(The LostWing Chronicles, Book 2) Redemption

REDEMPTION
~ Prologue ~
As Versant watched the two dragonets traverse the valley below her, she could barely believe her incredible stroke of luck. If she was right about this, the night was going to bring about the most profitable exchange of her life. The thought of the sheer amount of treasure she was about to possess sent a curling shiver down her spine. The Loyalists would be pleased, very pleased, and she might even earn a more permanent location within their ranks for this.
The two were unworried in their wanderings, making no attempt to watch their surroundings, which made it all the easier for her team to swoop down upon them from the dark. As she moved to release a net of webbing over the larger dragonet, Versant saw the other stiffen for just a moment and cry out a warning - but it was far too late for that. A few seconds were all it took to ensnare the dragonets and clamp metal bands over their snouts and wings. Despite the efficiency of their assault Versant heard a member of her team cry out in sudden shock, and turned to him to find RainWing venom melting through the scales of his flank.
The hybrid was clearly at fault for this, having acted in the split moment before her snout was locked into place. Versant boxed her in the head sharply. “You’ll regret that,” she hissed before turning to investigate the damage that had been dealt to Timberline. Her fellow SkyWing outlaw was doubled over in pain, wincing as the venom drilled further into his side. Black splotches moved across his flank, swirling into the red and orange hues of his scales, until it looked as if a fire had broken out and died to embers upon him. Versant had no way to counter the progression of the substance, as nothing but venom from a related RainWing could counter its effect, but it looked to her like Timberline would most likely survive. If he didn’t, there would just be a larger share of treasure for her. It was no great loss either way.
There were enraged muffled sounds emitting from the SeaWing now as he struggled to free himself from the wires, but Haze was holding him down firmly. Versant swept over to him now, thrusting his head upwards with a flick of her sharpened talons, and forced him to look into her eyes. “Abyss of the SeaWing royal court? Don’t bother to deny it. Your topaz spirals are a dead giveaway, young lord. The son of the Head of Internal Investigations, if I recall correctly. Which would make you quite valuable.”
She moved over to the hybrid now, who had partially camouflaged into the surrounding terrain and was glaring regretfully at Timberline. “There’s no use in hiding now, Princess.” At this a rush of blue and white soared across the scales of the prisoner, and Versant noted with satisfaction the RainWing symbols of despair and fear. “My, my. The daughter of the famed Queen Glory, and the very heir to her throne, no less. Do you have the faintest idea how much treasure the Loyalist Force will be willing to hand over in exchange for you?”
“I say we hand her over dead,” Timberline snarled, lurching back towards them and gritting his teeth in a gruesome sneer. “Why bother keeping her alive?”
“Well,” Versant mused, rolling the word lightly, “I daresay there are some rather clever things they could do with a living princess. Planting her as a prisoner in another kingdom, using her as bait to draw out Queen Glory, demanding a ransom…I do believe it's more profitable if she’s alive. On that note, Timberline, refrain from killing her, if you please. I’m sure you can use your share to treat that injury.”
Timberline glared at her, but she was in charge, and his greed overpowered his rage as it always did. “Fine. But if she makes one more move out of line, it’ll be her last. Hear me?”
The dragonet had turned entirely white as Versant had listed the possible uses for her, and was now staring dejectedly at the ground and shivering. Versant felt almost no pity for this royal creature, who had spent her entire life in the luxury of the rainforest while she was starving in the dirtiest streets of the Sky Kingdom. She could care less about whether or not the dragonet lived or died, but her profit margin - that she would energetically protect.
“Can we tranquilize this one?” Haze snorted, pulling the SeaWing back to the ground as he attempted another breakaway. “Stop wiggling, you worm, or we’ll stick a spear into the other one’s back.” This did the trick, for the SeaWing froze on site and looked over at the princess with a petrified expression. Wants to protect her from harm, eh? I can certainly use that to our advantage.
“That’s far better,” Versant sneered at him. “I’ll take the first shift with the princess. Timberline, just try to keep up with us for the first bit of the journey, and I’ll reassign your position from there. Haze, take the SeaWing, and drop him if he struggles. We’ll take the southern route, away from any prying MudWing eyes, alright?”
There was an exchange of curt nods, and then the three of them were off, carrying the prisoners below them as they rose into the twilight air. It wasn’t a particularly long journey to the nearest hidden outpost of the Loyalist Force, but it wouldn’t do to be caught by some MudWing patrol, especially with such valuable assets on hand. Discretion was certainly advisable. They sank into the lower valleys of the southernmost mountains of the Sky Kingdom, skimming just over the surface of the trees as the curtain of night fell over the land. 
Her kingdom was beautiful to behold, with the reflections of the stars and moons twinkling on the gravel-strewn surfaces of the foothills and glistening from the polished peaks of the towering mountain ranges. Trees swept up in unstoppable arrays over the lower surfaces and broke like high waves upon the cliffs and ledges, a moss-carpet of deep green over the upturned landscape. Waterfalls sprouted from hidden caves and roared down thousands of tail-lengths to explosive impacts with churning pools, while birds twisted about in brightly-colored bursts in the air. She grabbed a hawk with her snout as they flew, chewing on the sharp-boned creature and feeling rather amused as bloodied feathers stuck to the scales of the princess below her.
Yet no matter how wonderful the kingdom seemed at first glance, how graceful the landscape seemed in its constant motion and busy upheaval, she knew that it was rotten to the core. Queen Scarlet had ruled with an iron fist and an aura of terror when she was growing up in the kingdom. No citizen had been truly safe from her wrath. At her bloodthirsty whims nobles would be cast into prison for false crimes while their assets were handed over to the palace, soldiers would be forced into fighting in her arena for their failures in battle, and dragonets would be separated from their families to harden them for war, all while her daughters fell one by one from various accidents or even her own talons. Poverty swept the Kingdom and all cultural activity was suppressed in favor of the war effort. 
Then Queen Ruby came, and for a while it had seemed like peace and justice had returned to the kingdom. The arena was converted into a hospital, soldiers were legally retired from duty, and a focus on the arts was empathized, all while the Queen passed legislation protecting dragons born with firescales and allowing marriage and citizenship to hybrids. But as a result of her peaceful fairness, the new queen lacked the ability to ensure stability over a hardened and corrupt population; before she could entirely establish control over the region, the dragons that had been most powerful under Queen Scarlet had set up a criminal underworld. These outlaws formed an alliance with Vulture’s Talons of Power, and for a while the political authority of the Queen was strongly challenged.
Versant had lived in poverty for her entire life, an orphan of the War of SandWing Succession, left to fend for herself in any way she could. She stole and blackmailed to survive, and then eventually kidnapped dragons for ransom, which she found herself to be quite good at. When Vulture came to the Sky Kingdom, she had offered her services to him as a bounty hunter, and he had assigned her this current team. They had a prosperous few years under this arrangement, delivering captive after captive in exchange for ample amounts of treasure, and she had finally felt secure in the world. Things had changed again when Queen Thorn had allied with the remnants of Queen Ruby’s loyal soldiers to storm the Talons of Power compound, aided by the grandson of Vulture himself - Qibli. It was regarded afterwards as one of the cleverest movements in military history, as Queen Thorn’s forces managed to capture nearly half the members of the militia while themselves losing hardly a single soldier. Vulture himself was arrested that day and sentenced to life in prison for his crimes, where he died after a few years despite the excellent conditions of the new SandWing cell-blocks. 
Out of the few members of the Talons of Power that escaped with their freedom, new criminal organizations rose, first among them the Loyalist Force. Having seen firsthand the power that two tribes yielded in alliance over the outlaw world, they vowed to separate the tribes once again and ensure that neither stability nor peace would ever settle on Pyrrhia. It was better for business that way, after all, for what prisoners could she deliver under such utopian conditions? So Versant had shifted to working for the Loyalist Force, delivering political leaders and their children from the various kingdoms, although until now she had never caught a royal.
She was jolted out of her train of thought by a sudden cry from Haze, and spun about in midair to find that the SeaWing prisoner had freed himself from his wing-cuffs and launched away from her fellow bounty hunter. He was moving towards her with talons outstretched in some foolish attempt to save the princess rather than fleeing with his own life. She sighed, noting the dip in profits this would mean, and then smashed the oncoming SeaWing with her tail as hard as she possibly could. The spikes upon the end of her tail, while not as pronounced as those of an IceWing, were still sharp enough to penetrate the scales of her attacker easily.
Yet the SeaWing recovered in midair and was coming back towards her, a fierce light in his eyes. She felt fear for the first time in years as his topaz-studded arms reached outwards - to kill her or to grab the princess? - but then Timberline was upon the prisoner. The dragonet didn’t stand a chance against the lumbering SkyWing, and after a moment he was wrenched from the sky and fell listlessly towards the ground. After a moment he collided with a tree with a painful-sounding thump.
Versant caught her breath, nodded gratefully at Timberline, and clutched the princess in her talons as the smaller hybrid squirmed frantically about. “We need to make double-time now,” she told her team, gazing about in apprehension. “The MudWings might be here any minute now with that noise - or even the SandWing border patrols. We need to move.”
“What if he’s still alive?” Haze countered, staring down at the crumpled form of the prisoner. “This could really complicate things for us.”
“There’s not a chance he survived that fall,” she said briskly, and while this was really just to get everyone moving, she thought it to be almost certainly true. “How in the blazes did he get out of those wing-cuffs, Haze?”
“They were the older set,” Haze retorted. “Remember? That NightWing beat them up pretty badly, but you said they would be good for one last use - and our contact for new fire-proof wires had been apprehended, so we couldn’t get any new ones anyways. He just snapped them. There was nothing I could do, Versant.”
“Very well,” Versant nodded, turning away. She’d have to be less cheap from now on - there had been a new contact, but their prices had been outrageous. They continued quickly on their journey, putting as much distance between the SeaWing and themselves as they possibly could, and as they turned a corner she noted with disdain that they had flown rather closer to the Jade Mountain Academy than she had intended. Perhaps this had been the original destination of the two traveling dragonets; for they had been fairly close to it, in the rolling foothills to the southwest of the Diamond Spray Delta, when she had spotted them. Now one was lying almost certainly dead only a few dozen miles from there, while the other would be sent who knew where at the command of the Loyalist Force. She felt a tang of guilt but the thought of treasure quickly drove it all away. There was nothing better than jewels in the world; she knew that to be certain.
Yet would she have turned out differently if she had been able to attend a place like the academy when she was younger? Have an education and a safe place to sleep rather than living on the streets? Realistically, the questions weren’t worth her time. She couldn’t very well change the past, could she? This was how things had turned out, and with her upcoming acquisition of substantial wealth, it might even have been for the best. So she just focused on keeping her grip on the princess as they flew through the night, ever approaching the outpost and her payment alongside it, and ignored the tears falling from the hybrid dragonet’s eyes.
Chapter 1
Crevasse had no idea what he thought about Anadrom, even after two weeks of having her as a member of his winglet. Nearly everything about her was unfamiliar in every way, not the least of which was her having magical powers. She was such a nervous and quiet dragonet, doing her absolute best to be entirely ordinary, but beneath the surface she was capable of doing literally anything she wanted. It was unsettling, as much as he wanted it not to be. Then she was the likely sole survivor of the ancient ancestor tribe, now known only as the LostWings, from which the modern seven tribes had descended. As a result, she glowed sometimes when she felt strong emotions. It was an unearthly sight to behold.
He knew that he certainly shouldn’t be judging her for being unusual, for he stood out clearly in any group of dragons. The scars the Scaleating Plague had left him, on top of those he had received in the attack on his village, left him disfigured, twisted, and looking like a common element to any dragonet’s nightmares. From the glares he received all the time, ranging from disgust to pity to horror, he knew how hollow the actions of other dragons made him feel, and he was ashamed that he would even consider giving the same treatment to Anadrom. 
She hadn’t looked at him that way, not when they first met nor at any time afterwards, which was a leading point in her favor. Her eyes were full of admiration, and more recently of trust and respect, which he was unused to. Solstice and Tamandua had been the only ones to look at him that way for so long, seeing him as the dragon he was within rather than without, and he was still surprised by the kindness of Anadorm’s gaze whenever he saw it. She had noticed how well he did in class, and had complimented him on it sincerely, which he appreciated as well.
Then there were the enchantments she had cast, from a month ago to earlier this day. The bracelet she had created - the Informaband - was designed to constantly inform her on the status of her soul, and to stop her from using her power if she ever lost enough of it to go insane. It was one of the first things she had ever done with her magic, to make certain she would never use it to hurt anyone else, and while there had been a few accidental loopholes to the enchantment he still thought it was telling that she had even thought of it in the first place. Limiting their power was something few historical animuses would ever have done; nor modern ones, to be honest. Only a decade or so ago, the former animus Anemone that had willingly become the pupil of the Darkstalker and nearly been driven to madness as a result, after all.
Secondly, Anadorm had cast a spell over a ten-mile radius around and including the Jade Mountain Academy to ensure that it, and every dragon within it, would be safe from all harm and invulnerable to her magic unless someone specifically asked her to enchant them. She had given out more Informabands to the leaders of the school, all with various protective spells, and she had even placed the final control over her magic into the talons of Qibli, their music teacher and the brilliant hero of Pyrrhia. Working with Qibli the last few days in her spare time, she had created some amazing enchantments for the betterment of the academy and Pyrrhia as a whole. There had been a scroll to permanently heal any dragon whose name was written upon it of all diseases and injuries, a blackboard in the library that would answer any historical or logical question asked of it, and a device to cure Starflight of his blindness, which Crevasse thought was particularly sweet. And the ideas were her own, not Qibli’s, for the older dragon acted as her mentor rather than her commander. From what Solstice told him, the SandWing hero rarely even altered the content of Anadrom’s spells, finding them as well-written as any which he would have crafted himself. 
In the last few days she had been using her magic more often, having seemingly overcome some obstacle within herself, although she continued to be careful with it in every regard. She had reinstated Mightyclaw’s ability to conjure real objects into the world through drawing them and tapping the illustration with his talon, but with the new exception that his designs would have to be approved by another dragon of his choice. Their art teacher had selected Moonwatcher for the task, seemingly recognizing her experience with unusual powers, and the two had modified the school in some incredible ways together. 
This was another thing he liked about Anadrom - she was willing to give other dragons the ability to change the world as they wanted, rather than hoarding all of her magic for herself. And it was different from the gift-giving of powers by the Darkstalker to his tribe, for she had waited until after she had earned everyone’s trust to hand out Mightyclaw’s ability, and only then for his sake rather than hers. 
The library had been renovated under a design developed by Starflight and drawn by Mightyclaws, into a lofty chamber with sweeping columnal bookcases, around which spiral staircases were gracefully draped to allow dragons to perch while browsing through scrolls. There was an expanded section of tables for homework, lit by intricate stained-glass windows that cast a rosy rainbow of light over everything. Each window depicted a significant moment from Pyrrhian history, and he always sat under the most recent, which showed Kinkajou tricking the Darkstalker into consuming an enchanted strawberry and falling from power. The spell on the berry had turned the Darkstalker entirely into another dragon which the Jade Winglet had protected the identity of entirely as they relocated them to somewhere in Pyrrhia. While everyone on the continent knew the names of Kinkajou and Turtle, Moonwatcher and Qibli, and Winter and Foeslayer, and the various heroic deeds they had performed to bring about the end of the villainous animus, no one knew exactly who the Darkstalker himself had been transformed into. There had been dozens of dragonets born on that day, and so many more generally unaccounted for due to the disorder of the kingdoms after the war, so whoever the Darkstalker had become was entirely unknown (likely even to themselves). 
Kinkajou had been somewhat outwardly abashed by having her likeness scaled up and placed for all the students of the academy to see, but that had been Starflight’s idea rather than Anadrom’s, and in all fairness Crevasse thought it likely that the RainWing secretly loved it. To stock the newly enlarged library, Anadrom had cast a spell to summon a copy of every scroll ever written, in its original and most intact state, into a neat pile in the center of the chamber, while the original scroll (or its biological remnants, in the case of the more ancient scrolls) remained entirely unaltered. Moonwatcher and Starflight had been delighted by this, of course, especially since Anadrom allowed them the privilege of sorting this new knowledge rather than magically organizing it herself. She was often found working alongside them late into the evenings, reading through scroll after scroll and carefully categorizing it upon the new towering bookshelves. There were some scrolls that were deemed inappropriate for an academy, of course, mainly due to having outdated mindsets or just slandering a particular tribe, and these were carefully burnt in a far corner.
In the entrance hall, she had created an enchanted tree, based entirely on a sculpture she had asked Millpond to make (to his delight, of course). The plant was magnificent, a sweeping silver and bronze masterpiece of natural design, with curling branches laden with deep green and blue leaves in the shapes of dragon talons. From each branch hung clusters of berries that grew back daily and which allowed any dragon that consumed them to live in comfort in the climate of another kingdom for a month per berry eaten. They allowed dragons to breathe underwater and still retain the ability in ordinary air, just like how SeaWing gills functioned; made every temperature feel and have the effects of the preferred temperature of the dragon in question; and rendered the consumer of the berry entirely immune to insect-based diseases from the rainforest or poisonous stings from desert scorpions. The entire work was called the Sapling of the New Era, or the Bough of Cooperation.
Most recently, she had created a set of rooms branching off of the main tunnel that simply contained a set of stone seats facing a rushing waterfall, which was enchanted to allow dragons from anywhere on Pyrrhia to give lectures to the students. All they had to do was write a letter to the administrators of the school asking for the opportunity to speak, and if their request was granted, their image would be displayed on the waterfall as they gave their lesson for the allocated time slot. The journey to the academy had been too far for some of the major scholars in Pyrrhia to make, but now they could share their knowledge from wherever they were. The first presentation in this manner had been held last night with Queen Thorn herself being projected onto the waterfall as she delivered an incredible speech on the necessity of education in democratic-monarchies such as the model her kingdom was now running on. 
Anadrom’s personality was in direct contrast to these progressive accomplishments, for she was quiet, gloomy, and shy most of the time. Crevasse knew she was still feeling considerable guilt over the misuse of her magic in the Kingdom of the Sea, where a blackmailing dragonet named Estuary had taken her prisoner under threat of having her father killed by IceWing soldiers for a crime he had committed decades ago. There had been a statue she had been forced to make that, at the command of Queen Coral, executed Estuary right before Anadrom’s eyes. Despite this not really being entirely her fault, Anadrom had been absolutely crushed by the death of another dragon at the talons of something her magic had created. She was as afraid of her powers as Turtle had been of his and terrified that just being an animus would turn her into something like the Darkstalker.
Based upon all of this evidence, Crevasse knew he should like the dragonet; she was the best-suited dragon for her power, perhaps of any animus that had ever existed, and was for all appearances noble and good. Yet - here was the problem that he couldn’t overcome - she had a fairly obvious crush on Solstice, and worse, the Sandy-NightWing clearly felt the same way about her.
Crevasse knew he was being terrible and selfish. To deny the two of them happiness for his own benefit was an awful thing to do, but he really didn’t know how else to feel. Solstice had been the best thing in his life since he had lost Kittiwake and Doctor Whimbrel; he was Crevasse’s favorite dragon in the world, the driving factor in his life, the reason he continued to give living on Pyrrhia a chance. Without the kind words of Solstice - without the wonderful components he had painstakingly designed to allow Crevasse to walk and fly normally again - without all that, he likely would have turned one day and flown out over the sea, only hoping to find some far realm where nobody would stare at him or back away in fear as he approached. 
He loved Solstice as MudWings loved their sibs, with every fiber of his being, and every day he felt himself lucky to be in the presence of such an amazing dragon. Solstice was a genius in every way, a fantastic entertainer, an entirely caring and compassionate dragon, and noble to an extent Crevasse hadn’t known could even exist in such a cruel world as Pyrrhia. The SandWing/NightWing hybrid hadn’t actually started spending any less time with him, not yet, but if he loved Anadrom then surely he would leave Crevasse for her eventually. He would be alone again in the world, with nothing but his prosthetic limbs to remember the friendship of Solstice, and he couldn’t bear that thought in the least. But he wanted what was best for Solstice at the same time; and as a result he was so conflicted inside that he could barely focus on his schoolwork. Tell him he can go be with her; it’s what he most wants…but I can’t live without him, no one else will ever want to know me…but she might…
All of these thoughts were tumbling around in his mind now as he gazed at the lithe form of Anadrom before him, as she stood with tense wings and nervously fidgeting talons. She had just asked him if he would want his name placed upon the healing-scroll, looking petrified the entire time she had been speaking. It reminded him of the first time Solstice had suggested making a prosthetic limb, half-thinking that Crevasse would hate him for feeling that he had to be improved in some way, but wanting to see if he would take the help nonetheless.
As if she had read his mind, Anadrom resumed quietly, her talons twisting together as she tilted her head down towards the floor. “I don’t mean to - er - I think you’re great just the way you are - but - I thought I should ask? I thought it would be - be worse if I didn’t, and you thought I didn’t care - unless you want me to not care? I do - er - don’t…”
“It’s fine,” he responded, watching her scales glow slightly from her nervousness. “I saw that you healed Starflight earlier this week, and Tamarin yesterday when she came to visit with Anemone. That was nice of you, and I don’t mean to disparage that, but - hmm - I feel that Solstice has already fixed me to a suitable extent. These scars are who I am, and I wouldn’t really know how to act without them. I wouldn’t be myself at all.” I am glad you offered, though.
“I - er - kind of thought that would be your answer,” Anadrom said, and he perceived that she was being honest. “Solstice is amazing, isn’t he? You’re right that he’s already done so much for you. But - er - you’re not you because of the scars, Crevasse. You’re just you.”
This was the core of how she, Solstice, and Tamandua all treated him - as an entirely ordinary dragon, absolutely independent of his injuries. He smiled at her despite his worry at her compliment of Solstice, his scars shifting in a sporadic array at this slight movement of his jaw, and she smiled back in her shy way. He couldn’t dislike her despite how much he wanted to, and certainly couldn’t tell her to stay away from Solstice for him. She was certainly worthy of his best friend, which was a stupendously high standard, and to oppose her just because of who she loved would be wrong of him.
“Thank you,” was all he managed to say, unable to further verbalize the rampant mess of emotions swirling about in his mind. They stood in quiet silence together, each contemplating the other. Nobody was around to bother them in this corner of the library, where Anadrom had come up to him after their last class of the day, and the only eyes focused in their direction were those of Kinkajou in the stained-glass mural behind them. Crevasse wondered if Anadrom admired that particular feature of the library as much as he did, or if she dreaded having to gaze upon the visage of the Darkstalker every time she went to do her homework. While everyone in the academy was horrified by the actions of the monstrous NightWing animus, Anadrom would be particularly opposed to him; for the villain had showcased the absolute corruption of an animus by their powers, and was the very image of everything she wanted to avoid becoming herself. Her every spell was cast with the intention to distance herself from that dragon to as far an extent as possible, so being within the presence of a giant representation of him must be deeply unpleasant at the very least.
Crevasse hated the Darkstalker as well, of course, but for him the mural represented a far more uplifting message than a reminder of the dreadful NightWing’s crimes. Kinkajou had been the dragonet that everyone had least expected to be heroic, due to the stereotype of laziness and slowness that followed her as a RainWing, and more so for her generally cheerful and silly comportment. Yet in the end she had been the one with the idea that saved Pyrrhia: the defeat of the Darkstalker was entirely due to her brilliance in the height of the crisis. If she had been able to perform such wonders despite the prejudice everyone held against her, might not he be able one day to do something similar? To show everyone that he was more than just a ghoulish dragon, more than just an accidental survivor of deadly plague and violence? 
Nobody but his winglet and teachers (and poor Kittiwake and Doctor Whimbrel) had ever thought he would amount to anything more than a hardened guard in a dim-light SkyWing prison, stationed where action was least likely to occur due to his disabilities. He was useless in the eyes of his tribe, an unfortunate wretch who everyone thought would be better off if the plague had killed him, but he didn’t dare think of himself this way. After all, he had managed to become one of the top students at school through his diligence and constant studying. If he was normal, his fellow students would consider him headed for bright futures as a historian or doctor of some sort, but as he was, it seemed impossible.
Which made it absurd, really, to deny Anadrom’s offer, but he just couldn’t take it. If he would never have been accepted for who he was without her intervention, his life as a cured dragon would just be a lie, a lucky mistake that wasn’t supposed to have happened to him. Maybe he should be glad for the opportunity before him, but it just didn’t feel right or possible. He had carried his pain for so many years that to have it suddenly removed would change him to the point where he wouldn’t recognize himself. If he was made visually whole again, there would be nothing working against him in life; and then what if he became arrogant due to his grades, or a bully due to his strength, or developed any number of other horrible attributes?
Anadrom had started her homework by now, a thoughtful expression upon her sleek SeaWing snout as she sketched numbers upon the parchment she had been given. He pulled out his homework and struggled to concentrate on it for the time being. After an hour Anadrom left to watch the scavenger den with Winter, and he was left alone in the library except for a few MudWing siblings that were talking happily around one of the farther bookshelf-columns. He finished all of his work just as twilight was falling, the rosy multi-colored light of the windows drying into pale silvers and shadows, and was about to go read through the new scrolls on RainWing medical practices when he felt the gentle warmth of Solstice’s scales approaching him. Sure enough, his best friend - the dragon he would do absolutely anything for - was now standing beside him, smiling in his elaborate way.
“Salutations, my good friend,” Solstice announced with a wide sweep of his talon and a quick curl of his wing. “If I could bother a moment of your time, there is something, hopefully marvelous, that you must see! I believe it would even be worth delaying your studies; or, if you have just completed them, then what excellent timing I have, and let’s be gone now!” There was the flickering twinkle in the eyes of the inventor that Crevasse knew to foreshadow incredible things, and Solstice was practically beaming with excitement. He felt his own spirits lift under the energy of his friend, and his troubles temporarily melted from his consideration.
“I’ve finished everything, Solstice,” he said, “but you do know that I would come regardless, right?”
“Of course,” the hybrid beamed, and then, “Right, follow me, off we go, post-haste!”
Solstice ran out of the library and Crevasse followed close behind, moving with the slow awkwardness of his size and injuries. There were clusters of students in the halls, which stood resolute in place at Solstice’s approach but melted aside at his. He sighed inwardly, despising this fear that everyone held of him for no particular reason. Sure, he had threatened Quartz and the other bullies rather forcefully on a few occasions, but they had absolutely deserved it. He would never harm an innocent dragon, but everyone acted as if he already had. Another thing I have in common with Anadrom, his mind murmured.
After traversing the winding tunnels of the academy, they turned into the hidden cavern that Solstice had discovered on his first day as a student. There was a tiny slit in the wall of the cave, which looked to only extend backwards for a few dozen feet but in actuality dropped suddenly downwards right before the back wall and fell into an unlit cavern. Solstice had taken up the place as his workshop, carrying armfuls of material down the narrow tunnel and depositing his tools in neat arrays in the niches in the walls. There were several reasons for this: the hidden cavern was not in actuality very far from their sleeping-cave; Solstice hadn’t wanted to clog up their cave with his massive contraptions; and finally that Quartz had no idea the hidden cavern existed. Crevasse was certain that he was the only one other than Solstice that knew about the place, but he suspected that Anadrom might be introduced to it shortly.
The two of them dropped through into the workshop after making certain no one else was around, Crevasse squeezing through the gap that felt as tight as always. Solstice breathed a quick flame into a brazier set into the wall, and within a moment the fire had illuminated the room. From the leftmost wall outwards extended the machinery Solstice had developed to allow the cutting and fabrication of various metals. Wide shelves of various parts loomed on all sizes in a cluttered array, with bucket upon bucket of carefully carved metal placed upon each other, and in the center of the cavern lay silk tarps covering the bulking masses of Solstice’s many inventions. 
The Sandy-NightWing moved over to one of these now, his talons trembling with the excitement of displaying his newest grand idea, and he turned to Crevasse with a performer’s carefully collected expression. “Are you ready to be amazed, my good friend?” he asked, a musical tone to his cheerful words, and Crevasse nodded, feeling the excited curiosity that only ever came when Solstice acted this way. “Then without further delay may I present to you: The Mark-3!” With the rhyme he lifted the cloth off of the hidden design, and then Crevasse found himself gazing upon a pedestal holding a new version of his prosthetic arm. It was even more impressive to behold than the golden one he had installed at the moment, for it was a blend of organic life and metal in an elaborate design of twisting wires and individually-carved scales, looking for all the world like a leg removed from some metallic dragon. 
“As we now know,” Solstice was saying, “The Mark-1 model of prosthetic joint-ery was a flawed work, and the Mark-2 was a certain improvement with the addition of retractable talons. But this! This new model is a step forward into a new age, customly tailored - a near-exact replica of the lost limb in question! When attached to aspects of the remaining muscles, these wires…” - at this point he began carefully gesturing with his talons to various parts of the device - “...will allow contraction and release in these ball-and-socket joints here, with the result of near-total control over talon movement and wrist position.”
“By the horns of the Queen,” Crevasse murmured, gazing in open admiration at the gleaming piece of equipment. “Solstice, it’s incredible.”
“Would you like to try it on?” the hybrid asked quickly, forgetting his announcer’s formality in his excitement. “I’ve tested it, of course, but it will likely need to be adjusted a tad.”
“Certainly,” Crevasse affirmed, and undid the locking-mechanism on his current arm just the way Solstice had shown him how to when he first installed it. With a little hiss of pressure, the metal detached slowly from the stump of his leg, and he caught it with his other arm carefully before it hit the ground. Solstice was at his side at once, grabbing the Mark-3 and carefully positioning it just below him. There was a busy minute of attachment and adjustment as Solstice bustled around, tightening various bolts on the limb and sliding several clamps carefully over the scales right above the leg-stump. He expertly wove wires from these clamps down to the main body of the prosthetic and affixed them with quick knots and precise blasts of flame, then stepped back and looked over the setup appraisingly. 
“Alright,” he announced. “The necessary adjustments have been made - try it out at your leisure. If anything seems off, please let me know. I’ll do my best to resolve the problem.”
Taking a tentative step forward, Crevasse was amazed at how perfect the device was. It matched the weight of his former leg, feeling like a natural extension of himself in every way. He felt like he had just re-discovered a pleasant memory that had once been long forgotten. Experimentally, he curled the muscles in his damaged leg just as he did in his others to move his talons, and - incredibly, incredibly - the corresponding metal talons on the Mark-3 moved. They bent just as smoothly as his remaining digits, and even had the same slight flex from side to side. Absorbed in the effort, he reached for a single gear lying unnoticed on the floor, and picked it up with such ease that he dropped it again in surprise. He placed the palm flat upon the floor - shifted his weight from one side to the other - successfully twirled a rod about in sweeping motions - and did everything else he could think of to do, all without the slightest trouble in any way.
“Do you like it?” Solstice asked nervously. “There are some limitations with the material and I do apologize whole-heartedly if it feels unusually heavy - yikes!” The last exclamation was the result of Crevasse wrapping him in a strong hug, the warmth of the Sandy-NightWing’s scales running through him.
“It’s perfect,” he cried happily, stepping back and looking right into his best friend’s eyes. “It’s - You’re - Brilliant, Solstice, just brilliant! I feel like I’d never lost my leg at all - it’s like magic!” He realized the significance of the last statement a moment too late, and hurriedly tried to catch his mistake. “Wait - I didn’t mean -”
“Does it?” Solstice beamed, any negative interpretation of Crevasse’s last words flying over his head. “That’s great! If you want to see how it functions, I have the diagrams stored on the shelf over there.” 
Crevasse told him that he would very much like to, and he spent the rest of the evening in a state of complete happiness as the inventor excitedly explained the device to him.
Chapter 2
Time flew by in the company of Solstice, and Crevasse only realized just how late it was when a chime sounded on the large-faced clock that hung from the ceiling of the room, signaling the fall of midnight upon the outside world. The noise startled them both as Solstice was just putting away the last of his technical blueprints, and they both turned to look guilty at each other, dreading the penalties for being out of their sleeping-cave this late. It had happened several times before without their being caught, on those occasions where he had worked late to help Solstice with a certain machine, but school-wide policy was three nights of detention for violation of the curfew. Three whole nights - neither of them could afford to lose that much valuable time, not in the midst of their studying and inventing.
“Ack!” Solstice coughed. “We really must be going. I’m sorry, I lost track of the time. Again. I really did mean to change that clock to give us hourly warnings, but then I had the idea for the - but nevermind that, we must be off.”
They quietly flew to the ceiling of the cavern, curling their claws around the divots Solstice had carved in the stone like rungs on a ladder, and after a brief examination of the surrounding halls, they determined that all was clear and bolted towards their cave. Luckily the administrators and teachers of the academy all seemed to be patrolling in other areas that night, and the only other dragon they encountered was a NightWing off to study at the library for the night shift. Crevasse supposed that Solstice could theoretically ask for such a permission slip as the nocturnal dragons were given to allow him to stay out later as well, being half-NightWing and all; but he as a SkyWing certainly wouldn’t be able to and would be excluded from the company of the hybrid. Which Solstice would never want to do to him, of course. Yet.
The mouth of their cave loomed up ahead, and they were rushing inside it when they nearly collided with an exiting Paradox. Glancing up with surprise, the wiry NightWing just managed to launch himself out of the way in time, landing with his talons curled around the edge of one of the sleeping-ledges. “For the last time, Quartz, you can’t come in here!” he hissed angrily, then stopped and blinked at them. “Ah, it’s just you two. I was wondering about your whereabouts - you know it is against school policy to stay out past midnight, right?”
“I haven’t the faintest idea what you are talking about,” they both said in unison, and Paradox stifled a rare laugh. Crevasse held their third clawmate in high regard, for he was perhaps the most dedicated and hardworking dragonet in the academy. As a sort of individual detective, Paradox had taken on the responsibility of taking cases from his fellow students, resulting in his constantly searching about the academy for lost items or pieces of evidence that would bring an argument to rest. He rarely failed, and Crevasse knew that his completed cases must number in the hundreds by now - it was impressive, to say the least. 
Paradox wasn’t one of those dragons that was able to see past Crevasse being disfigured, but he also wasn’t on the other side of the spectrum that feared him because of it. It was a delicate middle ground, but Crevasse believed that the NightWing considered his injuries to be an intricate aspect of his character, a motive for his actions and behavior, and thus was unable to associate him as anything separate from them. It wasn’t evil, in other words, and moreso the NightWing wasn’t really friendly with anyone ever, so the situation was negligible most of the time.
“Out installing a new prosthetic?” the detective said now, glancing admiringly over the Mark-3. “Excellent workmanship as always, Solstice. You know, I do believe I know where your workshop is now. My promise of confidentiality stands, however; I won’t tell a soul. Speaking of confidentiality, however,” and here he leaned such a tad forward and beckoned them closer to him, “I do have something to ask you both.” They nodded curiously at the detective, who shuffled about for a moment in thought of how to phrase his rumor. The NightWing never misspoke, and his words were selected with legal precision.
“Anadrom,” he began, stating her name in a thoughtful tone, “Recently offered to provide me with the ability to function without having to consume food or sleep.” He announced the last word with particular disdain, as if the function was his arch-nemesis, and looked around at them. “I would be very pleased to obtain such an ability, but I find it curious that she was able to guess this in such a short order of time.”
“Do you think she was reading your mind?” Crevasse asked, his voice catching in a particularly harsh wheeze in the middle of the sentence, and Paradox nodded thoughtfully.
“Wait,” Solstice blinked, holding his talons up. “That’s not likely - hold on, I’ve just reconsidered - I should have said impossible. That’s impossible. We’d be talking breaking over the barrier of my father never letting that spell go through in a hundred millenia, and then Anadrom somehow having been replaced by a mirror-reality alternate of herself that not only wants to be talked to constantly, but also directly in her head.” He paused to take a breath. “Got it, I’ve just remembered what I should have. I’ve actually heard Peregrine tell her several times outright that you hate wasting your time eating or sleeping. So mind-reading: impossible.”
“Ah.” Paradox relaxed his wings a bit. “That’s sensible enough. That - disreputable - IceWing really does enjoy attempting to slander my image. Telling a new student how odd I was would be in her style, wouldn’t it?” He paused for a moment, considering them with his harshly clear eyes, and then sighed wistfully. “I would very much like to accept the offer - it’s all I’ve ever wanted, really. I’m sure it would be safe, but is it justifiable…it would be a somewhat unfair advantage over others in my field…” 
The NightWing sank his head to his chest in thought, then asked abruptly, “Has she offered anything to either of you?”
“Only the obvious for me,” Crevasse hissed, then immediately winced inwardly at how harsh that sounded. “She was very polite about it, I must say; she just asked if I would want my name placed upon the healing scroll.”
“And you didn’t accept,” Paradox observed in his uncomfortably direct manner. 
“Well,” he replied, leaning onto his new leg and feeling a little thrill once again at how perfect it was. “Well, I have Solstice for that already.” The hybrid smiled brightly at him, his eyes sparkling with vibrant lightning-blue in the peak of gratitude, which lifted his spirits even more. “For you, however - it’s not exactly like that ability can be achieved otherwise. I would encourage you to accept. And she’d likely give it out to other dragons in the eventual future as well, so you wouldn’t have to be too worried about being far superior to all of your competition.”
“Right,” the NightWing said. “She’s a fairly interesting study in that regard. The Darkstalker - curse his name and blight his image, and may his bones smother in volcanic ash! - only gave magic to the dragons that he liked. To make them dependent on him. While she waited until everyone already trusted her before giving any powers out, and even then to some very odd selections of dragons. Not even only dragons; she enchanted the scavengers to be safe from harm too - did you hear? Winter would benefit from that the most, but he had been a nightmare to her at the time and she was likely afraid of him, so why do something nice for him?” With a confounded look upon his snout, he considered this for a moment, then continued.
“I was walking out of history today, and Lilypad the MudWing - from the Topaz Winglet -  just went up to her and asked for the ability to fly and survive in the upper atmosphere. Anadrom was somewhat taken aback at first, of course, but Lilypad told her all about her plans to study the formation and movements of clouds for Queen Moorhen, so the Mud Kingdom would know when another drought was coming. She was very sincere about it, talking about how horrible the last dry spell had been, and how the SeaWings hadn’t been able to help with shipments of water before all of their crops wilted and the mud dried up. If there was an advance warning, she said, they would prevent that from ever happening again. So Anadrom told her she would consider it - and then just this evening I saw Lilypad so far above the clouds that I thought she was a falling comet until she came down closer. Why would she do that? She doesn’t know Lilypad in the least, and no offense to her, but Lilypad isn't exactly the most influential dragonet at the academy. There was nothing for her to gain by doing that particular spell, so why bother?”
“Oh,” Solstice murmured, with a curious tilt of his head. “She’s just nice, Paradox. There’s no way she would care about things like power and influence and all such corruption.”
“Which isn’t to say she wouldn’t do what Qibli asked her,” Crevasse commented. “Or any of the other members of the original Jade Winglet - or the teachers - or you, for that matter.”
“What?” Solstice cried, taken aback. “No - remember the promise she made to me and Tamandua? To never consider our ideas? She’ll keep in accordance with that; I’m certain she will!”
“Well, you’ve convinced me,” Paradox announced, apparently not hearing the hybrid’s final words. “I’m going to accept her offer. Tomorrow, most likely. I suppose I could sleep tonight then, instead of going off to the library. A farewell to my oldest enemy.” He curled up on the platform, draping his snout uncomfortably over his tail, then moved to blow out the fire-globe that was still lit in the center of the cave. “I recommend that both of you do the same, after all the curfew-breaking you’ve already done tonight.”
Just at these words, there was a rapping of talons on the wall outside their cave, and the three of them froze in place. Crevasse cast a sharp look at Paradox, who frowned back sheepishly. If one of the teachers had happened to be outside their door and had just heard him, then detention would soon be upon them. It was therefore to his general relief when an older SandWing he didn’t know - no, wait, I do know him: that’s Ocotillo, Anadrom’s father - walked into the room. Of course, this was quickly followed by suspension. What could the father of their new clawmate possibly want from any of them at this time of night?
The SandWing spoke quietly. “I’m sorry to bother you all,” he began, at which they all only stared blankly back at him. “It’s - er - remarkably lucky that you were all awake to receive me. I’ll be out of your way in a minute, but I was just wondering - Crevasse, is it? Can I have a word with you in the corridor?”
Crevasse wondered again what the strange dragon could possibly want with him. Ocotillo didn’t really have the authority to be down here in the first place. On the other talon, he surely wouldn’t have bothered them this late unless it was very important, right? And his eyes - he’s looking at me like I’m entirely normal. There was no trace of disgust or pity in the eyes of the SandWing, only empathy. This was unusual, very unusual, and it was what convinced him to accept. “Alright,” he confirmed, although it was more a question than anything else.
Ocotillo beckoned furtively towards the corridor, and he walked out alongside the SandWing into the darkened halls. They continued for several dozen tail-lengths, out of earshot of their or any other sleeping cave, and finally entered a quiet cave, one of the unfurnished ones most often used for winglet discussions at the end of every school week. It was unsettling, being alone with this dragon, and the warmth that radiated from his scales felt somehow rougher than that of Solstice’s. After checking that the hallways were still empty, Ocotillo addressed Crevasse in a whisper, barely audible in the still air. “Can I trust you?”
“Hrmp?” Crevasse snorted in surprise, then caught himself and lowered his voice as well. “I could ask you the same, you know. And that depends on what exactly you ask me.”
“Can you keep a secret?”
“I -” Crevasse paused, wondering where on Pyrrhia this was going. “For as long as it doesn’t harm another dragon, certainly.”
“It might.”
“Well then!” he muttered. “Then no, I can’t.”
“Anadrom might be in trouble,” the SandWing hissed in almost a pleading tone, glancing about nervously. “We might all be; I just need you to look into something. What you do with whatever you discover will be entirely up to you.”
This was intriguing. He felt a flutter of worry for the SeaWing (or the LostWing, he reminded himself). No matter how afraid he was that she would drive a wedge between him and Solstice, he still wanted to protect her as a member of his winglet. Her experience with Estuary had been terrible for her, he knew; what if something like it was happening again? And he could help save her from it?
“Why ask me?” he wheezed.
“You seem to be very protective of your clawmates,” Ocotillo replied, looking him over again. “Saving everyone from that bully - Quartz? And honestly there aren’t many other options. Solstice and Tamandua have ties to the - dragon in question. If you really don’t want to be involved, I suppose I could ask Shadowcaster instead.”
“He prefers Paradox,” Crevasse corrected him belligerently.
“Ah. My mistake. So - will you accept or not? If you do, you’ll have to swear to secrecy.”
I have to, right? Maybe this was the chance he had been waiting for, to prove his worth to everyone else at the academy. Stop overthinking for a few minutes, Crevasse, and make certain your new clawmate is safe! “I accept,” he muttered eventually, “And I promise my secrecy for as long as I deem it appropriate.”
“That’ll have to be good enough.” Ocotillo sighed, then coughed quietly. “Being friends with Solstice, I would just ask you to - er - not take this the wrong way - or personally. Distance yourself from bias, perhaps? I can’t put it exactly.” His eyes locked onto Crevasse’s, golden-streaked and dark-pupiled. “Have you noticed anything odd in Anadrom’s behavior? Especially as relates to her use of magic recently?”
He thought back to the words of Paradox, tapping his talons gently against each other as he considered the matter. It didn’t seem unusual for Anadrom to want to help Lilypad, or to want to cure all of those dragons of their ailments (including him), but…there was the one oddity that had lurked at the back of his mind, rolling over in his subconscious ever since the day of the assembly. 
“She’s done a lot for Winter and Qibli,” he muttered thoughtfully, “despite how terrible they were to her. Forgave them more quickly than I ever would have in her place.”
“Exactly,” Ocotillo nodded. “Winter was absolutely horrible to her when she arrived, calling her the Darkstalker and - and - and threatening to do all sorts of terrible things to her. And Qibli forced her to go before the whole school - and that scroll! None of us really know exactly what he put on it, except that it was more than just the truth-telling stone. Anadrom says it also gave him the final say over every use of her magic - and with him being her mentor now…”
“You don’t think…” Crevasse hissed, feeling suddenly sick to his stomach, “...that he enchanted her to like him? That he had her enchant herself to follow his commands?”
“Why would he stop at final power over her enchantments?” Ocotillo marched on. “It’s just one step short of putting him in total control. If Anadrom starts to disagree with him, he vetoes her every spell, and then nothing he wants gets done. On the other hand, if he actually wrote something along the lines of, ‘Have this new animus fall in line with the beliefs and commands of the teachers of the Jade Mountain Academy,’ that would be far more useful in the long run. Why bother just denying the ability of an animus to use magic when you could have them use that magic for you instead?”
“Oh,” Crevasse frowned, clenching his talons against the stone. “Most of her spells have been focused on the academy, haven’t they?”
“She’s making it everything they would ever want it to be,” Ocotillo agreed cynically.
“And you want me to do…what exactly?”
“I want you to follow her and Qibli around on one of their spell-casting meetings,” the SandWing announced. “To see if she’s really thinking for herself. Now - don’t get me wrong - she would likely be doing these things on her own just because of how she is. Just not so soon after everything that happened to her, not this frequently, and not under the guidance of a dragon that accused her of being as terrible as the Darkstalker only a few days ago. And if possible, I want you to steal the spell-confirmation scroll and bring it to me. You’ll need this.”
He tossed a metal bracelet to Crevasse, who realized that it was one of Anadrom’s Informabands as he caught it deftly with the Mark-3. The weight of the silver object had a reassuring effect in his talons, even though he still couldn’t really feel it at all, and he glanced nervously down at it. The invisibility switch glared back up at him, daring him to complete this dreadful mission, to spy on the father of his best friend to see if he was controlling their clawmate.
“He would never do anything like that,” Crevasse said, suddenly confident. “Qibli, I mean. I’ve had him as my music teacher for years now - and there’s all the legends about him - and Solstice’s word - there’s just no way he could do anything this evil. He helped bring down the Darkstalker, remember? There’s no way he’d be anything like him.”
“Well,” Ocotillo offered after a moment of reflection, “There’s no telling what he could be hiding. But if you really think he’s innocent, then there’s Winter to consider. He was an absolute nightmare when she first arrived. From there, there’s the matter of the scavengers - wait a moment. Hey! I see you, NightWing!”
Crevasse jumped at the sudden volume of the last statement, spiraling around to find Paradox stepping out of the shadows with an abashed expression. He blinked in surprise at his clawmate, wondering exactly how much he had heard. 
“I’m sorry,” Paradox coughed dryly. “At second glance, this isn’t the storage cave after all. Sorry to bother you, I shall be leaving now.” He turned to walk away but Ocotillo called out before he got very far.
“I assume you’re not interested in the matter?”
“I -” Paradox swiveled about, glaring at Ocotillo. “Not interested? Hardly! I’ve been disproving false accusations for my entire life. I plan to show without the slightest doubt that our good teachers are innocent of any and all wrongdoing, and that Anadrom’s mind is entirely her own. Good gracious, we live in a civilized age now. These sorts of things don’t happen anymore. Least of all within the Jade Mountain Academy.”
“And I’ll help him do so,” Crevasse affirmed, straightening up and looking down at Ocotillo. The oddness of his size struck him again sharply, for here he was facing a dragon several times his own age, and he was still able to tower over him. “I don’t believe a word of this - and I’m certain that Anadrom’s safe - but reaffirming that can’t hurt anyone.”
“I’m not…” Ocotillo hissed, trailing off and fixing the floor with a downcast expression. “Maybe my worry is clouding my judgment, I’ll give you that. I just want my daughter to be safe, no matter what. Call me a traitor if you want…” - and here he cast them both an electrifying glare - “...for I’ve certainly been there before.” He reached into a pouch around his neck and tossed an Informband to Paradox, which the NightWing deftly caught. “Do as you wish.”
With that, he turned and crept out of the empty cavern, while Paradox and Crevasse made their way back to their cave. “I didn’t trust him,” Paradox murmured when they were right outside of their entrance. “A good thing I came over, too. You never thought for a moment that what he was saying was true?”
“How would he know what Winter or Qibli wouldn’t do?” Crevasse asked. “We’ve been their students for years now. They care about every dragon under their watch - they’re noble dragons - every single thing about them ensures that they would never magically force another dragon into liking or working for them. But I can’t deny that you were questioning her behavior in the same way only minutes before. Anadrom’s been acting a bit weird for as long as we’ve known her. Perhaps there was an accident in the phrasing of that scroll, or something?”
“It’s worth looking into,” Paradox agreed, then yawned and rubbed his eyes in exhaustion. “I certainly don’t want to accept a spell from her if she’s not creating it of her own volition. Let’s develop some plans for investigation tomorrow. And tell Solstice, of course. There’s not the slightest way we would be justified in hiding such an accusation against his father from him. At this moment, however, all I can do is sleep. Cursed tiredness. Crevasse, you don't know how much I want that spell.” He went over and curled up on his ledge.
Crevasse did the same, although he felt that sleep would likely not come for him. Ocotillo was wrong about his teachers, he was certain of that, but the intentions of the SandWing were reasonable. He just wanted to protect his daughter, make certain she was safe and free - to do the very things that Crevass’s own parents had failed to do in every regard on that night, years ago, when they left him to fend for himself against the brutality of the Loyalist Force. 
Chapter 3
As he lay awake, the memory of that dreadful hour flooded his mind as vividly as if it had only occurred minutes before. The SkyWing village was precise to the most minute details, from the settling evening haze of heavy mist to the ringing calls of songbirds as they soared through the twilight air. He found himself wandering around the little hamlet, a younger and more intact dragonet of about three, cheerfully calling out evening pleasantries to his neighbors and basking in the warmth of the summer. There was his friend beside his side, Cloud, who was a few years older and thus far more knowledgeable in the workings of the world. Their wanderings together were aimless at the moment, just to fill the empty time before the next day. For then the caravan of SeaWing merchants was due to arrive and begin selling their various seabed treasures and the newest scrolls from Queen Coral and Prince Turtle.
Eventually dusk fell, the stars just barely visible through the fog, and Crevasse bid his friend goodbye as he made his way back to his home. It was a simple structure, a square block with tall, narrow windows and hanging vines, under the new style of architecture established by Queen Ruby. Her belief that the SkyWings lacked “cultural definition” had resulted in her proclaiming that new structures should be developed with artistic merit as well as military functionality, and Crevasse’s residence was one of the first to be built in such a way.
His parents were waiting inside, Cascade and Wisteria, who were all the family he had. They greeted him with a slight nod of their heads as usual, hardly looking up from their work as they sharpened various blades for their blacksmithing business. He knew better than to try talking to them when they were so employed, especially since these particular swords had been commissioned by the Queen herself for her guard, so he moved quietly over to his favorite window-corner and absentmindedly traced the vines outside through his talons. The sweet callings of the nightingales mixed with the stifling summer heat to compel him into nodding off, just as he had hoped they would, and his thoughts were eager with the promise of new scrolls in the day to come.
There had been a cry from the border of the village that woke him, while the others that quickly rose up from the midnight gloom had convinced him to run outside in panic. Fire was raging in the sky, twisting in spirals that were distorted as - he felt a horrible twinge of shock - as they collided with the forms of combating dragons overhead. The cries were louder in ferocity now, and as he stood frozen outside of his home, the body of a SkyWing fell before him. A cloth marking tied to its wrist fluttered in the breeze, bearing a dreadful crimson symbol that he recognized in a moment.
At the sight, fear bolted through every scale of his body, and he rushed back into his home to find his parents. Tearing frantically through the three-roomed house, he found Cascade and Wisteria in their bedroom, both brandishing as much weaponry as they could possibly hold. They moved to attack him, assuming him to be a member of the assailing brigadiers, but as the firelight flicked onto his scales they recognized him and relaxed. “Crevasse, behind me,” Wisteria hissed, sweeping him over with her armored tail.
“It’s the Loyalists,” he blurted out, his voice breaking in terror at the name. “I didn’t see exactly how many, but there’s so much fire in the sky; it has to be dozens.”
His parents exchanged a quick glance, and his heart sank even further as he realized this news removed all hope from their eyes. They all knew the horrible stories about the Loyalist Force, especially those about their razing entire communities for just supporting intertribal trade. There had been pictures in the latest news-scrolls of ashen ruins, the crumpled remains of a former MudWing town laid entirely to waste, with a few charred bodies lying hiding in the shadows.
“We need to run,” Cascade muttered, sweeping his anxious gaze out through one of their high windows. “If we go through the Wildcat’s Pass, we may just be able to avoid detection.”
“But what about Cloud?” Crevasse asked, wondering if his friend was even still alive. “And the disabled veterans on Alpine Avenue? They won’t be able to defend themselves, or even escape the fires. Shouldn’t we help?” They were blacksmiths after all, and what was the point of manufacturing weaponry if you weren’t ready to use it to help those in trouble? 
“Well,” Wisteria coughed, “The thing about that is that then none of us would survive. We can choose between saving our lives now or dying while failing to protect those of others. I would rather live, personally.” Cascade nodded in agreement at this, looking out the window as if he was still contemplating which was the best escape route.
“But-” Crevasse stammered. “The weapons - most of them don’t even have any-”
“Alright, it’s clear now,” his father announced, throwing himself through the glass and dashing away into the fire-lit night outside. Wisteria followed suit quickly, hissing for Crevasse to follow her, but he hesitated in the frame of broken glass. This wasn’t right, to flee from danger when they could be helping to save others. Some of the veterans were entirely nice dragons, and if they were killed by the Loyalists while he ran off as a coward, he would never forgive himself.
There was a claw laid suddenly on his shoulder, and he twisted about to find a black-eyed and scarred SkyWing looming behind him, bearing the emblem of the Loyalist Force. He called out to his parents for help, and he saw them hesitate for a moment as they neared the entrance to the pass. For a moment, he was certain that they were about to turn back to his rescue, to prove their bravery despite their words - and then they were gone. In the blink of an eye, Wisteria vanished behind Cascade into the dark opening of the gully, and he was left to fend for himself.
The SkyWing was already moving to stab some sort of poisoned dart into him, so he ducked and rolled aside as a sharp hiss of moving metal sounded beside his head. If only he’d had more battle training; but the Royal Guard had only come to give formal instruction for a single week last year. In an instant the claws of the SkyWing were tearing into his scales, and as he quickly tore himself free he felt sharp daggers of agony piercing through his body. Then there had been a swish of metal, the sharp edge of a sword all too close to him, and a flash of pain that quieted his mind into darkness.
That was all he could recall of the dreadful evening, and all the rest he had learned from witnesses and official reports later. Most luckily, the SeaWing merchants had arrived hours before they were expected, and the armored guard that traveled alongside them had valiantly stood against the Loyalist onslaught. The light of morning fell upon a smoldering world, the ivy of the village homes burnt to a crisp, and all the grass about for hundreds of tail-lengths massed into a brownish pulp. Having not expected retaliation of any kind, the Loyalists were devastated in the SeaWing counter-attack, losing dozens of members and eventually being forced to hastily retreat. There had been only a few SeaWing casualties, and even less among the SkyWing villagers - for Queen Ruby’s new ideas on defensive strategy had worked quite well.
Cloud had survived with just a broken wing, and all of the veterans were unscratched. Wisteria and Cascade vanished into the depths of the SkyWing kingdom, too ashamed afterwards to show their faces. It had been a SeaWing soldier who discovered Crevasse lying broken in his home, and having assumed him dead, moved him out into the sunlight for identification. From there someone had decided to check him for a pulse, through some wild hope, and when he had been found to still carry a trace of life, a doctor had been quickly called over. 
He had lost his leg in the attack, and nearly his eye, and scales all over his body had been dreadfully torn and twisted. There had been little hope for his recovery, but the doctor had been able to stabilize him, and then Doctor Whimbrel himself had come to the village to help treat the wounded. The IceWing doctor was renowned across Pyrrhia for his outstanding medical practices, and under his careful and expert care Crevasse was recovered from the brink of the beyond. They had moved him to the permanent hospital next to the SkyWing palace, and then to Doctor Whimbrel’s private practice on the border of the Kingdom of the Sea.
Here hazy memories first formed of sunrises over a crystalline ocean, and the scents of salt and roasted seagull, and the general constant presence of dull, unending pain. Two weeks after the attack, he finally came to his senses enough to speak again. Within a month Doctor Whimbrel had him able to move about again, if rather clumsily. It was so entirely odd to attempt motion with a component of his body entirely vanished, and he spent a good deal of time at first banging around into various objects and walls. The doctor was kind, intelligent, and more attentive than his parents had ever been.
Thinking of the good doctor was more than he could stand at the moment, as he lay upon his sleeping-ledge listening to the quiet breaths of Solstice and Paradox. All of this revolved around the betrayal of his parents, which stung him to the core at every recollection of these happenings. They had bolted from danger, leaving dozens of defenseless dragons in dire situations, and had left even him to certain death rather than risk their own lives. Over and over now the image of Wisteria turning and vanishing into the darkness ran through his mind, as he wished that sleep would fall upon him and relieve him of this burden for just a few hours.
Ocotillo and Eelgrass clearly loved Anadrom more than his parents had ever loved him, but at the moment Crevasse couldn’t bring himself to be jealous of her for this. He wished with every fiber of his being over the years that his parents would have acted differently on that day, would have done the noble and protective thing, would have cared enough about him to save his life. And that was all Ocotillo wanted to do now, to keep his daughter out of perceived (or real?) harm, to be the heroic father that Crevasse’s parents had so dramatically failed to be themselves. I have to help them, of course. We’ll find that Qibli is innocent, but I just want to take the burden of doubt out of their minds. Anadrom wouldn’t want them to be worried about her in this way either, I’m sure.
He wondered and worried the night away, until the graceful oblivion of sleep finally washed over him, and his mind slowed into peaceful dreams where he freely soared through the Sky Kingdom with Kittiwake at his side. The morning gong came all too shortly, bringing him back into the harsh light of the world, and he sleepily rubbed his eyes as Solstice and Paradox moved groggily about within the sleeping-cave. The action had been performed somewhat automatically, but as he lowered his talons, he realized that he had forgotten he was even wearing the Mark-3. It functioned so similarly to his other legs that he could hardly tell the difference between them; this truly was the most incredible thing Solstice had yet developed. 
After their long night in the workshop, they were entirely exhausted during history class, and all Crevasse was able to retain from what Webs presented was the name of a single IceWing noble, entirely out of context. He moved from the class in a tired blur of shape and color, alongside the rush of students traveling to their next course, with Solstice just ahead of him. They had hunting next, and the sharp clearness of the open air helped him to finally wake up. 
He enjoyed this class, not for anything actually related to hunting, but what his clawmates got up to during it. Tamandua was vegetarian, being half-RainWing, and so she would mainly stray down to the orchards. Peregrine would continually wander down there and attempt to collect fruit with her curving IceWing talons, which was a sight to behold, especially once she began cheerfully throwing any half-crushed fruit at her wingmates. Crevasse had learned to duck her throws nine-times-out-of-ten, and even mastered a recent trick to deflect the projectile back towards her. He assumed this all stemmed from Peregrine’s experiences with snowball fights held in the tundras north of Possibility by the younger IceWing citizens.
Solstice always headed over towards a quiet lake, where he attempted to catch a fish with a “fishing rod” device he had developed. More times than not, this only ended with him impaling the hook on some underwater rock. Crevasse in turn always went over to help him tug the tool free, encouraging him to try again, and once they had actually pulled a startled salmon out of the water together. Clay had been gratifyingly impressed by this, and the approval of the Dragonet of Destiny had meant a lot to Solstice, which in turn had made Crevasse’s day.
Paradox just practiced mid-air maneuvers during this session, twisting and spiraling in quick arcs in the air, and once in a very rare while swooped down to grab and cook a lizard. His evasive maneuvers whenever Peregrine approached with fruit in talon were the most impressive by far. Millpond tended to just examine the motions of everyone else during these classes, as Crevasse himself did, likely attempting to decipher the intricacies of motion for use in his sculpting. Out of all of them, Anadrom was really the only one who hunted normally, just swooping down into the waters and emerging with sparking fish in her talons. She was ready to share them with anyone, always taking the worst of the catch for herself.
Everything happened exactly as it usually did that day, and class ended with him taking a quick dive into the lake to wash off the various splotches of fruit Peregrine had splattered over him. While underwater, he remembered that he had put on the Informaband the night prior, and experimentally tried to take a breath. It felt for an instant like he was asleep and dreaming of a world where the laws of reality were different. While the device hadn’t been enchanted specifically to allow underwater breathing, it did make drowning impossible since it was technically a form of harm to the wearer. Thus his lungs could neither expand nor contract under the surface, and his body felt suspended timelessly in the water. He quickly returned to the surface world and took a grateful breath of air. At the exact moment he surfaced, Peregrine dropped a watermelon on his snout.
He spent most of the next class - mathematics - attempting to remove splinters of seeds from between his scales and reproachfully glaring in Peregrine’s direction. It was even more difficult to concentrate on the task at hand when he really just wanted the day to be over so he could tell Solstice about what Ocotillo had said and plan with Paradox on how to gather evidence. It was exciting, in an odd way, to have such responsibility placed upon him. Although Paradox would likely mastermind the investigation, he would still be able to play a minor role in something important. 
The last classes of the day passed at half their normal rate, all while he thought of the best ways to investigate and wondered if he should tell Anadrom about everything as well. His gaze often shifted to the two of them as he pondered this, analyzing the cheerful movements of the Sandy-NightWing and more careful ones of the LostWing, before he decided that it might be best to withhold the truth from Anadrom for a while. If there’s not actually any problem, it would be counterproductive to tell her about this. She’ll just become more worried and gloomy than usual, which I’m sure wouldn’t be good for her. 
At last, he heard the clamoring of the gongs to signal the end of class, and he moved quickly up from his desk. Paradox had already somehow reached Solstice’s side and was speaking to him over the chatter of the other students, but likely not of their actual news, in such a public setting. Anadrom was finishing up their classwork at her desk, which he realized he had left unfinished for the first time in weeks. She left at the tail-end of the crowd, Peregrine chattering at her from the left, and soon it quieted down enough in the classroom for Crevasse to hear what Paradox was saying.
“- and practice with the fishing rod? You were closer than usual today, I noticed.”
“A worthy offer,” Solstice intoned, clicking his talons together. “Yet I do have to research the properties of my new flame-resistant shield before I forget where I stashed it.”
“It won't take long,” Paradox promised. As the two of them moved towards the exit, the NightWing motioned for Crevasse to join them. They walked down the twisting corridors of the academy towards the entrance hall with Solstice reminiscing on their lessons that day and constantly checking upon the functionality of the Mark-3 with his peripheral vision. He seemed to notice something slightly off in the bearings of his two friends - perhaps they were slower to respond than usual, or perhaps it was obvious that their minds were elsewhere - and he quieted down as they soared out of the cave opening into the open blue sky. For a moment, Crevasse accidentally twisted in midair and nearly lost control of his balance, but caught himself and swerved away from a precipice just in time. Flight was supposed to be the expertise of SkyWings, and usually he was adequate at it despite his injuries, but the lighter weight of the Mak-3 threw off his usual automatic corrections.
“Alright,” Solstice nodded, taking his fishing device out of his pouch. “I’ll do my absolute best to reel in something this time, Paradox. I’ve installed a system upon the frame to reduce tension within the wire, so if I am graced with a collision of hook and scaled aquatic being, I shall have it!”
“You could just say fish,” the NightWing offered. Apparently Paradox hadn’t thought of any particularly good way to inform Solstice of their mission, for he just stalled for a while by making a lengthy examination of the water below. There was a bout of silence as Solstice aimed the device, and then with a sharp hiss the projectile soared outward and vanished into the lake. With a sharp metallic noise, the hook bounced off of a sunken rock, sending a jolt back up through the wire that nearly made the inventor drop the harpoon. He tried several more times, all with various similar levels of unsuccess, before Crevasse finally found the courage to speak up.
“Solstice, there’s something to tell you about.” He paused for a long moment, during which time the Sandy-NightWing carefully reeled in his wire and packed the tool away. The inventor was meticulous and purposefully slow in this task, attempting to ready himself for what he seemed to have guessed would be unpleasant news.
“Ocotillo’s midnight calling has been bothering me,” Solstice said into the silence, fiddling with the buttons on his pouch. “That’s what that is about? Did Paradox actually manage his covert reconnaissance?”
“Mostly,” the NightWing admitted. “He’s a veteran, you know, so I feel the standard of not being seen should be set a bit higher - ah. I mean, yes, that is the topic at hand.”
“Should I know about this?” Solstice asked. “He avoided looking at me. What terrible news did he bring? About my parents? You? Anadrom?” The expression of the inventor was becoming more and more worried, and without his noticing his talons had worn a gash into the side of his schoolbag. 
“All of the above?” Crevasse tried. “No one is in danger. There might not even be a real problem. Ocotillo seems prone to suspicion. We don’t know what he’ll do about anything. Paradox and I were going to try investigating to prove him wrong-”
“He believes that Qibli used that scroll to enchant Anadrom into liking him and Winter,” Paradox burst in. He glanced quickly about to make sure they were still alone. “Which he didn’t, of course. We all know he’s innocent, and we just need to prove that to Ocotillo. Yet since your father is involved, we knew keeping you in the dark would be a horrible thing to do.”
“Oh,” Solstice blinked, looking very forlorn. “Qibli? But he would never, in a hundred millenia. Don’t you all know that? No, you do, I’m sorry. Has Moonwatcher heard? Couldn’t we just ask him to see the scroll outright?” He drifted down to a rocky outcropping overlooking the murky waters below, and they followed at a nervous distance.
“I don’t think Ocotillo would be satisfied with that,” Paradox answered. “He’d just say Qibli showed us a different scroll, or enchanted the ink in some way, or something else along those lines.”
“Winter,” Solstice tried, tilting his head sadly up at them. “I thought he was just a great dragon ever since our first day with him as our winglet overseer - but then he was so mean to Anadrom. If magic brings out the worst in everyone…I thought I knew him. I thought that he wouldn't do any of the things that he did.”
“You don’t think that Qibli could have actually done this?”
“He can’t have,” Solstice murmured. “But what if he did? And if she’s trapped using magic for the academy - then she’s only so nice because they made her be - no, no, no!” He buried his snout in his talons. “She’s not.”
“It’s okay,” Crevasse tried with a slight wheeze. “We’ll prove him wrong, I promise.” Solstice’s willingness to believe the conspiracy haunted him slightly, and he was now starting to worry about Winter on top of everything else. I wish she had never shown up. Magic simply cannot be trusted; hasn’t the past shown that? 
Fish jumped out of the muddy water before them, silver scales flashing in the sunlight of the afternoon. Rushing waves driven by the summer breeze poured against the shoreline in a sweet clatter of sound, while the chirps of songbirds and the croaks of frogs harmonized in the background. Crevasse pondered Starflight and Tarmarin’s newfound receival of sight, and the curing of all those sickly dragons listed on the healing-scroll. Such things were wonderful, but were they the work of Anadrom or Qibli?
Kittiwake would know exactly what to ask to clear this all up. 
“I’ll help,” Solstice offered glumly. “This isn’t even true.” He repeated the phrase again, seeming to draw strength from it, and straightened back up from the ground. “Then it’ll be a plan to swipe the scroll when my father’s attention is elsewhere?”
Paradox nodded. “We should also watch them for signs that anything else is wrong. I’m sure we’d be able to tell right away; when the Darkstalker used magic on other dragons, he tended to be fairly noticeable about it. Talking out loud, scribbling notes on parchment and such.”
“My father is not the Darkstalker,” Solstice hissed suddenly, more angry than Crevasse had ever seen him before. Before either of them could say anything else, he had risen into the air and bolted away from the academy, wings beating powerfully as he raced through the air.
“I didn’t- ” the NightWing stammered, taken off guard for once. 
“What in the blazes did you have to say that for?” Crevasse snarled, as a terrible creature of guilt wound its way through his insides. There had been a look in his best friend’s eyes that was the inverse of his usual gleam of wonder. It had been a glare of betrayal. He wished heartily that he could reverse the last few minutes, to protect Solstice from this conspiracy. Turning his back on Paradox, he lifted into the sky in quick pursuit of his friend, but it was already too late.
Supposedly SkyWings were supposed to be the more adept fliers out of all the tribes, but he didn’t have a chance in the world to catch up with the fleeing Sandy-NightWing. Solstice had almost entirely vanished from sight behind the peaks of Jade Mountain when he took to the air, and within a matter of seconds he was gone. Crevasse circled the peaks for a moment, twisting about to see if he could determine where the hybrid had gone. A flicker of moment caught his eye and he swirled about to face it, but it was only Peregrine and Anadrom flying up towards him. Anadrom.
If she had never come to the academy, none of this would have happened. He would still see nothing but nobility in Winter, would still have unbroken faith in his teachers, and Solstice wouldn’t be this way. Wouldn’t probably hate him for distrusting his father. I can’t lose him, especially over something so terrible.
“Can’t talk now,” he snapped at them, sweeping down toward the entrance. The startled looks on their expressions didn’t help to calm him down in the slightest. Curses to planning - I’ll solve this right now. Qibli’s office is the - the third on the left? Or the fifth? 
He landed behind an outcropping, scanned about to make certain no one was looking in his direction, and flicked on the invisibility element of the Informaband. At once, his scales, scars and prosthetics all melted into the air about them. This was somehow more complete than RainWing camouflage, for as he shook his wing experimentally, he noticed that light pierced right through him rather than reflecting as it did off of otherwise invisible RainWings. It was a relief that the spell worked over all of him. A stray metal leg floating about in midair would have raised questions.
Sweeping downwards, he soared into the entrance cavern as quietly as he could and landed just before the entrance to the office tunnel. A quick peek down to make certain no one was coming, and then he could move in -
“No, no, we can’t trust him,” Qibli laughed, exiting a cave with Moonwatcher at his side. “Aren’t his stories usually a bit too - exciting? - for students?”
“I recall a perfect calm after that one about the giant sandworms,” the NightWing replied, rubbing a talon between her eyes. “I don’t think I saw a student on their own for weeks, at least.”
“Great move on their part, we’re raising a new generation of strategists,” the SandWing teacher replied. “Queen Thorn didn’t share their concern for giant worm attacks when I rushed in to tell her. It was hard to tell with all the laughter, but I think she didn’t take me seriously. She might have been a bit concerned, honestly, but having my sanity questioned is a small price to pay for keeping her and everyone else safe from a terrible, slimy death.”
“Of course,” Moonwatcher smiled, then paused and tilted her snout to the side. She gazed about the corridor, looking into the shadows, and then her eyes locked in Crevasse’s general direction. “Qibli, there’s a RainWing watching us. Hello!” she called out with an amiable expression. “Can we help you?”
He bolted away, rushing around crowds of students gathered to study in the halls, his heart beating a mile a minute. How could she have known where he was? Skyfire, he answered himself, as he stopped to hide behind an outcropping. It entirely blocks mind-reading, but it still allows a faint muffled sound of brain activity to emit outwards. Moonwatcher must have just heard that and thought I was a RainWing student. Now he would have to take mind readers into the equation. When was Moonwatcher certain to be busy and keep far away from Qibli’s office?
The two of them had emerged into the general cavern now, looking about curiously, and Crevasse tried to keep his thoughts as slow and undetectable as possible. Then Qibli shrugged, gave Moonwatcher a quick hug, and flew out into the afternoon sunlight while she turned back into the office cave district. He allowed his breathing to return to normal, and waiting again until everyone else was looking away, he flicked the invisibility switch back to its resting position and walked off towards the library. 
He could always go there when times were troubling, to wash away the difficulties of life with some interesting facts on the wildlife of Pyrrhia or tales of heroic dragons of ages past. Anything to separate himself from the present. And to do his homework, of course, for that didn’t stop when the world was in turmoil. With another twist of negativity, he realized that he didn’t have the slightest idea what he was supposed to do for his classes that night. This was a first, and he cursed Anadrom for it again.
Yet there Starflight was, out from his desk for the first time in years, reading an ordinary scroll on one of the new window ledges. In the library she had helped create and had filled with thousands of new scrolls, for the benefit of everyone at the academy. If she did it of her own free will, I still think it’s amazing. Yet if all of it was just masterminded by Qibli’s - what if Solstice’s worries are right? What if Anadrom is terrible but Qibli enchanted her to be this nice?
Wondering how long it would be before he could find the scroll and be certain one way or another, Crevasse sat at the usual desk under the gaze of Kinkajou and the Darkstalker. At this moment, which one of them was he really more like? A hero, or a traitor to his friends?
Chapter 4
The Sandy-NightWing didn’t talk to either of them that night. Paradox had tried to apologize a number of times to both of them, but had eventually given up and just gone out to work on another of his cases. He had elected to postpone accepting Anadrom’s sleep-removal spell until the truth was determined, and Crevasse thought it likely that he would begin searching for the scroll on his own. Yet he couldn’t leave his best friend alone to go off and work with the very dragon that had hurt him so, intentionally or not. That would only worsen his betrayal.
Instead he lay awake, watching the tightly coiled form of the hybrid and feeling a harsh warmth radiating off of his scales. The night dragged on, hour slipping by after hour, and then Solstice shifted and stood up. Lying still with half-closed eyes, Crevasse watched to see what would happen. Pausing for a moment, the hybrid listened to his raspy breathing, then murmured, “I would prefer if you didn’t follow me.” With that he turned sharply and stalked out of the room, keeping to the shadows in the corridor before he vanished around a corner.
Not wanting to become a further traitor through spying, Crevasse remained in place and nodded off, falling into uneasy dreams where he soared through darkened skies from a hidden, lurking menace. Then the school gongs were ringing, and he was off to another day just like the one before. There was the first class through which he bordered on the brink of sleep and learned nearly nothing; the hunting practice in the crisp morning air; and then two more classes that dragged by as slowly as could be. Yet it was worse, in several ways, for everyone was seemingly avoiding him now. Solstice hadn’t said a word to him all day, Anadrom was keeping a respectful distance, and Peregrine hadn’t even dared to throw a fruit at him. He wondered just how aggressive he had been yesterday towards the latter two. Perhaps they thought he was just mean and snappish now, and maybe he was.
There were the final gongs, and he shuffled out of the classroom alongside everyone else, headed for the office caves once again. Moonwatcher should in theory be asleep at the moment, having the night shift at the library and all, but that didn't seem to matter yesterday. Had anything else been going on? He screwed up his snout in thought, hating how dull the lack of sleep was making him feel, and remembered that Qibli had been seemingly discussing with her the next weekly speaker on the enchanted waterfalls. Due to the invitation process, the decision had to be made days in advance, so that was probably why she had been awake. Assuming that they had decided on who to invite, there would be no reason for her to wake up this afternoon as well.
Inching forward with the mass of students headed out to bask in the summer air, he wound his way over to an outcropping and pretended to settle down into doing his homework. He actually did most of it, waiting for the room to clear up a bit. When he glanced back up he found that he was alone but for Anadrom and Tamandua, who were likely waiting for Turtle’s return from the Kingdom of the Sea that afternoon, and for a few other dragonets from various winglets having boisterous conversations. Moving to duck behind the outcropping, a sudden foreboding rushed through him, and he hesitated in speculation as to the cause. Something unpleasant was about to occur - he could feel it in the air, a concentrated tension of rapidly approaching danger.
A split second later, there was a cacophony of harsh wingbeats and fearful roaring as Quartz the dreadful SkyWing swept into the hall. Spite and rage poured off of him like sparks off a fire, filling the room with a heat of fear as he advanced towards Anadrom. Crevasse spun about and bolted over to her side of the cavern, feeling the need to protect her from the clearly violent intentions of the bully even if he couldn’t trust who she was. No, no, I can trust her. There’s no way Qibli would do anything evil, ever, and she’s just my very kind clawmate and a benevolent animus. You don’t hurt her, Quartz, not today and not ever. 
“YOU!” hissed the SkyWing. Anadrom blinked back up at him, apprehensive, while Tamandua stood by her side in resolute concern. “I’ll have you torn into pieces by a firescales for this, you filthy stammering coward! Who do you think you are, trying to kill me?”
There were shocked gasps from around the cavern, and Crevasse heard the sound of running talons echoing on stone from both corridors. Anadrom had raised her wings in protest but Quartz cut her off. “I was flying above the academy,” he hissed in a voice dripping with gleeful rage. He did seem agitated by whatever had just happened, but somehow pleased by it as well, as if he had been looking for some way to get back at Anadrom for not falling under his control when she first arrived at the academy. The bully snapped his talons before her eyes, their sharpened points gleaming in the sunlight. “When crash!” 
He pushed her hard to the side, and as she flailed her wings to keep her balance, he smashed her legs with his tail. “The sky closed upon me, choking the life from my lungs, and only through my desperate struggles was I able to break out. She could do it to any one of you next!” he cried, sweeping out to glare over the rest of them with red, smoldering eyes. “She’s dangerous! Sinister, deadly, monstrous!”
“Shut up,” Crevasse snarled, reaching Anadrom’s side and helping her regain her balance. His tone was so harsh that even Quartz was compelled to obey its command. The disgust Crevasse held for the lying SkyWing was coursing through his entire body, driving out all other worries. He fixed the bully with a withering glare. “I don’t believe a word of it.”
“Another ghoul to defend the first!” Quartz crowed, trying to regain his confidence. “Forgive me if I don’t trust the judgment of a dragon whose brain has been baked and rotted a dozen times over.”
The foreboding presence of Winter swept into the hall, his clean white scales as pristine as silver and radiating cold as he stood before them. “None of that, Quartz!” he snarled.
“ I don’t ask for anyone’s approval,” the bully smirked. “How about you? Are you still waiting for the scavengers to tell you how to manage the school? At this point I’d welcome their ideas; they can’t possibly be worse than yours.”
“Scavengers on your mind?” Winter replied calmly, but he glared at Quartz with outrage. “That was no spell to kill you, Quartz. The only spell involving teleportation is the one on anyone who tries to slaughter the scavenger den. The spell brings the offender safely and painlessly to the foot of the academy, to the letter.”
“Lies!” Quartz sputtered, shaking with rage. “All lies! You conspire with a fiend- ”
“Which leads me to ask,” Winter continued, as if he had never been interrupted, “What exactly were you trying to do a moment before the trap activated?” He leaned forward. “Attacking the scavenger den. Isn’t that right?” The last three words were spoken very slowly. His talons were worrying the ground, as if he was considerably worried that the attack against his beloved community might have been effective despite the spell.
“Yeah,” one of Quartz’s friends said thickly, “Yeah, he was showing them - ”
“Shut up!” Quartz snarled. “Even if I was going to level their pathetic little nest to the ground, it’s not really relevant, is it? I was a victim to magic cast upon me without my will. I’ve heard a great many promises lately about that being impossible. We can’t trust any of you!” 
“Safely and painlessly, to the letter” Winter repeated, exhaling sharply. “Qibli approved that very spell. We all agreed with his reasoning. It was directed against attempted murderers, and the hope was that a student here would never stoop so low. Quartz - I know you knew about this, I’ve been hearing you mocking it over and over this week!”
“Liar,” the SkyWing muttered again, then looked around at the crowd for support to find that the case wasn’t in his favor. He shifted tracks with a renewed aggression. “I thought I could get past it if I dropped a flaming tree in. She’s a waste of an animus! Throwing it all away on magic berries and scavengers - when I could have the throne if she’d give it to me!” With the last he lunged at Anadrom again, but Crevasse pushed him back and he staggered against a bookshelf.
The crowd darted aside as the writhing form of the bully landed before them. He was on his feet in an instant, fighting as dirty as he always did, but Crevasse soldiered through the pain as the SkyWing’s tail collided with his scars. Every time Quartz made a move towards Anadrom, Crevasse countered it and sent him reeling backwards with an assortment of snarls. Winter attempted to assist in restraining Quartz and eventually Clay stepped in to pull Crevasse back. He yielded, panting.
After struggling with Winter for a few minutes, the bully finally ran out of steam and darted away, panting. He cast a dreadful glare of undiluted rage about them, his eyes smoldering embers of malice. Smoke rose from his nostrils in swirling twin spirals, casting shadows over his snout, and he coughed heavily as he began to speak again. “What have you done to our world?”
With a signal from his talons, two of his friends broke from the gathered bystanders and joined his side. They stood in flank formation about their leader now, facing outwards with lashing tails and smoldering snouts.
“Pyrrhia used to be a place of strength,” Quartz sneered, sending a bolt of fire towards his talons and setting some loose leaves ablaze. “A place of glorious combat and everlasting loyalty to the Queens! We were proud, hardened warriors, and we fought for our superiority! This academy has brought an end to all that! Gone are the days of mighty kingdoms and in come the scavenger-loving soft fools that shy away from glory. I am a royal, the remaining creed of the last generation, and I deserve absolute power over all of you - especially her! If she won’t provide me with my rightful throne, I’ll find another way.”
With that he turned and flew out into the late afternoon, his friends blocking the path of Winter and Clay as they moved to follow him. The bully shouted one last phrase as he soared upwards into the afternoon light, which struck Crevasse with complete surprise.
“The Loyalist Force will bow to my authority!”
He had to stop this, to prevent Quartz from reaching such absolute evil. Breaking past the two supporters of the villain, he launched himself after the already distant form of the SkyWing. After just a moment of flight, he knew that it was hopeless. Powered by his rage, Quartz was cutting through the air at an incredible rate, diving and twisting like a falcon. Before he had even flown out of sight of the academy, the bully had entirely vanished into Pyrrhia, perhaps having dropped into some hidden ravine or secret cave. Crevasse searched desperately without any luck. There were other students out searching within a few minutes. Crevasse considered following the flight paths of the other two SkyWings, which he could still see on the horizon. They appeared to be heading in the opposite direction, back to the Sky Kingdom, having defected from the academy in their undying loyalty to their leader. It was possible that Quartz had instructed them to do so, to maybe gather any additional support they could find and then join up with him later on. Watching the twisting forms of the SkyWings, he knew he would never be able to catch up with them either. It was a hopeless situation, so he just continued to sweep the ground below for any signs of the runaway instead. 
The sun was setting now, sending cascading rays through the forested foothills and orchards. Every glimmer of red reminded him of Quartz’s terrible eyes, glowing with pure hatred at the terrified form of Anadrom. The realization hit him as bluntly as a mallet, causing shame and worry to rise through his already upsetting emotions. I should have gone back already and tried to make her feel better. By the moons, what exactly is wrong with me? Why am I so incapable of understanding how to perform basic acts of empathy? This was all he was capable of, apparently. Violent defense, simple and uncaring. Mistrusting his new wingmate, being cold to her at every turn. It didn’t matter that he had fought to protect her. It wasn’t enough, not really, especially since she was actually invincible. He was choosing the bare minimum of necessary engagement, acting more like a soldier than a friend. And despite that, she still wanted to cure me. 
A shout from below jolted him back to his surroundings, and he turned his head to find a crowd of students rushing towards a lake right on the edge of the Academy’s territory. Quartz couldn’t be there, he knew, for it was in the wrong direction. Soaring down, he tried to listen to what the students and teachers were saying.
“Who could that be?”
“-trauma, severe dehydration, loss of blood-”
“Quick, we need to bring him up to the medical room!”
There was a SeaWing body lying still beside a dingy pool of water, surrounded by worried dragons and a patch of bloodstained dirt. Crevasse dropped down for a closer look. The injured party was clearly a dragonet, roughly the same size as Anadorm, and bore bioluminescent scales that were flickering in odd patterns. None of the symbols being formed were actual words. Upon the forearms of the dragonet were winding spirals of topaz stones, an unique jewelry choice that showed he must be the son of an important SeaWing official. The medicines that he had read about ran through his mind - Firelight Kelp was best for SeaWing surface wounds, Heatherwood Mint for calming inflammation - and he echoed the words of his fellow students. “He needs to be brought to the healers at once!”
“Yes,” Clay agreed, stepping forward from the gathered mass. “Can you help me lift him?” He was referring to Crevasse, and in a moment the two of them were carrying the injured dragonet back towards the academy, flanked by watchful teachers and worried students that hovered below in case they dropped the precious cargo. Luckily the SeaWing wasn’t particularly heavy, and while his blood-drenched scales were slippery, the Mark-3 was able to keep a steady grip. Blinking back spots from his own eyes, Crevasse continually saw his own features upon the dragonet’s snout, wondering if he had appeared this close to death when the medics had found him back at his village.
It was a difficult landing, but they did their best to keep the SeaWing from jarring as they slid into the academy. Clay very carefully wound one of his wings under the dragonet and, moving with Crevasse’s assistance, brought him slowly down the office tunnel. In short order they reached the medical room, a chamber well-lit by the cooler earthly colors and bearing a live fern floor. Various knitted beds and hammocks were hung from the ceiling by vines with soothing-smelling flowers in light pastels, and a river swept calmly by in the corner with little bubbling waves of white foam. The brother of Queen Glory, Jambu the RainWing, stood arranging bottles in the corner and tending to a sloth that Quartz had injured the day prior.
“Oh, my,” he blinked, staring at the battered form of the SeaWing dragonet. “What happened? That’s not a student, is it?”
“I don’t think so,” Clay replied, laying him on one of the hanging beds. “We found him laying out on the border. Yikes, I hope he’ll be okay. This seems very bad.”
“He’ll be just fine under my care,” Jambu announced, as his scales turned a bit white and green in contrast to his words. “Erm - let’s see - Firelight Kelp, I believe, for SeaWings…ah, here it is. Alright, everyone out! Close the vines behind you.”
“What about Anadrom’s scroll?” Crevasse asked. “If he’s about to die - shouldn’t we write his name on that instead?”
“Oh,” Jambu brightened. “I had forgotten about that. That’d be a lot safer.”
“No!”
The SeaWing had just spoken, starling all of them greatly. Crevasse’s heart was racing a mile a minute, and he watched in wonder as the patient began to stir. His voice was gravelly and hoarse from dehydration, feverish in its intensity, and his tail was lashing the ground below him. “Not - magic -” he hissed, his words barely perceptible. “We came to stop it - stop it all - she can’t do - all those good things - they’ll know! Stop! Don’t let Anadrom - her magic - on me. Anyone! They’ll see her and they’ll come here and death will come with them and then there will be no more death because there will be no one left to die -”
“Alright,” Jambu said, rather alarmed. “Just calm down, if you can. And try to stay still - you’ve lost a lot of blood. Here, I’m going to just give you this.” He touched a leaf to one of the open wounds of the dragonet, and in a moment his struggles returned to a state of unconsciousness. “Everyone out now! Close the vines please!”
He ushered them out, leaving Crevasse with the SeaWing’s words rattling in his skull. Today was overwhelming his mind, images of Quartz hissing with red eyes overlapping with the disappointed expression of Solstice and the crumpled form of the SeaWing. What did it all mean? Treachery was underfoot, and beyond it a looming darkness the likes of which he could only begin to imagine. Back on the stage when she provided her story to everyone, Anadrom had told them that Nocturne had visions of Pyrrhia being destroyed entirely by some unknown force. They’ll know. Could the strange SeaWing be referring to the mysterious presence that threatened them all?
Something else connected in his mind, and he swirled about for a last look at the dragonet before the vine door to the medical room slammed shut. Those topaz spirals on a SeaWing - could this be Abyss, the dragonet in which Anadrom had confided only to have him betray her and endanger her father? And who was last known to be traveling with Nocturne herself, heading towards the academy? They must have been attacked on their journey; but where’s the princess of the RainWings and NightWings now? Dead, or kidnapped? Only one organization could be behind such a terrible and cruel assault - the Loyalist Force. What were the chances of discovering a survivor of a Loyalist ambush while searching for a student that had run off to join them? 
“They’ll come here,” someone whispered in front of him, and coming back to reality he saw the glowing form of Anadorm standing stock-still in the hallway. She dropped the scroll she had been holding, and in the silence of the hall it fell with a resounding clank against the stone floor. In a moment Solstice had picked it up and was leading her out from the staring crowd that had followed Abyss to the medical room, Tamandua at his side. This was his chance to actually support her for once - but what could he say? 
They were inside her sleeping-cave in a moment, which was cleaner than Crevasse had ever seen it before. Millpond had removed all of the berries and litter he had generated in working through the nights on his sculptures, and the artwork was hanging in neat rows from perfectly straight shelves leveraged against the walls. Besides Anadrom’s sleeping-ledge was a sculpture of her that the MudWing had carved, hung with a string of glowing little lights that very accurately reflected her current luminescence. In a corner, Millpond was diligently working on a wooden block, but as they walked in he quickly put it down. “What’s happened? Are you okay?”
Anadrom soundlessly perched herself upon her ledge, her eyes flickering as her mind reeled through a hundred thoughts a second. Her scales cast off a brilliant light now, growing stronger by the minute, and Crevasse wondered what exactly would happen when they reached their maximum potential. Her talons were sending up sparks from contact with the stone below, hissing in a bizarre manner.
“What have I done?” she asked at last, her voice breaking in sparks and underscored by a buzzing like that of an electric eel. Her wings were drawn nervously about her body and her talons were curled, as if she were trying to shrink away from all the problems of the hostile world. “I’ve only tried to be helpful. Why - should I not be - ” She sniffled for a moment, then murmured another quote from Quartz. “‘monstrous.’ And what - Abyss is hurt - are we all going to die?”
“No,” Solstice said, reaching out to take her talons in his and wincing as what appeared to be a slight electrical current moved through him. “Anadrom, I don’t know what is happening out there, but it’s not because of you. Whatever he was talking about, you’re against them. You’re helping us all.”
“Estuary died to that statue,” Anadrom said, her scales glowing in a sudden burst as bright as sunlight. Solstice moved back as sparks began to flow off of more of her scales and the stone below her began to smolder and deform. “I should have never let that happen. I did my best and it wasn’t enough to save her. How am I supposed to save everyone? He said they would know. The - the ones who will bring an end to Pyrrhia - who I will fail to stop.”
“I’m sorry for what he said, Crevasse,” she said, referring back to Quartz, as her eyes shifted from their SeaWing blue to a pure brilliant silver. “Just for standing up for me, he was so terrible to you. I’m more - more trouble than I’m worth. I’ve put you all under attack.” 
“No,” he sputtered. “No, Anadrom, I choose my battles. You’d know if I had put an effort in to tell you.” He had to tell her that his bitterness stemmed not from her status as an animus but rather her friendship with Solstice, but found it incredibly difficult to do so. The prospect of there will be no more death because there will be no one left to die seemed a great deal more dire right now, but Anadrom’s dismay was transforming her into some ancient form and this was about the only way he had to alleviate some of her anxiety.
Shame rose on his snout, warming his few remaining intact scales, and he blurted it out. “I wasn’t avoiding you because of the magic - it’s just that you and Solstice are close - spending a lot of time together - and I worried he’d stop wanting to be around me.” The Sandy-NightWing looked gratifyingly shocked while he continued softly. “I refused your healing because then his prosthetics wouldn’t be necessary and all his work would be for nothing. It’s nothing that you’ve done. I’m the one to blame for selfishness.”
“Crevasse,” Solstice blinked, worrying his talons together, “There is no conceivable future in which I forsake you.”
“I didn’t want to - er - I’m sorry, I didn’t even know,” Anadrom said. Crevasse saw with relief that her scales dropped the intensity of their glow down a few levels of light as she started to consider this far more mundane problem.
“No,” Crevasse pressed on. “I invented it all. It’s all paranoia. I should have been a friend to you, like Tamandua and Solstice and everyone else whose head is screwed on right. If you’ll give me the chance, I would like to try again.”
“I am also all of your friends,” Millpond offered, sounding slightly left out.
“Of course,” Anadrom answered, her eyes shifting back into their SeaWing form and fixing him with an amiable gaze. Then she frowned, looking down at her smoldering, sparking talons and the twisted stone below them. “I - er - just worry about all of you. About anyone being around me. If I made a mistake - and it seems like everyone thinks I will - then some dreadful thing comes down. I might have messed up already. Abyss was saying, ‘she can’t do all those good things.’ How could they be bad? It must be draining my soul, no matter what the other spells say. I might be - er - only a few spells off from - from…” At that, she was crying silently, her tears silver droplets that splashed with an acidic hiss on the rock below her.
“Nothing,” Solstice said, his voice breaking a little. “Impossible, completely and irrefutably, not with all of the preventative measures you put in place. All available data supports that they are working. I swear, Anadrom, you know what you are doing! You’re too smart to accidentally doom the world.”
“Everything’s all good now,” Millpond added. “We’re safe here.”
“I need to stop - er - requiring so much attention,” the LostWing said at last, looking just slightly less gloomy and downcast. “You are really the best set of friends I could have ever asked for.” She gave them all a small smile, at which Solstice looked particularly pleased, and then considered the scroll that she had dropped back by the medical room. “There’s no way I could face all of this - er - without you. Without the Amber Winglet. I - I considered hiding in the ocean, in the depths where I could never be found. If you all weren’t here to - to say these things - to be this kind and thoughtful - I might very well have just left for there.”
“That would have been a great loss for the members of the academy,” Tamandua told her. “We’re all glad you’re staying.”
Chapter 5
They spent the rest of the evening in the art room of the academy, the scents of crushed berries within various dyes mingling with the lighter fragrances of fresh canvas and silk. Light poured in through the open window, upon which Mightyclaws had recently used his granted magical ability to attach swirling stained-glass shutters. It was calming in every way, and as Crevasse drew an aimless portrait of a medic, he found that his thoughts were finally able to arrange themselves back into order. He considered the actions of Quartz, realizing that he likely should have expected such behavior from the bully. It was no great shock that he would combine his thirst for power and his royal status into a strong support of the Loyalists. It was unfortunate that Anadrom had to be involved in his final exodus - but perhaps he had been waiting for such an opportunity, a chance to make a dramatic exit while causing as much turmoil in the academy as possible.
He hoped that Abyss would make a swift recovery, and marveled at his having survived the substantial injuries he had received. There had been no further ominous messages from the patient, incoherent or otherwise, so very little information about his attackers was known. Yet Crevasse knew that the Loyalist Force had to somehow be involved in this as well - for who else would have kidnapped Nocturne, the heir to Queen Glory’s throne? Facing the wrath of an entire kingdom was something no individual or organization would dare to do but the dreaded Loyalists.
While his mind had wandered down these paths, his talons had begun sketching the features of Kittiwake onto his page. A pang ran through his heart and he carefully folded the canvas inward to hide the image, sliding it into a wastebasket set beside the door. He couldn’t bear to be further reminded of how she’d never be at the academy with him. To distract himself, he glanced at the images his peers had created. Solstice was drawing a blueprint for a new fabrication machine within his workshop, apparently with the purpose of stamping metallic forms out of sheets, while Tamandua had drawn her father working on a new scroll. Millpond was working through practice sketches on shading, and Anadrom was drawing another of the leviathan sea-creatures she had doubtless encountered in the oceans, this one bearing a flurry of legs upon an elongated snake body ending in an antenna-dotted head.
While he took a second look at the drawing of Turtle, wishing he could have trusted Anadrom from the start as much as the renown prince had, the physical SeaWing poked his snout into the art room. “Hello,” he smiled, then reached down and hugged Tamandua as she ran over to him. “My dearest daughter, how have you been?”
“Turtle!” she said, grinning up at him. “Queen Thorn gave a presentation to the academy a few days back on her concepts of democracy and it was amazing! I can see why Qibli is so loyal to her; she seems to be a fantastic queen. Where have you been? What did they need you for in the Kingdom of the Sea this time?”
“Queen Coral is constructing a new library within the rebuilt Summer Palace,” Turtle answered. “She wanted my opinion on the layout - which was very generous of her - and to generally assist in finalizing the design. By the way, Anadrom, everyone has officially accepted the structure now and the Queen is holding her court sessions there for the season. She asked me to send her profound thanks and apologies to you, and to offer you a status as the Court Animus. Which - you know - there is no requirement for you to actually accept.”
“Oh,” Anadrom nodded, looking simultaneously gladdened and taken aback. “I - of course, I’m most obliged to Her Majesty for the offer - but my place is at the academy for - er - the time being. If that’s all right?”
“It is,” Turtle replied. “I told her you likely wouldn’t want to be in such a role, with all the attention of the royal court and citizenry. Just a moment - returning to what you just said, dear Tamandua. Queen Thorn gave a presentation here at the academy? In person? I had no idea she would be attending - we haven’t actually had a queen as a lecturer before. Wow.”
“No, not quite in person,” Tamandua clarified. “There are these waterfalls that Androm enchanted to display any guest speaker from anywhere on Pyrrhia, with the granted permission of one of the school leaders. We could see and hear Her SandWing Majesty as if she were here!”
“Fascinating,” the SeaWing prince murmured. “We’ll put that to good use, I’m certain. Yes, Queen Thorn is an excellent first choice, isn’t she? Under her rule, the SandWing kingdom has been more stable and peaceful than it has been for centuries - especially recently. Did anything else occur while I was away?”
“There were some tragedies,” Crevasse spoke up from the back of the room when nobody else seemed willing to break the news. “The missing SeaWing Abyss was found injured not far from the border of the school’s territory, within an inch of his life. Jambu is treating him now, but he refused to -”
“He didn’t want my magic used on him,” Anadrom finished, her perpetually worried look deepening. “From what he was able to tell us - er - he and Nocturne were traveling here to warn me against - er - any use of my magic. Abyss alluded to them, the force that seems to be threatening Pyrrhia. And we still don’t know where Nocturne is.”
“In addition,” Solstice added, “The dreadful Quartz has removed his presence from this academy in favor of a position within the ranks of the despicable Loyalist Force.”
“You cannot be serious,” Turtle blinked, his snout wrinkling at the upsetting news. “I was gone for what, a couple of days, and all that happens here? Are there more details than that? Is everyone else alright? Quartz - he really - what a traitor!”
They provided the SeaWing with the entire story of the afternoon and as they finished he began pacing about thoughtfully. His ink-stained talons drummed the floor as he pivoted, while his metal armband with three missing skyfire stones flashed in the early starlight. “What a mess,” he announced after a moment. “Anadrom, I’m certain your clawmates have already said the same, but I’m so sorry you had to go through that. Quartz has never been a pleasant dragon - in fact, half of the reason Queen Ruby sent him here was to get him out of her sight for a while. Still, I never thought he could join those - those treacherous Loyalist villains! Has anyone tried to dreamvisit him or Nocturne? We have given out those gems to most students as part of the attendance package for quite a while now.”
“I’m not certain,” Solstice replied. “Though it seems most probable that Queen Glory or Qibli would have attempted such by now, and if they achieved anything they have yet to inform us of it.”
“I would have tried,” Anadrom offered, “Except I haven’t been given a dreamvisitor yet. Maybe someone thought I could just - er - make my own - but I could try tonight? If you have a spare?”
“I’ll drop one off at your sleeping-quarters as soon as I can,” Turtle promised, although his mind appeared to be elsewhere. “I’ll have to be off now; I need to hear what Qibli thinks of this entire situation. Them - hmm. I wonder if Moonwatcher’s visions are any more detailed by now. Alright, Anadrom, you try the dreamvisiting and I’ll gather information otherwise, and we can talk about our results tomorrow. Yes, Tamandua, you can certainly come along with me. Good night!”
With that the prince and his daughter vanished down the corridor, talking in low voices to each other, while everyone else began packing up their artwork. It was late now and they all needed the rest after such a trying day. Which made Crevasse wonder about Paradox’s adhesion to sleeping, and then about Paradox in general. Where had he been all day? Through his promise to be a better friend to Anadrom, Crevasse had lost all interest in checking the spell-scroll, but the NightWing might not have reached the same conclusion. 
He and Solstice broke off from the others halfway down the hall, turning into a smaller tunnel leading down towards their shared cave with Paradox. Silence fell between them, but it was neither uncomfortable nor unfriendly; rather, it felt like the calm promise of moonlight waves. Solstice was the first to speak, his voice lower than usual. “Crevasse, I am very glad that you told us how you were feeling today. I never will leave your side, under any circumstances: I promise it a hundred-fold. Anadrom’s a great friend and I think you’ll be glad to know her too.”
“Well, I think you love her,” Crevasse teased, at which Solstice looked suddenly embarrassed before swatting at him with his non-venomous tail. “You two are a great match.”
“This is-,” the Sandy-NightWing coughed, looking flustered. “I - will - neither confirm nor deny your - er - statement. Erm - you’ll be - I -”
“And on a more serious note,” Crevasse began, to let Solstice get out of that, “I’m so very sorry about what Paradox said. I wasn’t thinking along those lines - but I would be lying if I said that I had not suspected him for a moment. But I’m certain now that nothing sinister is afoot. Qibli is entirely innocent and he would never do something like this. Never.”
“You’re being honest,” Solstice mused, looking directly into his eyes. “I understand - I doubted everything for a moment as well, only not quite as far as Paradox did. Everything seems too good to be true, I suppose, and my mind decided to hold that over me. Yet I still think that as soon as we step into the cave Paradox is going to show us the scroll? He’s been missing all day and I can’t imagine what else he’d be up to.”
“Yeah. It’ll be quick,” Crevasse replied, and they turned the corner into their cave. A soft spot of firelight danced within a single white globe overhead, casting shadows as twisting dancers about the cavern. Through the flickers of flame, the scales of their NightWing clawmate could be briefly seen upon his ledge, and in a moment after they arrived he rose and stretched. Without a word, he moved past them to investigate the corridors beyond. Apparently finding everything to be quiet outside, he turned back to them and ushered them to the far side of the cave.
“Evening, my dear clawmates,” he greeted them, his eyes shining with sharp pride. “I bring excellent news. This was my most successful operation yet, as covert as it had to be.”
“The scroll?” Crevasse and Solstice asked in unison.
“Nothing less!” Paradox smiled, and drew the wrapped piece of parchment from inside of his pouch. “While Quartz was causing a scene, I rushed off to Qibli’s office - but! The scroll was not stored anywhere within!” He continued as steadily as if he was reaching a speech off of a scroll before him. “It was upon the dragon in question. Just as Quartz was taking off, I sliced the cord of Qibli’s pouch and ducked it out of sight. Not a soul saw, and before he could notice himself, I was already down the corridor. I’ll plant it right outside the cave tomorrow, to give the impression that it simply fell off as he pursued Quartz.”
All three of them glanced over the scroll now, sitting innocently in its neatly-tied ribbon on the desk before them. The record of everything Anadrom had ever done, at her own hand or under the influence of Qibli, was all reported and stored here. Such promise and wonder was invested in the artifact - Crevasse almost dreaded to open it lest a plague of bats or some other malady fell upon them. This was absurd, he knew, for neither the LostWing or their music teacher would invent such a thing; and yet the feeling remained.
“He’s innocent,” the NightWing finally announced, a rare smile forming on his gaunt features. At the words the last remnants of the creature within Crevasse’s chest gave a half-hearted sigh and slinked entirely away. “See for yourselves.” At his behest, both of them turned to read the scroll, eyes darting over the looping letters all in Qibli’s strong penmanship. 
It was more transparent than they could have ever hoped; for at the very top of the page ran the lines, “I, Qibli the SandWing, hereby state that every character printed upon this document and any of its likeness will be entirely visible and comprehensible to all other readers, regardless of any alterations made below by the hand of any magical force. If conditions ever arise in contrast to this promise, this document will begin smoking at the corners until the description is made apparent.” Winter must have insisted that he write that, to prevent any misuse of the power they were anticipating to be in their presence in short order. 
The rest of the document was composed of various bulleted spells, beginning with the healing of Eelgrass and ending in the most recent allocation of high-altitude flight to Lilypad. Not once were any sinister intentions by the music teacher revealed (although Crevasse shuddered as he read through some of the section in which the animus had been under Estuary’s control), and never once was any magical alteration made to Anadrom’s state of mind. A second scroll had been attached to the first with a spiraling paperclip, with some odd spells granting Anadrom power over the unknown force of them and making all Informaband-wearers undetectable to their minds, but held no evidence of manipulation upon it either. There were no horrible hidden spells, no shocking secrets, absolutely nothing terrible at all.
“She’s clear,” Crevasse wheezed finally, sitting down on his ledge. “I knew she was. Have you told Ocotillo already? By the everpresent light of the blistering moons, I feel terrible for not trusting her.”
“I have informed her father,” the detective replied. “His reaction was similar, if you were wondering. I believe he’ll talk to her about it tomorrow at some point. Now, moving forward, I will be accepting her offered spell if it still holds after the warnings of Abyss.”
“Did you ever consider the slate?” Solstice murmured from his own ledge. “The one she placed in the library, that can provide the user with past or present information?” Without waiting for an answer, he continued, “I asked it all manner of questions last night. From the responses, I knew that her mind was her own.”
Why hadn’t I thought of that? Crevasse wondered. The lack of sleep had really been slowing down the workings of his mind. Tonight, at least, he would finally be able to rest at peace with the world. And tomorrow - tomorrow held the promise of real friendship with an amazing dragonet, and all the wonders that brought about.
“The brilliance of dragons,” he murmured sleepily, and that was the last any of them said that evening. As the inverse to the mantra of the Darkstalker within the Jade Mountain Prophecy, the statement just felt right in every way. Their animus was truly the opposite of the villain, noble and humble rather than treacherous and vain; and even her scales glowed in light rather than shade.
At the ring of the gongs upon the next morning he rose from bed at once, and through all of their classes that day he was alert and attentive. Peregrine tackled him with fruit again in the hunting session, and Solstice chatted by his side on a new invention concept for an automated greenhouse, while Anadrom listened brightly nearby and offered occasional ideas. He worked with the two of them that night to catch up on all of his missing work, and learned that Anadrom was quite a good student in her own right. The only significant point of deviation from this new normal was the brief visit of Turtle, in which he reported that nothing new had arisen in the case of Abyss and in which Anadrom told them that she had been unable to reach either of the two travelers with her dreamvisitor. 
Later in the evening, Paradox came by to request his spell for the canceling of his need for any sleep or consumption of food. “I don’t know,” Anadrom had said, twisting her talons together nervously. “I would in a moment, and - er I know I offered to before - but after what Abyss was able to say, it seems - er - rather dangerous?”
“Ah, I see,” the NightWing had replied, looking somewhat downcast, and he turned to move away. The animus looked after him with a saddened expression on her snout.
“I -” she sighed. “I just can’t - er - risk anything happening until I know what Abyss was trying to prevent. Paradox really does want that spell, and I feel terrible not doing it - especially since I offered it in the first place - but it’s better to wait and be safe, right? I only have one exception so far - er - and that’s going to be continuing to heal any dragon within the letters. They might not have the ability to wait for things to be clarified.”
“Entirely responsible of you,” Solstice had concluded, and that was all they spoke of on that subject for the evening. Jambu was still busy treating Abyss and refused to allow any visitors into the medical room yet, but he had reported to the school leaders earlier in the day that he was hopeful of a full recovery. There had been significant damage dealt to the back of the dragonet, as if he had fallen from the sky in the worst possible manner, but luckily his spine had remained intact. The medical room was well-stocked with the required equipment, and Jambu was a capable doctor with his RainWing medical knowledge, so all they could really do was to wait.
They waited for the recovery of the SeaWing; for news on the situation of Quartz; for a report on the location of Nocturne; and most apprehensively for any signs that the unknown force threatening Pyrrhia was about to strike. There were so many things to worry about, so many dangers the world was facing, but life continued on regardless. Their classes pressed onwards, with another presentation on the waterfalls being held at the end of the week, this time being hosted by Queen Coral. The SeaWing queen was quite different in her messages than Queen Thorn had been, promoting her concepts of strict divisions between commoners and nobility, but made points on the necessity of public literacy and education. Supposedly, between those two monarchs and Queen Glory, Pyrrhia was under the greatest leadership it had been in for centuries. He was very lucky to be alive in this progressive time, at the first peaceful conjuncture of the tribes after millenia of constant warfare.
For only in such peacetime would he have been able to hold such excellent friendships with Solstice and Anadrom, and every day he thanked the stars for such an opportunity. He was drawing ever closer to the both of them now, having completely overcome his worries about accepting Anadrom into their group. They were nearly together at all times, researching in the library and aiding each other's efforts in their homework, or just out flying in the warm afternoons and talking together. Anadrom could understand Solstice’s mechanical descriptions and reasonings as well as he could, and occasionally offered new ideas to the inventor that were brilliant enough to actually work. She told thrilling stories on her experiences with sea leviathans in the Kingdom of the Sea, and on very rare occasions, she filled them in on some more details on her time as the prisoner of Estuary. 
Soon he was able to talk to her just as easily as he did with Solstice, and his relationship with the Sandy-NightWing did not deteriorate in the slightest as a result. The two of them retained the sib-like bond they had held since their first days together at the academy. There were still times where the inventor would take just Crevasse down into the secret laboratory (although he did tell Anadorm of its whereabouts and give her a tour), and one day he presented Crevasse with a revamped wing-patch system to assist in his flight. Just like the Mark-3, the new system was lighter than ever before and as responsive as living tissue, allowing him to be able to fly at speeds close to that of an ordinary SkyWing for the first time since his very early childhood.
The inventor and the animus seemed to fall closer in affection with every passing day, their smiles in each other’s company nearly lighting up the room. Whenever she was around Solstice, the LostWing glowed a more gentle shade of reddish-white light, casting an azalea aura about herself, and all traces of her usual worry vanished into thin air. Crevasse knew it was only a matter of time before one of them asked the other to become their official date. It did often cause him to remember his own love for Kittiwake, and he wished that she could be here with him now more than ever.
The lovely SkyWing had been a fellow patient at Doctor Whimbrel’s private hospital, suffering from a rare condition that had resulted in the loss of her wing-membranes, leaving her unable to fly at all. If Solstice had been there at the time, he could surely have developed a patch of some sort to fit between her intact remaining wing structures, but he hadn’t been. Crevasse had never flown once around her, sharing in her experience entirely.
She had approached him on her first day, as the only other patient of about her age, and instantly befriended him. Kittiwake asked him every conceivable question except for those related to his injuries (a clause she soon extended to his parents after learning of their betrayal), and offered up information about herself without a worry. She was kind-hearted and sweet, helping the other patients to move around if they needed assistance, completing all sorts of chores for the perpetually busy doctor without his having asked her, and even performing a catch-and-release operation one time on a scavenger that had accidentally wandered into the building and become trapped in an office. Then there was her singing: with a voice as melodious as the ringing of wind-chimes, she had performed ballads for everyone at the hospital. 
Crevasse had emerged from a shell of solitude to be with her, the amazing dragonet that she was, and they became closer than friends as time wore on. Soon he had learned to play a stringed instrument in tune with her songs, trying to pour as much heart into his music as she did into hers. There had been exchanges of little gifts; precious sea-shells and even small pearls from the sandy beaches beyond, carved figurines of wood with polished stones for eyes, and a garden of rare plants they tended to together. Doctor Whimbrel had bought exotic seeds for them, considering the practice of gardening to be very healthy for young minds, and before long they were growing medicines that he could actually use in ointments for other patients. Those had been the best days of Crevasse’s life, singing with his soulmate under the watchful eye of the good doctor, feeling as if he had found the family he never knew he had been lacking.
Then everything went downhill, as it always seemed to for him. There had been a patient admitted from the Kingdom of the Sea with a curious growth upon their scales, apparently eating away their flesh and turning it into noxious gasses. The case had been one of the first known instances of the Scaleating Virus. Doctor Whimbrel did everything right in treating the patient - placing them in isolation, providing specialized treatment with protective gloves - but the disease was too infectious to be contained in such manners. He had contracted it, his white scales disappearing behind veils of pulsating black growths, and at the same time several other cases had broken out. Including upon Crevasse and Kittiwake.
He had survived, while she had not. The doctor passed away a few days after her, working until his end to find a cure for his beloved patients. There had been a statue made in the Ice Kingdom in his honor, Crevasse had been told, and he knew that the practitioner certainly deserved it. After that, he had once again been entirely lost in the world, with no one to turn to and not a sole acquaintance to support him. Queen Ruby had sent him off to the academy once the virus was cured and he had made a full recovery, telling him that she was certain he could find his footing again there. 
He missed Kittiwake greatly, constantly wishing that he could somehow see her again and share another song, spend another conversation lost in her eyes. All he could hope was that upon the date of his own passing, whenever that might be, his spirit would be released into a world with hers; or that he would find her reincarnation in his next life. If anything was going to work out for him in this universe, he would eventually see her again. He knew it with a certainty that his mind could never deny, a conviction so absolute that his consciousness had decided to accept it as fact.
For all this, he vowed to protect Solstice and Anadrom from all iterations of future harm. He strived to prevent a similar tragedy from befalling his companions. He had insisted that Anadrom allowed him to check over her mail, especially after she had mentioned having once received a decreased dragonbite viper, of all things, hidden in an unmarked package. While her enchantments protected her from all physical harm, he knew that poisons were still effective upon her; for there was her terrible experience with RainWing sleep-darts as a prisoner in the Kingdom of the Sea. Correspondingly, he managed to acquire an Informaband for Solstice with Turtle’s permitted use of his magic doubling-bowl. Their teachers were handing out the precious devices to most of the students now anyways, strictly imposing upon them the necessity to use the included invisibility spell only under proper circumstances. 
Her magic under review from the experience with Abyss, the LostWing hadn’t completed a single new enchantment in days; and for similar reasons had not modified the Informabands to make them more acceptable for public use. She was somewhat worried about having any dragon who got their hands upon the devices being able to completely camouflage themselves, but her concern about the upcoming destruction of Pyrrhia triumphed, so the distribution had been allowed to occur. The apparent apprenticeship of the LostWing under Qibli had been postponed for the time being as well; although, on that matter, her parents had officially apologized for their suspicions to a slightly alarmed Qibli. The SandWing was quite disappointed that such evil could be thought of him, especially since he had in actuality acted to prevent such things in the case of the Darkstalker. His classes had been slightly flat recently, his notes duller and quieter than usual, and his songs trending towards the melancholy. They had all tried to cheer him up recently with limited success in their efforts.
Things were surprisingly normal, on the whole. The weather remained pleasant, news from other kingdoms consisted entirely of the positive, and the general mood at the academy was one of happy enthusiasm. With Quartz gone, there was no longer a fearful presence looming over the other students at every waking moment, and so chatter was more boisterous and free. For the first time, Crevasse was really able to appreciate how Anadrom’s arrival at the academy had been for the benefit of them all. Her benevolent enchantments had uplifted the spirits of all souls inside, especially the teachers; Sunny and Clay looked less worried all the time now due to her protection spells, and Jambu was quite appreciative of no longer having to treat accidental venom and stab wounds. If it wasn’t for the lurking darkness represented by the still-unconscious form of Abyss, then Pyrrhia would have seemed entirely at peace. 
Even he forgot on occasion that anything was wrong at all. He had a suspicion that the time of prosperity and rest wouldn’t last, that darker times were ahead, but for the moment he was content to simply live his life alongside his two incredible best friends.
~ Part Two ~
Chapter 6
“Crevasse, grace those of us in the waking world with your enlightened presence!”
“Hrmp,” he muttered, sleepily tossing his blanket toward the voice. “Good morning, Solstice. Why is it so early today? If the academy’s not on fire, please just let me sleep.” In the background he heard Paradox laughing quietly before emitting a small flame with a low hiss.
“There you go,” the detective said dryly. “It’s now on fire.”
“No.”
“We’re all dying in a horrible blaze. Ah, the pain is tremendous. What a fire this is.”
Crevasse grudgingly raised his head to blink blearily up at them. Their sleeping-cave was still dark, with the lights in the corridor having not yet been lit as they were at the start of every day. “Swirling depths of the sky - what time is it?”
“This is a most disagreeable hour, I’ll admit,” Solstice said. “Yet we have an excellent reason for waking you. My very good friend, do you not recall what today is?”
“No?” Crevasse tried, wondering exactly what was happening.
“It’s your hatching day!” Paradox announced, and Crevasse finally committed to fully waking up. Raising himself from his sleeping-ledge, he glanced about at his two energetic clawmates and smiled at their enthusiasm. “Congratulations, you are now eight years of age,” the NightWing informed him. “Or did you forget that as well?”
“Happy Hatching-Day!” Solstice beamed. 
“Thank you,” Crevasse returned, looking down at his arms and examining his talons. “How impressive of me to have made it this far.”
“Being the superb clawmates that we are,” Paradox continued, “We decided to hold a celebration on your behalf before classes start. Just like last year. The others will be here shortly. We set aside a dozen minutes or so to account for waking you up.”
Solstice examined one of the instruments wrapped around his arm and declared, “We’ve made excellent time: just under four minutes this time around.”
“Eight years old,” Crevasse repeated. “This ought to be exciting.”
The rest of their winglet arrived a few minutes earlier than expected, all with wrapped packages of one sort or another. There was an abundance of ‘happy hatching-days’, and a good deal of cheerful talk for a quarter of an hour. While they were careful to keep quiet so as to avoid waking the students in nearby caves, their smiles were especially bright that morning. Crevasse was touched that all of them had sacrificed their sleep to attend this surprise celebration, even Peregrine, who typically couldn’t be bothered before the start-of-class gongs dragged her out of sleep.
“Alright,” Millpond eventually interrupted, glancing at the clock Solstice had installed over his sleeping-ledge. “Time for you to open your presents now.”
“Me first!” Peregrine announced, sweeping her glacier-hued form in front of everyone else and pushing her package into his talons. “It’s not a prank again this year, I swear. Not entirely.”
“I find that vaguely concerning,” he replied with a smile, opening the package at a slight angle from his face. “Ah, yes, a significant amount of worms. Quite the variety as well. How - how did you even find this many?”
Peregrine was doubled over in laughter. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist! I swear I’m not that terrible - there’s another package inside. Although you will have to rummage in the worms to find it. No, no, I’m not joking this time, I promise.”
She beamed up at him with wide, forcefully innocent eyes, and with a sigh he cautiously reached into the container and stirred the worms about for a moment. There was actually another package buried within the withering mass. Drawing it out with a slow spiral to shake off some clinging worms, he held up a wooden box. It was fairly large with simple iron latches on one edge and hinges on the other. Carefully opening the lid, he found himself looking upon the visage of Doctor Whimbrel carved in stone.
Within the box was a marvelously realistic painting of the plaza within the Ice Kingdom where the statues of the heroic IceWing doctors that had fallen to the Scaleating Virus were found. The work was masterful, with perfect swirling whites of lightly falling snow, and soft patches of palest blues to complement the frames of the memorials. It was beautiful and otherworldly, seeing the monument made for the good doctor as clearly as if it stood before him, and Crevasse lost his breath for a moment. My goodness, it’s really out there. Doctor Whimbrel, remembered for all eternity for the greatness he performed in this world.
“Aw,” Peregrine smiled, reading his expression. “I’m glad you like it! This was from the traveling IceWing artists that passed by in Possibility a few months ago, when I was on short leave there. As soon as I saw the doctor’s memorial - well, I knew how much he meant to you. I thought it would be nice for you to have his picture.”
“Wow,” he stammered. “Peregrine, this is - this is going to be one of my most prized possessions. Thank you so very much! It’s just right.”
“Just doing my job,” the IceWing chirped back happily..
“That’s absolutely fantastic, Peregrine,” Tamandua said, gazing at the artwork. “Very thoughtful. You’ll have put the rest of our gifts to shame for certain.” Peregrine blushed at this, hints of sunrise red lighting up her pale scales, and quietly hummed a happy rhythm to herself.
Crevasse tore his eyes off of the painting, successfully mastering his emotions for the time being. The next gift was from Millpond and was a sculpture of Crevasse’s skirmish with Quartz. Millpond had accurately depicted the evil within the eyes of the bully, attaching little lights that smoldered in shades of bright red, and had depicted Crevasse with a heroic expression upon his scarred snout. He wondered if he had actually looked as noble in the moment as the sculpture displayed him to be, or if his clawmate had taken some artistic liberties. Once again, the quality of the MudWing’s work astonished him. There were so many minor details within the artwork that he never would have remembered to include himself - every patch upon his wings was present, and every scar twisting down his back and across his face was recreated in perfect detail.
He conveyed his wonder at this detail to Millpond. It was incredible that his clawmates were willing to do so much for him - and all expecting nothing in return. The gift-giving went on, with Tamandua providing copies of Turtle’s most recent and so far unpublished stories (with her father’s permission) and Paradox bestowing a hand-drawn map of Pyrrhia with the most recent information, which unfurled to fill nearly an entire wall of their cave. 
Solstice presented an entirely mechanical scavenger that would walk forwards when wound with a key sticking out of its back. As Crevasse was watching the movements of the machine in wonder, the Sandy-NightWing brought forth another cloaked device, which turned out to be a small square contraption capable of generating music all by itself. There were several tabs and cranks sticking out from the sides of the otherwise smooth rectangular surface, each of which when pressed would result in a different melody being played by the workings within. The inventor demonstrated this to all of them as they watched (and listened) in wonder, clicking down the first tab with a quick gesture of his talon and winding the crank located beside it. A musical piece as pure and melodic as any played within Qibli’s best classes emitted outwards from the contraption, perfect in timing and rhythm. The song was Crevasse’s personal favorite, a lively tune he had used to sing with Kittiwake, and he couldn't thank the Sandy-NightWing enough for it. 
Anadrom’s package was covered by a small silk cloth, which he carefully lifted away to find an array of herb specimens, all neatly labeled and held within ceramic pots. As his gaze glanced over the names of the plants in question, he could once again hardly believe what he was seeing. “Valorant Thyme,” he read aloud, “Feverfew, Temperate Allsage…and Shadowshround! That - that’s the single rarest herb on Pyrrhia! Anadrom, where did you find these?”
“I really just went out early, before the gongs,” she replied. “There were - er - descriptions of the plants and their locations in some of the library scrolls. I saw that you were reading the  medical catalog and wondered if you would want some living samples? Maybe? I was really just lucky with the Shadowshround - there was a patch growing right within a cave opening a few miles from here that I just was able to spot shining in the light of the sunrise. I’ve been watering it with heated water, like the - er - scrolls suggested.”
“It’s amazing,” Crevasse reassured her. “This is marvelous. Nearly every physical malady could be treated from a combination of these! A poultice of Shadowshround could be just what Abyss needs for his recovery. I’ll be sure to run some up to Jambu right away.”
As he attempted to thank everyone for the fifteenth time, the ringing of the earliest gongs filled the air, and his clawmates quickly wished him a final happy hatching-day before rushing off back to their caves to grab their school-pouches. His mind was whirling with total happiness and fondest memories of Kittiwake and the Doctor, brought upon by the music-box and painting. He was singing a marching-tune with Solstice as they headed off to class, Paradox in tow, feeling lighter and more at place in the world than he would have thought possible.
Their first class was actually music with Qibli, and to his relief their teacher seemed to have recovered from his previous gloom. Maybe Moonwatcher and Winter had managed to cheer him up in some way; but regardless of the cause, the SandWing was as lively as usual. “Greetings, everyone,” he announced, as the rest of his students filled in a few minutes later. The final gong went off, its sharp single note ringing through the corridors of the academy like an icy landslide. “To begin, I’ll wish a Happy Hatching-Day to Crevasse.” He played the brief Pyrrhian hatching-day song upon a harmonica, just as he did whenever a student had one within the academy, and Crevasse tried not to feel too embarrassed by it. “We have an exciting lesson planned for today. Queen Coral has generously provided our establishment with twenty new Keyimediums, an instrument invented by her court bard. I’ve set one beside each desk.”
The Keyimediums were composed of a series of hammers resting over numerous vertical webs of overlapping strings, all attached in turn to a central set of keys that could be played with one talon. At the very bottom of the board were three larger keys, the top two of which connected to mallets above shallow drums, while the lowest connected to a rod above a single cymbal. Qibli demonstrated how to properly hold the devices to them, and then showed which notes on the instruments translated to which markings in the scrolls of music they had been learning. The rest of the class was filled with overlapping and discordant notes as they attempted to learn how to play the new instruments, and Crevasse had a great time playing an IceWing ballad.
Peregrine in particular was able to master the new instrument, her talons flying over the upper keys as her tail struck the drum-keys in near-perfect rhythm. The IceWing seemed to have a natural inclination for the device, her eyes blazing with an inspired focus as she performed some of the most difficult songs they had learned. As they left the class, all talking happily together, the IceWing seemed particularly cheerful and kept glancing over at Tamandua, as if she was considering asking something of the RainWing/SeaWing only to think better of it and disregard the thought.
“You’re quite good at playing those,” Crevasse told her as they collectively walked down the corridors to their meeting-hall with Winter for the weekly group discussion.
“Hey, thanks,” Peregrine grinned. “I had one of those when I was growing up in Possibility, but I didn’t think to bring it to the academy with me. There was a MudWing veteran who lived just down the street and gave me free lessons. He was very peculiar about it, only ever playing in downpouring rain, but a brilliant musician! Never told anyone his name.”
“Interesting,” he replied. “It must have been very odd, growing up in such a diverse city. I’ve only ever seen life here and for a few years in a quant SkyWing village. The most interaction we had with other tribes was occasional visits from wandering SeaWing and MudWing trainers. Well, I suppose there were quite a lot of patients from other tribes at the hospital, but I wasn’t really there for very long.”
“Doctor Whimbrel is a legend in the Ice Kingdom,” she told him. “When my parents visited to ask Queen Snowfall to ask her to officially register me as an IceWing citizen - which she refused to do, as a matter of fact - they visited the plaza. It’s very close to the palace, and there are wreaths of holly and arctic willow laid at the feet of the statues in the summer months. They say that he treated over a hundred patients in his lifetime, and saved just as many lives.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” Crevasse admitted. “He was the single greatest dragon I have ever met. He really cared about everyone: you could see it in his eyes.”
“I hope the painting does him justice,” she smiled, and then they were entering the cave and moving over to their habitat-based seats. For the third time, Crevasse wondered exactly what ecosystem Anadrom would have preferred if she was in her true LostWing form; and yet at the moment she seemed entirely content within her small saltwater pool. She seemed to be frankly electrical when her scales glowed at their brightest - but what environment would facilitate such things? Everything about LostWings was so entirely foreign to him - to all of Pyrrhia - that he could not begin to imagine what the lives of the ancient dragons could have been like.
Winter was waiting for them upon his typical patch of ice, far more alert and awake than he had been for the first of these meetings they had had with Anadrom. The IceWing was far too regal in demeanor to congratulate anyone on hatching-days, but he tilted a slight nod specifically in Crevasse’s direction as they sat down. 
“Morning,” he announced in a tone devoid of emotion, his spiked tail resting in place without the slightest flicker of motion. “We arrive at the conclusion of another week, and while we have had a few exciting developments, I would presume that all of you are still doing well academically?”
“I’ve only fallen asleep in Web’s class twice this week,” Peregrine offered. “Three times less than usual.” There was a bit of varied laughter at this, and Winter nodded slightly.
“Alright. I’ll admit he can be a tad dull at times. Droning on about the terrible things that dragons have done in the past, one tragedy after the other. While I was a student here, that was not my personal favorite class. Yet I would have to discourage you from sleeping through his lessons. History repeats itself, and you never know when the information might be useful.”
“Like having to deal with a millenia-old nightmare monster back from the dead?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact,” Winter replied. “Moonwatcher was actually researching him while he was first talking to her in her mind. Shame she didn’t discover his dark side at that moment. That would have saved us a lot of trouble. Hmm. I suppose I should be offering you all a lesson here. Not paying attention in history leads to not knowing how to deal with resurrected monsters. There, I believe I’ve accomplished teaching. Sunny will be so proud.”
“I’ve certainly learned some sarcasm from you,” Peregrine smirked.
“Queen Glory and Tsunami set far better examples in that area,” their teacher mused, then shook his head slightly. “You’ve led me off track again, haven’t you? There was a purpose to this meeting that Sunny told me of. I’ll remember it in a moment. In the meantime, has anyone been emotionally devastated or otherwise wounded by the discovery of an injured dragonet near school property? Or by being attacked by Quartz at any time? I’m definitely supposed to check in on this and talk about it.”
No one replied at first, and then Anadrom spoke up in reply. “I’m - er - alright, for one. Quartz was really less evil than - Estuary - and it’s somewhat of a positive thing that he’s gone now. The fact that he joined the Loyalist Force is more worrying, actually. Erm - and Abyss warning us all that my magic shouldn’t be used wasn’t great. Actually, maybe things aren’t fine.”
“Loyalist Force,” Winter hissed, a proper venom in his voice. “I cannot stand them. Low-down, treacherous and despicable terrorizers of the civilized world. No, I certainly agree that it’s a tragedy that one of our students would even consider joining their ranks. But I have to admit that when I first arrived here, I was nearly a Loyalist myself in my mindset. The entire royal IceWing culture was based upon elevating our tribe above all others, and on always hating NightWings just on principle. I couldn’t stand Moonwatcher for the first few days simply for that. Nor any other dragon, really. But then as time passed, I saw how incredible they all were. How similar the tribes are within, no matter their external appearance. And now…and now Qibli is my closest friend, and Moonwatcher beside him, and I know Kinkajou and Turtle as some of the greatest heroes in the land. An united Pyrrhia is a stronger world, full of more civilized dragons, and to oppose such a movement forward shows a complete disrespect for all the progress we have made.”
“I wish we could bring them down,” Crevasse wheezed, recalling with a tad of fear his own experience with the dreadful organization. His scars twanged slightly.
“They’re very strong in IceWing culture,” Winter said. “Queen Snowfall has done the least to oppose their reign of terror out of all the tribe leaders. She thinks that IceWings are safer and better off in isolation from everyone else . I have been unable to convince her elsewise - ah, sorry. I’ve recalled what we were to talk about now. Queen Thorn asked Sunny to spread the word about the academy, and our renowned Dragonet of Destiny assigned the task in turn to me. The Kingdom of Sand is now officially a ‘democracy.’ The first in Pyrrhian history, as a matter of fact. There’s been a constitution drafted by Queen Thorn and her counselors, to which their new nation will have to abide at all times. Quite the opposite to Loyalists, really.”
“How does she expect that to work, exactly?” Paradox asked from his ledge, looking perplexed. “It’s - well, it’s entirely unprecedented, like you said. Will everyone respect the authority of whoever is elected? Will royal blood entirely cease to be significant? Her Majesty is breaking an millenia-long tradition of leadership.”
“There’ll be elections every year, I’ve been told,” Winter said. “Each citizen of four years or older receives a vote, to be cast at the palace itself. The highest office is set as Governor, which is admittedly right to the point, and then under them will be a counsel of dragons from various districts of the Kingdom. Which has been renamed the Sand Republic, as a matter of fact. The Governor is in charge of all military and foreign roles, but all laws and regulations on the citizenry have to be passed unanimously by the counsel. There’s still going to be a standing army of SandWings in the service of the government, so the nation will still be stable and able to prevent internal crime from rising.”
“Who can they vote for?” Anadrom asked. “Are there any requirements for the Governor or Counselors?”
“Let’s see…” Winter mused. “I believe they all have to be members of the SandWing tribe, for now - hybrids included - and have resided in the Republic for their entire lives, moving forward. Dangerous criminals and law-breakers will not be allowed to run for any position in the government. Hmm - what else? Ah. They have to prove their willingness to be a good and fair leader, by swearing to abide by the new constitution, and accepting a sentence of death for treason if they violate it.”
“So,” Peregrine began, “Does this mean that a king - or a male Governor - could be put in charge of the kingdom? Republic?”
Winter opened his snout, then thought for a moment. “I am not certain, actually. That is a very good point. There’s never been a male leader in Pyrrhian history - for good reason, right? Look how deadly the Darkstalker was in his attempt to rule as the King of the NightWings. Kings cannot be trusted; we’ve known that collectively for thousands of years.”
“The Queens aren’t always very good either,” Paradox argued. “Queen Scarlet killed prisoners of war and her own citizens - hundreds of them - and the SandWing queens have historically set the tribe at war with itself.”
“I don’t know,” Tamandua supplied. “Would it really matter who the leader is, as long as the majority of the citizens vote for them and want them to be in office? In that case, wouldn’t the most qualified and noble candidate be the best, regardless of who else they are? Hybrid, male, or otherwise?”
“It’s quite a progressive move forward,” Winter concluded. “It’ll be very interesting to watch what happens. The first election is actually going to be held in a month, with Queen Thorn against whoever wishes to oppose her position. She’s granted immunity to all potential candidates so they can’t be detained for treason. So, theoretically, there could be a different leader of the SandWings in short order.”
“Speaking of different leaders,” Anadrom piped up, “There’s a question I’ve - er - been meaning to ask. Back in the Kingdom of the Sea - er - Estuary was pretending to be the granddaughter of Queen Coral, but it seemed as if everyone expected she would be able to - to challenge the queen for the throne. I thought only daughters, sisters, and nieces were able to?”
“That might have been the outlier of her pretending to be an animus,” their teacher replied. “I believe there have been other cases in SeaWing history where a granddaughter of a Queen was able to take the throne through just the justification of having magic. Sometimes without even killing their grandmother. Those might have been the only peaceful transitions of power in history.”
“There’s another SeaWing law that comes into play,” Tamandua offered. “I only know about it from the records in the royal library. Turtle would take me there on occasion. If neither of the Queen’s daughters or sisters are willing or able to take the throne by force, and there are present granddaughters or grand-nieces, they are able to take the challenge themselves. A way to ensure that there would always be a next Queen, even if one was especially close to their nuclear family. Since it appears that none of the current direct princesses are willing to challenge Queen Coral, Estuary could probably have gotten away with citing that law as justification for her actions.”
“Really?” Anadrom responded. “I hadn’t the slightest idea. But - er - I don’t think Estuary could have known about that. She wasn’t the type to read up on SeaWing legal law. Or on anything at all, really.”
“Then she probably just assumed she could get away with it,” Paradox said. “As much of a bully as she was, she likely thought that nobody would dare to challenge her claim. And she would have been right. If her plan had worked, I believe the SeaWings would have accepted her as their new queen.”
“What a dreadful thought,” Anadrom shivered, her talons curling together underwater. “Her plans for the SeaWings were as terrible as those of the Darkstalker for the NightWings.”
“For that, the suggestion of an elected leader is ever more promising!” Solstice chimed in. “If the tribes functioned under the popular rule of republics, these villains with only royal blood as their claims to any position of leadership would be left harmlessly in the dust! As everyone becomes familiar with a say in their own government, they will be far less obliging to submit to tyrants and conquerors. There will be far less for such dictators to even offer. Long live Queen - Governor - Thorn!”
“I’d have to agree,” Crevasse said. “There’s been nothing but war and darkness under the kingdoms. Monarchies are prone to evil. If a single individual is corrupt and happens to be of royal blood, the whole kingdom has to suffer for it. The RainWings were the first to have rulers not of direct royal heritage, and they seemed quite the happier for it.”
“If less structured,” Paradox snapped, then looked somewhat taken aback by his own words. “Sorry, I don’t mean it like that. It’s just - well, before Queen Glory arrived, they had fallen into such a lackadaisical and careless state that they weren’t keeping track of their own eggs. They had no military structure in the slightest, and the NightWings were plotting to drive them to extinction in a brutal invasion. A stronger government would have maybe saved their lives if the savior Queen Glory hadn’t arrived. Sometimes the person put in charge is just the right person to be in charge. The citizens could make the wrong choice, after all.”
“From what I understand, Governor Thorn’s Republic is a strong government,” Winter offered mildly. “All of the power is still in the hands of very few dragons, and they are still going to have a powerful military answering to a single individual. It’s not going to be anarchy. The RainWings let their leaders choose themselves, if that makes sense, so only the worst types of dragons showed up to rule in an easy office. Under SandWing elections, the new leaders would have to actually be the best choice for the Republic, or they wouldn’t receive enough votes to win and that would be that. The victor would have command of the military to round up any resistance to their new position, so the losers would have no choice but to concede.”
“I still think monarchies are more stable,” Paradox said, although he sounded less sure of himself. “There have really been very few historical cases where the heirs to the throne were divided amongst themselves as the SandWing daughters recently were.”
“I wonder what life would have been like under a republic,” Winter pondered. “All my life, we were told in the Ice Kingdom that only the rankings ever mattered. There were dozens of dragons sent to death in the Diamond Trials simply so one sibling or the other could make it to the First Circle. I never once was able to be a dragonet in the way everyone from the other tribes seems to have been. Moonwatcher tells stories of the rainforest, of so much time just to appreciate her surroundings. Even Qibli had a place in the Outclaws where he was happy Instead, they had us all trained soldiers by two.”
“Yikes, Winter. I’m sorry you had to go through that,” Peregrine said. “That’s why my parents had moved to Possibility and raised me there. They couldn’t stand the oppression and the strict social orders. In the war, all of the peasants like them were sent off to the most difficult battles on the front lines. It was terrible. But the Ice Kingdom is - something - for sure. It’s beautiful, and we have amazing traditions and historic animus magic! They still wanted me to be a citizen after everything they went through there.”
“Oh, blazes of walrus-crushing icebergs!” Winter startled, almost falling over as he whipped around on his seat. “Sorry, Peregrine. Thank you for saying all that - but - the historic animus magic! The Great Ice Cliff! With the Bough of Cooperation up and running, dragons will be able to survive the cold - but then they’ll just reach the wall and be impaled!”
“Great Ice Cliff?” Anadrom asked, looking very alarmed. “Which - what is that? Why would - it’s going to impale everyone who’s eaten a berry? What is it?”
“The Gift of Protection,” Peregrine recited, looking at Winter in apprehension. “A last line of defense against invaders, correct? It’s a frigid cliff a few miles into the kingdom that shoots spires of icicles into any non-IceWing dragons that fly over it. There've only been a few fatalities in history, really, since very few dragons of other tribes make it that far without freezing - oh, I see your point! The berries will let them survive the cold, only to be impaled on the border. Yikes, that’s gruesome. Perhaps we should do something about that?”
“I could,” Anadrom blinked, worrying her talons and beginning to glow slightly. “That - I would have to - I’m so sorry, I didn’t know! Qibli made my magic in - er - higher order than any other animus so I could protect everyone from things like this. But - Abyss said not to - so what do I do? I can’t have anyone dying from that!”
“No one who’s consumed a berry could have made it that far into the Ice Kingdom yet,” Winter said, pacing up and down the cave. “They wouldn’t have tried just flying in. Everyone knows how guarded the kingdom still is. Flying suddenly into the heartland without the permission of Queen Snowfall would result in imprisonment, at least. I would hope our border guards would also have stopped anyone who did try to do so from flying over the wall and impaling themselves.”
“What would Queen Snowfall think if her age-old magic was suddenly neutralized?” Paradox asked, having begun pacing as well. “It would surely not sit well with the IceWing court to have Anadrom’s power used in such a way. There could be a warrant issued for her arrest.”
“Wait-” Anadrom blinked. “What if…”
“Who has even taken a berry to go to the Ice Kingdom?” Crevasse wondered. “The Boughs of Cooperation haven’t really been used much at all. So far, at least. A few students took some to try breathing underwater, and Queen Glory -”
“She wanted to have a conference with Queen Snowfall!” Winter hissed. “I remember she was talking about that. There had been stagnation in the relations between the three tribes, and she thought an in-person meeting would do them well. Our royal RainWing is very bold. Would she have just considered flying straight into the Ice Kingdom unannounced to make a point? But - she knows about the Great Ice Cliff - she must. She’s very well-read, and I believe I told her directly about it at least once…”
“Anyone else?” Crevasse asked.
“Not that I’m aware of,” their teacher replied. “Maybe Quartz and his compatriots, but I don’t believe they would have gone to the Ice Kingdom. Hmm.”
“The thing is, with the teleportation…” Anadrom was saying.
“Do any other tribes have final defensive measures like that?” Paradox inquired. “Wasn’t there a sort of death trap set over the mountains leading into the Lost Kingdom of Night?”
“...send someone there to - er - make certain everything is alright?”
“Hrm?” Winter coughed, turning to look down at Anadrom, who was now standing by the door and glancing down at her Informaband. “I’m sorry, what were you saying?”
“I have a teleporter,” the LostWing stated, not looking at all irritated to have to repeat herself. “Already upon the Informaband - er - I can send anyone to anywhere in Pyrrhia safely. If you - wanted to - I could send you to the border to make certain that everything’s - er - okay?”
“Perfect!” the IceWing nodded. “Yes, yes, a very good plan. Except that I am still somewhat of a disgrace within the IceWing royalty, and legally actually do not still exist. I died years ago in the Diamond Trials, as far as they are concerned. Maybe - Peregrine?”
“You must be joking,” their clawmate laughed, lifting her wings to show them her dye-stained and slightly off-white scales. “Send me into the presence of true IceWing guards? They’d hardly see me as fit for their attention.”
“Don’t say that,” Crevasse frowned.
“Well,” Winter hesitated, glancing toward the corridor door quickly, “I suppose I could ask Puffin if she would want to go. She’s more - cooperative - that most of our other IceWing students, and would probably want to stop innocent dragons from giant icicle impalation. Can you teleport someone back to the academy?”
“Ah,” Anadrom considered, gazing upon her Informaband closely. “No, not in the present moment. I’d have to teleport myself - er - with her, and then teleport us both back afterwards. If the IceWings wouldn’t want to see me, I could just be invisible the whole time. Kinda creepy, though.”
“Alright, I’m off to go ask Sunny about this,” Winter announced, right as the gong for their next class rang. “You’ll be able to be back by sun-down, hopefully? You know, maybe I’ll come in invisible form as well. It’s been ages since I’ve seen the Ice Kingdom…”
“Oooh, me as well!” Peregrine chirped. “Please? I’ve only heard rumors of the true north. Are there really glaciers taller than the Jade Mountain? And polar bears? Are those a thing?”
“Fine,” Winter grumbled. “Only because you’ve been less terrible than usual today. Okay, Peregrine and Anadrom with me. Everyone else off to whatever class you have next. Pay attention to whoever’s teaching and all that. Tell my scavenger-observation class they have the day off. Yes, off we go. Come now!”
They all exited the cave, Crevasse’s mind working around everything from Loyalists to democracies to the perils of ancient enchantments. This was a continually exciting hatching-day, whatever else was happening. 
Chapter 7
There were no new dramatic developments within their next class, which was art with Mightyclaws, except for Sunny stopping by at one point to converse in an undertone with the NightWing teacher. All of their brushes and equipment had been revamped since a few days ago, likely the result of their art teacher using his magical ability to redraw new tools and summon them into the world for the use of his students. It was calming in the cozy room lit by stained-glass sunlight, and the hour of free painting once again passed quite quickly. This was somewhat of a relief since it meant that the time when their fellow students returned from their mission was that much closer to arriving. If they had even left yet; for Sunny was certainly very protective of her students, and unlikely to send them off into another kingdom at a moment’s notice. 
The IceWing student Winter had chosen to send off was entirely unknown to Crevasse, despite the fact that she must have been in at least dozens of his classes by now. The name Puffin didn’t ring a single bell other than its place upon attendance lists - or did it? He seemed to barely recall a very quiet student, polished and shining in contrast to Peregrine and yet far less outspoken. A student considerably more shy than even Anadorm, and who had barely spoken a word to anyone during her tenure at the academy?
If his memory was correct, that made the IceWing an odd choice to send off into a potentially dangerous situation. Surely Puffin couldn’t be the only other IceWing student at the school willing to save innocent dragons from flying into the danger of the Great Ice Cliff? Or was she a royal of some kind, maybe? He vowed to look over the royal lineage records for the tribe in his free time after school, and to ask Anadrom’s magic chalkboard if nothing else came to fruition. Lost in such thoughts about the sudden mission of his friends, he performed terribly at painting the vase of flowers set before him. Sensing Mightyclaws gazing down at his work over his shoulder in a perplexed manner, he snapped back to the present and began working quickly to fix his mistakes.
In short order they were off to the final class of the day, he and Solstice chatting about the potentials of hidden animus magic with Tamandua and Paradox beside them. Millpond had stayed back late to discuss something with Mightyclaws, as per usual.
“It is incredible to consider,” Solstice was saying, “That the extensive length of Pyrrhian history has allowed the existence of hundreds of animus dragons, all of which utilized their powers to extents which we cannot even imagine! There must have been dozens of secret animus alongside the better known. Artifacts of great significance are lying about Pyrrhia at the moment, waiting for their next purpose to befall them. Just think - the Obsidian Mirror was for some period simply buried in the desert, for any individual to locate and revel in the power it granted!”
“There must be some truly dangerous items out there,” Paradox proposed. “Pyrrhia has been at war for nearly the entirety of its existence, and almost every animus surely would have felt pressure at some point to develop tools of war.”
“Very true,” Tamandua agreed. “Turtle told me about the spells which Anemone was expected to cast during the War of SandWing Succession. She was a very young dragonet at the time, and yet Queen Coral was constantly ordering her to create dreadful things. For all history the magical tide has been most likely in the favor of weapons.”
“It’s downright unsafe to have these things lying about for any dragon of unknown intentions to stumble upon,” Solstice remarked. “Perhaps Anadrom could one day erase all these dismal remnants of war-ridden eras. In the meantime, I would hope new developments would be reported to the Queens and the academy leaders. Their talons can certainly be trusted to hold and manage these powerful artifacts.”
“Well,” Crevasse wheezed, “If any of us find lost animus artifacts, we’ll have to be sure to publish our results to the world. Amaze everyone with our archaeological skills and all.”
“Of course,” Tamandua replied, a bit too forcefully, and he cast her a curious glance. The SeaWing-RainWing was looking somewhat nervous and jumpy, and he wondered what could possibly be bothering her. Maybe this conversation was continuously reminding her of the fact that Anadrom was off in potential danger as they spoke to deal with this very subject matter. It was certainly reminding him.
“I wonder if Anadrom will be the last magic-wielder,” Paradox mused. “She’d have to be, right? After the final spell of the Darkstalker, only her special LostWing-magic or what-have-you can still exist. Maybe she’ll pick someone as an heir and grant them the power of magic in the far future, or create an enchantment like the Eye of Onyx to pick the next worthy animus.”
They had arrived in the combat-training classroom by now, a recently reinstituted program meant to teach self-defense in response to the rising frequency of Loyalist attacks. Crevasse was fairly good at it on an intuitive level, as if he was so determined to protect his friends from harm that he immediately knew what to do in all cases of combat, but sometimes the additional training really was helpful. He had learned recently from their acting general, Tsunami, how to compress his muscles to reduce the pain he felt from hitting his scars against anything. The training-room was dimly lit by low white fire-globes resting along the walls, which cast a shadowy shroud over the practice dummies arranged throughout the chamber. Practice-fighting with other dragons was not allowed after the negative experiences the Dragonets of Destiny had had with it during their time under the mountain; to simulate the experience, the dummies had been rigged for random motion. This made them very challenging competitors for inanimate objects.
“Attention, everyone!” Tsunami snapped after they had all filed into the room. “Today, we practice poison control techniques. With the new factor of Anadrom’s Informabands into the system, this form of attack remains the most potent and thus likely method for future assailants to utilize. If blunt force trauma can no longer be caused, assassins and other criminals will likely turn to the more subtle tactics of darts and poison-laced throwing stars. I have here a number of both, with their dangerous contents replaced with simple strawberry jam. I’m going to demonstrate how to properly block an oncoming one of these projectiles. Everyone pay attention. You are going to have to do this as well in short order.”
The fearsome SeaWing had set up projectile-launchers on one of the walls, and she now called a student up to activate them at her command. To the amazement of everyone within the chamber, Tsunami was able to move at a lightning-fast speed and catch every single dart with a barely visible flick of her talons. She even managed to grip the rotating throwing stars at their center, with one claw above and one below the blade to prevent herself from being cut. 
“The trick,” she announced, “Is to watch the source of the object’s launch rather than the object’s motion itself. Taking how far away you are from the dart, it is easy with practice to determine when to reach up and deflect it. Before we begin, is there anyone here that has not received an Informaband?”
Nobody spoke, so their teacher nodded and set the projectile-launchers back up. “Alright, someone please come up here to practice. No volunteers? Hmm. Crevasse, you look the least worried. Show us what you can do.”
“The least worried is still very much so,” he protested, but moved to the front of the class nonetheless and examined the devices that were about to shoot mock-poison at him. 
“Alright,” Tsunami said, moving him into a better stance. “Remember: watch the sources. Fire at will! Just try to aim away from his head.”
Crevasse focused entirely on the projectile-launchers, forcing himself to drain all other thoughts from his mind, and just as he saw a dart begin to peek out of the leftmost device he swiped his talon upwards to catch it. His claws closed in thin air, just a moment too late, and by that time he had to duck to the side as another dart swept by on his left. Loyalists, his mind shouted at him, recalling the deadly sword of a few years ago. With a rush of adrenaline, he snapped about and caught the next dart deftly between his fingers, releasing it to the floor with a clang as he whacked a rotating throwing-star back with the spikes on his tail, catching the center rather than the blades.
“Excellent!” Tsunami congratulated him. “I probably should have mentioned - if you are not going to be able to catch one of these darts, or one takes you by surprise, please feel free to dodge out of the way instead. No one is obliged to move into the path of these objects. Catching them simply means that they won’t be on the ground later to impale your tail, or won’t fall through the sky in airborne battles and hit an allied soldier.”
She let him try again, and he managed to catch three of the four darts. Feeling slightly proud of himself, he returned to his seat and watched as everyone else in the class was sent forth to practice. Not a soul besides Tsunami managed to catch all four projectiles, but a very lithe Paradox managed to tie with Crevasse’s achievement on his own turn. Overall, the SeaWing Dragonet of Destiny seemed very pleased with their efforts, and congratulated them as the final gongs rang to signify the end of the day. 
There were so many questions running about in Crevasse’s mind at once; he wanted to research how Keyimediums worked, to read arguments for democracies by Pyrrhian scholars, to investigate ancient animus dragons, and to be able to extensively worry about Anadrom’s mission. Yet there was only so much time in a day, and he was really most curious about why Winter had chosen Puffin of all dragons to act as an ambassador. The library was only a few caves down from the training center, and he knew in what category the royal record-keeping scrolls were kept. Starflight was standing behind his desk with his woven-leaf blindfold lifted, his gaze flicking constantly all around the library as if he was best trying to make use of his newly reacquired sight. The NightWing smiled at Crevasse as he entered, not appearing to notice or mind his numerous scars in the slightest, and so he returned the gesture with his own grin. Starflight had grown accustomed to who Crevasse was, getting to know him while not being able to see his physical deformities, and it seemed that he would not change this perception in the slightest as a result of regaining his sight. 
Crevasse approached the towering pillars that formed the shelves of the library, looking for the label of Royal Statistics within the history section. The collection had been massively expanded by Anadrom’s summoning of a copy of every scroll ever written into the institution, and so it was a bit more difficult to locate the most recent version of the IceWing royal family trees. His talons brushed the surfaces of ancient scrolls hardened and yellowed by time, taking off little flakes of parchment no matter how careful he tried to be. The title he was looking for finally appeared in his field of view, and he carefully extracted it from the shelf. IceWing Royal Family, Updated 5020 Y.F.S. - the most recent available version.
Taking the record over to his nook under Kinkajou's window and holding it open, he scanned down the list until he reached the names of the current IceKing regents headed by Queen Snowfall. There! The name of Puffin was listed below that of Minke, the younger sister to the Queen. Which would, of course, make her the Queen’s niece and therefore in line for the throne. Puffin had been so unobtrusive as to nearly appear invisible. Crevasse had never once spoken to her, never once noticed how she acted or thought to help her with whatever problems Quartz was giving her. How impressive for her to be of royal heritage and yet so totally unnoticeable. She must have been doing it on purpose, but for what purpose? Was she trying to escape her role or hide something?
“Hey,” someone said, startling Crevasse out of his train of thought. He turned to see a younger SeaWing student addressing him. “You’re in the LostWing’s winglet, right? Do you know where she’s gone? I saw her with my clawmate Puffin earlier and now I can’t find her anywhere.”
“Yeah, Sunny took Puffin out of my class,” chimed in a nearby SandWing. “Did something happen in the Ice Kingdom today? 
“What, to Queen Snowfall?” snorted an older IceWing. “We’d know about it, surely.”
“Did something happen?” inquired a MudWing, and a collection of nearby students turned to stare at Crevasse with eager anticipation. “I saw the LostWing teleport out from the entrance hall.” There were various murmurs of amazement at this, at the very concept of such elaborate magic being performed right within the walls of the academy.
“No,” Crevasse replied, dragging out the length of the word as he attempted to think of how to phrase a decent response. “They’re off to prevent a problem from arising, as a matter of fact. Does everyone here know about the Great Ice Cliff? I hadn’t heard of it until this morning.”
“Yes,” replied the IceWing, but he was the only one to do so. He glanced about, looking somewhat perplexed, as if he couldn’t believe the other tribes weren’t well-versed on IceWing animus history. “Really? It’s mentioned in most of the scrolls Queen Snowfall sent over.”
“There were only a dozen of those,” scoffed the SeaWing, “And I’ve never seen anyone but an IceWing reading them. No one else has even had a chance to come near a single copy.”
“Well,” Crevasse marched onwards, hoping to prevent that confrontation from escalating, “I’m certainly no expert either. As far as I know, it’s a glacial cliff a few miles into the Ice Kingdom, serving as a last line of defense against invaders by throwing icicle spikes at any non-IceWing that travels over it. It hasn’t posed much of a real threat for thousands of years since no one else could make it into the kingdom without freezing first. But now with the Boughs of Cooperation in place that particular obstacle will no longer be present. Visitors to the kingdom would be able to make it that far, and if they didn’t know about the cliff, they would fly right to their deaths. Winter and his embassy are going to discuss the problem with Queen Snowfall.”
“Why doesn’t Anadrom remove the Great Ice Cliff entirely?” inquired the SandWing. “If she didn’t know about it before, wouldn’t she certainly want to fix such an outdated trap now?”
“Outdated trap?” snorted the IceWing. “That defense was a gift from one of our treasured animus dragons! If only the Darkstalker had had the nerve to come attack us at home rather than sending his cursed virus, it would have taken right care of him and his brainwashed supporters!”
“She can’t use her magic at the moment,” Crevasse intoned. “Whoever brought that up earlier was right. Abyss said something about having his mission with Nocturne being to warn Anadrom from enchanting anything else for the time being, so she’s trying to do so as much as possible. On that matter, does anyone here know how Abyss is doing?”
“Better,” piped up a younger RainWing student, who must have been in their first year at the academy. “Jambu’s training me in medicine, so I saw him earlier today. He does keep murmuring in his sleep about ‘them’ and we don’t know what he means.”
“‘Them?’” Crevasse repeated.
The SandWing student was standing near Anadrom’s enchanted chalkboard. “Let’s see - give me a moment,” she said, and in a flash she had lifted the chalk from his talons and scribbled upon the board in a somewhat messy script. “Who are they of which Abyss the SeaWing speaks?” she said aloud as she finished, and they all pivoted to stare curiously down at the response.
The chalkboard quavered and shook, emitting a light not unlike that of Anadrom herself as its motions became increasingly intense. Crevasse shielded his eyes, a stir of panic rising in his chest, and moved backwards as the artifact began rising into the air. Everyone else followed suit quickly. Risking a glance back at the artifact, Crevasse saw rows of sparks coursing over the surface of the object, and then the simple words The Watchers formed upon its illuminated surface. For a moment, the chalkboard remained in this hovering position, then fell back to the floor with a resounding clank.
Chapter 8
He and Solstice waited together in the entrance hall until late that evening, as the sun set in a brilliant collapse of deep reds and vibrant oranges, sending endless shadows sweeping over Pyrrhia. His hatching-day had taken a most interesting and somewhat dramatic turn of events, from the sudden journey of Anadrom to the sinister concept of ‘The Watchers’. As if the very title of the entity alone was not concerning enough, the fact remained that it had somehow been able to exert an influence over Anadrom’s chalkboard and nearly shatter it. Crevasse had seen the exact spell cast upon the Informabands, and knew that wearing one rendered him entirely unknowable to any such entity and totally immune to being manipulated by any spells they might cast; but despite this he remained very much worried. Just mentioning the existence of the Watchers had nearly broken the chalkboard, so what if their mysterious magic would be able to destroy the Informabands themselves and expose all dragons to having their magic used upon them? And there were thousands of dragons across the continent that weren’t wearing Anadorm’s devices at the moment. What was going to happen to them?
As far as he knew, everyone had first learned of the presence of some sinister controlling force when Moonwatcher revealed that all of her most recent visions had been seemingly targeted at her. She had only been seeing images of terrible fates being dealt to those closest to her. Qibli had quickly formulated the theory that something was selectively blocking her visions. He had caused Anadrom to place her powers above those of all other magical authorities for this reason, and place a spell upon every Informaband to hide the wearer entirely and indefinitely from the unknown force. After this was completed, Moonwatcher had seen a far greater variety of terrible visions.
The most worrying thing of all was just how little knowledge Crevasse had on everything. He absolutely hated the feeling of not being able to understand something, especially when he knew there was little hope he ever would. For his classes he could just spend time researching at the library until he was competent, drawing upon the collective understanding of all dragonkind. But for this immense problem his only source was a temperamental chalkboard capable of outputting very limited information. 
“Hello,” Tamandua announced as she returned, carrying several fish and bits of goat from the hunting-cave for them to share. “Any news yet?”
“Nothing,” Crevasse affirmed, taking a salmon and breathing a quick burst of flame over it. “Thanks, Tamandua.”
They all sat in silence for a moment, watching the light cast by the fire globes twinkle around the entrance cavern, and Crevasse’s worries were negated for a moment by his being reminded of the snowflakes painted within Peregrine’s gift. They had looked so realistic that their movement seemed quite possible, as if they were only standing still when you looked directly at them and in every other moment were soaring gracefully through the air. “I’m beginning to worry about them,” he admitted, his voice wheezing more than usual. “I know they can both take care of themselves, but Queen Snowfall can be unreasonable.”
“They’ll be alright,” Solstice and Tamandua said in unison.
“I’m sure they will,” he agreed carefully. “They have to be. It’s just that - well, I’ve heard all of my life that Pyrrhia is safer now than it ever has been before. That the Jade Mountain Academy has brought peace to the land, and that all dragons are moving into a new era of prosperity. Yet there’s the despicable Loyalist Force, which seems to only ever be rising in power, and the various gangs of outlaws haunting the new trade routes, and over all of it the looming presence of these unknown Watchers. The world remains so dangerous.”
“Especially for a magic-wielder and an IceWing that refuses to conform to the standards of a strictly oppressive society,” Solstice supplied. 
“I just need to know what’s going on,” Crevasse hissed, lashing the ground with his tail. “I have no hope of protecting you all from harm if I have no idea what dangers that harm might pose. What does it all mean? There’s the fallen empire of the LostWings and this greater presence of something watching down over Pyrrhia…but why?”
Nobody had any way to respond to this, and a concerned silence filled the cavern. Outside the stars had risen into their regular formations with the half-full moons casting off a grim white light. There was a slight flicker just barely visible from the lanterns within the scavenger village, which reminded him of the flight of Quartz all over again. 
Ocotillo was on the other side of the cave at the moment, in discussion with his husband as they waited for the safe return of their daughter. Sunny was beside them, apparently reassuring them that all was well and that Winter would make certain everyone was safe. 
At long last came a sudden flicker of light from outside, the glimmer of starlight reflecting off of IceWing scales, and then the adventures soared into the entrance hall. Winter landed first, a rare smile etched upon his features, and was directly followed by a bouncy, elated Peregrine. “We did it!” he announced, turning between his students and Sunny. “Queen Snowfall was more willing to work with us than I had dared to hope for. After some brilliant negotiation by Puffin on our behalf, Her Majesty decided that the spell upon the Great Ice Cliff could be altered. From this moment onward, it will only act upon dragons traveling into the Ice Kingdom with a direct intention to deal harm to its citizenry. As a compromise she did insist that she receive the next session upon the waterfalls in the academy.”
“We’re all very glad you’re safe,” Sunny and Crevasse said together.
“There was never any real danger,” Winter huffed. “Peregrine and I stayed behind so our - unofficial - status would not interfere with the proceedings. Anadrom was required to go before the Queen, of course, but she was protected under Puffin’s authority.”
“You used your magic again?” Ocotillo asked, looking vaguely concerned. “I thought you weren’t going to do so until the words of that injured SeaWing were cleared up. Are you alright, Anadrom?”
“Er - about that,” Anadrom began, worrying her talons together. “It was an - er - difficult decision. But - if I can justify using the healing-scroll to save the lives of those dragons who can’t wait until then, then I thought it would be - er - acceptable to do this? To save the lives of any potential visitors to the Ice Kingdom, before it was too late to do so. It felt - well, just necessary. Erm - of course, it will still only go through if Qibli approves it.”
“I would support such benevolent logic,” Solstice reassured her, coming to stand beside her. “Enchantments that can wait should be postponed, but decisive action should still be performed when it is needed. Preventing the loss of life cannot be set aside.”
“Besides,” Winter added, “That spell wouldn’t possibly have been able to do any harm. The kingdom is still safe from invasion on that border, after all. We’ve just prevented the first wave of hopeful pioneers to the north from receiving grisly deaths. What harm could come of that?”
“My soul is still intact, as well,” the LostWing said, gesturing to her Informaband. “I’ve been - er - checking this quite regularly. I don’t understand why, but - er - it certainly appears that my spell-casting is not draining it at all. Maybe the animus dragons within my tribe just didn’t suffer from -er - from that? I really don’t know. But all’s well for now.”
“Yes, yes,” Peregrine nodded. “But let’s talk now about how AMAZING everything was there! I hadn’t imagined that so much snow could possibly exist at onc. It was taller than me in some places! The glaciers were MILES tall, I swear, and everything was so shiny! Whites and light pinks all about and everything sparkling with the setting sun. We even could see some of the nearest cities carved from ice. It looked magnificent!” The IceWing was nearly jumping up and down in excitement, and Winter smiled down at her.
“It really is fantastic,” he agreed. “Although my personal favorite is the climate, I’d have to say. The rest of Pyrrhia is far too humid.”
“Alright,” Sunny broke in. “Students, off to bed, all of you. I’m glad everything went well, but please let there be no more spontaneous missions of this sort. I was very worried about all of you. We all need a break from these constant crises for a while.”
Ocotillo and Eelgrass each gave Anadrom a quick hug, and then she and Peregrine returned to the rest of their clawmates. They all began walking down the tunnel toward the sleeping-cave wing, with Crevasse and Solstice pestering the impromptu ambassadors with various questions. Crevasse vaguely noticed Tamandua lagging behind out of the corner of his eye, and turned to see her falling in step with Puffin. The IceWing royal had been looking somewhat downcast since their return, and he noticed now that not a single member of her winglet had stayed up for her return. What an unfortunate thing for her. She played the most major role in this entire operation through her negotiations with the Queen, and yet none of her friends are here to congratulate her. 
“What exactly happened at the Ice Palace?” he inquired, directing the question at Anadrom now. “Did you actually have to go before the Queen without any sort of appointment?”
“Well, not exactly,” she replied. “Puffin was able to - er - demand an audience due to her royal position. I was to remain outside of Her Majesty’s chamber unless I was called for. Their conversation was slightly muffled through the ice. It was sort of bizarre, actually. Puffin hadn’t really said a word the way there - and hasn’t since - but in that throne room she was authoritative and stood her ground, seemingly. Her voice was still quiet, but - I don’t know how to phrase it. You could hear that she knew she was in a place of power, and that she wouldn’t back down on her beliefs.”
A few seconds later they had arrived at the sleeping-caves. It was truly very late by now, and while Crevasse did want to continue discussing the brief adventure, he admittedly needed to sleep. On that matter, I suppose that Paradox will be slightly irritated that Anadrom was willing to use her magic on the Great Ice Cliff but not upon his sleeping-spell. I’ll try to explain the difference to him tomorrow morning before he says anything unpleasant. Anadrom waved them good-night and silently entered her sleeping cave so as to not wake a slumbering Millpond, while Peregrine split off with Tamandua a moment later as the two of them entered their own cave. Puffin walked wordlessly beside them for a dozen more tail-lengths before sweeping into her own cave, looking reassured by whatever Tamandua had said to her, and then Crevasse was collapsing onto his own sleeping-ledge and watching the world turn to absolute shadow behind his eyelids. 
It felt like a mere moment had passed when he opened his eyes the next morning. He had slightly been fearing a dream-visit from Quartz or else nightmares brought upon by the Watchers, but for a pleasant change everything had been entirely normal. There was about a half-hour before class began, so he looked over the wondrous presents from the day before. He watered Anadrom’s rare herbs with specially heated water he retrieved from a fountain halfway down the corridor, then inspected the painting of Doctor Whimbrel’s statue for a considerable time, trying to memorize every feature of the deceased hero’s noble expression. The representation continued to align with his memories of the good doctor, and he decided to make a holly wreath to lay at its feet to honor his departed soul. Hunting practice would be an excellent time to collect the leaves, and he could probably ask Millpond for help on assembling the bundle. It would be the least he could do for the doctor; but at least it was something.
He played Kittiwake’s song on Solstice’s music-box in the brief interval between when the rest of the school had woken up and before classes began, as he wondered if she would have been able to make sense of this whole mess. In the following few minutes he and Solstice explained the safe return of the embassy and their accomplishment of the mission to Paradox, who was more understanding of Anadrom’s decision to use magic than they had expected him to be.
“It’s my own fault for not trusting her in the first place,” he admitted, sweeping the floor half-heartedly with his spiked tail. “If I had accepted before Abyss arrived, she would have provided me with the ability right then and there. I understand why she feels the need to wait now, and I agree with it. There’s nothing else that can be done.”
“I’m certain she’ll be glad you understand,” Crevasse wheezed, patting him on the shoulder in a friendly gesture. “Now I’ve got to deliver a bit of this Shadowshroud to Jambu. I bet it’ll be exactly what Abyss needs to recover fully, and then we can all learn what he knows about the Watchers, and of how to save everyone from Pyrrhia’s terrible upcoming fate.”
With that, he carefully removed a single stem of the incredibly rare herb with a flick of his talons, wrapped it in spare parchment, and tucked it into his pouch. There were only a few minutes left before the first class of the day began, so he hurried out into the corridor and down to the medicine room. Arriving to find the vine curtain lowered, he knocked on the adjacent wall and was greeted by Jambu in short order. “Good morning, Jambu. Is everything going well with Abyss?”
“Ah, yes,” Jambu nodded vigorously. “All of the parts are back in working order, and I expect that he’ll wake up any day now.”
“That is excellent,” Crevasse replied, feeling somewhat relieved that their school medic had been able to get the situation under control. “I brought over a sample of Shadowshroud that Anadrom located in a cave not far from the academy grounds. I’d noticed that the medicine room has never been able to keep it in supply.”
“Of course!” Jambu proclaimed, looking at the specimen in awe as Crevasse handed it over. “Might as well give some to Abyss, just to be safe. Thank you, Crevasse. Have you ever considered working as a doctor yourself?”
“I would have,” he wheezed dryly, gesturing to his inordinate quantity of scars. “But I’m not certain how many dragons would trust me to distribute medicines.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Jambu said, looking somewhat taken aback. “The RainWings certainly wouldn’t care. Nor the NightWing nowadays, especially the younger ones. Queen Glory’s reign has truly been transformative on everyone involved. She’d certainly allow you medical work if you asked her. Especially as part of her initiative to involve other tribes in her kingdom.”
“Really?” Crevasse mused, a little seed of hope rising in his heart. Whenever he had considered the medical field, he had imagined rejection mainly by aloof IceWings and snappish SkyWings. Perhaps some of the other tribes really would be more accepting. As he stood somewhat lost in the thought, the ringing of the gongs once again filled the twisting tunnels of the school to announce the beginning of the day. “Ah, thank you, Jambu. I’ve got to go!” Crevasse coughed, turning and rushing down the corridor. Overall, his experiences at the academy had certainly proved that the better dragons in the world would accept him as who he was, so perhaps his future really would be less constrained than he might imagine it to be. 
He was several minutes late to defense with Tsunami, for which he was required to wait until the end of class for his turn at blocking the projectiles again. There was general improvement among the total student body as they continued to practice, and Paradox became the first student to effectively catch all five darts on his turn. They all left class feeling slightly exhilarated, especially due to Tsunami’s promise that they would move on tomorrow to perform the same maneuver while in flight. 
At hunting practice he searched for holly leaves, true to his promise to the painting of the doctor, and had soon collected enough for his purposes. As the gongs ran to signal the beginning of their break period, he noticed the rest of his winglet returning to the entrance hall with talons similarly full of the symbolic herb. Peregrine waved him over, dropping a third of her collection in the process and cursing creatively as she swooped down to catch the leaves swirling through the air. “Heya, Crevasse. Making a wreath for the doctor’s memory as well?”
“I didn’t think any of you knew about this tradition,” he breathed, feeling quite touched. 
“Yep,” Peregrine replied, catching the last leaf in a motion that sent her tumbling into a stalagmite. “Well, I had to remind Millpond and Paradox, but everyone else did.”
“May the memory of the good doctor thrive forever in the world he sought to heal!” Solstice proclaimed with a gesture of his holly leaves. “As it rightly should!”
While Millpond might have been somewhat coerced by Peregrine into gathering his leaves, he made up for it by instructing them all on how to fashion the materials into sturdy wreaths. His talons nimbly wove through stems and branches, manipulating the coarse materials as easily as if they were the finest silk. They all tried their best to follow his example, and ended up with an assortment of woven rings. They  returned to Crevasse’s sleeping-cave and deposited the tributes at the foot of the painting, while Peregrine breathed forstbreath over their stems to preserve them. The simple bands of holly were magnified by their significance and the benevolent gaze of the doctor’s statue, generating an otherworldly beauty. The snowflakes upon the portrait looked even closer to movement now than they had before, and Crevasse had no trouble imagining that he was actually in the statue plaza.
“I’m certain he’d be very happy about this,” Crevasse beamed, his gaze caught in the chiseled grey eyes of the doctor. “He truly was an incredible dragon, you know. I’ll never forget him, for as long as I live. Here’s to your memory, Doctor Whimbrel!”
He thanked Peregrine again for the painting as they all moved to their next class, and she tried to brush him off. “It was nothing, I promise,” she told him sternly. “I would expect you to do the same for me if a statue was made of someone that saved me from harm. By the way - how are the worms doing? And could I possibly have some of them back? I seem to have exhausted the local supply and there’s this SandWing that’s really getting on my nerves. Keeps making fun of Tamandua behind her back. I - grrr - I mean, how dare they! I simply won’t stand for it!”
“Well,” Crevasse mused, “I did put them all in Anadrom’s herb-containers and they seem to be very content there. Perhaps we - you -  could try something else? The glowworm crop is coming along in the cave with the underwater lake, and those are especially nasty.”
“Alright, Crevasse!” the IceWing grinned. “You do have a streak for this sort of thing, don’t you? Glowworms it is - ooh, and maybe frogs as well.”
“May I ask what you are planning to do with them?”
“Surprise attack!” she cried, flinging her front talons into the air, and he doubled over in laughter. Peregrine batted him with her ice-spiked tail as he straightened back up, sending him a conspiratory gaze as she hissed, “Alright, quiet now! The target’s in this next class, and I certainly can’t have them warned about this.”
When they entered their music class, Crevasse became lost in thought about the Watchers again, playing every other note wrong on his Keyimedium until Peregrine dropped hers on his tail to bring him back into the waking world. Right after class ended he was off to the library to ask more questions to the chalkboard, but a crowd of students had already formed around it. With a sigh, he set to doing his history homework while standing in the makeshift line, wondering how to phrase the questions that he wanted answered. Finally he arrived at the front of the line, taking the chalk from the last dragonet. He carefully wrote his first question upon the artifact: What appearance would the Watchers take to our eyes?
Once again, the chalkboard glowed and quavered, if somewhat to a lesser extent than it had the day before. With a slight hiss, the answer was given upon the night-black surface; Nightmares, false promises, shrouded terror. 
“That’s just great,” he muttered, staring at the chilling words that meant so much and so little at once. “Wonderful. How about this: What are the plans of the Watchers relating to the future of Pyrrhia?”
They plan to bring the final darkness upon their realm.
“Argh,” Crevasse hissed, lashing his tail on the stone floor. “Yes, yes, but what does that mean? Can we prevent that from happening?” There was no response from the chalkboard, and he remembered that Anadrom had created the artifact only to answer questions relating to the past or the present. He drummed his talons together for a moment, then pressed, “Are they observing this right now?”
Yes.
His heart beating rapidly in his chest, he turned his head about to nervously examine the corners of the room. Something was watching him at this very moment, some force that he couldn’t see or decipher, an idea that was absolutely terrifying. Even if the Informaband was allowing him to be unknowable to their sinister presence, they would still be able to see the responses on the chalkboard, and likely the results of most of the actions he took. Worse, he hadn’t been wearing the Informaband for years of his life; had they been able to observe him that entire time? What had they known about him? What had they wanted?
That was something he absolutely had to know: “What do they want?”
The board waited for a long time, glowing as brightly as a noontime sun. This had to be a solid answer here, one that would show him how to stop the sinister force and save his friends. Come on, please. Just be straightforward for once. Tell me what I need to know! What do they want?
Not this, contributed the board, and Crevasse gave up. He moved aside and handed the chalk to the next student in line, then went over to the library shelves and browsed for a while on everything he could think of that related to the situation. Yet he could find very little new information, even from some of the more ancient scrolls that had just come into stock. The Watchers were never mentioned in any piece of literature; there was no discussion of any sinister force that oversaw the totality of dragonkind’s existence in the living plane, and absolutely no clues to their intentions or motives.
Solstice and Anadrom returned eventually from a visit to the scavenger community, and he joined them to present the latest developments in the case. Apparently Anadrom had already been informed about the basic information distributed by her chalkboard, but she still seemed unnerved by it all. It was apparent to all of them that Nocturne’s warning of the future destruction of Pyrrhia was connected to this mysterious magical presence. In brighter news, Qibli had confirmed Anadorm’s spell on the Great Ice Cliff a few hours earlier, resolving that problem completely. All future travelers to the region would now be safe from that particular harm, allowing cooperation between the IceWings and the other tribes to flourish.
“By the way,” Anadrom said, “Tonight is the SeaWing Festival of the Lights, to celebrate the wonders of nature and show appreciation. It’s a very big deal in the Kingdom of the Sea. We used to string up banners made of glowing mushrooms down in the cave hideout - er - so no one would spot them from overhead and find Ocotillo. Most other decorations tend to be more elaborate. The Deep Palace is covered in chains of flaming orbs that only last for a few hours. Sunny and Turtle have arranged some decorations and I’m going to help set them up - er - but would either of you like to attend as well? It’s not strictly a SeaWing thing…and I’m not exactly a SeaWing anyways, really.”
“That sounds very nice,” Crevasse said. “I’ll be there.”
“My attendance could be depended upon in any circumstances but these,” Solstice sighed, “But I have already sworn my time to assist Millpond with his history homework. I’ll see if I can come around before the night reaches its conclusion. Until then, I wish you both a grand time.”
They split ways at the exit of the library, while the first stars in the night sky announced their presence with merry twinkles. Yet as they approached the entrance cavern it appeared that the night would not remain calm, as strong gusts were blowing in from the north. A film of smoke-shaded clouds roiled over the distant foothills of the range, intermittent with streaks of lightning as sharp as daggers. Thunder undermined the words of the dragons swirling in the gusts above, as the school leaders rushed to secure the lights in place before the storm hit. “Hey there!” Sunny called to them, dropping down with her characteristically sweet smile. “Are you here to help in the Festival of Lights?” She gestured a golden-scaled arm towards the strings of gleaming orbs littering the floor of the entrance hall, which were being lifted and secured above by an assortment of mostly SeaWing students. The lights appeared to be mostly the ordinary kind secured about the school, with a few IceWing moon-globes mixed in from the sapling growing with Queen Glory’s domain.
Crevasse and Anadrom nodded, and Sunny led them over to a particularly long strand. “If you could lift this together and tie it to those stalactites there, that would be perfect. Alright, thank you both very much!” She turned to address a few more newcomers, and Anadrom reached down to curl the wire around her talons.
It was awkward to fly while carrying the object between them, especially as other students around the cavern were attempting to do the same. Crevasse flew over a jumble of dragons that had gotten their wires tangled together and all crashed laughing to the floor, Anadrom following his example as well as she could in the crowded space. Just when they were about to clear the cave, a section of the rope became caught on a stalactite, and there was a moment where they both almost tumbled to the ground from the recoil. Eventually he was able to free the wire with a flick of his talons, and they reached the roof of the cavern. Anadrom demonstrated the traditional knots used to secure the lights, and he copied her example with the Mark-3 as best he could. They both hovered back for a moment, admiring the graceful orbs floating before them.
The storm was only coming closer and closer, so they hurried down to the next set of lights and repeated the process. In about half an hour they had managed to fix seven different wires in dangling arcs around the entrance hall, which was now lit in so many directions at once that each student appeared to have hundreds of reflected shadows upon every surface. It looked like the night sky had been captured and sealed indoors, the stars transcribed upon the roof and the moon encompassed in the reflection of the glowing gong.
“Great job, everyone!” Sunny was announcing below, her words somewhat drowned out by the increasingly strong gusts of wind billowing into the cavern. “Anyone have any suggestions as to where to place these remaining few strands?”
“Let’s drop a few in the lake!” advised an older SeaWing student. “The traditions do specify to place the lights underwater whenever possible.”
“In this weather?” Sunny protested, looking out at the now heavily-overcast night sky. “I’m not certain that would be safe…”
“We’ll be fine,” promised the SeaWing. “Worst case scenario, we could sink into the lake and wait out the weather for a bit. There are fifteen more minutes before this weather really hits us, according to Lilypad’s predictions.”
He turned with his partner and grabbed one of the remaining strands, flying out into the night before Sunny could protest further. “Oh, alright,” she sighed. “Please be sure to be quick, everyone. I’ll be right beside all of you.”
Anadrom looked out at the approaching weather apprehensively, but moved to wrap her talons around the next set of lights regardless. Crevasse joined her and the two of them took off into the night with all the speed they could muster. The rest of the students split up as they exited the mountain, aiming for the various bodies of water scattered along the school grounds, and they themselves soared towards the lake to the north of the twin peaks. With a splash barely audible over the sounds of distant downpours, they released the bundle of glowing orbs and watched it sink into the waters below. The lights fragmented between the raised waves to create the appearance that a geyser of starlight was rising through the murk below. They perched for a moment on a nearby precipice to better observe it.
“I definitely admire this tradition,” he told Anadrom as he gestured to the spectacle below. “Everything in Pyrrhia really is magnificent, isn’t it? And for that it’s all the more worth fighting to save. I’m certain we’ll figure this all out, find answers to all these questions and emerge from this storm into a new peace. You’ll be the one to fix Pyrrhia forever.”
The lights in the lake below bubbled and frothed in the tossing waves, sending shards of light flying upward to reflect off of the low clouds. “It truly is marvelous here,” Anadrom agreed, her words somehow surer of themselves than usual. “I hope you’re right, Crevasse, for all of our sakes. We have reason to hope, I think. As soon as Abyss is well we can learn what happened to Nocturne, and if we can find her she can tell us exactly what she saw.” Then, far more softly, as her talons gripped the side of the ledge, “I really hope I can save us all.”
“I’m glad you came here,” he told her, entirely sincerely. “You’re a pretty great friend, Anadrom. Don’t let all of this weigh on you. We’ll all help you as much as we possibly can.”
“You’re a terrific dragon as well, Crevasse,” she replied, smiling at him thoughtfully. “More than you give yourself credit for being, I think.” Her words were echoed by a distant roll of thunder as the edge of the storm entered the far limits of the school grounds. 
“Ah, how very sweet,” hissed someone directly behind them, and they both nearly tumbled right off the ledge. The voice was the very intonation of horror, a maelstrom of devilry and malevolence, and it sent shards of ice straight through Crevasse’s chest. Every word it spoke bore a weight beyond itself, a promise of a hidden menace so powerful you could taste it in the air and feel it under your skin, and it cast unbridled dread directly into their souls. Images of dark deeds flooded Crevasse’s mind, waves of hostility and vengeance washing over his thoughts in palpable waves, and he knew who was addressing them even before he finished pivoting around.
“Hello, dragonets,” drawled the Darkstalker, his monstrous form outlined by a flash of lightning as he emerged from the depths of a jagged cave Crevasse was certain hadn’t been there before. The NightWing loomed over their shivering figures, seeming to expand and contort upwards before them into a nightmarishly colossal form. Crevasse had heard stories of the infamous animus’s reported stature, but nothing could ever have prepared him for this. The Darkstalker unfurled wings five times larger than those of any other dragon, revealing silver under-scales that dripped before their eyes like droplets of falling IceWing blood. His talons flexed on the stone below, each claw the size of Crevasse’s own head and sharpened to serrated points that gleamed in the reflected light. Worst of all was his snout, with immense teeth stained yellow and jagged, over which gleamed gaping eyes that froze Crevasse in place. They were solid black, darker than the void, and within the center of each he thought he could see the terrified expressions of ghostly IceWing souls. 
“I’m afraid we don’t have much time,” the nightmare mused, gesturing with a deadly talon towards the coming downpour. “As distasteful as it might be, our introductions will have to be rushed. I am Darkstalker, King of the NightWings.” He stared down expectantly at them, his eyes a turbulent void that drew their gaze and trapped them in a web of malice. With a smoky puff of disdain, he drawled, “It is still customary to return introductions, is it not? No matter. I know who you are.” The NightWing paused for a moment, inky smoke drifting out of his nostrils in twin spirals, then grinned nefariously. “Crevasse the SkyWing and Anadrom the LostWing.”
Hearing his name uttered by the looming NightWing shocked Crevasse back into finding his voice. “You can’t - be -” he whispered, reaching a quaking wing out to shield Anadrom from the gargantuan villain. “You can’t be here. Kinkajou defeated you, decades ago.”
At this, the Darkstalker laughed, a dreadful clamor that splintered the rock around their talons. Within the cruel notes of the barking cackle were the shouts of petrified IceWings, forming a dreadful chorus that shook the night. “Young SkyWing,” he grinned, “Daring Kinkajou did trap the unfortunate iteration of myself that was sent to Pyrrhia a few decades ago. Yes, yes. That particular version was vanquished for all entirely by our brave Jade Winglet.”
The Darkstalker paced about on the rock ledge, each talon-fall shaking the earth and splintering the night with the screeches of grinding stone. He turned to face them, his eyes now smoldering like those of Quartz had been when he left the academy. “That was not the original Darkstalker. Fathom, curse his treacherous name, was no fool. He grew to see the first Darkstalker as the greatest threat Pyrrhia would ever face, a threat that only his magic would be able to eliminate. As you were likely taught, he decided to trick him into putting on a bracelet that sent him into an enchanted sleep.” He hissed out a low flame at nothing in particular, scorching several bushes in the surrounding area with a black flame. “But that wasn’t all he did. Not wanting this great danger to ever be released upon society, Fathom enchanted the bracelet to be indestructible, to last until the end of time under all possible physical conditions. The first Darkstalker is still wearing that cursed artifact, forever asleep under one of those very mountains.” He gestured outwards to some of the lesser peaks within the Jade Mountain Range, his talon catching some of the freshly falling rain and transforming it into dripping IceWing blood.
“That -” Crevasse breathed, sinking his talons into the ground below him. “No, that can’t be true. The Darkstalker awoke from his slumber thirty years ago - Moonwatcher heard him - you - in her mind - and then Peril burnt the scroll…”
“We sent a new one down,” the NightWing on the ledge before them boomed, his eyes as maliciously bright as those of a lynx before it pounced on unsuspecting prey. “We buried him underground, made a new scroll, and gave it to the unstable RainWing, Chameleon. Our second Darkstalker was nearly instated as the ruler of Pyrrhia. I will admit that the cleverness of the Jade Winglet was unexpected; a knot in our elaborate plans. Just like you, LostWing.”
“We?” Anadrom managed, her voice inconceivably small before the terrible authority that was staring with a terrible gaze down at her. “What - who else - who worked - with you?”
“You wouldn’t be able to comprehend their existence,” he laughed, his eyes burning amidst the thickening raindrops.
“The Watchers?”
“Sorry?” the Darkstalker hissed, turning to bear down with the full might of his fearful gaze upon Crevasse’s shivering form, as he wished he hadn’t spoken. “Well, well. How unexpected - this does change things, doesn’t it? You know about them. That must be why they can’t seem to retain your existence. Have you cast a spell to hide yourselves from them? Clever, very clever; it must have been the work of that meddling Qibli.” His tail lashed the ground, splitting the earth below it to a significant depth. From the depths of these pits, a host of seeping darkness began to pool outwards, a flood of some material between matter and shadow that was darker than the blackest tar. “It doesn’t matter in the end. That’s why I’m here, actually. I am not technically one of them, so I am able to know all about you. I can see the possible disruptions you cause down the line, all of the wrenches you throw in our works. I know just how to crush you at every turn, to counter every effort you make until your world falls to our great reckoning! I am the final iteration of Darkstalker that shall ever be, the basis upon which the other versions were designed, the cumulation of their power and strength, and I will prepare the world for my master’s coming!”
“You’re evil!” hissed Crevasse, his courage making a valiant effort to return as he bristled before the haunting words of this nightmarish behemoth.
“Ah,” the NightWing smirked. “Really? How did you figure it out?”
“You - I - on the basis of everything you’ve ever done, in whichever iteration you were!” Crevasse snapped. He couldn’t stand another moment of this fear and apprehension, trapped under the power of this mighty fiend; if he was going down, it would be with a fight. “You tried to kill the entire IceWing tribe with a magic plague! Fathom knew something was wrong with you, that’s why- ”
“Fathom was a fool!” the Darkstalker roared, and Crevasse fell to the ground as a terrible pain ripped through his scars. There was a mass of shadows rising from the earth directly below him now, slowly crawling up his lower arms as he struggled to escape from their chilling grasp. “He was a traitor and a coward! I will not have his name spoken before me!” The frigid arm of the shadows was sweeping around Crevasse’s snout now, clamping it shut with a force greater than the tide, and as it reached his nostrils the skies above them finally opened up. Rain poured down in searing pellets, launched by thunderous gusts at a variety of angles to bombard his eyes and inner ears. The NightWing thrust a deadly talon upwards, and the shadows obeyed his command, pulling Crevasse up to the level of the behemoth dragon’s smoking snout.
“SkyWing,” he purred, and his voice made Crevasse wish to the moons that he would be able to somehow block out the next words spoken by the NightWing; but he had no such luck. “We had planned for you to turn out differently. You were crafted to become a coldhearted, embittered soul that would reject all others and reflect your own pain back onto them. Sunny was eventually going to expel you from the school, and you were going to join a band of spiteful outlaws for revenge against everything. Rise into a position of substantial power and perform terrible acts against the world that had wronged you so. Tell me; where did we go wrong? Was it not enough to inflict your parents with treachery and cowardance of the highest order? To cause you the loss of a limb upon that fearful night?” He leaned forward until his eyes were inches away from Crevasse’s, and hissed, “To inflict poor little Kittiwake and the good Doctor Whimbrel with the Scaleating Virus, and crush the life from their bodies, all while you watched and lived?”
“What?” Crevasse gasped, a great blossom of panic sprouting within his chest. The night swirled before him, the world pounding against his ears, and his mind sank as the terrible words rang in his head.
“We are the cause of everything,” the Darkstalker grinned. “We chose to have you survive while everything you loved was snatched from you - and the same goes for you, LostWing. Estuary was our brilliant doing, as was the distrust within every member of the SeaWing tribe. They were supposed to kill you, or at the very least lock you away for all entirety. To end the nuisance of the LostWings once and for all. You somehow managed to survive, and to earn their trust, but here I am now to correct just that. I’ll give you a choice, Anadrom. I can kill the SkyWing here, and the rest of your insignificant friends, and then smite you into oblivion, or you simply can come quietly with me now. I have my methods; the enchantments you might have cast will not be of any assistance. What do you choose? Time is running short.”
“I-” Anadrom froze, and the shadows spun Crevasse around so he could see her electric-blue eyes ringing with despair. She was petrified by panic, and observing this the Darkstalker snapped his talons together with a resounding clang. The flock of shadows swarming all around them turned on end and plunged directly into her chest, knocking her right off the edge of the cliff. Her light faded instantly into the stormy night, and only through flashes of lightning could Crevasse see her fall to the earth below, her wings streaming upward as silver tears flew from her eyes. He shouted in horror, and with a strength he didn’t know he could summon he just managed to break free of his cage of darkness. He streaked towards the ground, darting towards the falling form of his friend, and then a gargantuan arm was sweeping towards his face. With a sickening crunch, he was thrown backwards into the side of the cliff, falling into shocked stillness on the ledge below. In a last moment of consciousness, he dimly noted the terrible form of the NightWing sweeping away with a fallen Anadrom, sinking into the storm about them without a trace.
Chapter 9
He was standing amidst a heaping of smoldering rubble, great arches of white marble crumpled and torn with streaks of fire embedded in their scarred surfaces. Turning around in a confuddled circle he was greeted only by ruins on all sides. The peaks of distant mountains smoldered as they churned out rivelets of magma onto the surface of the world. Is this the end of Pyrrhia? Yet this landscape was unlike any Pyrrhia he had ever seen. The topography didn’t match with any of the regions of the world he had studied, and looking to the bloody night sky he could note four moons hanging in the void - although even as he watched one crumbled into nothingness and fell into the atmosphere with a great ring of fire. There were forms hidden by the flames that he could just make out, composed of pure shadow streaking towards the surface of the world, and all about him broken forms of light were rising to meet them. He himself was rising, soaring towards a face that turned to meet his own. The Darkstalker was staring right at him.
“Crevasse!” called a panicked voice, and the illusion shattered as easily as if it had been made of glass. There were talons gently lifting him away from the wall and feeling for a pulse, and other distant voices shouting in alarm as they swooped down beside the first.
“Is he alive?” demanded a petrified Winter, rushing over to join the first voice and sending an icy gust of air about himself. “Crevasse, can you hear us?”
There was a warmth cast upon his other side, and Solstice’s words broke into those of their winglet leader. “By the moons! Please be okay, please be okay…”
He opened his eyes to a world of blinding light, with vague shapes looming over him and twisting about anxiously, and coughed out a great deal of shadows. His breaths became steadily easier as the world came into focus, but his head continued to pound at an intolerable rate. In the glare he saw that it was Moonwatcher who had landed beside him first. The world returned to darkness as the flash of lightning ended, the deep rumble of thunder sending painful sparks all along his spine. He pushed his pouch off of himself, the motion sending rocketing shards of pain spiraling through his body, and hoped that the skyfire rock was now far enough away to not block his thoughts.
Moonwatcher, he managed to formulate in a jagged segment of a thought. He has her. He’s back. I couldn’t save her. The Darkstalker is back - a different one, a different time - and Anadrom’s gone! 
The mindreader flailed away from him, her talons sliding on the wet stone of the precipice as she gazed out into the night. “Crevasse, you - you’re certain?”
The Watchers! his mind shouted at him, and he tried to focus as his consciousness blurred again. He was the bringer of the plague. Anadrom’s gone, gone, and I couldn’t stop him. Keep them safe, keep Solstice safe, don’t let anything happen…did they kill Kittiwake? Could they, have they? They were always watching… 
In another flash of lightning he saw Moonwatcher protectively cover her son with her wings, hugging him close to her chest as she stared out into the stormy night sky. She was shivering as she swept the landscape with her gaze, and Crevasse wondered dimly if she could hear the mind of the Darkstalker. 
“Moon!” Winter was shouting, his voice sparkling in icy bursts within Crevasse’s brain. “What happened? Is he telling you in his thoughts? Where’s Anadrom?”
“Anemone?” Moonwatcher called, scanning the arriving crowd of dragons for the SeaWing princess. “If you’re here, could you end the storm? Winter - we need to find him before it's too late! He has her, Crevasse’s thinking that he just flew off into the night -”
“He?” worried a voice that Crevasse recognized as belonging to Qibli. “Please tell me we’re not talking about him?”
“The Darkstalker,” Crevasse barely managed to croak out, and a fresh host of shadows soared into the night sky as he was racked with another onset of harsh coughing. 
“Sweet salamanders of fire!” Qibli swore. “How? How is that even remotely possible? I saw the enchantment - it was absolutely impossible for him to regain control - I have to warn the Governor! Ah, this is bad, very, very bad, I think I’m going into shock, dear ghosts of the fallen warriors - no, Qibli, focus! I have - the earrings, does everyone still have them? We need to tell everyone to put them back on at once - especially the IceWings - but will they still work? Wait - the Informabands! They’ll protect everyone for certain - we’ll have to distribute them - but do we have time? What if he’s already killed everyone and we don’t know yet? I should have let those enchantments go through, should have insisted she never tie her powers to that scroll…”
“Qibli, calm down!” Winter barked, and the mutterings of the SandWing died off as he moved to wrap his wings around Moonwatcher and Solstice. “If he had already killed all the IceWings, I’d be dead right now.”
“We’ll use the Dreamvisitors to warn the kingdoms,” Qibli cried, bolting up and dashing into the air. “The earrings might hold out for a while - Winter, Moon, anyone who had one last time, put it back on at once. We can have Turtle duplicate and distribute more in the school building - send envoys off in an hour - heavens, I thought we would never have to deal with this again. Oh, but I need to search for Anadrom as well -”
“We’ll do that, Qibli,” Moonwatcher promised, her voice shaking slightly. “Go on with your plan, and I’ll make certain we get our student back. I can hear - him - in the distance -” She shivered and trailed off, her talons pressed to her forehead. There was a glint of copper in her talons, and then a ring earring was dangling from her earlobe identical to the one Qibli always wore; and she pressed a few copies into Solstice’s talon before rising off into the night.
There was a great bustle around Crevasse in the next few minutes, but his consciousness was fading and he slowly lost track of what exactly was happening. Something was pressed into his ear at some point, cool and radiating a slight tingle as of static electricity, and then the rain had stopped falling on his snout. He blinked open heavy eyes for a moment to glimpse the entrance hall, and then his senses failed him again. His mind flickered from thought to void, random images running through his shattered memories, and soon he was dreaming again of ruins and a falling moon. Then he was lying in the hospital, watching shadows swirl around Kittiwake and drag her into the ground below while the Darkstalker held him down with a maniacal laugh…
He was very suddenly alert again, and the sensation of sound and color shocked him to the core. His surroundings were familiar - the academy medical room, complete with the earthy scents of the herb mixtures and the soft green-and-blue lighting. The cot he was lying in was usually stored in the far back corner, reserved for only the most serious of ailments. There was warmth radiating against his scales - the variety he knew could only belong to Solstice - and as he stirred the Sandy-NightWing made an exclamation of excitement beside him.
“Crevasse!” he cried, very carefully embracing him in a relieved hug. “By the moons, I’m so happy that you are alright - it was downright awful, all of those shadows sprouting from your lungs - can you tell where you are? You’re awake - I’m so glad - Crevasse, I had thought you were…were going to die…”
He was crying, crystalline tears dripping down his golden scales, and Crevasse slowly moved his aching muscles to return the embrace. “I’m okay, Solstice, I’m okay. You don’t have to worry…I’m still here. In…in the medical room? Have - how long have I been here? Did they find Anadrom? Is everyone still alright - did Qibli manage to warn them?”
  The Sandy-NightWing was still crying, his snout buried in Crevasse’s wing, radiating warmth and unmeasurably powerful relief. “I’m so glad you’re alive, I can’t - can’t even begin to put it into words. But Crevasse, they…they couldn’t find her, and I’m so sorry, we all searched for - it’s been two days…”
He could imagine exactly what Solstice was feeling - he knew just what it felt like to lose your love and your closest friend at the same moment, and he would never have wished it upon his best friend. “She’s…gone?”
Solstice nodded, pulling himself together, and releasing Crevasse he moved aside to reveal Peregrine and Tamandua standing at the edge of the cot. They each hugged him as well, and as they returned to standing back the four of them shared a period of grief for the loss of Anadrom to fates unknown. They were now a group of survivors clinging to driftwood in a turbulent ocean.
“You know it wasn’t your fault,” Tamandua told him somewhat sternly after a while, and he wished he could believe it. “Really, Crevasse. You couldn’t have known he would be waiting there, or that he could even return at all. It was the Darkstalker; nobody on Pyrrhia can match his power, except perhaps Anadrom. There was nothing you could do.”
“I’m no better than my parents,” he sighed, coldness and guilt racing through his heart as he spoke. “They failed me, and I failed her. I froze - I panicked -”
“I don’t believe that for a moment,” Solstice said. “You sought to protect her to the end, I’m absolutely certain of it. Moon looked into your memories to try and make sense of everything, and she witnessed how brave you were. You were challenging him, trying to make time for a valiant escape, and it nearly succeeded. We all arrived only a minute or so late. Your parents turned and fled, leaving you defenseless - what you did was the opposite of that! Crevasse, nobody else would have been able to be as heroic as you were.”
“Maybe me?” Peregrine tried, then shook her head. “Probably not. But I’d have given that Darkstalker a run for his money if I’d been there. I’ve been saving some very impressive insults exclusively for his murderous snout.”
“What happened?” Crevasse repeated, worry flickering through his veins. “Has he cast any enchantments - are any of the tribes…under siege? Is everyone still alive?”
“Worry not,” Solstice began, “There has been nothing of the sort. My father - Qibli - was able to act decisively and swiftly under the crisis, warning each Queen - and Governor Thorn - within the hour of the villain’s arrival. All of the existing earrings have been distributed, but Informabands have fallen into short supply; it appears that the villain somehow swiped Turtle’s duplicating bowl during his exit, alongside the magic tracking coral, meaning that we are unable to use that in the search for Anadorm. The Darkstalker seems to have taken our dearest friend and vanished into thin air, at least for the time being. May the moons bless us with this continued calm and restore Anadrom to us within the most timely of manners.”
“The moons?” Crevasse murmured to himself, remembering the collapse of a fourth moon within his inexplicable visions. “That’s unexpectedly…good. I was fearing the worst. Are all of the Dragonets of Destiny and Jade Winglet still safe?”
“Indeed they are,” Solstice replied. “Even having requested an audience with your person as soon as you were recovered to a suitable extent. Would you - are you ready for that? They want an explanation of what exactly happened, down to the most minute detail. We’ll be beside you the entire time.” He sent a nervous smile towards Crevasse, his eyes beaming with loyalty and support, and Crevasse nodded slowly. 
“I’ll do anything to help,” he said. That will be far more than simply talking; I’ll leave as soon as I can to search for Anadrom on my own. I was the one who failed to save her, so I have to be the one to rescue her. Poor Solstice - he’ll be worrying about me the entire time - and how could I make him suffer like that? But if I took him with me, he’d be placed directly in harm’s way, and I can’t have that either. The Sandy-NightWing’s tears of relief were fresh in his mind, however, and the very thought of this course of action was met with considerable internal turmoil. How could he choose between the two evils of deserting his dear friend or possibly placing his life in danger?
“I’m not so certain about this,” Tamandua protested. “Crevasse, you should rest for a while. You’ve only just recovered from some awful shadowy ailment; I’m sure everyone would understand if you took another hour for yourself before launching into things. Stay with us for a little bit! Let us help you with all of this..”
“I’ve been far too long as it is,” he returned. “Two days - by the lights of the fallen, two whole days…no, I have to go right away. Maybe Qibli will find some clue in what I saw, and he’ll figure out where the Darkstalker is, and we can send an expedition to save her right away!” He recognized the delirious nature of his hope as he spoke, but he needed it so badly that his mind skipped past all logic. “We could - storm the old Kingdom of Night again - take him by surprise and dash off. Wait - wouldn’t she have cast spells to return back to us? Has Qibli still been checking his scroll? There could be something on there right this instant…”
He watched Solstice’s face run through a torrent of emotions. “Crevasse, I really wish she had,” the hybrid murmured, “But the scroll has been blank ever since - since that night.”
Crevasse felt his blood run cold “Blank? Not even - but - that doesn’t necessarily mean that - she made herself invulnerable and with her Informaband the Darkstalker can’t use his magic on her. Wait - could he? The other Informabands she made for students protected against all forms of magic, but - but not hers itself. Is she only safe from her own magic?” 
“We don’t know,” Peregrine admitted, looking truly downtrodden. “We’ve looked more closely at her invulnerability spell with Qibli’s scroll, and it just reads ‘Allow her to be immune to all forms of attack.’ That didn’t stop her from being poisoned by the SeaWing guards with those RainWing sleep darts. She can’t die, I don’t think, but -”
“‘He has his methods,’” Crevasse coughed, recalling the horrid words of the monstrous NightWing. He could trap her forever - turn her scales to stone - and then he realized the worst possibility of all - he could drain her soul. His mind rejected this vehemently, spitting out the gruesome concept - but it was replaced by dozens of its kind, of images of Anadrom turning to face him with soulless eyes, guided only by the malice of insanity. His incredible friend with everything that made her so brilliant entirely torn away, stripped of her kindness and careful hope, becoming a blank, empty vessel...
“No, no,” he cried, shaking his head to shatter the dreadful images. How could he have let this happen? How could he have failed to save her? She had needed him so greatly and he had failed, had collapsed from a single blow of the Darkstalker’s tail…a great pang of guilt flared through him, threatening to split his soul in two, and he looked up with broken eyes. “I have to go - I have to help - it can’t already be too late? Right?”
“No,” Solstice said strictly. “Crevasse, you can’t go down that path. The greatest heroes in Pyrrhia are upon the matter as we speak. We’ll get her back, and everything will be alright. We’re going to save her. Anadrom will be alright. She has to be.”
“You’re right,” Crevasse breathed, trying to regain control of himself. “You’re right, she - we’ll get to her in time. The Jade Winglet - the Dragonets of Destiny - they’ve dealt with this before. Something like it, at the very least.” Immense frustration and hopelessness washed over him. “I wasn’t nearly strong enough to stop him. All I wanted to do was keep you all safe, but I’m lesser than the smallest gnat in comparison to that monster. He could strike again - take another of you - and I wouldn’t be able to stand in his way. I - I’m useless.” 
“Crevasse, no,” Tamandua worried, laying one of her talons on his shoulder, but he shrugged it off. It was the truth, as much as he wished it wasn’t, and nothing lay in denying it.
“Maybe the heroes can do something,” he said. “They might be able - I have to go talk to them. I’ve already hesitated for too long - what if something will happen soon and we’re just too late to stop it?” With that, he pushed himself off of the cot and landed rather shakily on the floor of the medicine-cave. His head swam with shadows and his legs quavered, but he pushed forward and rushed out of the cavern. The worried cries of his friends echoed off of the stone walls as they followed him closely. He really could take any of them. I - I can’t lose anyone else. Hopefully the earrings will protect them from his wrath - but I’d never seen anything like those shadows before. Would they even be considered magic? How could we stop them?
Crevasse knew what he had to do; no matter how difficult it was, or what danger he had to place himself in, he was going to track down and defeat the final iteration of the Darkstalker. It rang true within his core, this burning drive to protect his friends and save Anadorm. Sending the heroes off on their own track would be an excellent start, of course, and so he would tell them everything about that cursed night; but then he would have to set off on his own. He had seen the power of the nightmarish animus firsthand. Taking anyone along with him would only be a death sentence for them. He was willing to risk his own life to save Pyrrhia, but the thought of anyone else dying or being taken away was too terrible to consider. It would be him against the great force of darkness, and he would fight tooth and nail to somehow bring the Darkstalker down. 
They killed Kittiwake and Doctor Whimbrel.
The sudden recollection nearly stopped him in his tracks. They had been two of the noblest dragons in all Pyrrhia, and they were struck down by the hands of this unseen force. His soulmate and his closest friend stolen away by a knowing talon of death, and all for the purpose of turning him into a monster? The Watchers had tried to drive him into the state of evil that Quartz currently exhibited; his entire life had been a piece of clay molded by the talons of this ultimate evil. He was a pawn in their game, and every tragedy that had even befallen him was carefully planned and executed by their unknowable authority. 
How could he ever hope to triumph over such a power?
He paused outside of Qibli’s office, listening to the talon-falls of his friends as they rushed up the corridor. Why? That was the greatest question of all; what did The Watchers serve to gain from all of this? Were they interfering in the stability of Pyrrhia to eventually ready it for their own invasion, or were they fueled by an even more terrifying motive? The vision of the crumpling moon over the ruined landscape came back to him, and he wished with all his soul that any of this would begin making sense. It was so entirely overwhelming to think that some force could be behind every misfortune of every dragon, some tangible force that was holding his dear friend captive. He had to avenge Kittiwake and Doctor Whimbrel, had to retaliate against the force of darkness for the terrible crimes they had committed. He had to single-handedly save Anadrom.
I’m not ready for any of this.
“Crevasse?” Qibli called from inside the office, and his tan head poked around the corner.
I suppose I have to be.
“Are you alright?
“Qibli,” he cried, propelled by his great urgency. “Where is everyone? I need to tell them what happened, right away. You’ll spot something I missed, you’ll know where he might have taken her, we can find her before something terrible happens!”
“Yes, Crevasse, certainly,” the SandWing confirmed, gazing quickly up and down the hallway. “Just - you’re certain you’re alright? Ready to relive all of that? I mean - how long have you been awake for?”
“It doesn’t matter,” he said, shaking his head. His talons were tapping rapidly on the stone below, a cascade of little clicks rising upwards that matched the frenzied motion of his mind. “Please? I need to help…”
“We were gathering in the entrance hall,” Qibli said, looking at Crevasse with some concern. “We really need to hear what happened. If you feel you are up to the task, come right along.” He remained standing in the doorway for a moment, his barbed tail shining in the light from the orbs within. “Moon has already seen a lot of what you did in your memories; it was astonishingly brave. We’re all very proud of you.” Then, more quietly, “There was nothing more you could have done for her.”
“Exactly,” Solstice panted, having just reached their position. “Worm-tailed vampire bats, Crevasse, you can run so fast. Just - it’s okay. We’ll be beside you for the testimony. We’ll be there for you.”
Then they were off to the entrance hall, with Crevasse’s heart beating a mile a minute in his chest as he tried to best sort out all of the terrible events of the abduction. They turned the corner onto the grand entrance to the Jade Mountain Academy, still lit by the strings of orbs from the SeaWing Festival of Lights. The decorations that had once brought such joy into his soul now served as a harbinger of sorrow and loss, and he could barely stand to look upon them. The air was cool in the aftermath of the storm, and the night was serenely quiet except for the occasional chirping of nightingales and the croaks of bullfrogs from the nearby lakes. It would have been lovely under normal circumstances.
The heroes of Pyrrhia’s two most recent prophecies were conversing in low voices within the chamber, their mismatched scales gleaming and sending off a spectrum of hope. Yet even as he looked upon the grand figures of Anadrom’s likely saviors, Crevasse was struck by the sudden realization that it was no longer safe for them to all be in one place. The Darkstalker could arrive at any moment and snare the entirety of them within his inexplicable shadows, crushing the spirit of Pyrrhia in a matter of seconds. They should split up at once; it was the only way to ensure such a calamity didn’t occur. Only then did he notice the golden sparks of the enchanted earrings hanging from each hero’s ear, all identical to that worn by Qibli on the daily. They would prevent the ancient animus from reading their minds, and so he would have no idea of their exact locations. As far as he knew they could be anywhere within the academy. Even as powerful as the monstrous NightWing was, he was unlikely to start randomly attacking the place. He had waited until Crevasse and Anadrom were alone to pick them off; clearly he knew that he wouldn’t be a match for the entire school body at once - or at the very least that testing this wasn’t worth the risk it posed to his plans. 
As he entered the chamber, Moonwatcher pricked her ears and turned to face him. A general silence fell as the remainder of the heroes noticed this and began looking his way as well, a variety of emotions from hope to concern hidden behind their eyes. A lump formed in his throat as the pressure of the situation built upon him, but he pushed it back down with fierce resolve. 
“Our brave friend has recovered,” Qibli was saying, guiding him towards a set of stalactites by the gong. The area was slightly raised above those of the others, putting him directly in the spotlight. “As I understand he’s been alert for a matter of minutes now and rushed right down to tell us everything he experienced during the abduction. Crevasse, are you ready?”
He nodded, looking out into the star-lined sky. The shadow void between the distant suns seemed to warp for half a moment, as if the night itself was a beating heart; but the illusion quickly passed. All five Dragonets of Destiny were sitting together, Clay and Tsunami looking even more alert and protective of their friends than usual, with a vehemently smoking Peril beside them. Qibli moved to Moonwatcher’s side, with Winter beside her; on the other side of the cavern, Turtle sat with Kinkajou and Anemone. Ocotillo and Eelgrass were on the distant edge of the cavern, looking up at him with the strongest hope and apprehension, and he realized just how terrible this had to be for them as well. His friends were at his side, radiating with warmth and support. A last glance at the lights overhead and he began.
“We were up by the lake near the summit, dropping a last strand of lights into the water,” he said, his words echoing unnervingly around the still cavern. “The storm was almost upon us, and we were about to head back - before -”
His scales were burning - he could hardly continue - but he had to. For Anadrom. It was more difficult than he would have ever thought possible to relive all of this again, but it had to be done if anything was to be accomplished. And so, after a moment of the tensest silence he had ever experienced, he swallowed and pressed on. “It was a horrible feeling. The air was penetrated by this - by this presence of evil - and I knew something was behind us. He - he came out from a cave that hadn’t been there before, and he knew our names. The Darkstalker.”
There were a few whispers around the room at this, as if some of the heroes of Pyrrhia hadn’t been entirely convinced that the ancient animus had really made another return from the dead. Crevasse went on, trying to put the nightmarish form of the NightWing into words, attempting to convey the presence of malice that had radiated from his dreadful figure. He spoke of the NightWing’s revelation that he was another iteration of the ancient animus, rather than the original figure himself; of learning that he was under the employ of The Watchers, acting as their field-agent while the Informabands kept them otherwise hidden from the terrible force. To explain this he had to turn to the chalkboard in the library and the questions asked of it in response to Abyss’s murmured words, which drew another set of worried murmurs from the crowd.
“They were responsible for everything,” he said, the words chilling him to the core. “The Watchers put the last iteration under that mountain - gave the scroll to Charmeleon - it was all part of some plan. I - I don’t know how that can be possible. They try to bring darkness into everyone and everything. He - he said -” It was here - he had arrived at the haunting secret behind his past - and he couldn’t go on until Solstice lay a reassuring talon on his shoulder. “They gave Kittiwake and Doctor Whimbrel the Scaleating Virus, back when I was at - his - when I was back at his practice. They let me survive, but only because they thought it would be - that it would turn me into a villian. That I would become twisted from their torment and further their cause. It - they might have done the same for everyone. Most of the terrible things that have ever happened to any dragon in Pyrrhia came from their hand.” He was trying to remain composed, but the very concept of this was driving a shivery fear into his core.
“WHAT?” Tsunami roared. “These Watchers are behind everything? The war - the Talons of Peace, our lives trapped under that mountain? Running into Queen Scarlet moments after our escape - and then the arena - and even Orca and her statue? I HAVE THEM TO BLAME FOR EVERYTHING?”
“I don’t understand,” Sunny was saying, looking as if her world had dropped from under her. “If this is true, why would anything good ever happen? The prophecy might have been false, but we brought peace to Pyrrhia nonetheless. This school has brought the tribes toward unity. The original Jade Winglet managed to stop the last iteration of the Darkstalker. Why would they let any of that happen?”
“I’m not certain,” Crevasse admitted. “The Darkstalker did say that they had underestimated dragons before. They expected everyone to be worse than they actually were - I don’t think they understand how individual strength factors into everything. They might have thought causing the war would be enough - if they did - or that a false prophecy could never come to fruition. Or - or they could be operating in a way I can’t - that I can’t understand.”
“What do they serve to gain from this?” Qibli asked, voicing the very same question that Crevasse had considered. “If they have been altering dragon history for the worse - presumably for a while - they must have some sort of overall goal. It could be that they plan to invade the continent and consider that a factored region would be easier to conquer. They could be dwindling our numbers - but if they can send down plagues, why not create an incurable one and decimate us at once rather than over the years?”
“Maybe that’s what the Scaleating Virus was supposed to be,” Starflight offered. “They might not have thought that a cure could possibly be found.”
“They knew Anadrom might stop them!” Crevasse continued. “Or at least the Darkstalker could see that. He told us the Informabands didn’t block us from his knowledge. I suppose he was separate enough from The Watchers to avoid being affected by that spell? But he couldn’t have been - he wasn’t a dragon. He had shadows in his control, or at least what looked like shadows, but they were material enough to lift me into the air. I was trapped and then he captured Anadrom. I couldn’t stop him. He vanished. The last thing - I had a vision while I was unconscious. I saw a ruined city under four moons, and then one crumbled and fell from the sky. There was an unimaginable force of shadows pouring down, and - some dragons radiating light were rising from the ground to meet them.”
“A fourth moon?” Turtle wondered from his position in the back of the cavern. “Dragons of light - Crevasse, could that have been the fall of the LostWing Kingdom? Anadom’s glowing is a defense mechanism, it seems; so if her tribe was attacked surely they would take the same forms? That might have been the great calamity that drove the Ancestors to near extinction!”
“And their assailants would have been The Watchers!” Qibli exclaimed. “Forms of shadow; it has to be that. If the Darkstalker wields that power as their agent, surely they must hold it themselves. Or perhaps they even take its nightmarish form, and he is drawing upon elements from whatever dark realm they inhabit! But then - The Watchers would have been around for the entire history of the seven tribes, and we’re only learning of them now? If their intent really is invasion, it seems fair to state that they must have been crushed by the LostWings in their battle. The battle cost the Ancestors their kingdom, but perhaps it nearly rendered these dark forces extinct as well. They might have been recovering over the millennia, preparing their second wave on our world, and trying to weaken it as best they can in the meantime.”
“A kingdom of animus dragons could just barely stop them,” Winter pointed out. “This time Anadrom was the sole magic-wielder they had to face, and - and they’ve captured her. I fear that this invasion might be imminent. Why would they wait now?”
“Nocturne’s prophecy!” the room collectively gasped at once.
“This is it,” Moonwatcher murmured. “The great inexplicable peril facing us all; an upcoming invasion from an all-powerful force of evil that has been looming in the night sky for all of history. My visions - that is what I was seeing, as much as I wish I could deny it.”
“And the only two dragonets who could save us have been captured by separate despicable forces,” Qibli sighed. “Nocturne taken by the Loyalists and Anadrom by the Darkstalker. This is a race against time, my fellow dragons. We have to find them before the invasion begins, or we won’t stand a fighting chance. We have everything working against us, from the nature of our world to even the construction of our souls. They are the Darkness of Dragons, and our day of reckoning has come.”
“How do we find her?” Crevasse asked.
“I’m not certain,” Qibli admitted. “The only reason we were able to tell you two were in trouble was that Sunny noticed a bizarre list of spells scribbling onto the scroll when she came to check on my paperwork. I was off in the music room. The way I had worded the spell, I had to be the one to confirm the enchantments: and I couldn’t be reached in time. They were all trying to protect the both of you - and the academy at large - from the Darkstalker.”
“I cannot believe you had all the control over her magic!” Ocotillo hissed from the back of the room. “Why?! She could have stopped him and still be right here with us. It was her decision to add the precaution - I’ve certainly been shown that - but she was expecting you to be paying attention to the cursed thing! Anadrom trusted you, Qibli, and as far as I’m concerned, you failed her. My daughter is in the clutches of some total evil because of you.”
The SandWing hung his head solemnly. “I am so sorry for that. I never should have left the document so far out-of-reach. I allowed myself to slip; I didn’t think something of this magnitude was about to occur. But you’re right. She trusted me with everything, and I failed her.”
Crevasse examined his music teacher, detecting the same hollowing guilt as that he was experiencing for his own failure to stop the Darkstalker. He had never expected Qibli to make such an egregious error as this, and the recent words of the SandWing rang in his mind; ‘We have everything working against us...even the construction of our souls.’ Had The Watchers conditioned Qibli so that this might somehow happen, or was it really entirely his fault? How could he know anything about anyone anymore? Even Quartz might not be evil, necessarily, but rather a victim of the shadowy force’s sinister manipulation. No, that can’t be entirely true. They did horrible things to me, but I didn’t become the villain they expected. I rose above their level - didn’t I? What have they changed about me that I can’t even detect?
“We can’t focus on the past,” Eelgrass sighed. “Crevasse is right; we need to plan a rescue mission. We don’t know how much time we have. Blame can be cast later, but for right now we need to focus. What can we do? Is the site of the ancient LostWing Kingdom worth examining?”
“I think we’re there right now,” Crevasse offered. “All of Pyrrhia was their domain. I should have asked this earlier - but what about Abyss? He was traveling with Nocturne. What does he know?
“Nothing,” a voice muttered from the shadows, and the son of the SeaWing Head of Internal Affairs stepped out from his secluded position. “Nocturne never saw her own kidnapping coming. In all of her visions we made it to the academy in time and managed to warn Anadrom not to use her magic. That was what triggered this; they couldn’t stand that she was working against their destruction of the world, and so they had to accelerate her removal. If we prevented her from using her magic, she would’ve been safe for a while longer and Nocturne would’ve been able to help plan our next steps. I don’t know where either of them are. This wasn’t supposed to happen. We are in one of the worst possible timelines, and I don’t know if Pyrrhia can survive from here.”
Chapter 10
The most impenetrable of darknesses had settled around Crevasse, the variety that was only ever experienced in the earliest hours of the morning. He lay awake on the sleeping-platform to which he had been sent off, staring at the barely visible forms of his clawmates as he attempted to gauge whether or not they shared in his wakefulness. There wasn’t the slightest chance of his being able to sleep, for his inactivity in the case of Anadrom’s rescue was propelling him in a state of continuous guilt. He should be doing something this very moment to help - but what? There had been no great revelations during the conference with the heroes of Pyrrhia, no single moment where the path ahead had been made apparent. They now better understood the enemy they were facing, but they hadn’t the slightest idea on how to confront it. The only two dragons in the land capable of directly opposing The Watchers had already been captured by their sinister agents. 
The matter was not necessarily that of two missing dragons, he rationalized, for only one would have to be located to save the other. If Nocturne was rescued from the Loyalist Force, her visions would surely guide them to the location of Anadorm; and a rescued Anadrom would be able to use her magic to simply summon Nocturne to their location. His efforts could therefore focus on either prisoner; but neither of their locations were even remotely known. The hideout of the Loyalist Force was a well-kept secret, or else it would have been invaded by a combined army of the Queens long ago, and the Darkstalker could be anywhere or even hidden in one of the moons. 
He was certain that Solstice was asleep now. The Sandy-NightWing’s scales had dropped in their production of warmth as he entered a true state of rest. Crevasse had to move as quickly as possible. In a moment he was carefully creeping his way out of their cavern, his talons falling slowly and silently onto the stone floor. Once in the hall he picked up his pace, flicking on the invisibility switch on the Informaband as he rushed towards the entrance cavern. The night sky swam into view, a cluster of brilliant stars and swirling nebulas against the silhouettes of the hanging stalactites. A brisk wind drove onto his scales as he launched off into the night, his heart beating as his escape met with success -
Something launched itself onto his back from directly above, sending him crashing to the ground with a tumultuous clanking. A burst of pain rose through him as he scrambled to find his footing. He shot a short bolt of flame into the night air, illuminating the void of the early morning in hopes of catching a glimpse of his assailant. The firelight reflected brilliantly to reveal the form of his IceWing clawmate as she tumbled to the ground beside him. In a moment she was pinning him down, standing on his still-invisible torso as her spiked tail prodded into his wing.
“Peregrine, it’s me!” he hissed, switching the Informaband switch back into the normal position. His scales melted back into existence, a dull blur within the darkened cavern. 
“What are you doing, Crevasse?” she returned, not budging in the slightest. “Sneaking out of the academy this late? Where do you think you’re going?”
“Get off of me,” he ordered, digging his talons into the floor of the academy and pushing himself upright. “I’m leaving to go rescue Anadrom. You’re not going to be able to stop me, so please don’t bother. There’s not any time for this!”
“Hmph,” his IceWing clawmate snorted. “You think the best way to do that is by running off in the dead of night? Leaving us all behind to worry about you? I want to help as well; everyone does. What makes you so special that only you get to go off searching for her?”
“I can’t lead any of you into danger,” Crevasse retorted. Perhaps he could dash past her in a moment and lose her in the night; but she tended to be a more capable flier than him. “The Loyalists or the Darkstalker wouldn’t hesitate for a moment before hurting any of you; I can’t have that happen. I failed her then, so I have to save her now.”
“Are you immune to that danger?” Peregrine argued. “They could harm you just as easily. You’re going to go get yourself killed. Do you have any plan of any sort? Any solid plan?”
“Well,” he began, then sighed in resignation. “No, I don’t. We don’t have any information. But I was going to maybe try collecting some intelligence on the Loyalists from some SkyWing villages.”
“Nobody has any information on the Loyalists that hasn’t already been reported to the Queens,” Peregrine pointed out. “Going around and asking about the Loyalists is a good way to get yourself arrested as an accomplice.”
She pinned his tail down with her front talons as he turned to leave, and he whirled about in exasperation. “Alright, I see your point, but I can’t just sit here and wait for bad news.”
“No, I agree. It’s pointless to stay here. So I’m coming with you.”
“What!” he protested. “Peregrine, not a chance. This is going to be dangerous - and especially for you! You’re an IceWing, and we know how the Darkstalker holds a grudge-”
“I’m no coward,” she snapped. “If you’re willing to risk life and limb for Anadrom, then I am as well. The Darkstalker’s not particularly fond of you either. It’s my decision and I made it while you were still sleeping off that shadow-poisoning. I knew you would try to leave, so I waited outside until I heard your talon-steps approaching. My mind is made: I’m coming with you. Or, if you don’t let me, I’ll fly off on myself the moment you’re gone.”
“You are being quite difficult right now.”
“Courageous, more like it,” she grinned. “Come on, you know you could use my help! I’m great at plotting things! And I have an Informaband as well, so it's not like I could actually die.”
He considered her for a moment. “I can’t place you right in the line of danger like this.”
“It’s not your choice to make! I’ll be in more danger if we don’t save Anadrom, and then The Watchers come to destroy Pyrrhia in a couple of weeks. Trust me, the odds are better with the two of us working on this together.”
“Two of us?” he asked. “You don’t want anyone else to come with you?”
“Well…” Peregrine coughed. “Not to contradict myself, but some of our winglet would probably be safer here than out searching for our enemies. Neither Tamandua nor Solstice would not be great in a fight. And their parents are here and would worry so much about them! It would be terrible to take Solstice away from Moonwatcher and Qibli right now, or Tamandua from Turtle and Kinkajou! The Jade Winglet heroes need to be focusing on rescuing Anadrom, not searching for their own dragonets. Then Millpond has his sibs. My parents are off in Possibility, and yours - lost contact with you - so they wouldn’t immediately know what we had done. We could go out and search without creating a vortex of worry in our wake!”
This was a good point. He was in favor of any plan that protected as many of his clawmates from danger as possible, and so if this meant Peregrine would be the only one coming with him, that was all the better, although he still would have vastly preferred that she stayed behind as well. He could simply tell that she had been absolutely serious when she said she would fly off on her own if he declined to take her with him. This way he could at least keep a watch on her. Still…
“You’re sure you have to come?”
“Positive.”
He sighed, frowning down at her vague outline in the darkness. “Alright, but if things become too dangerous, you’ll have to turn back and save yourself. I want you to run if he arrives, for one. I can distract him for a moment so you can get away; but stay to fight with me and we’ll both be captured.”
“Fine,” she glared. “You think of yourself as quite the hero, don’t you?”
“I just want everyone to be safe,” he said. 
“What about yourself getting captured?” she asked with a sigh. “We care about you too, you know. You’re no less expendable than the rest of us.”
“I’ve taken this role,” he replied simply, wondering if that was sufficient. “It’s my calling, of a sort. Alright, let’s get going before anyone else- ”
“I’ll be joining your expedition,” another voice halfway across the cavern informed them, and they both jumped backward in surprise. The dragonet who had spoken approached them, the pale starlight reflecting off of the topaz spirals embedded in his front arms. “Nocturne must be located as quickly as possible. If you really plan to start looking for the Loyalist Force, I'll gladly assist in your efforts.”
“Abyss?” Crevasse gasped, his heart still racing in his chest. He had thought that a teacher might have been addressing them for a moment. “How - why are you out here?”
“I was going to leave as soon as possible myself - but if we have a covert squad forming, that’s all the better.”
“By the moons,” Crevasse fumed, “If you could hear us, then the whole set of teachers might be here in a moment! Peregrine, why are you so loud all the time? Alright, Abyss, I don’t see why not - but no one else. We have to go.” He wasn’t exactly pleased at this addition either, but there really was no time to argue. He turned and soared out into the air of the chill morning, Peregrine and Abyss following closely on his tail. 
As they exited the academy, he suddenly remembered that Fatespeaker and Winter were both on watch that night. “Winter,” he hissed under his breath to his compatriots. “Turn the invisibility on!”
Even as he spoke, the sharp voice of their winglet leader sounded through the night. “Who’s there?” Winter barked, his polished scales shining in the starlight.
Crevasse watched Peregrine and Abyss vanish on either side of him, and clicked the switch down on his own Informaband as the gaze of their teacher swept over the terrain. “No students are allowed to be out this late!” he called, taking off and sweeping towards their location. “Is someone there?” The IceWing was nearly on top of them, likely navigating by the sound of their wingbeats.
Reaching out a wing towards where he presumed Abyss and Nocturne to be, Crevasse pushed them slightly downwards. His companions seemed to understand his message, for they all dropped out of the sky together and landed near-silently in a hidden craig at the foot of the mountain. Winter swept past overhead, his pale-blue eyes sending out a penetrating energy. In a moment he returned, muttering to himself about hearing things. They waited for a few more minutes in tense silence, making certain the IceWing had returned to his perch.
“Alright,” Crevasse whispered, his voice barely audible over the croaking of a nearby bullfrog family. “We’ll head down to the north, following the orchards to the boundary. From there we can cut through the valleys of the Sky Kingdom until daylight.” They resumed their expedition, gliding through the fruit trees as best they could in the gloom. Sharp scents of pear and ripe apples mixed with the clear winds of the mountain range, as he felt a moment of regret for having to leave the wondrous academy behind. It had become as sacred to him as the practice of Doctor Whimbrel over the last few years. He cast a last look at the entrance-cavern as they cleared the borders of the school, wondering if he would ever return.
Pyrrhia opened up below them into a sprawl of jagged peaks and rugged valleys, looking ever like the spines of some ancient creature. The skies gradually lighted as they made their way toward the closest peaks in silence, and soon the calls of morning birds met with the first rays of the sunrise. Copper and rose streaks began to coat the world around them, highlighting the graceful arcs of the pine forests below and the rounded edges of overhanging clouds. A fine mist began to build on their scales as the temperature rose.
“What are we planning?” Abyss asked after a while, and Crevasse very suddenly realized he knew next to nothing about his new compatriot. He had betrayed Anadrom back in the Kingdom of the Sea by risking Ocotillo’s life in order to warn Queen Coral about Estuary. And then sent for a guard to assassinate Anadrom. He didn’t think the world could be safe while her magic was in it. Come to think of it, he’s probably one of the worst dragons to be teamed up with while searching for her. He cast a searching glare in the direction of the SeaWing, unsure of how to reply.
“I’m up for some brainstorming!” Peregrine called from somewhere up ahead. “Hmm. It’s got to be easier to rescue Nocturne first.”
“Well,” Crevasse agreed, “I don’t think the Loyalists would have had time to move her any farther than the Sky Kingdom. Since they’re against the unification of the tribes, they don’t actually want to cooperate with dragons from other tribes themselves. Each tribe has its own branch within the organization and they all work separately. If a SkyWing captured Nocturne, then the odds are that she is held prisoner in the SkyWing division headquarters.”
“It was a SkyWing that ambushed us,” Abyss recalled. “Well then, how lucky for us. We won’t have to travel all that far from the academy. What do we know?”
“Quartz,” Crevasse gasped, nearly stalling out in the sky as an idea finally came to him. “He knew where the Loyalist base of operations was - he said as much when he deserted the academy to join them! If we can figure out where he went…” He paused for a moment, considering the gravely slopes below him. “Or - and I warn you that this is a terrible idea - we let him capture me.”
“What?” Peregrine laughed. “You’re not serious - oh, by the moons, you are?! Crevasse, that is a terrible idea, you’ve hit the mark on that. Remember your lecture about not putting ourselves directly into danger? You’re proposing that you let the most lethal organization in the land get its bloody talons on to you! After what they did last time…”
“No, listen!” he cried, greatly excited by the plan falling into place in his mind. “He holds a grudge against me and I’m certain he would have given my description to some of his new accomplices by now. They’d be keeping an eye out in case I showed up in the kingdom, so I will. I have the Informaband now; things can’t go as badly as they did last time. You’ll both follow the agents that capture me to the headquarters, and then you can break in!”
“I think you underestimate Quartz!” Peregrine argued. “He’d still find a way to do something terrible to you, Crevasse, like sticking you in a cave of electrical eels or killer ants! The Informaband doesn’t stop you from feeling pain. They might still torture you, or make you watch executions or something. I think this plan is entirely unacceptable.”
“It might work,” Abyss offered. “This couldn’t have been done before, but the Informabands might just make it possible. Crevasse will be relatively safe the entire time - and while we are invisible the guards will hardly be able to stop us! We only have to fly in quietly and not bump into any of the guards.”
“We could even alert Queen Ruby,” Crevasse realized. “I still have my academy dreamvisitor - what about you, Peregrine? Once we discover the location of the place, you could call Her Majesty and the entire SkyWing army would be at our back! The only danger is that Nocturne herself isn’t invulnerable at the moment.”
“Very true,” Abyss inhaled. “We don’t want her getting killed by a guard during the escape attempt. If she’s lost, all of Pyrrhia will surely follow. She can camouflage herself, and I can cover her when the time comes, so it just might be possible. I’m on board.”
“NO, absolutely not!” Peregrine argued. “Come on, it's - there are so many things that could go wrong! Say we lose the agents and Crevasse is trapped forever? Or they hear and catch us as well, during the kidnapping or even at their headquarters? Or they don’t take the bait? What if we only end up getting most of the SkyWing army killed? We don’t know how powerful the Loyalists truly are..”
“Surprisingly rational points,” Crevasse mused, and felt a swish of air beside him as Peregrine tried to watch him with her tail. “I doubt that all of those could go wrong. I really don’t know what else we could do.”
“Majority rules,” Abyss reasoned, and Peregrine sighed dramatically.
“You are both insane!” she huffed. “But fine, I suppose we don’t have any other choice. Promise you’ll be safe Crevasse?”
“Best as I can be.”
“So what?” she asked. “You’re just going to drop the invisibility and fly around for a while? The Loyalists aren’t stupid. They’re not going to try stealing a fully-grown SkyWing in the middle of the day.”
“We’ll wait until nightfall then,” he returned. “I’ll become visible again now so one of them can spot me. Come darkness we can find some area that is so out-of-the-way that they would consider making an attempt, but not so hidden that they can’t find me in the first place. I’ll pretend to sleep.”
“This better work,” his IceWing clawmate said, and they fell silent as they considered the difficult path ahead. Crevasse flicked the switch on his Informaband again and his blackened scales returned to the visible spectrum. He heard Abyss make a somewhat startled noise off to his right, and wondered if the dragonet hadn’t realized before now how extensive his injuries were.
Last time…Peregrine was right, the last encounter he had held with the Loyalist Force hadn’t exactly ended his way. He gazed down at the Mak 3, and as he did so the river of guilt running through him deepened into a rushing torrent. Solstice would be waking up any moment now, finding him vanished without a trace and fearing the worst. He had left a scroll beside his sleeping-platform to tell his friend that he had left, rather than becoming another victim of the Darkstalker. He was so relieved when I woke up after the initial attack - I can’t imagine how painful it will be for him to lose me again. I can’t believe I did such a terrible thing to him. Maybe The Watchers crafted me into a crueler dragon than I realize.
“If we’re going to be flying all day, how about a story?” Peregrine asked from out of the blue. “I need a distraction from all of this world-saving. Does Turtle have any tales about dragons searching for something lost? Someone lost?”
Crevasse racked his memories for such a scroll. “Yes. Have you ever read of Quetzal and the Floating Palace?”
“Ooh, intriguing,” Peregrine beamed. “No, I have not. Carry on.”
“As Quetzal grew up, tales of his grandfather never left his side,” Crevasse recited. “He had been an explorer of unmatched skill and renown, searching for new lands beyond the boundaries of the known world. The rarities he brought from distant islands never ceased to earn him the admiration of his fellow RainWings. Yet he had never been satisfied with his journeys. His wanderings were always quite constrained; for from any given piece of land he could only set out for a hundred miles before having to double back and rest, else his tired wings would drop him forever into the depths of the unknown sea.”
“‘There must be more to the world!’ he would proclaim, pacing about in his exotically-decorated study. ‘Pyrrhia can not be the only major landmass on this globe. I’ll have to see every inch of the empty sea for myself before I’ll believe that.’ And so he recruited most of his village to assist him in a project the likes of which had never been imagined before; constructing a floating structure large enough to sustain a voyage around the globe. They worked day and night, cutting trees from the edges of the rainforest and fashioning them into a great buoyant palace with the help of engineers from all the tribes. It took the cycles of many moons to complete. At last the structure was ready, and it was a sight to behold.”
“The vessel was composed of thousands of trees and was as immense as the library in the old City of Night. It held gardens and orchards for the production of fresh fruit, enough to sustain his crew of a dozen for years; storage-chambers filled to the brim with equipment and goods, from repair sets to spare anchors; a grand steering-chamber overlooking the endless sea, and an entire section with the sole purpose of housing any newly discovered animals. The entire thing was powered by a rigging of sails that unfurled to a height greater than the tallest redwood, woven of silk interlaced with metal wire. It was incredible that a thing of such mass was able to remain above the water. As it left harbor with a merrily waving crew, everyone assumed that great things would become of the expedition.”
“Instead, it vanished.” 
Crevasse paused for a moment, scanning the ground below to see if any sinister-looking SkyWings had picked up on his location yet. It was a waiting game now, while time was simultaneously of the essence; the fates of Nocturne and Anadrom were in talons beyond his control. He could only hope that this plan would work: wagering the life of his dear friend upon his intuition of Quartz’s villany. There were no signs of any trouble yet brewing, so he resumed.
“By the time Quetzal was hatched the vessel had been missing for a decade. Even the most optimistic members of the RainWing tribe had resigned the fate of the expedition to a sorrowful loss at sea. Interest eventually moved on, and when he was grown Quetzal found himself to be the only one who still wondered about the voyage. His grandfather’s legacy was secure in the records and museums of the tribe, but it was truly disheartening that his final fate remained unknown. The tale of the adventurer was so unfortunately incomplete. Quetzal hoped he would be the one to clear up the ending, and so he planned an expedition of his own when the time came. His tribe was cautious to send another palace to a watery demise, and as a result his watercraft was of a far lesser scope than his grandfather’s. It held only rations for a few months - but it was capable of catching the wind most efficiently, and could travel a hundred miles a day.” 
“He launched upon one of the brightest days Pyrrhia had experienced in months. A brilliant sun overlooked a crystalline sky, while brisk winds tugged at his ears and promised adventure. The water was aquamarine in the shallows off the coast as he set off. This expedition would be a solitary voyage since there was no one else willing to brave the unknowns of the sea. Quetzal’s grandfather had been a masterful explorer, and it was presumed that if anything lurking out in the open waters was capable of ending his career, then no other dragon would stand even a remote chance against it. So he waved good-bye to his friends and family as he hoped most sincerely that he would one day return.”
“Boo,” Peregrine interrupted. “No one wanted to help him? If they thought it was too dangerous to go, wouldn’t that mean they thought they were sending Quetzal off to his death? Come on, he would have had some friends loyal enough to tag along.” 
“Quetzal really did set off alone. The pleasant weather held as he navigated out to the farthest mapped region of Pyrrhia; the island known as Glory’s Prime, discovered by his grandfather years ago. There he stopped to investigate. The largest problem facing him at the moment was the sheer scale of the open sea beyond. There was no absolute way to know in which direction his grandfather’s floating palace had set off, but he did observe a powerful wind blowing to the west.”
“Pyrrhia was out of sight by sundown. The feeling was bizarre to Quetzal in a way that could hardly be described. Everywhere he looked he saw only open water, a void as infinite as that of an empty night sky. There were no landmarks, no familiar rainforest trees nor familiar mountains on the horizon; there was naught but rolling waves in all directions. Western winds continued to roar throughout the night, eventually picking up in intensity and pushing him forward at a great rate. Quetzal didn’t dare sleep, lest some aquatic monstrosity devour his ship whole while he was unconscious. His eyes attempted to penetrate the evening dim but were not suited for such a task. Nightfall was truly alarming, for then he really felt as if he was suspended in a void. A darkness more complete that he would have thought possible had settled around him. He was no longer able to see and prepare for the upcoming waves, so his vessel jolted about seemingly at random.”
“By morning he would have considered turning back if he were a lesser dragon; but his determination to find his missing grandfather compelled him to move onwards. The next day returned nothing of any interest besides for a few narrow-limbed birds soaring far overhead. His rations were still plentiful as night settled down, and he found that this evening he would have to rest for a while. Days began passing in this repetitive fashion, of his bobbing along on an empty sea with only himself for company, and his loneliness became crushing. The sight of land after a week of travel therefore meant all that much more to him, and he steered over to the blob of green on the horizon with a thrill in his heart.”
“The landmass was tiny, roughly a hundred wing-spans across and two hundred wide, but it was land nonetheless. Palms were growing upon the smooth beaches of the island, from which he was able to take a bountiful harvest of coconuts to replenish his rations. He combed over every inch of the place for any signs that another dragon had stepped foot there before, but found no signs of any such behavior. The island was barren of all animal life besides for some brilliantly-colored butterflies and tiny serpents; the beaches were clear of any talon-tracks or fire pits; even the caves bore no sign of dragon settlements. Quetzal moved on after a few hours, a thread of doubt growing in his heart as he wondered if he had chosen the right direction. There was no knowing anything yet. He would have to press on.”
“His ship was barely back out into the open waters when the first alarming event of his voyage occurred. There had been a few more sea-birds soaring overhead, and he had been watching their progress with some interest to determine if he knew their species or not. In a split second, a thin black tendril has rocketed upwards from the water and wrapped around one of the birds hundreds of tail-lengths above the waves. As Quetzal watched in shock, the bird was plucked from the sky and dragged into the depths below so quickly that it didn’t have time to react. The other birds seemed to pick up on the situation for they moved to soar higher into the sky; but the tendrils reappeared and managed to snatch two more from the flock. His heart pounding as he imagined the scale of the creature consuming the waterfowl, Quetzal navigated in the opposite direction as quickly as he could.”
“That is so gross,” Peregrine shivered. “They were hundreds of tail-lengths long? Brr.”
“Yes, I would have to agree on that,” Abyss said from somewhere below Crevasse. It was something of a relief to hear him speak, for Crevasse hadn’t been certain if he was still there or not. “I find it impressive that you have this all memorized. How many times did you read this scroll?”
“It was one of my favorites,” he replied. “So maybe a dozen times or so? I’m paraphrasing everything, but I think the gist of the story is the same.” He paused for a moment to sweep the ground below with his gaze again, and upon finding everything still quite normal, he pressed on. “Quetzal managed to evade the terrifying bird-snatcher. His vessel sliced through the waves as he fully deployed the sails, creating a foaming wake that stretched out behind him. The island was soon gone from sight and he was once again returned to the void of the ocean; but now his solitude was somewhat lightened. Tiny pieces of land quite similar to the one he had just visited began to appear more regularly. After another day of sailing he was now able to spot two or three from a single position at any time. He began spending the nights upon these small outcroppings, sleeping in any caves he found and hoping they would provide shelter against any hostile leviathans.”
“Day after day passed in this repetitive loop, but Quetzal managed to find plenty of coconuts and had no reason to give up the search. The weather had become foul for a few nights and he had been required to take shelter in a rough grove of palms; but it was clear for the majority of the daytime and the winds were as fair as ever. His patience was finally returned upon the thirtieth day. He had been about to launch from another smooth sand beach when a glimmer of metal caught his eye. He hooked his talons around the object and pulling it from the ground he found himself staring at a fragment of the sail from his grandfather’s floating palace. There was no way it could be anything else; there were torn pieces of cloth still hanging to the skeletal wire frame of the sail. His emotions fought within him, for while this meant that he was on the right track, it did introduce the idea that his grandfather might really have been lost at sea. The section of sail that he had found wasn’t that large in size, but digging around that island and a few nearby other locations managed to produce quite a few more samples of the mesh wire.”
“He found the skeleton the next day,” Crevasse intoned, pausing for dramatic effect. “The reflection of sunlight off of bone caught his eye. Steering his boat over to the sinister sighting, he found himself staring at what was very clearly a RainWing skeleton trapped within the vines of a particularly lush island. It was quite terrifying to see such a thing up close, so he hesitated to investigate further. In his moment of shock, the bushes around the base of the bones shuffled in a sweeping motion and parted to reveal a dragonbite viper staring up at him. He spat a quick shot of venom over its awful serpentine figure and bolted away as it melted with a fearful hissing. There could be no retrieving the body with such terrible vermin around. Quetzal was forced to sail away with a heavy heart, wondering how the vipers had even managed to arrive on the island in the first place. The venomous species was unspeakably deadly on land; did its domain of terror extend over the oceans as well? He wondered what other familiar creatures from Pyrrhia he might find scattered over these distant shores.”
“The next week was the worst by far. Not only did the bird-snatcher make a return all too close to his location, but he witnessed what he had presumed to be an island begin moving about and eventually sink into the sea with a low gurgle. The waters around him began to be illuminated to a crimson hue at night by some sort of plankton, generating an effect most sinister, and the skies became entrenched with heavy clouds and stinging beetles. His vessel became crusted with reddish slime that ate into the wood, forcing him to stop and make repairs on a rock outcropping. While he was finishing a buzzing roar rustled through the night sky, sending a thrill through every scale on his body. The waters a hundred tail-lengths from him surged suddenly upwards and then broke as a massive talon breached the surface. Quetzal watched in astonishment as the polished surface rose higher and higher into the sky, its surface gleaming black as obsidian; and then he realized it wasn’t a single surface at all. Hundreds of beetles were swarming up from the depths below him, their black wings working in perfect unison to propel their collective mass through the air. The swarm made its way over to one of the islands and settled upon it, gnawing through the leaves of the palms and tearing away the grass in moments. He was off again before they noticed his presence, hoping fiercely that his grandfather had not met his end at the teeth of such horrible pests.”
“He eventually broke from the chain of islands and returned to the open sea, which was all the more frightening now that he knew the types of beings that resided in its depths. Any moment his vessel could be penetrated by the tendrils of the bird-snatcher, or torn apart by the many jaws of the underwater beetle swarm; and he would be soon to follow, or else drown in the murky depths. A storm began as night fell, sending cascades of water into his already patchworked vessel. Winds tore at his sail - lightning charged the water about him - and he could only cling to the floorboards and wait for it to pass. It did not. He waited until he knew for absolutely certain that it should be daytime, but the skies around him were as impenetrable as ever. In the gloom he was unable to see the approaching landmass, and his only indication of its presence was when he was thrown into the air as his ship struck it at full force. Quetzal landed on a gravely beach with sharp shards of flint that cut into his scales and ruffs. Staggering around in the gloom he managed to find the shelter of a cave, where he waited for many more hours to come.”
“His talons slipped on the rocky surface underfoot and caught onto something oddly cylindrical. Picking it up and bringing it very close to his eyes, he found himself staring at a necklace he knew to belong to his grandfather. He had seen it in numerous portraits throughout the village: this medallion of gold in the shape of a setting sun, engraved with the blessing of Queen Glory and the RainWing army. What this meant he dared not think. He dreaded the rising of the sun lest it reveal the skeletons of his grandfather and his crew lying in the cave behind him, their hollow eyes tilted even now in his direction. Yet all of his wishes could not stop the storm from eventually coming to an end. Sunlight began to penetrate the clouds, and with great unease he noticed that he could see the floor of the cavern below him. Inhaling sharply and bracing himself for the worst, he turned around to find…”
“What?” Peregrine asked, her voice directly beside him. “What was it? Crevasse, I understand that this is how storytelling works, but your dramatic pauses are killing me.”
“He found what could only have been the shipwreck of the Floating Palace. Timbers of the oldest rainforest trees were lying in fragments around him, worn into a rotting heap by glowing fungi and vibrant mosses. His heart sinking to his talons, Quetzal moved out of the cavern and emerged blinking into the sunlight. The beaches around the enclave were littered with debris, the sand half-burying the splintered remains of immense rooms and collapsed decks. The great sails of the former vessel were caught and held upright by a series of jagged boulders, their sides encompassed by winding vines as the meager remains of the sails fluttered soundlessly in the breeze. Everywhere he looked there was rubble and ruin; he saw crabs nesting in old wooden barrels, seagulls perching upon a sodden heap out a bit into the bay that must have been the cabin, and shards of glass littering the sand alongside the soggy remnants of scrolls. There were no signs of life, but the area was noticeably free of skeletons. Quetzal turned towards the rainforests bordering the beach, figuring that some carnivorous scavengers might have made off with the bones. He explored the forests for a while, searching for any signs of what had happened to the passengers of the grand expedition, but his mission proved unfruitful.”
“His own ship was rather surprisingly in salvageable condition. It had plowed into a sandy section of the beach rather than the rocky spires of the south, allowing its hull and sail to remain mostly intact. Over the course of the next few days he began repairing the vessel with lumber from the rainforest as he continued to sweep the island for any absolute evidence of his grandfather’s demise. The land was extensive below him, sweeping in a gradual curve from east to west along a range of shallow mountains. It was as tropical as the rest of the regions he had visited but for a single tree growing in a clearing which he recognized as a Pyrrhian Fir. He could only assume that a seed had been carried over on the Floating Palace and released during the crash. The plant was doing surprisingly well for being stranded in an entirely new environment. There was also a segment of land that had been set ablaze in the last decade, for the base of the trees remained twisted and warped by flame and the grass only just covered the layer of ash mixed into the dirt. He wondered if this was anything more than a common wildfire, but once again there were no signs of any dragon intervention in the terrain below.”
“Quetzal could bear the search no more after the fifth day. His vessel was in as adequate a condition as he would be able to achieve. Holding the necklace of his grandfather to his heart, he cast off from the island with a feeling of great disappointment. He could only presume that the scavengers had taken and buried the bones of the crew, fallen in the wake of the destructive shipwreck. His voyage back to Pyrrhia was even less pleasant than the initial outing, for now his spirits were significantly dampened and he had only to look forward to being the bearer of bad news. The winds fought his motion now and the storms came more frequently, and so it would be nearly three months later when he safely returned to Pyrrhia.”
“A mere day after his ship had departed from the island of the shipwreck, however, another vessel came within sight of it. It made landfall before dark and was safely anchored in a bay while its RainWing crew departed and stretched their wings. The ensign of Queen Glory, torn and faded over its years of exposure to the elements, still swung from their patchwork mast. The survivors of the original shipwreck spread out on the shore and began gathering wood for the fire, congratulating themselves on their accomplishments. After the loss of their first vessel in the crash Quetzal had observed, the expedition led by his grandfather had constructed a second patchwork vessel from the remains; it was slower and far less impressive than the first Floating Palace, but seaworthy nonetheless. Under its tattered bow they had continued their search for a second continent, sweeping the oceans far and wide. Now, having mapped out the entire world as best they could, they had returned to sail back to the Rainforest Kingdom.”
“Their spirits were only dampened by the worsening condition of their leader. Quetzal’s grandfather had been ill for the last year of the voyage, his incredible age finally catching up to him. Not wanting to press him in this state the survivors remained upon the shipwreck island for a month; but it was to no avail. The great explorer died peacefully in his sleep, and was buried under the Pyrrhian Fir by his tearful crewmates. They remarked only that he was now exploring a new realm beyond their sight. Wishing to present their vast knowledge of the world to the rest of dragon-kind, they set off on a course for Pyrrhia soon after. Yet misfortune struck them without the careful guidance of their leader, and they were forced to abandon ship after sailing into a swarm of the obsidian-winged beatles. The crew escaped with their maps and instruments to a nearby island where they were forced to settle down for the rest of their days.”
“Quetzal was never able to learn of his misinterpretation, and for all eternity the expedition was recorded in RainWing history as being lost upon the shipwreck island. There were no further attempts to reveal the details, and the careful maps of the sailors were lost to time as their settlement rotted away. Quetzal would live the rest of his life despising the water and advocating against further exploration, with his tales of aquatic dragonbite-vipers and the dreadful aquatic monsters convincing the RainWing tribe to prohibit seafaring expeditions altogether. He could never have known how differently things might have turned out if his grandfather had been able to see him one last time; how his leadership might have been able to guide the other sailors safely through the dangers of the ocean. Things only happened the way they did.”
Peregrine and Abyss were silent for a moment, both seemingly somewhat taken aback by this ending. “If only he had waited one more day!” the IceWing kept repeating, shaking her head. “I - that’s such a sad ending. He thinks he wasted all that time searching for his grandfather and they couldn’t even see each other for one last time…”
“The moral of the story, as I interpret it,” Crevasse mused, “Is more positive than you might expect. A single day stood between a happy ending and the unfortunate one we observed; so Turtle might be saying that we should never lose hope, should never accept defeat even when it stares us right in the eyes. There is always potential for things to improve, no matter how bleak they appear at the moment.”
“Our quest will have a better ending,” Peregrine said. “If all we need is persistence, then I have good news - I’m never going to give up! We’ll search for as long as it takes. There won’t be any returning to Jade Mountain until we have Anadrom safely beside us..”
“I certainly hope so,” he replied, catching the wind with his wings and soaring upward into the skies. He tried to catch the sunlight on his scales and reflect it into the valleys below to make himself more visible. “I’ll admit, I find it worrying that we are waiting on Quartz for this to work. I don’t like the idea of all of our fates hanging upon his decisions.”
“Well, unless you have an alternative idea,” Abyss reasoned, “It’s the only option we have. Don’t start doubting us now. I’m sure Quartz holds enough of a grudge to want you captured and imprisoned without hope of release.”
“Fantastic,” Crevasse sighed, and Peregrine laughed from somewhere to his left.
They spent the rest of that day circling through the Sky Kingdom, soaring upon the many updrafts of the mountainous terrain as the sun made its gradual trek across the shaded sky. The air was fine and cool, the landscapes below graceful and impressive. Scores of arcing pine trees clinging to the slopes below sent their fresh scent upon the breeze while squadrons of songbirds cried out in mismatched harmonies. A few SkyWing patrols passed them by in the middle of the day, but Crevasse prevented any conflict by simply displaying his Jade Mountain library card and stating that he was returning to his home village. 
The Loyalists remained elusive as the day turned to dusk, rays of golden and amber sunlight spiraling through the wisps of grey clouds above. Despite the lack of advancement in their plan thus far, Crevasse was becoming increasingly hopeful. Nighttime was the domain of such evil as the Loyalist Force. They likely had spotted him earlier and decided to kidnap him under the protection of the darkened skies. With this in mind he announced that camp would be set up upon a grassy plateau with no natural defenses or shelter. There would be no more promising location for a group of cowardly kidnappers to try and capture their next prisoner unawares. Peregrine adamantly took the first sleeping-shift, Abyss and herself still being entirely invisible, and Crevasse followed shortly. Sleep was a long time coming, but his mind eventually returned to the void.
Chapter 11
He was in the midst of a nightmare - where they arrived at the lair of the Darkstalker only to discover that Anadrom had been turned to stone, her final expression of terror etched into marble for all eternity - when the corners of the dream sharpened and swirled about. As he turned about he saw the figure of Solstice staring at him with a dreamvisitor clutched in his talons. The Sandy-NightWing was displaying an impressive variety of emotions, his eyes sparkling with worry and fear while his scales beamed with warmth at Crevasse’s sight and his talons clenched tightly in frustration. 
“Hey, Solstice,” Crevasse said sheepishly, as a strong pang of guilt ran through him anew for deserting his best friend at the academy. 
“Crevasse!” the hybrid beamed. “I hadn’t dared to hope that I could actually contact you! Does this mean he - the Darkstalker - doesn’t have you? We’ve been worried beyond our minds - what happened? Where are you? Are you safe?”
“Ah,” Crevasse paused, racking his mind desperately to find an acceptable way to present their situation. “No, we’re not with the Darkstalker. I haven’t seen the slightest trace of him.”
“‘We’re?’” Solstice inquired. “So then Peregrine and Abyss are with you?” He began pacing around the dream-cavern, a split halfway between his cave and the plateau where Crevasse was sleeping. The hybrid turned his head to fix him with an unreadable gaze, his sharp eyes twinkling in the eerie moonlight above. “You’re out looking for Anadrom,” he conjectured, more a statement than a question. “But still, I - I can’t believe you would do this.”
“What?” Crevasse protested. “Of course I have to search for her! If I couldn’t stop the Darkstalker the first time, I have to make up for it now.”
“No, not that,” Solstice sighed, looking quite downcast. “I mean - why didn’t you take me with you? I thought I was going to lose you when that shadow aliment had its grasp over you for days - I was beside your hospital-cot at every moment - and then you’re gone again as soon as you recovered? I’ve been thinking I’ve lost both of you for days now! It goes without saying that we have to go rescue her, and I thought it would be clear that we could do it together - yet instead you’ve begun an expedition across the continent and I’m sitting useless in the academy.” He sat down, burying his golden head in his talons. “Why? If they could come, why couldn’t I?”
“Solstice, it’s not that I choose them over you,” Crevasse rushed, his guilt threatening to overflow. “I was going to head out alone, but they were waiting for me at the entrance cavern. Peregrine was threatening to head out on her own if I didn’t let her come with me, and I couldn’t very well let her get in all sorts of trouble by herself! Winter was overhearing us outside and I had to be off as soon as possible or the Darkstalker might do something. There was no time.”
“Tell me where you are,” Solstice pleaded. “We can be over there in less than a day - there has to be time enough for that! Then we can go on together. Our winglet headed off to save the world, like it’s been for all of the prophecies and in all of the stories.”
“Solstice, listen to me,” he returned adamantly. “The forces we are dealing with here are terrible beyond the scope of our imagination. They are capable of destroying anything that stands in their way. If you were with us, your life would be in the greatest peril; and I never want that to be the case. Heading out alone guarantees at least that the rest of you are relatively safe. I didn’t have a choice for Peregrine and Abyss, but I do for you. Please, Solstice, stay at the academy and help everyone there.”
“You don’t think there’s anything I could contribute to a rescue mission?” Solstice argued. “This isn’t the kind of thing you can do alone, Crevasse. If the Watchers are so powerful then we would stand the best chance against them acting together! How can you argue that it wouldn’t be safe if you’re out there right now? You’re no more resistant to danger than the rest of us. Don’t you see? You’re not the only one who can be worried about their friends. I would much rather have you safely back here.” He resumed pacing around the cavern, his venomless tail snaking across the ground behind him, then turned to face Crevasse with a saddened gaze. “If I’m with you, I at least know if everything is okay, or if - you know - if it’s not. At the academy I can only hope for the best and fear for the worst. I have no way of knowing except for this…” - he gestured to the dream-cavern around them - “...and it only works once in a blue moon. For every other hour of the day I can only tread in the depths of the crushing unknown. I - I can’t bear it.”
This was becoming quite more difficult than Crevasse had anticipated. How could he stand against these sincere wishes of his closest ally in the world? Yet the image of Solstice being captured by a leering Darkstalker bent on revenge against Qibli and Moonwatcher kept flashing before his eyes; his subconscious was haunted by the concept of shadowy tendrils encompassing the petrified form of his best friend and dragging him into the depths of the Watcher’s lairs. He couldn’t justify leading him into danger - but neither could he justify leaving him alone at the academy to wait about in worry. Neither of them is the right thing to do, but the lesser of the two evils has to be leaving him in safety. I have to desert him, as terrible as it is, in order to protect him in the long term.
“I’m sorry,” he finally managed, staring down at his talons. “Solstice, you know I think you are one of the most brilliant dragons in Pyrrhia - because you are, whether you’ll admit it or not - but fighting isn’t your area of expertise.” He paused, finally having built up the courage to look his best friend in his eyes. “I know you’re always seeing the best in everyone and everything. That’s not how it is out in the world right now. There is evil underfoot of proportions that you would never dare to consider; you couldn’t accept that such dreadful things could possibly be. I’ve seen firsthand how dark Pyrrhia can be.” Images of Kittiwake being swallowed by shadows flashed behind his eyes and he shivered involuntarily. “While you’ve grown up in the academy, surrounded by scholars and peacemakers. I know Quartz was terrible, but even his bullying couldn’t have prepared you for this. I can’t justify sending you against it.”
The Sandy-NightWing stood across from him with starlight splintering off of his golden scales. Crevasse met his dejected gaze, feeling a guilt of unprecedented proportions take root within his chest. “Solstice, it’s not that- ”
“I’ve lost my two best friends in a week,” the hybrid interjected. “I know everything pales in comparison to what you’ve been through - and I’m sorry - but things haven’t been peaceful at the academy for a while now. There’ve been accusations against my father - some horrible accusations - and I’ve seen that nobody is as trusting in other dragons as I had thought. That nobody is truly willing to see good in others. At the slightest upheaval everyone returns to distrust and suspicion. Then with the Darkstalker’s return…you know Anadrom and I were close, Crevasse, but the worst of it is that it doesn’t end with her. He holds a grudge against both of my parents - he could take revenge on either of them at any moment and nobody could stop him. I’ve spent every moment these last days worrying about everyone I’ve ever been close to…worrying that they’ll be taken away behind my back, and I’ll never get to say goodbye.” A silver teardrop fell to the ground, shattering like a fallen icicle on the rough stone floor. “Is this - is this my only chance to say it to you? Crevasse - what are you planning? Are you going to be back safely?”
Without a word, Crevasse went over and hugged him tightly. “I promise we will,” he swore. “With Anadrom beside us; and then her magic can protect us all from the Darkstalker for all time to come.” He broke away and smiled somberly at the Sandy-NightWing. “A happy ending, to be sure. I just need you to remain safe until it happens.”
“Doing nothing to help anyone in any way?” Solstice protested, but his resolve was fading. “I - I do see your point about my lack of combat skills. I greatly oppose this act of standing idly by - but there’s no one I would trust to bring her back more than you.” His scales radiated a brighter warmth than ever as a sad smile flickered over his snout. “If anyone can be the hero we need, it’ll be you. You’re most definitely not going to disclose your location?”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t tell you.”
“Can you at least tell me what you are planning?”
“Solstice,” he replied carefully, “I know it’s unfair to ask this of you, but please don’t worry about us. We all have Informabands and earrings against the Darkstalker’s sinister magic. There really isn’t all that much that could happen to us - and your parents are safer than you might think as well. They have the same magical protection, right? The Darkstalker would have to come right into the academy to do anything to them, and I don’t think he would dare face the entire might of the scholars at once. There was a reason he waited to capture Anadrom until she and I were alone by the lakes. The powers of reason and goodness are too strong in the academy for his reign of terror to penetrate. It’s the safest place for you to all be right now - which is why you have to stay there.”
“Alright,” Solstice nodded, still looking quite dejected over his inability to help the effort along. “Then I wish your quest the greatest success. May the light of the moons be upon you, and I hope with every fiber of my being that we will all be back together soon.” He gazed down at the ground for a moment. “If you reconsider…we’ll do all we can to arrive swiftly. They’ve increased security around the entrance to make sure no other students sneak off in the dead of night, and so we cannot head out alone; but with your exact location, I’m certain I could convince some of the teachers to even accompany us to you. Just keep it in mind?”
“I will keep you updated,” Crevasse replied. “We’ll be able to confirm that we’re each still alright that way. And Solstice, thank you for standing by my side through all of this. You’re an incredible friend - the best I could ever ask for. I hate to be separated like this.” He paused, shuffling his talons on the dreamscape-grass below. “Even if I’m not great at showing it right now, I care about you and only ever want you to be happy. If I can bring Anadrom back, things will turn for the better. Everything can return to normal.”
“You’re a hero,” Solstice replied with a smile. Each of them examined the other for an extended period of time. Crevasse tried to formulate some final reassurance to give his friend, to find some words of parting to fill the void between them; but right as something came to him, the Sandy-NightWing began to blur around the edges. Solstice looked down at himself in some element of confusion, then gazed sharply up to the left as he hissed, “Paradox, wait - go off -” 
The voice of their NightWing clawmate cut through the growingly blurry cave, murmuring some sentence out of which Crevasse was able to catch the sole word “Puffin”; and then Solstice must have entirely been woken up, for the cavern dissolved into nothingness around him. He was caught in an endless void, jolting awake and springing his eyes open to find much of the same surrounding him. The deepest of midnights was upon them once more. Everything was masked in an impenetrable layer of the deepest ink, blurred into a single black mass that encompassed the entire world. He lay awake as emotions flooded through him, hope churning against stinging guilt and biting unease like waves colliding at sea.
The longer he lay awake in this state of stasis, the greater his unease became. Every passing moment of inaction was a betrayal. What if his entire plan held no chance of succeeding and they were only wasting a massive amount of time, dawdling around the Sky Kingdom as they waited for Loyalists that would never arrive? When would it be right to give up on this venture and try something else - and even then, what other options did they have? He hated his helplessness in the world, despised being held entirely in the dark to the intentions of the forces surrounding him. His tenacity for learning and his willingness to fight for his friends were the only things in life he had ever been competent at, and now he was failing most dramatically in both regards.  
Every twitch of motion in the plateau began causing his heart to race at a million beats a minute, adrenaline rushing through his chest as he repeatedly mistook the motion of some small forest animal for the cautious talon-falls of an approaching dragon. His mind and body began playing tricks on him as the sky continued to imperceptibly brighten. There would be a sudden prick in his arm that he was certain had to be the impact of a RainWing sleep-dart, but whenever he squinted at the position in question with nearly-closed eyes, he would see only his twisted scales lying in the gloom. Voices began swirling around only to melt into wind or the calls of some distant hawks; he began to see shadowy forms of dragons standing nearby with raised nets that vanished whenever he blinked. 
After the passing of some indefinite block of creeping hours, he felt in his heart that the sky had surely become too light for any attempt upon him to be made. He was on the verge of stretching his wings and calling for Peregrine when there was a rustle nearby - and unlike his many hopeful hallucinations, this sound held a tangible weight to it that would correspond to the weight of a full-grown dragon. He froze immediately, his senses flaring to full-alert, and then the horrible and beautiful sound of a projectile soaring towards him met his ears. There was a sharp pain in his upper forearm - followed by several more around his wings and upper chest - and he felt his veins go cold with the poison within. Jolting upright he snarled in the direction of his attacker, trying his best to portray the concept that he was entirely against being captured.
A SkyWing emerged from the shrubbery, wearing a variety of sleek gold bracelets alongside a cold and greedy expression. As she sneered down upon him her companions emerged from various other positions, all nearly identical through their bearings of treachery and malice. Crevasse’s vision was blurring, the world distorting about him as his mind raced to pick out details of the ambush. There was the scar of RainWing venom along the chest of one assailant - there were the crimson emblems of the Loyalist Force draped over the talons of another - crimson stitches against crimson scales, the smolder of fire within their eyes - 
A flash of darkness and he felt himself slip away as the poison stole his consciousness. 
In his mind it was a starlit evening in his old village, and the Loyalists were leading their unprovoked attack once again. Around him were the ivy-laden homes of his early years, the stems aflame and casting an unnatural red glow around the square. He spun around in horror, his ears ringing with the screams of the townsfolk and the dreadful battle-cries of the assailants. His talons - all four entirely organic - slipped in the muck outside his doorstep as he raced inside the blacksmithery, and he realized he was in the form of his younger self as well. There was some infinitely powerful force influencing him into the same behavior as that he had taken on the actual night, try as he might to fight it. Yet he could notice more details this time; the swinging motion of the blades on the walls as they were jostled by the many collisions outside, the various cracks forming in the crumbling clay walls, the smoke stinging his nostrils as he ran for the shelter of his parents.
They were before him in a moment as his fear-fueled energy propelled him into their room, once again decked out with the various instruments of their practice. Their every scale as he had unwillingly remembered, their snouts pickpocketed with little ashen specks from flying embers at the forge and their colorings identical to his. The same initial look of hostility glared from their eyes as they assumed him to be an intruder - but Crevasse could not hold his focus upon even these most terrible phantoms of his past. The part of his consciousness that was his present self became instantly locked in a cavern of deepest fright as he looked up towards the entities circling his parent’s heads. Wisps of darkness, settling every other heartbeat into forms more terrible than the last, with tendrils that snaked down through the air and into the ears of his parents. The mere sight caused his head to pound intolerably.
He was looking upon The Watchers.
The younger version of himself was blind to the menace and was running towards his father, shouting of the battle outside. With a flurry of sinister, crawling motion from the hazy forms above, Crevasse watched the eyes of his parents drain of all hope. From his new position his range of vision extended towards the bedroom window, allowing him to note the horrors unfolding outside. He wished he could wrench his eyes away from what he saw, but there was no controlling his phantom of his own presence. Above every Loyalist outside was a great mass of discoloration in the air, a throbbing manifestation of anger and dark intentions. 
His call for his parents to stay and fight was playing out in the foreground, and then there was a shattering of glass and a cold hand upon his shoulder. His parents were vanishing into the darkness, steered away by tendrils in their fleeting moment of hesitation. The Loyalist leered above him, and the swarm of nearby Watchers were so close that Crevasse could pinpoint their exact form. He immediately wished he hadn’t. The agents of ultimate evil were composed of a mass of impossible joints and wrinkled, cracked skin, with eyes that took on the form of his own and glared at him from hundreds of unlikely positions. Each tendril was moving at a speed greater than the wingbeats of a hummingbird, making its exact position impossible to locate; and at the base of it all was a mouth with feelers instead of teeth, sucking a stream of darkened specks from the dragon below it. As the young Crevasse was filled with terror and the sting of betrayal, a host of the beings began swirling around like vultures and feasting on the rising stream of negativity. Every moment their limbs and eyes would rearrange so that the only constant was the awful mouth and winding tendrils. Then the blade was raised, streaking down towards his arm…
He jolted awake, shivering in absolute terror. At first he thought he had returned to the void of night on the grassy plateau; but then he noticed the flicker of fire through a single set of bars. He attempted movement, feeling a rush of pain spike through every muscle. The effort revealed that metal bands had been attached to his wings and legs, bolted by heat-resistant chains to immense clips in the cavern floor below. As his eyes adjusted to the gloom he was able to note to greater detail the absolute barrenness of his surroundings. An empty cavern, three walls dripping with rotting mosses and the fourth holding only a massive barred door and a banner with the horrid emblem of the Loyalists upon it. This was it - the lair of the great threat. The belly of the beast.
Chapter 12
He had not long to wait before the situation became suitably worse. There was a murmur of movement from the sloping hallway outside his cell, escorted by the sense of malice and ill-humor that he knew could only belong to one dragon.
“Crevasse, you pathetic fool,” Quartz sneered, his eyes of blazing flame illuminating the cavern in a sour glare as he unlocked the cell and came to stand in front of his ensnared prisoner. “You shouldn’t have assumed I was finished with you. How predictably idiotic of you, flaunting around our territory without companions or guards. Whatever happened? Did the weirdlings at the academy finally desert you?”
“Quartz,” he wheezed in reply, trying to muster as much venom as he could. “How’s the complete betrayal of your tribe and mother suiting you?”
A bolt of flame shot out of his enemy’s snout, striking him directly in the face and causing his scars to roar with agony. He contained a cry of pain, gritting his teeth until the stream of heat ended. The Informaband held true and he could tell that no lasting damage had been done; and Quartz let out an audibly disappointed hiss at this. “Coward! You dare hide behind the impurity of that freak’s magic!” he roared, and Crevasse could almost visualize the swarm of Watchers spiraling over his fuming snout. “Don’t bring my mother into this. The queen is nothing to me anymore. She has failed her kingdom and failed me, and I will see that she pays for it. As you will pay for the disturbances you caused to my reign at the academy.”
“If we’re exchanging requests,” Crevasse hissed, “I don’t want to hear anything else about my friends spewing from your traitorous mouth.”
Laugher crackled from the Loyalists’s snout as he stepped forward menacingly. “You are in no position to demand anything. My rightful power has been granted to me by this grand organization of tradition and order. Finally my royal blood is respected. I have power the likes of which you can only imagine, pathetic SkyWing. What can you do to stop me?”
“You won’t last a heartbeat,” Crevasse retorted. “Any one of your terrorizing compatriots will turn on you in a moment if someone remotely stronger comes along. Along comes another traitor with a smite of intelligence, and you’ve been assassinated and replaced before you can blink.”
This was met with another blast of flame, which he once again endured without revealing the pain. Quartz was fuming before him, his orange scales flickering like the teeth of some hidden predator as he clenched his talons in rage. He leaned forward with his glittering eyes, and the pure malice within them sent a bolt of genuine fear through Crevasse’s heart. “We don’t keep prisoners for very long. I have no interest in keeping you locked down here. No, I want you gone. Obliterated from the face of the world, unable to ever again pester the superior ranks of nobility such as myself. Your cowardly magic does complicate your execution; but we have an alternative.”
This was certainly not part of the plan. What can he possibly do to me? Does he actually have a way to kill me? How can I escape? Solstice wanted to know if his dream-visit was the only chance he could have to say goodbye. I can’t let him down. If I die he’ll be devastated. 
“I’m caught in unbreakable wires, probably miles underground in your prison complex,” Crevasse hissed dryly, “And you think I’m enough of a problem to eliminate. Interesting. Now that is what I would call cowardance, Quartz. Can you not handle being reminded how low you’ve sunk in the world?”
“You,” his enemy hissed. “Keep blubbering, but you are not turning the tables on this. I have wanted you gone ever since my earliest days at the academy.” He breathed heavily for a moment, glaring down at his prisoner with a twisted grin, and continued with an underlying current of malice below his voice. “There is a chasm in our prison complex that no dragon has ever seen the bottom of. How fitting to your namesake that your chamber of isolation for all eternity will indeed be a crevasse. I’ll throw you down myself with your wings bound by the strongest clips I can find. I don’t much care how long you’ll be down there; I’m certain it will be ages by the time the metal rusts away, and by then your sanity will be long gone. All of your disgusting friends dead, their very matter less than dust. It will be absolutely thrilling, won’t it?”
There was no way to respond to that, and a creeping sense of dread was shaking Crevasse’s senses. An eternity alone in the darkness, unrescuable as he lived out the rest of his days in the void. Quartz was incorrect in that the Informabands provided immortality; they only were designed to prevent the user from experiencing physical harm, and so his age would eventually catch up to him in the darkness. It would be a horrible life to lead. He hoped desperately that Abyss and Peregrine were on their way. They must be close if they had followed the kidnappers - but SkyWings were masters of flight, after all, and maybe they had soared ahead even while carrying their prisoner. Perhaps his friends had lost the trail and he was destined to this horrible fate; or perhaps they were right outside and simply waiting for the SkyWing army to arrive on-site. 
An idea came to him that he would never have considered under any other circumstances. He forced himself into laughter, managing a dry cackle. Quartz stood in shock before him with a glare of livid outrage. “Well, I’m quite impressed,” Crevasse hissed sharply. “Throwing a defenseless prisoner into a pit: what a marvelous way to demonstrate your courage before your soldiers.” He dropped the sarcasm, fixing Quartz with a grin that he hoped was infuriatingly smug. “Admit it. You’re afraid to fight me, despite all your threats of superiority. A member of the supposedly most deadly organization on the continent and you cower before a mere student of the Jade Mountain Academy. Your minions caught me under the dead of night, poisoned me and locked me away; are you as frightened as they are of actually fighting someone fairly? Go ahead and throw me into that pit, but your soldiers will see your weakness and insecurity. Those aren’t characteristic of a leader, are they? I wonder how long they’ll let a frightened dragonet stay in power.”
“You,” Quartz snarled, looking every bit as venomous as a dragonbite viper. “There is no manipulating me, SkyWing. I will not be tricked into combating an invulnerable opponent.”
“I’ll remove the Informaband,” Crevasse said, hardly believing what he was doing. “I’ll face you without any magical guard. A challenge of might alone, as fair as any.” He dropped his voice slightly, hoping to touch a final nerve. “Your mother was able to emerge victorious from such an engagement. What does that say about you if you refuse?”
“SHUT UP!” the Loyalist roared, staring at his prisoner with an unsettled expression. “Nobody else heard any of this. I’ll throw you off before anyone learns any better and then I will emerge as the symbol of power -”
The wires attached to him still allowed a slight range of mobility for his arms, and so Crevasse reached down in a swift motion to hide his trembling talons and removed the magical artifact. As it tumbled to the cave floor, its silver sides flashing in the torchlight, he sliced a talon along his scales. Blood began to rise to the surface, displaying his injury to the world. “Really?” he coughed. “It would be as cowardly an act as any other.”
“Alright,” Quartz hissed. His eyes were glowing with brilliant flame, darkness swirling amidst the blaze. “I accept, on one condition.” He leaned forward, his razor-sharp teeth inches from Crevasse’s snout. “It will be to the death. I’ll mount your head in my chambers.”
“I accept those terms,” Crevasse replied, despite the sick feeling that had risen in his chest at the thought of having to end the life of another dragon. He knew he would never be able to do it; Quartz might be lost to the influence of the Watchers at the moment, but he might one day be redeemed. This was only a ploy to buy time. He would fight to last for as long as he could, not to move in for a kill. Once the SkyWing army arrived he could escape in the chaos, meet up with his compatriots, and then head back for Nocturne with them. All he had to do was avoid being slain by a wildly deadly and aggressive dragonet for as long as possible. What could be easier?
“There is an arena,” his opponent sneered. “We’ve sent a few prisoners off to their deaths there in the style of the great Queen Scarlet. It is entirely underground and my guards will block every exit, so there is no chance of any escape. How fun this will be.” With that he left the cell, the door slamming locked behind him, and Crevasse had a brief period of time to panic quietly to himself before the Loyalist returned with a guard accompaniment. He was cut down from the wires, falling painfully to the ground as he was faced with the challenge of controlling his exhausted and strained muscles. The poison had not entirely worn off and even as he stood bright spots blinked before his eyes. The Loyalist guards shoved him at spear-point out the door, not caring whether or not they punctured his scales. 
As far as Crevasse could tell, the rest of the fortress was as grimy and barren as his cell. They followed one rough, winding tunnel in the stone up to a cavern of rot and rancid water, and as he examined the surroundings he felt the chill of witnessing the inverse of the Jade Mountain Academy. Where the halls of learning were brightly lit and cheerfully decorated, these twisting pathways bore only the occasional flickering-torch and the delightful decoration of blood spots. The SkyWings they passed were bruised and scarred, wearing cloaks or armor with the symbol of the Loyalist Force etched in crimson upon it. Each one of them held a look of utmost spite, spitting in Crevasse’s face as he passed and laughing tonelessly.
A few broken tunnels later, and he was thrown unceremoniously into a chamber of blood-stained sand. Quartz had not been lying when he claimed to be modeling after Queen Scarlet’s deplorable practices; the arena he was standing in was a near-perfect replica to her own. Stands had been carved out from the walls, moving upward in tiers from the central fighting pavilion, and even now they were filling in with the harsh SkyWing Loyalists. It was frightening to see truly how powerful the organization was in numbers; Crevasse counted dozens of veteran fighters in stands alone, and who knew how many others were prowling the halls of the fortress or else had debarked on dreadful missions? He shivered involuntarily and Quartz’s face lit up with glee at the motion. There really is no way out, he mused as a set of five guards sat directly in front of the entrance tunnel. This could be where I die if Peregrine doesn’t make it on time.
“Loyal soldiers!” Quartz was roaring to the crowd amidst wild cheering. “I present to you a student of the foolhardy Jade Mountain Academy who had the audacity to challenge me to a duel! Crevasse, of the SkyWings - although that can be hard to tell!” A burst of horrid laughter followed this taunt. “This manifestation of idiocracy suppressed my rise to power at his precious cavern of bookworms, even going as far as to stop me from claiming the LostWing as my own. For this he will pay with his life.” He turned to his opponent with a daunting sneer, placing a curved metallic helmet over his head that appeared to be a representation of Queen Scarlet’s snout. “Let us begin!”
The dragonet was quick, lunging towards Crevasse with talons that gleamed as sharpened rubies. He spun aside, sending a bolt of flame towards his opponent (and missing intentionally) before rearing and taking flight above him. The crowd hissed and roared, a cacophony of hatred ringing upon his spirit. Quartz was beside him in an instant, crashing into his flank and sending him tumbling to the ground. He rolled and lashed out with his back talons, feeling one catch in the smoldering scales of his opponent and sending him veering off-course. A sudden bolt of flame caught him on the shoulder, its heat unbearable as he felt his scales melt and blister.
In a moment talons were falling upon his neck, but he dodged aside at the last possible second and, grabbing Quartz’s leg, sent him crashing back down into the sand of the arena. They circled each other with Quartz still sending out taunts and the crowd continuing to hiss wildly. The scent of his own blood was in the air, making him slightly dizzy. The sand slipped below his talons. I’m going to die here. As long as Peregrine and Abyss rescue Nocturne I will have played my role. I’m sorry, Solstice. It really was goodbye.
He lunged, countered, and blocked; his talons occasionally drew the blood of his opponent, and he occasionally felt the sharp sting of Quartz’s talons upon his own scales. The challenge was becoming as prolonged as he had hoped - he had been alive now for longer than it would have taken to toss him into the pit - but he wasn’t certain how much longer he could hold out. Quartz was fighting dirty, as was to be expected, targeting his old scars and shredding the ends of his wings. Pain was ringing throughout his body now, everything aching as much as it had when the virus had been tearing at his scales years ago.
Another exchange of blows, and then Quartz suddenly was in an entirely expected place. The Loyalist’s talons were reaching for his chest, his jaw agape and about to send off a bolt of flame; and so instinctively Crevasse lashed his tail below him. The end caught the side of his opponent’s helmet, twisting the metal inward with a resounding tumult, and Quartz stumbled away in pain. The momentum of Crevasse’s swing landed him on top of his enemy, and he quickly rearranged his position to pin him to the ground. Talons scrambled below him and a bolt of flame shot far too close to his face for comfort, but try as he might, Quartz was unable to escape.
Crevasse blocked out the outraged screams of the crowd, the pain coursing through his own body, and focused entirely upon the face of the dragonet below him. There was utmost hatred in his eyes, as always, but below it lurked fear and uncertainty. Someone afraid of death. Quietly he hissed a plea down to his foe. “Quartz, I don’t have to kill you. We can escape fighting together. They won’t expect it.”
“Move off me and I’ll take your head!” the dragonet snarled. “This is the end of the line, weakling. It’s my life or yours.”
“It doesn’t have to be that way,” he pressed, ignoring the emboldening cries of the crowd. “There’s no future for you here, not for any Loyalist in this room. Only a short life of violence and anger, an unprovoked war raged unnecessarily against a force that you know deep down will never fall. You grew up around the royal palace. You’ve seen Queen Ruby’s army. The Sky Kingdom has endured for millenia. No band of embittered castaways is going to take it down. There’s still a chance to be on the right side of history. The heroes of the prophecies are forgiving and they’d accept you back.”
“I don’t want them,” Quartz spat. “I don’t need some sniveling do-gooders telling me how to live my life. I need power - I should have it rightfully by my blood! - and now I am in that position. The queen never bothered with me. I’ll show her - I’ll show all of them!”
“You’ll get yourself killed,” Crevasse replied. “She’ll only ever think of her son as a violent traitor, an enemy of her and her subjects. Or you could prove your worth to her - give her the information you have and help bring this organization crashing into oblivion! You could be a hero.”
“Might,” the SkyWing prince hissed, but there was something hopeful around his eyes. “She would never accept an audience with me.”
“I could go with you,” Crevasse offered, and then he had suddenly been lifted and thrown across the arena. Lifting his aching head he saw that the guard of Loyalists had advanced and pried him off of their leader. Quartz was stalking over now, a bolt of fire building in his jaw and directed at Crevasse’s face. He was standing over him, a look of cruel triumph across his snout; and Crevasse prepared himself for death, but his assailant hesitated. There was some uncertainty about him, and his gaze shifted momentarily to the exit that was now slightly less guarded. A pause, and then he shook his snout as if to clear his mind. The hiss of flame built up again behind his jaw, directed at his prisoner.
“Farewell, Crevasse,” he grinned.
The flow of time slowed to a crawl as an orange-and-red flicker began to build right above Crevasse’s head - he could hear the beating of his heart, slowed down into the soft click of each separate chamber - the sharp smell of sulfur into the air - and then a deafening roar filled the room, each fraction of a second more shaken by the sudden tumult than the last. The head of the Loyalist above him turned, his eyes widening in shock and his mouth falling into a scream of rage. A mass of silver and sparkling sunset above streaking towards him - a blur of motion - and suddenly Crevasse was free, the terrible weight of his opponent removed from his chest. He inhaled sharply, his lungs burning as they filled with bitter smoke. Time lurched back into its normal rhythm as he looked up to find utter chaos breaking out within the arena.
The grand army of Queen Ruby was descending upon the Loyalists, streaming in through the entrance in unstoppable waves. RainWing sleep darts in the dozens were soaring through the air, colliding with the scales of the shell-shocked SkyWing traitors as they struggled to take flight from the stands. Fire was everywhere, reflecting from the whites of dragon’s eyes, the polished golden barbs attached to the end of royal spears, the ragged edges of Loyalist throwing-stars. He couldn’t see where Quartz had gone, couldn’t see where he could be useful - and then a sudden force was pulling him to the side, belonging to invisible talons. He recognized Peregrine’s voice against the fray.
They were outside the cavern in a heartbeat, his ears still ringing from the tumult within; and as Peregrine removed the invisibility before him, he could see still dozens more of royal SkyWing soldiers marching into the arena. She embraced him, elation across her off-white snout. “We did it! Crevasse, it worked - the Queen believed us, she came right over - hold on, why are you bleeding? Where’s your Informaband? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” he coughed, although every muscle and nerve in his body was disagreeing quite strongly with that concept. “Far better now that you’ve arrived. Peregrine, I really should have listened to you before. Quartz was able to work around everything: I had to fight him without the Informaband to stall. I don’t have it, but it’s most likely still down in my cell.”
“Do you want mine, then?” Peregrine inquired, looking at him with definite concern. “Not to be harsh, but you look terrible. I leave you alone for one day and the best improvisation you can make to our plan is to engage Quartz in one-on-one combat? Tisk, tisk.”
“We need to find Nocturne now, if you two can finish chatting,” Abyss snapped. “Where did they hold you captive?”
“Keep it,” Crevasse wheezed to Peregrine. “I’m fine, really. They had me down the rightmost hall here. You two should probably stay invisible to be safe - I don’t know how many other Loyalists could be lurking down there.”
“Right then, off we go!” Abyss announced, and the pounding of his quick talon-falls against the stone floor echoed off of the walls. Crevasse was hurrying after him in a moment, slipping on the blood dripping from his scales and fighting a dire lightheadedness. His talons felt strangely weightless on the ground, and yet he could still feel the jarring pressure of each landing. Hopefully Queen Ruby’s army had some medics that he could visit in short order.
They sprinted, slid and soared down the dingy tunnel to the prison wing, the chaos in the arena dying down to a distant murmur of violence. “How do you think we’re doing?” Crevasse hissed as they ran. “None of Queen Ruby’s soldiers have Informabands yet - did they have some sort of plan to avoid being devastated by a Loyalist counter-attack? Should we be helping them?”
“Queen Ruby herself is directing them,” Abyss informed him. “She was the one to knock Quartz off of you as he moved to strike. The plan is to capture as many Loyalists alive as possible so they can stand trial in the Sky Kingdom. Her Majesty decided upon RainWing darts. I don’t think the traitors will stand a chance. We have them entirely by surprise.”
“Nocturne!” Peregrine called out, her voice ringing as it collided against the narrow walls. “Can you hear us? We’re here to rescue you!”
A SkyWing figure suddenly loomed before them, the symbol of the Loyalist force emblazoned on a flag wrapped around his ankle - and even as he moved to strike, Abyss had launched a dart into his chest. The Loyalist struggled against the substance inside for a moment, lunging towards Crevasse with outstretched talons, and then he collapsed onto the ground. They stepped over his crumpled form as they continued to sprint down into the depths of the fortress. Peregrine was continuing her call for the RainWing-NightWing princess, and then she cut herself off suddenly as a faint returning shout fell upon their ears. 
In a moment they had arrived at the source. The cell was smaller than his own had been but was exactly as dirty and barren. Heat-resistant wires inside snaked up to clamps that at first glance appeared to be suspended in midair, but as they arrived the hollowness shifted and the camouflaged scales of a RainWing began to come into view. “Nocturne!” Abyss called, his voice shaking with excitement, and he launched himself against the locked door with such intensity that the lock snapped and it flung open. “You’re alright!”
“Crevasse,” Peregrine was saying as she tugged on his arm, “Let’s go grab your Informaband while Abyss is cutting the wires. We need you to be protected as quickly as possible, especially if Quartz manages to break out of the arena and comes searching for us. How much farther down was your cell?”
“It can’t have been much lower than this,” he replied, glancing back into Nocturne’s cell as invisible talons began unscrewing the bolts below her. The princess seemed like she was trying to say something, her eyes fixed directly upon him, but she was apparently unable to manage anything after her cry for help. Perhaps she had been without water for days. He rushed off with Peregrine and located his chamber of imprisonment only a few more tail-lengths down the hall, with the Informaband lying intact where he had dropped it. He marveled that none of the guards had sought to claim the artifact for their own use; but perhaps Quartz’s constant spite against Anadrom’s magic had conditioned them to shun it themselves. 
The door had been locked after he had been removed and he was currently too injured to smash it open, so Peregrine set about picking the lock with a wire from her school-pouch. As she hummed a battle-song from Qibli’s class to herself, the lockpick clicking about in her talons, a sudden sense of dread broke against Crevasse like an unseen wind-gust in the night. This feeling - the sensation of malice even more intent than that held by Quartz, the flicker of impossible power in the air, the stifling sense of hopelessness - it was all too familiar. He spun around, the torchlight blurring at the corners of his eyes, hoping desperately that he was mistaken, that his exhausted mind was playing a cruel trick upon him.
“We meet again, SkyWing,” purred a voice as thick as blood, and the Darkstalker was suddenly taking up the entire cavern before them. There was a ringing of metal as Peregrine dropped her lockpick in shock, the sound echoing around them as the gargantuan NightWing advanced slowly. He was every bit as terrifying as Quartz had remembered, his eyes still holding the screaming figures of IceWing souls and his immense talons slicing into the stone below as if it were the softest soil. Shadows were billowing up around him, thin tendrils and oozing blocks swarming over the walls and lurching toward their position. Each talon-fall shook the ground around them, and the exit was entirely blocked as he spread his wings wide with a sinister grin.
“You must think yourselves rather clever for envisioning this scheme,” he boomed, and the shadows laughed beside him. “Such naive ambition, striking against our carefully cultivated soldiers. There were even a few pathways in which you succeeded.” He leaned forward, his massive scales shifting into the darkness as the torchlight around them was extinguished. “The pathways in which I decided not to handle the matter personally. Now that I’m here, I’m afraid your little plots are doomed to a most disgraceful ruin. After you’ve been eliminated, I shall strike that infuriating SkyWing queen down and drive her soldiers to madness. Really I must thank you for placing them in such an indefensible position.” His eyes were glowing unnaturally, illuminating the underground void as Crevasse watched the shadows creep ever closer. “We couldn’t have asked for more. You’ve provided the ideal circumstances for the destruction of the Sky Kingdom.”
Chapter 13
“Who’s that with you, SkyWing?” the nightmarish NightWing hissed suddenly, and with a flick of his talons a host of shadows lurched suddenly closer to Peregrine’s position. “Which one of your friends will perish beside you? Might the daughter of Turtle or son of Moonwatcher be within my grasp at last?”
Peregrine had remained invisible, and Crevasse realized the combination of the Informaband and Qibli’s magical earring must be entirely shielding her from the mind of their petrifying foe. He had no way of telling what she was doing at the moment, but he hoped against hope that it wasn’t preparing an insult to throw at the ancient NightWing. What would he do to her? If he’s expecting to take his revenge upon the Jade Winglet and finds that a completely unrelated dragonet is present instead, what might he do in his anger? Peregrine, please keep quiet for your sake. If he managed to stall for a while, maybe he could anger the Darkstalker enough that he would drop his guard and his IceWing clawmate could slip safely back up the hall.
“Remember what you promised!” he hissed in her direction now, referring to the conversation they had held at the beginning of this ill-fated expedition. He turned to bare his teeth at the looming figure of the Darkstalker before him, the reflection of his pupils swallowed up in the glossy white void of the NightWing’s eyes. “Where’s Anadrom? What have you done with her?”
“The LostWing has been eliminated,” sneered the Darkstalker, and Crevasse felt as if his heart had fallen through his chest. The NightWing raised his head and laughed horribly, each penetrating note echoing with the screams of unknown dragons. “Foolhardy SkyWing, did you think that something here would help you find her?” With a talon dripping with a shadowy liquid, the animus reached up and flipped over a pendant that had been hidden amongst his pitch-black scales. A glare of light illuminated an elegant amber gemstone caught within the carved metallic jaws of some unholy creature. In the absolute center of the amber was imprisoned a faintly glowing light, an electric spark frozen in place and time.
“NO!” Crevasse roared, and he was charging at the Darkstalker before he knew what he was doing. There was a swooshing noise all around him, as quiet and yet unsettling as the beating of a bat’s wings, and he felt the frigid touch of a flock of shadows upon his scales. They clung to his scales and began pulling him backwards, slamming him against the back wall of the tunnel and solidifying into a single inescapable mass. Only his snout was free of the nightmarish substance, leaving him able to watch as the Darkstalker slowly advanced.
“Yes, it’s true. She’s gone forever,” the NightWing hissed, “And you’ll soon be joining her! I would love to draw this out, but I do have a queen to dispatch.” He raised a talon that sparkled with silver blood even in the utter darkness of the cave. “We had seen potential in you at one point, SkyWing. We had believed you could be properly adjusted to suit our needs as well as the prince has done, but you’ve somehow eluded our grasp. We do hate to have to end things in such an uninteresting way - it would have been far preferable to turn one of your friends upon you - but I suppose we cannot always get what we want, can we?”
“Hey, you twisted bat-dragon!” Peregrine shouted, and Crevasse groaned inwardly. This could have been her chance to escape“Go back to someone’s nightmares, you creepy slug-licker!”
Something soared through the air and struck the Darkstalker right on the snout, splattering into a vibrant mess of orange pulp and stems. He roared in fury, snapping around on spot to face his invisible opponent. “So it’s Peregrine then?” he hissed, snatching at the empty air before him. “The unwanted IceWing!”
There was a sudden scampering of talons toward Crevasse, and then he felt a sudden weight pressed into his talons. “Put it on!” Peregrine commanded boldly, and he did his best to comply while working against the thick mass of shadowy material holding him down. Glancing upwards he saw that the door to his cell had been opened, the lockpick dangling from the keyhole. In a moment he had the Informaband on, and a thrill ran through his body that dissolved the shadows with a venomous hiss. The Darkstalker raised a talon to his head, looking disconcerted for a fraction of a second. A second orange smacked into his eye, and he snatched once again at nothingness before him with a dreadful snarl of rage.
Crevasse flicked the invisibility switch on and launched himself toward the NightWing, striking him in the upper wing off-guard. The nightmare stumbled backwards despite his gargantuan size, creating the opening he had been looking for. With a soft swish he heard Peregrine soar past the animus and into the upper cavern, and he quickly followed suit with a racing heart. They had to warn Queen Ruby that this was coming - maybe he could transfer the Informaband over to her - 
“ENOUGH!” roared the Darkstalker, and Crevasse was wretched from the air by an unseen force of immense magnitude. He flipped around to find the ancient NightWing standing with both talons raised to the sky, legions of heavy shadows pouring up from his palms and leeching their ways along the walls. The silver horns of the nightmarish giant burst into black flames, his teeth gnashed and extended horribly, and his eyes rolled back to reveal a roiling mass of wormlike shadows. “This is no time for games, SkyWing. Curse that pestersome IceWing - eliminating you is such a greater bother with the interference of that bracelet! I don’t have the time for this. We’ve already lost far too many of our pet Loyalists above. Ah, I know what I’ll do.”
“Let’s make a deal, SkyWing.”
“What?” Crevasse laughed, although he had never been more devoid of humor. “There’s nothing you have that I would ever want, I assure you.”
“Oh, really?” the Darkstalker hissed, his words emanating a fierce chill. “You have no idea what we are capable of. Allow me to demonstrate.” He suddenly rotated his talons to face each other, sending the streams of darkness colliding into each other with a slithering hiss.
As Crevasse struggled against the tide of darkness obscuring the air, he shielded his eyes from a brilliant glare of black light spilling out from between the animus’s talons. A great snapping sound broke through the air - a clammer of waves pounding against an unseen shore - and then there was total quiet. He blinked his eyes open to find the hallway entirely empty of all shadows and unnaturally lit with a gentle light. It was familiar to him, very familiar indeed. Without knowing how he knew, he recognized the glow as that of sunlight through the polished windows of Doctor Whimbrel’s practice. There had been a window in the grand hall that overlooked the sea, and at sunrise he and Kittiwake would sit together and watch the brilliancy of color spill over the sparkling saltwater. They remained there, wings wrapped together and humming cheerful odes, until the soft yellow glow of the risen sun spilled over their enchanted eyes. It was warmth, it was safety, it was nostalgia for his greatest loss - and it was shooting out from a glowing oval in the air.
He approached it cautiously, looking up at the looming figure of the Darkstalker above. This was some trick, he knew it had to be. Some illusion to trick him into letting his guard down, and then the animus would strike with whatever dark magic he had been practicing before. He was carefully peering into the portal now, his eyes adjusting to the bright sunlight, and what he saw snatched his breath from his chest.
Doctor Whimbrel and Kittiwake were before him, laughing together as they soared through the air. All of the evils of the last day melted from his tired bones, all of his pain washing into overwhelming, destabilizing joy and disbelief. He was faced with the curious sensation of testing his oldest memories; the two dragons he saw in the other realm were exactly how he recalled them and yet entirely different. There were so many details about them that he had forgotten over the years - the exact tone of the good doctor’s noble laugh, the light-blue colorings of his upper wings - the true expression of joy for that world that Kittiwake held…
She was flying, an activity she had never been able to perform while alive but which she now had apparently mastered. He had often imagined her doing so, usually with wings built by Solstice, and she looked every bit as elated and free as he had imagined. The two of them were over the old private hospital as he had known from the light, catching the breezes of a cloudless and warm day. The grass below waved gently in streaks of palest yellow and vibrant green, a promise of a late summer day; and the sparkling ocean in the background was as pristine as ever, with tiny splashes of foam out in the distance gently rolling on slight waves. It was beautiful, but not in an unfamiliar way. This was his old life exactly as he had known it in the best of moments, not some construct that surpassed his memories. It was real.
“This stream of enchanting is difficult for our kind to perform,” rumbled the Darkstalker above him, and Crevasse was quickly jolted back to his unfortunate reality. “The peace of the afterlife is unbearable. We would raze it to rumble in a moment if given the chance, but the ancient LostWings have taken such elaborate precautionary measures that we are unable to do so. Our powers end at opening gateways every once in a great while. Here’s your choice, SkyWing. Step through that gate and reside forever with your lost companions, no strings attached. Once you’re in the realm of the afterlife no one in this world will be able to follow you or deal you any sort of harm. Yet you will never be able to return to this plane of existence. It’s a one-way trip, and the choice is all yours.”
“Can - can they see me?” breathed Crevasse, overcome by hope despite himself. 
“They will be able to if you enter,” the animus returned with a wide grin that seemed far too sinister for the situation. “You’ll be healed and granted immortality such as they possess immediately, and then nothing will ever be able to separate you. What do you say, SkyWing?”
He knew he should be more skeptical of the situation, that he should not be as willing to trust the words of the terrible NightWing; but he could tell without the slightest doubt that he really was looking upon the spirits of his fallen soulmate and his only true father. They were exactly right; he knew that the Watchers would never have been able to replicate the peaceful happiness in their eyes and the purity of their laughter. This was no imitation. 
All he had to do was step through the portal and he would be with them at last.
“Make up your mind,” hissed the Darkstalker. “I’ll give you thirty seconds, and then I’ll close the gateway forever. I don’t have all day to wait for you.” He began a countdown, and Crevasse couldn’t tear his eyes away from the portal.
“I’ll -” he managed, and the oozing voice of the NightWing reached twenty. He thought of Solstice, of how he couldn’t very well desert him without saying good-bye. He couldn’t possibly accept this offer - it would only have been put forth if his acceptance would benefit the Watchers greatly - but the countdown reached ten - and Kittiwake was before him, the faint notes of her song echoing on the breeze. It was the tune they had always used to sing together, as bright as always.
“Wait.”
The voice was underscored with power. They both pivoted around to the direction of the speaker, the Darkstalker looking for once entirely caught off-guard. A curtain of light had risen at the end of the tunnel, an electric orb of pure energy casting sparks wild about itself. Before their eyes it gradually faded to reveal the shape of a dragon - but not of any dragon to be found upon the current face of Pyrrhia. A mysterious form radiating brilliant light and an aura of peace; a being so majestic and spiritual that there could be no doubt that a LostWing was standing before them.
“No,” the Darkstalker hissed, and then he roared it again. “NO! This cannot be! You’re - you’re not capable of this - all of the signs - ”
Amid the desperate ramblings of the ancient animus, Crevasse was captivated by the infinitely mysterious figure before him. They were familiar and foreign all at once, like an ancient mural depicting blurred subjects right on the verge of becoming unrecognizable. The modern tribes of Pyrrhia shared their image upon the perfect curves of the LostWing’s snout; they could be seen in the arcs of the dragon’s talons and the careful way they held their tail aloft; and the LostWing’s voice rang just as sharply through the air as that of an IceWing. He could clearly tell that the ancestor of his entire civilization was standing before him. Yet the LostWing was not some combination of every tribe into a single form, as he had somewhat come to expect; rather, they were an entity as unique as the members of any tribe upon Pyrrhia. 
The scales of the dragon were arched in marching columns of polished silver with a base split down the middle between a gradient of royal blue and a full golden-yellow. As they moved forward in the portal-lit hallway, an apparent motion of electric current rippled over their body as the hues glided about in cascading ripples. Powerful wings opened outward from the sleek body of the dragon, hinging at the muscular back leg rather than on a separate arm joint as was the case with the modern tribes. A membrane of electrical current, speckled with odd patterns and symbols that gleamed with ancient knowledge, wove from the entire length of the chest all the way out to the silver wing-joints. It tapered at the very end into a teardrop point entirely like the silver scales by Moonwatcher’s eyes. Behind these immense gliders were two smaller wings, each rectangular in shape and currently held flat to the LostWing’s spine. They appeared to stem outward from ball-and-socket joints, having the potential to move about in any direction they pleased.
The tail of the dragon was adorned with a similarly complex mass of electrical membranes and black-spotted patterns, branching out at the end in fronds as graceful as the oldest ferns in the rainforest. All along the tail, up the spine and even to the very head of the LostWing rose a series of tiny, cylindrical structures that could be either retracted spikes or golden feathers. It was difficult to tell within the cavern, as the rigidity of the structures seemed to alter with every step forward of the ancestor. The snout of the great being was patterned with rectangular scales in sweeps of electric blue and the grays of the ocean depths, the sole word they had spoken revealing a forked tongue beside an overall lack of the knife-sharp teeth common in the modern tribes. Crevasse found the eyes of the individual the most complex of all - they were so very familiar. The eyes of a dear friend, of a dragon in which you immediately placed all your trust and who would never let you down. I know those eyes. As expected, the LostWing was glowing with a powerful light as if they were standing directly in front of a full moon or before a roaring silver fire.
“Let them speak to him,” commanded the marvelous figure, and their interior wings twisted about in arcs that released vortexes of light into the cavern.
“They will do no such thing!” snarled the Darkstalker, the black-fire about his horns rearing up into an eternal blaze. “Stand down! Our plans are laid and we have no intent to let an accidental survivor block our path. No matter - I’ll send you to join your slain family right here and now. Banish you to the realm where you belong…”
“Let them speak,” the LostWing repeated calmly. The vortexes of light they had generated cut off the shadows oozing out from the cavern walls, spiraling over Crevasse to form a dome around himself and the portal. The Darkstalker hissed in rage and swiped with a shadow-drenched talon at the structure, only to fall back with a howl as the impact launched him fully back. There was a motion from the talons of the LostWing that he couldn’t quite catch, and the figures within the realm of the afterlife suddenly stopped in midair. 
Time appeared to slow to a crawl outside the dome as Kittiwake and Doctor Whimbrel rose towards him. Their eyes were reflections of his, equally as wide with the disbelief and rushing happiness that only such an unanticipated reunion could bring. In a heartbeat they were before him. He reached out a talon to brush the cool web of the portal, and on the other side Kittiwake gently did the same. For all of his fantasies about this moment, all of his wistful day-dreaming, he still could not find the words for the occasion. 
“Crevasse?” burbled the voice of the good doctor through the gateway, distorted as if it was rising from some great salty depths. “My dear dragonet, is it really you? How marvelous - what a joy beyond words! You survived! We had feared you might have been lost in the journey; so many wander into the fringes, especially the young. Ah, but I always knew you had the spirit to best the virus.” He was smiling with a warmth unmatchable, his cool glacial eyes sparkling with emotion. “A joy beyond words,” he repeated, and everything about him was as it had always been.
“They found a cure,” Crevasse blurted out, suddenly needing to relate every occurance over the span of their lost years to the doctor. “The doctors Lichen and Pangolin - they developed a treatment of fernwood root and moonshadow mold. Doctor Whimbrel, it couldn’t have been done without your early research. You’re remembered as the hero - as the hero you were - they have a statue of you in the Ice Kingdom.” He was crying now despite himself, silent droplets rolling down his snout and stinging his various wounds.
“I am familiar with the last,” the IceWing smiled. “Those wreaths were a most gracious gift. I am honored that you still hold me in such regard after all these years.”
“We’ve missed you,” Kittiwake said, tears sparkling in her wonderful eyes. “I’ve never stopped thinking about you, my dearest Crevasse.” She hummed quietly, her melodious voice reaching him at long last. “At the rebirth of dusk, amid the embers of the night, it is you at my side, and for that all is right. Leave the bejeweled to their rarities, their glory and their gold; for I have found the wealth of a truth eons old. With you the worlds within me are at peace, and with you I shall stay until the world demands our release.”
“I’ve never been a day without either of you,” Crevasse smiled, and they both knew exactly what he meant by it. “Kittiwake, you’re as beautiful as the day we lost each other.”
She blushed on the other side of the portal, a rosy tint to her orange scales. “Same goes to you, Crevasse.” It was an entirely sincere statement, for Kittiwake had never once given the slightest attention to outward appearance, only defining beauty by the pure character of those she met. Her spirit was as wholesome and noble as they came.
“Well, in my perhaps overinflated medical opinion,” Doctor Whimbrel interjected with a note of concern, “You are looking somewhat worse for wear in the present. I can observe at least a dozen surface-wounds with potential for infection. Where are you in the realm of the living right now?”
“Are you alright?” Kittiwake asked, her sweet expression tinted by worry. “How are we able to see you? Have you found some kind of portal - or is it even a portal? I can’t cross through.” To emphasize this last statement, she reached once again for Crevasse’s talon, but the webby matter of the portal surface caught her arm at the last moment.
“Ah,” Crevasse paused, his eyes darting to the looming form of the Darkstalker as the NightWing shifted ever so slowly upward, still bogged down by the slowed nature of time outside of the LostWing’s dome. “I’m okay, I promise.” He held up the arm with the Informaband that Peregrine had so bravely fetched for him. “I don’t know how much of our realm you have been able to observe, but most of the Jade Mountain students have received these devices to protect them from all forms of harm. With this on I will be protected from any infection; not that your advice is unvalued, Doctor. I’ve - I've been studying your teachings and all other medicines I can find within the scrolls at the academy.”
“Magnificent!” the IceWing beamed, a look of such fatherly pride behind his eyes that Crevasse’s heart threatened to melt in his chest. “Well done. I had hoped they would send you there if anything happened to me.”
“Top of the class, no doubt,” Kittiwake winked at him. “It must be incredible there! You must have me the Dragonets of Destiny and the heroes of the Jade Mountain prophecy?” She gasped, looking just as energetic and star-struck as he remembered her being whenever they discussed their contemporary heroes. “Have you been in a class taught by Kinkajou? By the moons, you’ve actually gotten to meet our brilliant RainWing savior in person! I am so jealous - is she as amazing as she is in the stories?”
“She is absolutely as heroic and uplifting as the stories make her out to be! They have a mural of her in the library now, depicting her revelation to bring down the Darkstalker with that strawberry. That corner is one of my favorite places in the academy, actually. You’d love it.”
“Argh, I wish you could show me,” his soulmate chirped, and she was only half-joking. “Wow. I’m so happy for you!”
“It is a relief that you have continued to live your life without us,” Doctor Whimbrel noted solemnly. “I cannot imagine how alone you must have felt after we left, but you managed to overcome that challenge. I’m not surprised, I must say. You always were a resilient and daring dragonet.” He paused for a moment, shards of light reflecting from his pristine white wings. “Listen, Crevasse. I’ve wanted to apologize ever since I made it to these shores. I feel that I have failed you. I was unable to isolate you from the disease, was unable to develop a treatment in time, was unable to ensure that I would be around to support you for as long as you needed. I wish we could have been there with you as you grew up. I would have loved to see that; but instead I let you down.”
Crevasse’s breath caught in his throat as his eyes continued to leak salty droplets. This was what the Watchers had done; he could see the extent of their damage more clearly now than ever. How dare they perform acts of such absolute evil against innocent dragonets; how many more just like him had lost amazing friends over the years at the cruel manipulation of the shadows? 
“It absolutely was not your fault,” he managed, his voice lumping over the pressure of loss. “I - I don’t suppose you would know about the Watchers?”
“Oh, dear,” the doctor recoiled. “Yes, there was a mysterious visitor a few years ago who came to our island here and informed us about the phenomenon. I had somewhat hoped they were mistaken. Those are the unseen manipulators of the living realm, who set up treachery and heartbreak in order to feed on the generated darkness of dragons?”
“They told me they caused it,” Crevasse blurted, unsure why he was bringing this up now. “They created the Scaleating Virus and infected all of us with it, and then made certain only I survived. They wanted to use my loss of - of everything - to corrupt me, to turn me into one of their evildoing puppets.”
“No,” Kittiwake whispered. “Oh, by the moons - I’m so sorry, Crevasse. We had no idea - but you were too strong for them, I can tell. You’ve overcome them. Become even nobler through their challenge, and that's starting from quite a good place to begin with.”
“It was you two,” he said, absolute certainty running through him for the first time in a great while. “Doctor Whimbrel, you never failed me. You were the father I never had; you taught me what it was to be selfless, to put the good of other dragons always first and foremost. That the best service one can provide is to ensure the safety of others. Kittiwake, I have never met another dragon as perfect and kind-hearted as you. You showed me just how beautiful the world can be right when I thought it was the darkest. Everything I am now is because of your amazing friendship. You saved me, I’m sure of it.”
“And now,” he continued, stepping hopefully closer to the portal wall, “I - I could be with you two again. I can cross over from this realm into yours and we’ll all be together!” He smiled, the reflection of his eyes in the portal-mist bright with joy. “Finally, we’ll have all the time in the world. Kittiwake, I can tell you everything about the academy - you can teach me the songs we never finished - it’ll be as it should have been.”
The dragons on the other side of the portal exchanged an unreadable glance, and then Doctor Whimbrel turned to face him with worry clear across his snout. “Crevasse, we certainly would welcome you here with open wings, but it’s not your time. There are things in the living realm that do not carry over here and it would be a true shame for you to miss out on them all. We don’t have the ability to visit the academy, nor to explore the kingdoms; but you do! You have a whole life before you to lead as you wish. When it comes to a natural end as all things must, then we will be reunited forever; but jumping realms before then seems unwise. Think of all the more stories you’ll have to share with us if you spent another hundred years in Pyrrhia! Of all the lives you can improve, as intelligent and willing as you are. Don’t cut your potential short for our sake.”
“I don’t know,” Crevasse stammered, somewhat taken aback. “The pain of our time apart hasn’t faded for a single day in the last decade. Enduring that for another century or so seems…impossible. And what if I start to forget you both after all that time? I can’t lose you forever - this could be my only opportunity to set things right.”
“You say you could just come through?” Kittiwake asked. “Crevasse, what sort of magic do you have going on over there?”
“Oh, it’s - ah -” he coughed, looking down at his talons. “It’s the shadow-fueled dark magic of the Watchers. More specifically a deal with some new iteration of the Darkstalker.”
“Crevasse, no!” Doctor Whimbrel rebuked. “The Watchers! Whatever do they want in exchange for granting you this passage? What are you planning?”
“Nothing,” he replied, feeling how odd it sounded aloud. “I - they don’t want anything back from me. All I would have to do is shake talons with the Darkstalker to enter. Then - you don’t think I should accept? Kittiwake -” Their talons were still pressed against the portal wall, less than a tail-length from each other, and he could see the buried hope on her snout. She wanted him to come over. That much was as clear as day: she missed him just as much as he missed her. “I’ve done my part in this world. We’ve released Nocturne - that is, a future-teller - who can help save the world from the Watchers. She’ll guide everyone to victory whether I am around or not.”
“If that was true, they wouldn’t have offered this to you,” the IceWing intoned quietly. “The Watchers must be desperate to strike such a peaceful bargain; it must be highly advantageous for them to send you away from Pyrrhia. Do you see? They reportedly thrive on darkness and suffering, and yet here they are placing forth the exact opposite. Fulfilling your most sincere dream, no strings attached.”
“You could be the one who matters most,” Kittiwake breathed, her outstretched arm shaking in the soft heavenly light. “The Doctor is right. This wouldn’t be happening unless they benefited greatly from it. So then staying in your realm must mean that you save it, Crevasse! You must be destined to play a great role in the stand against evil, to be the hero of a new age.”
“I - I can’t know that.” He sat by the heavenly window, his wings tightly wrapped around his aching body. “Why would it have to be me? I never wanted glory, never wished for the weight of the world on my shoulders - I just wanted to spend my life by your side. To float in the peace of the Jade Mountain’s new Pyrrhia, a world without a care.” He laid forth his metallic arm, the prosthetic limb sparking against the flint-laden floor. “There was never a chance of that, I suppose. But now there is. For the first time, I might be able to truly control my own life - to begin it anew, and perfect this time around.” 
“How do you feel about that choice?” Doctor Whimbrel inquired, his voice therapeutically soothing. “You’re entirely justified in the wish, my dear dragonet, but what would it mean?”
With a sigh, Crevasse dropped his head. “It’s unspeakably selfish to cast aside all of Pyrrhia so I can be happy. I would feel an eternity of guilt. It wouldn’t matter if I could have helped in the end or not; giving up on the fight would mean I left all of dragonkind to perish. I - I don’t know - how can something be so utterly wrong and right at once?”
“If the decision is between us and the world,” Kittiwake murmured, “You know which side we’d want you to be on.”
Indeed, he knew it all too well. This was impossible - whatever decision he made, he knew he would regret not choosing the other side for the rest of his life. If the matter was of which he would regret less…well, they were right. Of course they were.
“Then this is it?” he hesitated. “The - the last I’ll see of you for decades to come?”
“Regretfully, it must be so,” Doctor Whimbrel sighed, and he reached out a talon to join Kittiwake’s. “But even if you cannot see us, we shall be at your side the entire time.”
“But don’t go yet!” his soulmate cried softly. “You can still stay and talk, right? Or will the portal be closed if your mind has been made up?”
Crevasse glanced at the LostWing, their majestic form still standing at the end of the hallway, and they answered the query in a voice of polished marble. “The gateway will remain open for some time yet. At the rate to which the Darkstalker has been slowed, I estimate a matter of hours before he is able to collapse the enchantment.”
“Thank you,” he said fervently, and they nodded with a content expression that was once again entirely familiar to him. He turned to the heavenly figures again, and a sad smile broke over his bleeding snout. “I want to hear everything.”
“So do we,” his soulmate beamed, “And I must insist that you begin first. Tell us about the academy - how has everything been? You must have some awesome new friends, right?”
“They have an entire block of classes for music,” he began, smiling as her face lit up in amazement. “Qibli’s the teacher and he’s absolutely fantastic. We have all sorts of instruments, even some newly invented ones called Keyimediums that my friend Peregrine is a natural at playing, and a complete piano besides…”
He was, at long last, able to just be with them, and it was everything he had ever wished for. Lost in Kittiwake’s perfect eyes as he related the wonders of the academy; his soul filled with warmth every time she laughed at his jokes; the brilliant comments of the doctor enlightening him as always; he had never known time to pass so quickly and yet so wonderfully. He told them all about the compassion and genius of Solstice (“He sounds incredible!” exclaimed a delighted Kittiwake, examining the brilliance of the Mark-3 as he held it up to the portal), of the benevolence of Tamandua, the mischief and bravery of Peregrine, and all the most wonderful things about Anadrom. They listened with rapt ears to the stories of his heroic teachers, of lessons of democracy and peace-forging (“The Republic of Sand?” Doctor Whimbrel mused in turn. “A true republic in Pyrrhia, at long last? Marvelous! You must tell me more.”). 
In the delight of the fleeting hours he forgot entirely about the peril of the Darkstalker, but in a moment’s pause to catch his breath he looked aside to find that the ancient animus had indeed righted himself and was advancing frighteningly upon the dome, his motion still slowed as if he was tracking through the thickest of tree saps. “Alright, your turn!” he proclaimed, trying not to let the pressure of their rapidly approaching separation crush his spirit. “How is everything within the heavenly realm? I mean - what a question - but what happens after life on Pyrrhia?”
“Should we be telling you this?” Doctor Whimbrel mused. “Seems rather like spoiling the ending to a scroll. I can assure you that these lands are perfect in every way, while somehow remaining real. Every day here is akin to the best ones spent upon the surface of the living realm, if that makes sense. A highlight of the best moments rather than a new construction of supposed perfectionism; a land of breathing memories, just touched up in some places.”
“Better than memories for me,” Kittiwake smiled, “For now I can soar amidst the clouds! It was somewhat bizarre at first, knowing that the air I felt rushing against my scales was either some constructed memory of what I thought wind would feel like. Do you see what I mean? I don’t know how the experience here compares to that in Pyrrhia. I’ll never know if what I am doing is accurate to what it would have been like if I were alive. I really don’t mind, though - whatever version of flight this is, it is incredible! I make the doctor fly with me for most hours of the day here.”
“That’s wonderful,” Crevasse beamed. “It means so much to me to know that you’re happy there.”
“We are, my dear Crevasse,” the doctor returned. “Indeed, everything is beautiful here; but I do still miss the living world. My skills as a doctor are not required in this realm - for which I am glad, of course - but I long for the thrill of helping other souls. There is no purpose here other than for a perpetual life of happiness, and I struggled to adjust to it at first. As a matter of fact, we tried our utmost to return to Pyrrhia for quite some time. The beginning of our time here wasn’t as - defined? Detailed? - as it is now, and we thought that with just the right touch we might break through the void and return to our living selves. But then the Guide found us and brought us here.”
“The Guide?” he asked, entirely intrigued.
“I’m not going to spoil the scroll,” the IceWing laughed. “We’ll stop at that he was of the same variety of dragon as the glowing being behind you. Older than the continent itself, and all the wiser for it. All is to say that we are certainly well now.”
“Except for missing you at every moment,” Kittiwake said, “And that makes this all the more special. You’re the only element missing. Please make sure to come find us when your proper time comes.”
“Crevasse, I fear that parting is upon us,” Doctor Whimbrel hissed sharply, and Crevasse glanced over his shoulder to observe a blood-stained talon falling upon the surface of the dome. There was a snarling of sparks and the blotching of shadows, a cry unnatural and stifling. “I’m so very proud of you. Go on and be the hero we always knew you would become.”
“I love you,” Kittiwake whispered, her voice a chorus of sweetest sparrows.
“I love you too,” he said, and hummed the opening to her favorite song as best he could. “I’ll wait for you for as long as it takes,” they promised in unison, and then she and the doctor disappeared as a cascade of bright sparks collapsed around him.
Chapter 14
He closed his eyes, preserving their image in his mind, and felt their heavenly presence beside him as powerfully as the dew in the morning air. The last of the sparks fell upon his talon in a cascade of gentle fluttering, sending a final spark of happiness through the bits of him that had just been mended. A swish of air snapped towards him, and he dodged the blow of the Darkstalker with utmost ease. Certainty and purpose bubbled within him, rising to the surface of his mind and ringing his senses to a state sharper than he had ever known.
Flicking open his eyelids, he saw the ancient NightWing animus stumble in front of him, clutching his head with one talon and looking thoroughly unsettled. “It cannot be!” he snarled, a touch of panic in his ghoulish voice. “Cursed LostWing! Whatever have you done?! And you foolish dragonet, how dare you refuse such an offer…but there’s still a chance to return to them! I can still send you to their realm, and you should be glad in their company. Everything you’ve ever wanted, and I can provide it for nothing: you’ll have to be insane to refuse!”
Crevasse stood his ground, and with a deep breath he thought of his love for Kittiwake and Doctor Whimbrel. He blocked out his horror against the actions of the Watchers in tearing them from him, cast aside his sorrow and pain, sent away his longing for their company; and he focused only on the positive. On the brilliance of dragons. The bravery of Peregrine in accompanying him on this mission, the thoughtfulness in her gifts and the strength of her comradery; the wonder of his closest of all friendships with Solstice, the brilliance and hope of the Sandy-NightWing’s mind; the caring, nervous nature of Anadrom, her humbleness and benevolence amid the wielding of absolute power. He recalled the marvels of the Jade Mountain Academy, the heroic and noble spirits of his teachers and the impenetrable friendships that held them together.
Some curtain passed before his eyes, a mirage of starlight, and he saw the Watchers before him as clearly as they had appeared in his vision of the Loyalist attack. The many-jointed monstrosities were looming everywhere in the cavern, a true swarm orbiting around the immense form of the animus they had created. Tentacles and tendrils hung down with leeching motions, oozing through the air towards his location; but as they reached him they recoiled sharply, their shadowy mass dissolving as if it had been sprayed with RainWing acid. He took another deep breath and called upon memories of working in Solstice’s laboratory into the night, of helping Anadrom complete her schoolwork, of all the times he had laughed at Peregrine’s witty jokes.
“Stop that!” hissed the Darkstalker. “No - don’t you remember? We tore your parents from you, we sliced away your leg, we slay your worthless friends! What is wrong with you, SkyWing? Don’t you care about them? For the snakes of the depths, you cannot be this immune to our corruption! Fear us, you insignificant dragonet!”
The Watchers were facing him, the many eyes positioned along their bodies all his own; but he hummed Kittiwake’s song to himself and the orbs melted away into empty black spheres. He could now see a strand of spiraling darkness stretching from the chest of the Darkstalker up through the roof of the cavern, presumably twisting through the cosmos until it reached the moons. There was a similar strand connecting down to the amulet holding Anadrom’s spirit, which he knew in a moment was the dark magic imprisoning her in the amber. 
The LostWing had vanished behind him at the fall of the portal, and so he and the Darkstalker were alone within the cavern. This would be his only chance to save her. He reached a shaking talon outward, and it was glowing with a vibrant light.
“STOP THAT AT ONCE!” bellowed the ancient NightWing, and he lunged at Crevasse with his eyes rolling back into the wriggling mass of shadow-drenched worms. “You will not escape these halls, SkyWing scum! The Loyalists above have won, your friends are fallen! We’ve already taken the child of Moonwatcher - you’ll never find him -”
“Your lies accomplish nothing,” Crevasse returned, jumping aside as the animus crashed into the wall with a splattering of shadows. “They’re alright. I’ll really be able to be with them forever, some distant day from now.” The doctor’s proud of me - proud! - and Kittiwake still loves me. His tail glowed a brilliant silver at this and flattened into an infinitely thin blade. 
“Stand back!” the NightWing hissed, and his outline began to fade. He was teleporting out of the chamber - planning to take Anadrom to some location that would remain forever shrouded - but he never had the chance. With all the force he could muster, Crevasse launched himself off the wall and snapped his tail against the strands of shadows. They burst with a great gushing of darkness at the touch of his silver blade. The NightWing solidified and collapsed to the ground, his eyes rolling back to their ordinary side as the flames on his horns sputtered out. There was a wrenching cry from the Watchers looming within the cavern, a shriek of collapsing moons and dying stars, and the hundreds of swirling insectoids shattered in midair. Shards of darkness floated to the ground like ash caught in a breeze, sinking into the grime of the cavern floor without a trace.
The Darkstalker had shrunk significantly before his eyes, down to about the (still quite terrifying) size of thrice an ordinary NightWing that Crevasse had originally expected from the stories. He held in talons in the air, gesturing uselessly about and roaring in utmost fury.
“You have no idea what you just cost yourself!” he spat, lurching towards Crevasse on unsteady talons. “You’ve ruined everything! This was never a possibility- ”
“Your time is over,” Crevasse retorted. “Hadn’t you introduced yourself as the final iteration of the Darkstalker? Which means that this marks the end of the animus, doesn’t it? Your treacherous creators can never form another like you because of the final enchantment cast by your past self. Pyrrhia is forever free of your soul-sucking magic.”
The Darkstalker looked momentarily horrified, then shook his void-black snout and hissed viciously. “You haven’t witnessed the extent of their powers. Which, because of you, they'll no longer delay releasing upon this doomed world. I was sent down to buy them a few more months of leeching on despair, a final measure to bolster their strength before the onset. Now they’ll have to skip right over that unnecessary step and move directly into the invasion. Quite a pity for your friends. I’m certain they could have used the time together.”
“You don’t know what they’ll do,” Crevasse snapped, although a seed of worry was now snaking through his chest. “You’ve been cut off from them. It’s not going to work, Darkstalker.”
“Oh?” the NightWing laughed. “So then you’re not going to kill me? You’ll stray from the ultimate revenge? Coward that you are, I’m not surprised. You could never do what it takes to truly protect your friends, SkyWing. Spare me and I will return one day for their heads. I will never falter in this world until I have crushed everyone you have ever and will ever love, unless you have the guts to cast me down.”
“They’re already safe,” he returned, tapping the Informaband on his arm. “With these we’re forever protected.”
“No!” the Darkstalker hissed. “As soon as they see me, the connection will be reforged. You understand nothing of their function, and you will never have the opportunity to learn. The Watchers in our vicinity might have been eliminated, but I daresay some other flock will find its way over any second now.” 
“Qibli and I would have to disagree,” a quiet voice spoke up from somewhere behind the massive wings of the NightWing. Anadrom stepped forward, the cautious SeaWing she had always been, and with a quick motion she laid something against the leg of the ancient animus. A little silver band spiraled over his night-black scales, wrapping around in the spirals of a winding snake, and settled down with a gentle hiss of air. “They can never know about you now - er - and you’ll never hurt anyone again.”
“I - what?” snarled the NightWing, and then his talons blossomed into brilliant red feathers before them. He roared in majestic rage, swiping down with all his might to crush the smaller form of Anadrom beside him, but his wing bounced off of her as lightly as a cloud. His horns flattened, his teeth rounded within his mouth, and soon he was without a trace of his formerly terrifying physical aura. He turned with blazing eyes, jaw unhinged for a stinging retort that he would never have the chance to deliver. 
For as the disarmed villain hissed the first venomous syllable, a RainWing dart whirled through the air in a gentle parabola that terminated right on his neck. His eyes glazed over, and with a last hiss that reeked of potent evil, he staggered over onto the ground. A final lurch that twisted the air, a fall that shook the cavern, and the immortal agent of darkness was vanquished. 
Crevasse hadn’t even a moment to take this in before sea-cool wings were wrapping around him in an overjoyed embrace. Anadrom beamed up at him, her electric-blue eyes glowing with the softer shade of light he now knew to signify the course of some positive emotion. “Crevasse! By the brilliant life of the reefs, I’m so glad you’re here! That was breathtaking, the most noble thing I’ve - that I’ve ever seen - I can’t begin to tell you- ”
“You’re alright?” he beamed, returning her hug. “Thank the heavens! I was petrified that he would have done - would have enchanted -”
“Me too,” she stated, her voice shaking slightly. “I - er - I didn’t know what was going to happen - and he tried to cast some dreadful things - but none of them worked. It must have been the - the accidental invulnerability spell I made? Back in the Kingdom of the Sea.”
“I’m so sorry I let him take you,” Crevasse said, feeling the solidity of her scales beneath his splintered talons. “I failed you when you most needed me. It’s my fault that you had to go through all of that - if I could have been better-”
“No, Crevasse,” she blinked, her eyes focused on his own. “You did everything that anyone could. There was no stopping him - you must know that? I would never blame you for a moment - in fact, I was waiting to thank you for - for standing so bravely by my side.” Her smile was as sweet as an autumn sunset. “You hero! How could I ever begin to thank you?”
“Okay, enough of that,” he laughed, although her words sent a pleasant warmth burbling through his soul. “So I’ve redeemed myself. But I know you would have done exactly the same for me had our roles been reversed.”
“You left them for our world,” she murmured. “It was the most selfless thing I’ve ever seen. I - er - I can’t fathom how difficult it was.”
“‘Them?’” he repeated curiously, and then the realization hit him. “Oh! That was you, the LostWing? I mean - I should have known, of course - I had thought they maybe were someone that had crossed over from the other world - wow. Then I was only able to talk to them because of you? Without that I would have fallen into his trap - I would have made the wrong decision, would have chosen myself over everyone else…”
“Was it manipulative?” Anadrom worried. “I didn’t know - it was the only thing I could think of doing. If they had wanted you to join I wouldn’t have stopped you - I only thought you should hear what they thought about it-”
“No,” he assured her, “It was brilliant. Without you I would have crossed through without a second thought and then I would have seen my mistake once on the other side and never have been able to correct it. They were right - I can’t leave this world behind, especially not when it needs all the help it can get against the Watchers.”
“They were right about how important you are to - er - to our only hope of victory,” Anadrom told him. “What you just did to the Darkstalker - summoning the brilliance of dragons, cutting away his tie to them - it means you are destined to be the grand hero of our day. Crevasse, I saw things by that portal - er - it was like my ancestors were attempting to reach me, but we couldn’t speak in the common tongue. They showed me things instead. Flashes of our history, images of - of what the Watchers are, and of an ancient legend. The ‘Just Redeemed’ - er - those were the only words they knew. I think it’s ‘just’ as in fair, as in noble, and it’s referring to you. The dragon in Pyrrhia who suffers the most at the talons of the Watchers and yet rises above them. Who refuses to let their darkness corrupt him as it has so many - er - who holds the inner strength of being to remain truly good. The Watchers might be able to control the environment, but they can’t directly control how someone reacts to them. The villains in our history were already terrible at heart before the Watchers did anything to them. They made a choice to absorb the darkness into themselves, but you stand defiant. A glowing ember untouched by their dark fire. I saw what happened to your tail, and it means that you have the power to save Pyrrhia.”
“The ‘Just Redeemed’?” he repeated, the words catching in his throat. “But we came here to save you - and Nocturne - surely you two must be better equipped for saving everyone? Won’t your magic and her future-telling be far more important to everything?”
“Look where that landed us,” she smiled at him. “Your spiritual strength has saved us both once already. Doesn’t that count for anything?”
“Wait, back to the portal,” he sidetracked. “How were you able to escape the necklace?”
“I don’t really now,” Anadrom mused. “It was a void in there - er - an impenetrable darkness - and I think I was asleep for most of the time. When he opened the gateway the LostWings must have been able to call to me from inside. I heard their voices, saw the visions they granted, and it made me aware enough to be able to cast an enchantment. Qibli must have been with the scroll and sent it through. He made my magic supersede all other forms and this time it let me overrule the prison enchantment temporarily. Then you cut through and freed me entirely! But - my turn - how did you manage to find the Darkstalker at all?”
“We came to the Loyalist stronghold to free Nocturne, hoping that her visions would guide us to you. A part of the plan was bringing Queen Ruby’s army along to capture all of the SkyWing Loyalists, and I suppose that threw such a wrench in the Watcher’s plans that they sent the Darkstalker to stop it. Peregrine was instrumental - she saved my life right before you awoke - and Abyss came along as well.”
“Saved you again just now!” the cheery voice of the IceWing shouted from out of nowhere, and they jumped apart as she materialized right beside them. “Wondering who threw that dart? Sorry, I didn’t want to interrupt your totally sincere moment, but I couldn’t miss that cue. Anadrom, it’s great to see you safe again! I love your new additions to our sinister NightWing foe.”
“Thanks,” she smiled sheepishly. “I still didn’t want to - er - erase his memories or turn him to stone or anything, but feathers seemed like an acceptable temporary solution. Maybe Qibli will want to transform him into another dragon, like they did with the other iteration?”
“Eh,” Peregrine snorted. “We should turn him into a scavenger instead. You know, do something really creative! We can’t copy the Jade Winglet exactly. I mean, they’ve probably copyrighted that idea or something.”
“That is not at all how that works,” Crevasse laughed.
“Pfff, I totally bet it is!”
“Nevermind for now - how’s the Loyalist situation?” he inquired. “Did Queen Ruby win?”
“Well, I was about to suggest that we go check on that,” the IceWing replied. “But what do we do with the Darkstalker?”
“Can we fit him in a cell?” Crevasse suggested, glancing over at his former area of imprisonment. “The bars are flame-resistant, and they look sturdy enough to hold him now that his darkness-fueled magic is no more. It’s not like he’s going to be waking up anytime soon.”
They shuffled the gigantic form of the NightWing into the cell, just barely squeezing him through the barred door, and Peregrine slammed the lock shut with a satisfied click of her talons. “Take that, you jerkface!” she cried. “See what happens when you mess with us? Alright, let’s go help Queen Ruby! ALL OF THIS ADVENTURING IS SO AMAZING!”
They raced up the tunnel after their energetic companion, soaring past empty cells and flickering torchlight that now seemed so very less intimidating. The cries of battle had entirely died down, leaving only a faint murmur of voices ahead - although he couldn’t distinguish what any of them were saying. A sharp turn and they were facing the arena entrance, walls flanked by royal SkyWing soldiers while a stream of Loyalists were escorted out in flame-resistant wing-cuffs. There was a hiss of activity at their appearance, a few guards thinking them to be Loyalist reinforcements and leaping forward with brandished spears, but they relaxed as soon as they made out the details. At the rear of the column was Queen Ruby herself, orange scales gleaming as a fuming Quartz was carried away in chains before her. He shot a look at Crevasse as he passed that was more complex than he had expected; amid the overwhelming range was a hint of regret, a fragment of an apology. Then he was gone, head bent down by the soldier escorting him away.
“Your Majesty!” called a fierce-looking SkyWing. “The rest of the students are here.”
“Excellent,” boomed the regal voice of the Queen, and her intent gaze swept over them. “Well done, young ones. Your infiltration was a resounding success. The service you have performed today for the Sky Kingdom will not be forgotten. We are in your debt.”
There were muffled whispers down the hall as the soldiers stared at Anadrom, their wonder-struck chatter like the ripple of waves on a rocky beach. She looked as uncomfortable as always with all the attention, and so he stepped forward to rescue her.
“I am very glad we could be of service,” he intoned, and bowed to his regent. His friends did the same on either side. “If I may ask, how many of the Loyalists were apprehended today?”
“Every single traitor within this stronghold has been taken,” Queen Ruby announced, lifting her wings in triumph, and a cheer rose out over the assembled soldiers. “They will be tried under the full extent of our laws and punished in accordance with their crimes. Today is a bright day for Pyrrhia. The bravery of our talented soldiers has returned a promise of peace to come!”
“Your majesty, are - are there any wounded?” Anadrom spoke up softly, her nerves visible in the twitching of her wings. “I might be able to help them - er - if that would be acceptable?”
There was another round of murmuring from the collected soldiers, this time so audible that individual phrases could be made out (“That’s right - she’s been healing the ill all over the continent…”, “My father wrote to her and had his right eye regenerated…”, “Is it safe? We don’t know where she’s just been…”, “Some of them are in critical condition, we don’t have enough medics for them all…”). Above all the muffled clamor, Queen Ruby examined Anadrom for a thoughtful moment. The LostWing held her humble bow quietly before the monarch.
“Your assistance would be welcomed,” the SkyWing announced after a moment, and the vast majority of her soldiers nodded in agreement. “Garnet, escort her to the medics.”
A young SkyWing commander with a kindly face stepped forward and began leading her down the hall. As Anadrom passed Crevasse she gestured to his own fresh wounds with a question in her eyes. He nodded and cast her a grateful smile; and by the time she had vanished around the corner, his cuts had closed and the membranes in his wings had patched back together (or at least returned to how they had been before the skirmish with Quartz). In all honesty the pain of his wounds had slipped from his mind, but he had no reason not to accept the kind gesture. 
“Well,” the Queen announced, “If these are the dragons that the Jade Mountain Academy is producing, then my support for it holds firm. I do believe we’ll increase our funding throughout the next lunar cycle. Sunny has published an initiative to further the sciences with a new botanic garden: I’ll see what assistance I can be in that. Now we had better be getting you back to your teachers, young ones, before they have another moment to worry. Besides, we must inform Pyrrhia of the great triumph our kingdom has overseen today! We shall strike a cold terror into the other divisions of this accursed organization. We will fill them with the knowledge that their days are numbered, that they can taint our glorious realm no longer. Down with the Loyalists!”
“Down with the Loyalists!” echoed the soldiers, slamming the blunt ends of their spears against the cavern floor, and the chant filled the narrow halls. At a gesture from the queen, another SkyWing general came forth and led Crevasse and Peregrine down to the makeshift med-bay to wait for Anadrom. As they continued the chant, the bejeweled form of Abyss slipped up beside them. He nodded curtly in their direction, avoiding eye contact, and Crevasse noticed a new golden pouch hanging from his shoulder. Had their companion been pilfering the wealth of the Loyalists? I suppose he would be somewhat entitled as the son of a significant SeaWing noble, but I would have thought better of him. Greed is never a good look.
A radiant Anadrom emerged from a cavern ahead of them, her eyes filled with happiness as a squadron of newly-cured SkyWing soldiers moved up the tunnel to join the rest of their army. “Everyone’s okay!” she beamed, and Crevasse was all the gladder for it. Even though he knew that the soldiers were serving only their queen in the invasion - that they had willingly chosen to place their lives on the line for the betterment of their kingdom - the entire operation had been his idea, and so any casualties would have been on his talons.
“Ah, happy news,” sighed the general beside them. “You know, your plan has logistically bested even Qibli’s invasion of the stronghold of the Talons of Power. We’ve effectively destroyed our foe without the shedding of any SkyWing blood. Ever considered a military role, dragonet?”
“Ah - sorry, no, sir.” Crevasse shook his head. It was unsettling to address a superior member of his tribe; he hadn’t interacted with anyone besides fellow students and his teachers for so long. What mannerisms had he forgotten? Were there any customs that he should be following?
“Think about it,” advised the general, patting him on the shoulder. “Alright, we’re planning to set off ahead of the remainder of the army. Nearly all of our forces will be deployed in escorting the prisoners to the palace cells, but the queen has commissioned a squadron to protect all of you for the flight back to the academy. Speaking of which - wasn’t there a RainWing somewhere? Or was she a NightWing?”
“Try both,” snapped the lithe form of Queen Glory’s daughter as she swept out of the cavern, fixing Crevasse with a most sour glare. Her eyes were rancid with reproach and something that was very close to hatred. He blinked back at her, perplexed as to what he could have possibly done to anger her. The nebula-arrayed scales on the undersides of her midnight-black wings were drenched in unpleasant colors, from crimson reds to sickly greens that made him dizzy.
“Apologies, princess,” bowed the SkyWing commander graciously. “Then that makes five of you. We might as well head out now; I’m certain your friends at the academy are waiting anxiously for your safe return. Stay within a few wing-lengths of my soldiers on the journey back.”
They were moving again, and at last Crevasse felt a rich sunlight upon his scales. The Sky Kingdom looked more magnificent today than ever before. There wasn’t a cloud in the immaculate noon sky, nor the slightest gusts in the breeze. Summer-green grass rippled below him, looking as perfect as that within the realm of the afterlife, and the towering mountains all around spoke of grandeur and rugged majesty. He recognized the valley as a region within an hour’s flight of his old village; the proximity of his home to this headquarters must have been a major factor in the decision to attack. Ever since he was born the Loyalists had loomed beside him, their crimson banner and heartless drones haunting his nightmares, but now they were vanquished. This lair was no longer a place of evil incarnate, but rather another empty mountain that would eventually wear into rockslides and rubble. We actually did it! We’ve moved the continent so much closer to peace.
His exhaustion faded away in the wonder of the moment. They took to the sky in a formation that must’ve looked incredible to any woodland creatures sitting below, himself and the other four students of the academy framed by a squadron of twenty imposing SkyWing soldiers. Their heading was set toward Jade Mountain, the twin peaks still lurking beyond the horizon as they soared over the rolling forests and sharp valleys of his kingdom. After a few minutes he managed to slip to the side of the formation with Anadrom and Peregrine at his side, and they were free for the rest of the afternoon to relish in each other’s company. It was simply fantastic to be beside his friends with the knowledge that they were all (at least momentarily) safe. Every word that Anadrom spoke was a reminder of her presence, a reaffirmation that he really had managed to save her. They marveled in their victory, discussed their now-brightened hopes for the future of their world, and especially focused on brainstorming how to stand against the Watchers.
Peregrine was entirely for teleporting Crevasse to the moon and letting him “...bash it out with those creepy blubber-slurpers!”, while Anadrom was wondering how she could distribute Informabands to the kingdoms, and if everyone would wear them if she did.
“I can’t force them to,” she said, her expression as serious as always. “We know it’d be for their own good, but I can’t - er - latch an enchantment onto everyone without their permission. But the dragons who wouldn’t want to wear one are the dragons the Watchers have gotten to the most…so it’s really not their fault - kind of? - and they shouldn’t have to pay for it with their lives. Maybe we could try to help them understand...” 
“You know,” Crevasse mused, “I thought for a moment back there that I was going to be able to help Quartz come onto the right side. When we were in the arena I had him pinned to the ground, but of course I wasn’t going to kill him. So I told him there was still a chance for him to turn against the Loyalists and provide a service to his queen. I know that he’s always been absolutely terrible, but I sort of wish he’d have accepted. I saw some regret in him for a moment before his guards broke into the fight. There was still something buried deep within him; but now he’s forfeited his chance for the last time. He’ll rot in Queen Ruby’s cell, and that last ember will surely die out. I feel bad for him.”
“He was a total jerk!” Peregrine protested. “Remember how terrible he was to Solstice and Anadrom? He was the only bad thing about the academy. I say he deserves to rot away for his villainy. Like Anadrom said earlier, the Watchers can’t control if someone accepts their evil-doing or not. Quartz made a decision at some point to succumb to the darkness, and he chose again in the arena. He’s not worth your time to even think about.”
They were quiet for a while after this, and Crevasse shot a covert glance in the direction of their other two travelers. Abyss and Nocturne were huddled off from the escort, whispering darkly to each other and casting brow-furled glares in their general direction quite frequently. He wondered again what on Pyrrhia could possibly be bothering them. It’s almost suspicious. With their thievery and aggression, they are acting right in line with the influence of the Watchers. I wonder how badly they’ve both been affected by the plague of darkness? 
Then there was the fact that Abyss had warned Anadrom from using her magic for ‘good’ as soon as he arrived at the academy. How odd was that for a dragonet that was supposedly a key factor against the Watchers? Nocturne surely must have seen enough about them in her visions to determine that they thrived on darkness. Why would she want to provide them with more of it? 
“So you transformed into a LostWing, Anadrom?” Peregrine asked, her boisterous voice jolting him away from his thoughts. “What was that like? Did you have lasers or five sets of eyes or any other amazing features? Oooh, or five sets of laser eyes…”
“I had four wings, I think,” Anadrom laughed, and Peregrine emitted a very excited chirp. “Everything was - er - lined up very oddly. I think I had an outer pair that hinged on my back leg for some reason, and the inner ones were quite small. They seemed like they would be used for balance, or catching the wind like sails, or something along those lines.”
“Can you change back?” Crevasse inquired curiously. “I mean, now that the other LostWings reached out to you from the afterlife - do you have access to new powers?”
“Oh - I don’t know,” his friend blinked, frightened at the prospect. “I don’t want any more of that. But changing back…” With an expression of complete concentration, she stared down at her tail. For a while it remained entirely that of a SeaWing, smooth scales of various blues overlapping like waves rippling onto a beach; but then her eyes snapped back into their electric variant. The great mass of black-spotted fins soared outward from the tip of her tail, their complexity even more visible in the sunlight, and her scales shifted into a spikier form with their electric silver-blue-yellow gradient. “Well, would you look at that,” she breathed, and then: “Nobody better tell Millpond about this or I’ll never have a moment’s peace again.”
Chapter 15
As Crevasse was becoming accustomed to, a confrontation was sprung upon him at the onset of night. They had taken rest in a valley from the mouth of which the twin peaks of Jade Mountain could be distinctly seen against the amber sunset. All that was left was half a day’s journey, but their accompanying commander had justifiably decided that any travel under the shroud of darkness would be an unacceptable risk. At his demand they had halted and forged a defensive perimeter in the tight valley. Half of the soldiers had positioned themselves around the makeshift encampment for the first watch, brandishing their spears towards the void that could hold truly anything. Crevasse would have joined them if not for the exhaustion dragging down every scale in his body; instead he had curled up beside Anadrom and Peregrine, wings fanning out in a protective arc around their sleeping forms.
The gentle tapping of stealthily approaching talon-steps woke him in a moment, but he continued to feign slumber until Nocturne shook his shoulder roughly. “Wake up, SkyWing!” the heir to Queen Glory’s throne hissed. “We need to talk. Sit up so the guards don’t pester us.”
“What is it?” he muttered, straightening upward and twisting his tail over his front talons. He glared at the hybrid in scrutiny, and although she was half his height, she matched his stare with an unbecoming hostility. What’s her problem? I have the exclusive right to be annoyed here. I’m the one who rescued her - without a word of thanks - and she’s waking me up! That being said, Nocturne was potentially one of their greatest allies against the Watchers. Perhaps she had observed something significant in her visions and had come to deliver a warning. But then why all of the secrecy and the avoidance of his companions? 
“Alright,” the hybrid exhaled, twin lines of smoke fuming from her nostrils. “Abyss told me that he managed to deliver a warning to the academy upon his arrival. It would have been along the lines of halting all of Anadrom’s spell-casting, especially that which would have ostentatiously positive effects. Can you confirm that you were aware of this?”
“Yes,” he nodded sharply. “Although I oppose describing anything Anadrom did as ‘ostentatious’. She was genuinely trying to help Pyrrhia, not just impress everyone with flashy spells.”
“Argh, that makes it much worse,” Nocturne scowled, and in that moment his suspicions blossomed from prickling seeds into a thicket of oily weeds. “Abyss, of course, had been speaking on my behalf; more specifically on behalf of my visions. Now, while fully aware that there was some very good reason to avoid eliminating evil from the world, you decided to go off on an adventure and do just that.” She lashed an arm out and held it in front of his face, lifting black-speckled talons as she listed off his accomplishments. “Revealing the location of the SkyWing Loyalist Headquarters to Queen Ruby, assuring their complete annihilation, imprisoning the corrupt prince Quartz, and even somehow besting the Darkstalker himself in combat! Do you have any idea what you’ve cost us?!” She was glowering at him with prickling eyes that he half-expected to roll back into shadows at any moment.
“What?” he sputtered, holding his ground. “You’re not making any sense! Abyss was with us that entire time and he didn’t lift a talon against any of it! And why in a million years would destroying a great evil be a bad thing?”
“Nocturne, we’ve been over this,” the bejeweled SeaWing chimed in patiently. “Rescuing you was of the utmost priority, and the only realistic way to do so was through involving Queen Ruby. The Loyalist stronghold was impenetrable even with the Informabands. We couldn’t very well open your cell door without being noticed and captured.”
“Fine,” Nocturne conceded. “The Loyalists are a barely acceptable cost, but the Darkstalker? How could you cut down their prime field agent, their first effort to re-stabilize the realm? He would have leveraged us a month’s more time, but now…do you have any idea how limited our pathways to victory have become? I can hardly trace a single reliable way forward!” A threatening step forward, and then, “I know that if we are going to have any chance, you are going to have to be dealt with.”
“I think we’re getting off on the wrong talon,” Crevasse said conversationally, trying to appear unfazed. “Please consider calming down for a moment and explaining this.”
“That depends on how much you already know,” she sniffed, but she stopped her advance. 
“I’ve seen the Watchers,” he replied. “I’ve had several visions of their villany, and they were swarming around the Darkstalker during our fight. I know they’ve manipulated Pyrrhian history for eons to bring out the darkness of dragons. I’ve seen firsthand that they meddle in the lives of every dragon they can in an attempt to corrupt them. That they leech off of the pain of others - it’s their only sustenance.” 
“Oh,” Nocturne blinked, as surprise rushed across her lithe features. “I thought I would have been the only one to actually see them. Then how is it not clear to you? As you said, they leech off of pain - well, that’s not their only source of food. Any negative emotion works back to bolster their strength, from jealousy to cowardance to regret. They require a world of turmoil below in order to thrive; and that’s the reason that their second invasion is happening now.”
“How do you mean?” he frowned. “The world is plenty dark right now. Have you seen the heartlessness of the Loyalists? They are close to bringing the continent back into a state of war!”
“No, they haven’t,” came her cold reply. “Pyrrhia has never been in such peace and prosperity. The Jade Mountain Academy has united the tribes, the kingdoms are under stable and mostly benevolent rule, and we have a LostWing running around and fixing everything she can. The Watchers cannot sustain themselves off of our realm for much longer, and everything we do to improve the world will only shorten the time left until they run out of darkness to feast upon. When they have nothing left to consume, they are going to destroy Pyrrhia and begin again. And so the Loyalists were buying us precious time. The Darkstalker was going to earn enough strife and fear to hold them off for a while longer. We’ve lost all of that now.”
A haunting terror was working its way up through his legs with a lurching motion. A pang of ice cut him through the core, and he emitted a muffled noise of shock that caused a very smug look to come over Nocturne’s snout. “How do you know all that?” he challenged, trying to wrap his mind around the implications of what he had just done if this was true.
“I can see most every timeline ahead. There were ones in which Abyss perished in the attack and Anadrom continued using her magic; and in all of those the day of arrival will come sooner than when she was stopped. When the Darkstalker was left to terrorize the IceWing palace, we would have had an extra week; when the Loyalists won the battle the same would be true, and so on. It’s simple logic to determine what it all means.”
“No,” Crevasse snarled, and a surge of confidence billowed through him. He stood fully upright, tail rushing out behind him, and the Mark-3 reflected the moonlight onto his charred amber scales. “Do you hear yourself? If you had had your way, the Darkstalker would have gone off to potentially kill dozens of IceWings!” He held his snout in his talon as he composed himself. “You are thinking about this in entirely the wrong way. Of course the tyranny overseeing our every move would be pleased if we continued to fall right in line with their plans! It might allow our existence to persist, but it would only ever be one of suffering, of needless death and despair. It would not be a world worth inhabiting. I mean, think of any rebellion in Pyrrhian history. The citizens of oppressive regimes at some point overcame this very hesitation, took a stand against villainy and instated a better life for all! They were willing to fight for what they believed in, to boldly face the unimaginable power of their oppressors rather than hide behind the perpetualism of their accursed world.”
“‘Unimaginable power’ is an understatement!” Nocturne retorted. “By the moons, you are even more naive than Anadrom! I’ve been stuck with visions of what happens if we try to fight ever since I was hatched. Death, dismemberment, total destruction; it only ever takes them a minute to entirely end our world. If we manage to buy more time - well, then Pyrrhia will exist for that much longer. We can prepare for that much longer, and something new might show up.”
“Listen to me,” Crevasse breathed, realization dawning upon him. “Nocturne - you’ve never worn an Informaband, right?” 
“No,” she frowned. “How could I have?”
“You’re not going to like this,” he mused. “Alright, one of the first things that tipped Qibli onto the presence of some sinister force lurking over us was that Moonwatcher’s visions all seemed targeted at her personally. She was seeing hints that the world would end, but the only dragons that were harmed right before her were those she knew and loved. The Watchers were trying to horrify her as much as possible - although I think they underestimated how much Moonwatcher cares about every dragon, not just those she knows - and so they controlled what she saw.”
“Nope, nope,” Nocturne hissed. “I see where you’re going with this - ”
“They dwell in the moons!” he retorted, spreading his wings toward the unfathomably immense structures looming in the sky. “I saw them descend from a fourth one in the invasion of the ancient LostWing empire! NightWing prophetic powers stem from the very same source - they are the ones who granted you your ability, and so they can control it entirely.”
“Not a chance! Why would they give anyone the ability to see how to defeat them?”
“They haven’t,” he hissed, and her scales paled. “NightWing powers are just another weapon in their arsenal of corruption. They must have provided them only to a single tribe to trick them into feeling superior. It was an initiative to wage wars, assured of their strength over all others if only they were deserving of this magical ability. And look at how detrimental Moonwatcher’s own abilities were to her early life! She was exposed to all the darkest thoughts of other dragons, forced to listen in on the secrets of her friends and rejected by them when they learned the truth!”
“Her visions saved other dragons!” Nocturne argued, her voice rising and causing Anadrom and Peregrine to stir behind him. “The bombing of the history cave would have taken out nearly her entire winglet if she hadn’t warned them! She’s saved countless students at the academy in her day from cave-ins and diabolical plots!”
“Yet they never showed her directly how to stop the Darkstalker,” he countered. “They never showed her that he would send a plague after the IceWings, that he would try to eliminate Turtle…they avoided revealing any information that could stop their overarching plans. And foreseeing the cave bombing made Moonwatcher a prime suspect back in her day; maybe there was a possibility that her friends wouldn’t believe her and she would be locked away. Then there’s the fact that that vision and all of the other ones she’s had to save students are always right before the matter. You’d think that a random process would show some things months ahead of time, but they always occur mere moments before the incident. The Watchers are probably trying to drive Moonwatcher into rushing to save someone and failing by a fraction of a second. It’s absolutely deplorable, but it would generate a considerable amount of darkness for them to consume.”
“They saw you hatching around the time they knew they'd have to invade, and so they decided to place you as a red herring in the defensive plans of Pyrrhia. Everyone would trust your every word as the single greatest option to take; and so controlling what you saw would control what everyone did.”
“It can’t be true!” she flinched. “I - I couldn’t be fooled like that!”
“You have the power of future-sensing that is reserved for those that hatch under two full moons, and yet your first moments were in the light of only one! The Watchers twisted their own rules as they saw fit, hoping that everyone would assume the abilities were due to your being half-RainWing. They made certain you would see only the bleakest destruction down any future pathway that involved standing against them; they laid down the faintest of hopes in the timelights in which you insisted everyone behave exactly as they wanted them to. They’ve tricked you into the belief that holding Pyrrhia within a state of darkness will serve our interest, where in reality it will only benefit them. Think about it: every moment they can feast on our despair, they are growing stronger for the eventual day of their invasion. By doing what you think is necessary to weaken their effort, you are actually helping them infinitely.”
“Shut up, SkyWing!” Nocturne hissed. “You - that’s not - I -”
“There’s a simple fix,” he offered. “Once we’re back at the academy, put an Informaband on and see if any new pathways appear. As the device hides you from their knowledge, you’ll retain the ability they initially granted you, but it’ll now be free of any of their imposed limitations. If I’m right, you’ll see that the way to oppose this ultimate evil is to stand strong against it, not bow to its wishes and further its purpose. If not, feel free to call me a fool as often as you wish. But - ah - I wonder if they’re going to try and stop you now that I’ve said all this. If they don’t want you to find out the truth…” He glanced at the SkyWing guards stationed in their various defensive positions, each holding a flimsy weapon that would be entirely useless against their shadowy opponents. “Do you want mine right now? They probably wouldn’t care about me as much…”
“No, they would!” piped up an apparently awake Anadrom. “Crevasse, please keep that on! Remember - the Just Redeemed - if they find you, they’ll send all they have…”
“Are we all awake now?” Peregrine mumbled, rubbing her eyes with curled talons. “What’s going on between you two?”
“Nothing!” Nocturne snapped. “Absolutely nothing at all.”
“That’s not even a little suspicious,” the IceWing grinned. “Of course, all normal behaviors are exclusively referred to with sharp denial. But did someone need an Informaband? I can give mine away. I’m sure our spooky overlords don’t care much if they can know about me or not.”
“Sure they would!” Crevasse said. “You helped bring down one of their hench-dragons. Without you we never could have defeated the Darkstalker.”
“I fetched a bracelet and threw some oranges at the guy,” Peregrine protested, but she looked pleased in spite of herself. 
“Do you two want one?” Anadrom inquired. “Why didn’t you - er - bring it up earlier? I can copy some of these - er - or rather make something to copy them so we can use it again. That is if Qibli’s still awake.” She craned her head in the direction of Jade Mountain, but they were still too far off to observe if the entrance cavern was lit.
“No, I don’t,” the heir to Queen Glory’s throne sighed. “Right now I’m foreseeing that putting one on will cloud my visions irreversibly.”
“Because you’ll be seeing the actual future pathways!” Crevasse exclaimed. “Don’t you see? Even now, they’re trying to manipulate you away from the correct path.”
“Nocturne,” Abyss prompted, concern rippling over his aquamarine snout, “What if he’s right? What if we’ve been working on the wrong side this whole time, and stopping Anadrom’s magic will actually doom us all? How can we be sure?”
There was a long moment of silence as Nocturne gazed down at her outstretched talons with racing eyes. She looked somewhat destabilized, as if her world was crashing down around her, which he supposed it was. If he was right, she had been living in a lie her entire life. Every meticulous plan she had made to save the world, every careful step and command; it could all be about to backfire in her face. Even if she was right, that meant he would have shifted the coming of the apocalypse irreversibly forward, and so there was truly no pleasant outcome.
“So you know,” he said carefully, “Moonwatcher had quite a headache after she put hers on. I don’t want to hide that from you.”
“Crevasse, if I’m right and this only ruins my visions, then I want you to know that you doomed us all,” Nocturne eventually sighed, and she turned to Anadorm. “I’ll take one.”
“Alright,” Anadrom mused, her wings held to her side. “I can - er - make a new version of Turtle’s bowl? Maybe slightly larger - er - so it can hold more at once…” She was quiet for a moment, and when she spoke again her voice was softer than starlight. “Now we wait for Qibli.” 
They stood in the midst of the night, the flashes of the soldiers’ torches every once and again illuminating the varied colors of their scales. Crevasse could observe in these flashes the stiff apprehension in the expressions of Abyss and Nocturne, the fear that they had been misled clear upon their features. It was really no wonder why. The SeaWing in particular had already done some terrible things under the guise of saving Pyrrhia, betraying Anadrom’s trust and gravely endangering her father before he led a set of guards to unceremoniously execute her. He glanced at Anadrom as the next shift in the wind cast a light over the smooth scales of her SeaWing form, and saw these same memories pass across her snout as she tightly held her distance from Abyss. 
There it was - a flash in the darkness, and before them appeared a simple wooden bowl. It was made of a dark cedar, unadorned but with an appearance of total solidarity. Anadrom had placed a single unattached Informaband inside the device in her enchantment so that none of them would have to remove their own for even a moment. She moved forward slowly until her talon was upon the rim of the artifact, and then she softly intoned, “Twice as much, please.”
A second device shimmered into being by the first, and Nocturne reached for it without a word. She didn’t react as her talons closed around the silver bracelet, nor when she lifted it into the air, but she froze right before sliding it onto her wrist.
“You said this is going to hurt a lot?” she asked, and Crevasse nodded solemnly. Abyss moved forward and took one of her talons in his, and she squeezed it tightly. “As always, for Pyrrhia,” she announced, and then she dropped the device onto her arm. An eternal moment of apprehension sank around the clearing, a stillness as total as the desert night, and then the tension snapped suddenly as she crumbled to the ground. Abyss and Anadrom were by her side immediately, trying to figure out how to help, but this was beyond either of them.
The NightWing-RainWing was curled up with her wings over her head, talons digging into her scales so sharply that they would be drawing blood if not for the protective elements of the Informaband. There was a twitch of her wings and her eyes flashed open, at once wild and unfocused. Her jaw unhinged unsettlingly, and in a voice that was far from her own she intoned:
“The Watchers above subsist on Pyrrhia’s fear;
As the day of their starvation draws ever near,
The realm will be smitten with warfare and rage,
All noble things will collapse before the new age.
An ancient tragedy of eternity untold, 
Raining down for all to briefly behold,
The present and past all washed away, 
Dragons reverted to nothing but prey.
One and one only can stand in their path, 
The sole dragon able to counter their wrath;
One and one only to have survived the last, 
Ancient remnant of the kind long past.
Under her banner the final alliance must form, 
For if kept in solitude all will fall to the swarm.
Seek the resolute guardian and the two-faced traitor, 
The bright-hearted soulmate and the dire manipulator,
The kindly descendant with contacts beyond;
The hidden world with its invaluable bond.
Bring forth the graceful promise of light,
The brilliance of dragons under a common banner unite.
And let it be known that there will be no second chance; 
For even in victory some will be lost in the advance.”
She finished with a croaking hiss and lowered her head back to her chest. Her eyes returned to her control as she clutched her forehead with a shaking talon. Crevasse watched in a sort of translucent daze. The world was sparkling before him, tiny white dots appearing behind his eyelids and rushing about in nonsensical paths. Snippets of the dark prophecy were racing around in his mind - some will be lost - No, no, no, I think it mentioned most of our winglet, none of them can die - and we were right, they’re coming with the intention of total annihilation…
“Nocturne?!” Abyss was calling, sitting with his wing gently wrapped around her. “That was the prophecy, wasn’t it? Are you alright? Can you hear me?”
“Yikes,” Peregrine blinked, “All of that was terrible. I mean, literally everything in there was the most terrifying thing I’ve ever heard. Any chance you were joking - no, never mind.” Her voice swam before him, distorted by some subtle force as Kittiwake and Doctor Whimbrel’s had been through the portal. He could feel his heart beating without rest, his mind entering a realm of panic, but he couldn’t go there right now. He needed to be here for all of them. He was supposed to be the force of stability, and so he leveled out his breathing and thought of Kittiwake’s flight.
“Ouch,” Nocturne muttered. “I’ve had headaches before, but this…” She gritted her teeth and took Abyss’s outstretched talon again. “SkyWing, you were right. They’ve been hiding…so much…I can’t believe it. I’ve been in the wrong places my entire life, doing the wrong things at every move. I’ve become their puppet…”
“How bad is it?” Abyss asked frantically, his eyes whirling with the downfall of his purpose. “Surely we must have prevented something? Helped in some way?”
The prophet coughed, small droplets of venom shooting outward and hissing into the trampled grass. “We’re lucky we never succeeded in our plans. It would have cost us everything.” She struggled to her talons, staring out apprehensively at the night. “But we didn’t get off so easily. They’ve - they’ve already begun. The first stage of the invasion was set in motion the moment the Darkstalker touched down.” Another cough of speckled venom, and then: “As it stands, none of the royal families will be intact by the week’s end. The IceWing palace has already fallen.”
Epilogue
Even amidst the crackling first sparks of the end-times, love found its way in Pyrrhia.
Ocotillo had never experienced a joy as complete as that which flooded through him at the sight of his daughter. He had jolted from uneasy slumber at the ricochet of wingbeats in the entrance cavern, rushing to see if he would be needed in fending off an invasion and instead discovering that she had returned. She stood framed in the glow of the sunrise, her kindly eyes twinkling and her lithe snout breaking into the warmest of smiles at his sight. He was hugging her in a moment, reassured by the weight of her scales, and his husband followed suit in a heartbeat.
“By the name of the Queen!” Eelgrass exclaimed, his voice overflowing with delight. “Heavens, Anadrom, we didn’t know if we’d ever see you again! We missed you so…”
“It’s okay,” she promised, taking their talons in hers. Her scales were aglow with a subtle rosette hue, soothing as the lush coral blossoms. “I’m okay, thanks to Crevasse and Peregrine.”
Ocotillo turned and found the scarred SkyWing watching the exchange, an elated expression upon his snout that conflicted with the worry deep in his eyes. He would contemplate the reasoning for this later, but now was the moment only for gratitude. “I knew I was right about you,” he grinned. “Thank you to the stars and back for bringing her safely home. I can’t begin to imagine how you did it. I’m certain it was an undertaking that very few could have accomplished. Really, I can’t begin to thank you enough.”
“The same from me,” Eelgrass laughed. “You single-handedly did the impossible, and here we’ve been chasing lost treads and red herrings over the last few days. Flying out to the old Kingdom of Night and back, searching for clues that weren’t there - we arrived back at the academy last night entirely empty-taloned. However did you do it?”
“It was nothing that she wouldn’t have done for anyone here,” Crevasse beamed loyally. He was about to elaborate when a golden blur of scales dashed over and wrapped itself around his wing, nearly knocking him over. “Oof - hey, Solstice. It’s great to see you too.”
“All returned safely, just as you promised!” the hybrid laughed, the warmth flooding off of his wings filling the entire cavern. “This is amazing - you did it! I knew if anyone could it would be you. Crevasse, Peregrine, you’ve earned a place beside the grandest heroes of the realm!”
He turned to Anadrom with sparkling eyes, and Ocotillo felt all the wear on his soul dealt by the last week melt away at the sight of the sincere love between them. A connection of the purest form, a ray of sunlight caught in a dew-speckled meadow; it was everything he had ever hoped his daughter would one day encounter. As the two embraced, he felt with utmost certainty that all was right in the world. Smiling, he took Eelgrass’s talon in his.
Across the continent, sitting upon a narrow outcropping cooled pleasantly by the mist of a tumbling waterfall, Turtle and Kinkajou sat with tails entwined. Their daughter was curled up to their left, her slumber yet unbroken by the early dawn.
“I can’t believe that Queen Coral is still demanding we attend the celebrations,” Turtle was saying, his voice soft in the morning air. “In light of extenuating circumstances and all. We should be out looking for the members of the Amber Winglet, not attending the seasonal parties!”
“We could just not go,” Kinkajou said wryly. “I’m all for turning around and saving the world a second time! How bad would it be to disobey her once?”
“Pretty bad,” Turtle admitted. “She seemed - ah - even more enthusiastic than usual in her letter. I’m fairly certain half of it could be considered a death threat coming from anyone but her. She likes having me around at the parties as a point for conversation: and what the Queen wants, she always gets.”
“Ah well,” Kinkajou sighed. “It’s not like we’re marching to our deaths or anything. Besides, I’m sure being underwater for the first time is going to be AMAZING! You can show me everything beautiful in the Kingdom of the Sea, all your dolphins and fishes and sea-sloths…”
“There are no such thing,” he told her sternly.
“Are too!” she returned. “They have to be somewhere out there. If you won’t show me, I’ll find them myself in the depths and bring a flock back to Queen Glory. I’ll drop them right in her throne room until she has everyone build a tank for them, and then I’ll put our house right next to it so you have to see them every morning! No such thing as sea-sloths-” she shook her head “-really, where do you get it from?”
“You’re crazy!” Turtle laughed, and as always the wonderful sound filled her with bouncing bubbles of happiness. “Kinkajou, I don’t tell you enough how much I love you.”
“Go on,” she grinned, nudging him with her wing.
“You’re the most charming dragon in Pyrrhia. Always boundlessly energetic and positive - being around you is contagiously uplifting. Everything you do is an act of kindness, every word you say as sweet and sincere as sunshine. You’re clever, witty - and absolutely beautiful besides.” He took her talon in hers, the cool crescent as endearingly ink-stained as always. “There’s no one I would rather be beside for the rest of my life, and in whatever realm comes after.”
“Aw, Turtle,” she beamed, “You’re perfect, you sweet wordsmith. I love you too.”
Tamandua stirred behind them, her features as amiable and friendly as always. She stretched her talons toward the sky, the oceanic pastels on the undersides of her wings sparkling with dew. 
“It’ll be time to head off soon,” Turtle noted fondly, and with that they turned back to gaze over the sea with the majestic assurance of each other’s loving company.
Amid his deserted stronghold, a cloaked dragon was sitting and cradling a locket that his daughter had once held. It had been twisted by the infinite heat of her talons, and to anyone but himself it would have appeared worthless. He recalled distinctly the day in which Queen Ruby had taken her from him, had stolen away the last thing he held dear. All his nights of plotting to punish the regent for her heartless crimes, and yet his scheme lay inexplicably in ruin around him.
Well, he still had six other chances to make Pyrrhia pay for how it had treated him. A quick swap of one chain for another, and he transformed into the MudWing that the other branch of the Loyalists assumed to be their unique leader. With that he departed, the locket clutched to his chest.
Category:Fanfictions (Completed)
Category:Fanfictions
Category:Fanfictions (Fanon)