary. When the tiny egg hatched, out emerged a beautiful dragonet, with enough wonder in her big ocean eyes to swallow the world. Whalesong’s genes were strong; she looked just like her mother.
As for the mother mentioned . . . All I can say is that, on the day that her dragonet hatched, and every day leading up to it, she was smiling. For the first time in her life, she let go of her sorrow and pain. I think most of it was because she was happy with us . . . but I also think part of it was because she knew it was almost over. Whale’s song was ending, and she wanted it to end on a joyful note.
I think you’d be glad to know that me and the others are living peaceful, fulfilling lives. None of us have any regrets anymore. Sparkstriker confronted his father. Sunny finally settled down and is preparing for kids of her own. As for me, well, I’m kept quite busy with my little family.
And the baby? We named her Vaquita.
The End
~
“You sure you want to end it that way?” Rocky asked with an uncertain frown, hoisting little Vaquita on his back. She gave a squeak of glee as he did so, bouncing up and down on his spine. He didn’t even flinch.
“Yeah,” Whalesong confirmed with a solid nod, putting down the large scroll and wiping the ink off her claw with a rag. “It’ll let their imaginations finish the story how they want. Make the readers think.”
”Yeah, think you died.”
She waved a dismissive talon and turned to face her mate. Vaquita had switched from bouncing on his back to sleeping within seconds. Weird dragonet. “I want to help other dragons like me,” she explained quietly, glancing at the scroll. “And some dragons need a different ending than others.”
Rocky started to shrug, but then remembered he had a fitful sleeper on his back and stopped. “If you say so. I think it’s kind of mean. Plus you pretended to be me at the end! Imposter!”
She walked up to him and nuzzled his cheek affectionately. Even after a little more than a year, touching someone still sent chills throughout her whole body. She didn’t think she’d ever get used to it. “Hey, I just wanted to finish it myself, now that I can. I can’t believe we forgot that we were writing this for so long. Being an imposter is a small price to pay for success, dear.” She grinned teasingly.
He rolled his eyes. “Whatever. I’m just glad it’s finally done. Remember how annoyed I would get when you would talk too fast and not let me catch up?”
She laughed. “How could I forget. You threatened to stop writing for me!”
”I was just keeping you on your toes,” he joked, winking.
”Yeah sure. Do you think it’s okay we forgot to explain how I got freed?”
“Eh, I guess. I’m so sick of that story I don’t want to go back and fix anything.”
Whale sighed lightly. “Sorry Turtle, you may not get the recognition you deserve.” She smiled softly to herself.
”What is it?” Rocky inquired.
She looked up at him, smile broadening. In the dim room, she was reminded of their days of wandering dark caves together, looking for something they both knew wasn’t there. Just . . . being.
”We did it.”
Rocky smiled back, pulling her into his side with his right wing. She didn’t go through him. There wasn’t nothing when there should’ve been something. She was there, tucked beside him, warm and there. No unseen galaxy between them. Just feeling.
”We did it.”
To the people out there struggling with depression and self-hate, this story is for you. I was one of you. There are people out there who can help you, and you never know what could be around the corner. I believe you can go on. Keep going. Keep praying.
Keep living so you can live to say “I did it.”
__NOWYSIWYG__
Category:Fanfictions
Category:Content (MistydaAwesomeSeaWing)
Category:Genre (Romance)
Category:Fanfictions (Semi-Canon)
Category:Fanfictions (Completed)