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Chapter Text

Chameleon is sitting at his desk in his hideout. A small scrap of paper in front of him. His talons are stained with ink. He dips a claw absently into his inkwell each time the ink already on it dries out. This scrap is all that remains of a very particular scroll... his method of having power; anything written in it happens. But now it's all gone, either burned by his daughter or already filled to the point where trying to fit any more would make it completely black and unreadable. All aside from this one, single, remaining piece.

Chameleon sighs and curses his daughter. If not for Peril burning it and freeing the dragon that originally enchanted it, Darkstalker, then Chameleon would have plenty more to work with. He balls his non-inked talons into a fist and slams it against the desk. Vulture wants an army... an army under his command. There's simply no way Chameleon can create that with just the one, tiny piece he has remaining.

Unless... Chameleon stops, staring at the scroll. He sighs. The sigh turning into a chuckle. Yes, this is it. He just gives himself the scroll's power!

"Enchant Chameleon of the RainWings to" He pauses. He remembers having heard a word for this power, but he can't quite recall what the word actually was; he's been having problems with his memory ever since Kinkajou hit him with a rock. He'll cure away those damages once he's an animus. Oh, right, that's the word. "become an animus."

Nothing happens. This is worrying. Chameleon is used to enchantments having immediate, noticeable effects unless he specifies a delay.

But maybe this is different from my usual enchantments. That green SeaWing, Turtle, is an animus, and he doesn't look like anything special. Chameleon picks up a pebble nearby. "Enchant this rock to heal any and all injuries from me whenever I touch it," he says.

Suddenly, Chameleon's breathing becomes much easier, and he feels the persistant headache he's had for the past 5 years - ever since that stupid ball of yellow and pink scales bested him - fade away. Chameleon looks in the mirror. He didn't think his snout deformity can be healed by something so simple; he was stupid for not realizing he could've just done this right from the start. He laughs. This went better than expected... far better than expected. He touches a talon against the scroll. "Enchant this scroll to grow until it is whole once more, keeping all enchantments already on it." The scroll does just that, becoming as whole as it was when Chameleon first stumbled upon it. He's back, and those stupid dragonets... the Jade Winglet... they will be aptly punished for how they tried to ruin his life... but first, he must complete his request from Vulture. He wants the treasures the SandWing had offered.

The next morning

Things are looking up in Sanctuary. Two years ago, Moonwatcher, Peril, Turtle, Qibli, Kinkajou, Blue, Cricket, and Sundew (the last three having applied for Jade Mountain Academy after the Pantala craziness settled down, and they ended up in the Jade Winglet) graduated from JMA. All but Peril and Sundew had ended up moving into Winter's place (though Sundew ended up living in Sanctuary anyway; just not with Winter). The fact that the Jade Winglet (the original Jade Winglet; the new Jade Winglet had started school and are not expected to be out for another 5 years) were in Possibility had spread quickly, and now there are a lot of new residents, almost as many dragons as there are in the NightWing Village in the Rainforest Kingdom - funny how one random, multi-tribe settlement has almost as many dragons in it as an entire (if still broken and battered) tribe - and that's not even counting the humans that also live here in Sanctuary.

Naturally, there tends to be a lot of strange faces here. But none more so than the complete shock that Kinkajou found when she stepped out of her room.

She was the first in the Winglet to wake up, having had nightmares of what she did to Darkstalker - she'll probably never get over that; if telling Winter and Peril didn't fix her guilt (she told them almost immediately post-graduation, after believing she felt guilty for not trusting her friends... Winter blew up as expected, then had to have a Dreamvisitor talk with Hailstorm, and then seemed perfectly fine afterwards as if nothing ever happened), then nothing will - and no ability to get back to sleep.

She ate a pear she had stashed away as she left, then tripped on a young dragonet that was sleeping right in front of the door. She was about to apologize when she noticed it was a NightWing dragonet... one that, save for the scroll wrapped around his neck like a scarf, has a very recognizable shape.

Her shriek must have been loud enough to wake the entire town up. It was a sound only either a banshee, or a completely-panicked RainWing, could ever make.

Darkstalker was here, sleeping right in front of the door to Kinkajou's room.

Chapter Text

Scrollwriter doesn't remember much of last night. He woke up, he decided he didn't like the RainWing that was getting in his face, he picked a direction and flew that way until his wings got tired and ceased to work, and then he crashed and then took cover in someone's home.

So why is it that he is now the one in trouble? He's surrounded by a NightWing, a SandWing, and an IceWing. None of them look very happy. They're talking to each other about Scrollwriter.

"How under the moons is he back?" the IceWing snarls at the NightWing. "I thought you and Kinkajou said that he can't return! You were so certain!"

"Winter, it's not him," the NightWing says back. She towers over Scrollwriter, but her attention is focused on the IceWing. "I can't hear much from his thoughts, but it isn't him."

"Can't hear much?" the SandWing queries. "You mean... like...?"

"He keeps seeing himself as a failure and it's completely overriding any thoughts that I could hear. There's a few other, simple thoughts, but I know for a fact, just from that one thought that keeps repeating itself, that he isn't Darkstalker."

Darkstalker? Scrollwriter tilts his head. "You mean the dragon that originally made me?" he blurts out. Immediately, he wishes he didn't. All eyes are now on him.

It's quiet... dead quiet. Scrollwriter looks around, trying to get his bearings. The NightWing is big, but seems rather unused to her size (like she had a growth spurt recently). Her scales glisten in the light of the sun, making it clear that she likely put on a bit too much scale polish in her haste. It's either that, or she's younger than her size suggests; in which case, her scales are probably just freshly-grown in (replacing the dragonet scales), new enough to not-yet lose their glint. The IceWing is tall and could almost be considered thin, if not for being pretty broad; obviously, he hasn't adjusted to his height. But he still looks dangerous, with every horn and spike polished to make their pointiness clear, and his silver coloration makes him look almost like a ghost. And then the SandWing... he doesn't seem as bad, but Scrollwriter knows that he should probably not ask about his scar - the consequences could be disastrous. The look in the SandWing's eyes makes Scrollwriter feel like the SandWing already has a plan to take him out, and then a few back-up plans on top of that if the initial plan doesn't work.

And then he looks past the IceWing. There's a green SeaWing there, looking eerily-familiar to someone... the only dragon that had ever held him that he actually liked and didn't disappear like Clearsight did... "Fathom!" Scrollwriter yells as he runs over to hug the SeaWing.

And then he gets stopped as the NightWing lands on top of him, having lunged the instant he started moving. Strangely, she seemed to know just exactly to disable him, holding down his front sets of talons. Though maybe that's just a lucky coincidence. He looks at 'Fathom', then notices the terrified look in his face. Maybe not Fathom, then. I made a serious lapse in judgement, Scrollwriter realizes. He looks to the dragon next to the SeaWing. He can barely see a RainWing, camouflaged, standing behind the SeaWing. Definitely not Fathom, then. Scrollwriter remembers being in Fathom's bag when he talked to Queen Anaconda, asking for permission to live in the Rainforest Kingdom. The RainWings that were there had made Fathom increadibly nervous. There's no way Fathom would just be okay with a RainWing being right behind him. Scrollwriter takes a deep breath. He can't see a way out of this, without making it more awkward... though maybe he should try something simple. "Uh... I'm sorry... I... uh..." Okay, so maybe he's not good at apologizing. Maybe he could make a bargain instead? "Look, I know something that may be important. It involves a RainWing with a recently-healed, long-term snout injury."

At that (or maybe it was the attempted apology), the NightWing gets off, and Scrollwriter stands up to explain.

"Wait wait wait wait wait, Chameleon!?!" the RainWing, who Scrollwriter had learned is called 'Kinkajou', half-screams near the end, turning something between dark red and pale green.

Scrollwriter leans his head back at the loud noise. "That was his name?" He pauses, now curious. "What did he do?"

The NightWing, Moonwatcher, looks at Kinkajou, then back at Scrollwriter. "He did... a lot, using that scroll. But hang on; you're saying that he used the scroll to turn himself into an animus?"

"Yes, and I am that scroll," Scrollwriter states.

"Personally, I find that hard to believe," the SandWing (Qibli) says. "For one, Chameleon only ever used the scroll to change himself. And for two, despite how much you look like Darkstalker, you don't act anything like him; so how can you be his animus magic?"

Scrollwriter scowls. If he really has to do this... He nicks a talon on a wingclaw, drawing ink (rather than blood, just one of the few oddities caused by Scrollwriter being Chameleon's first attempt), and then writes Enchant the smallest pebble within this town to fly over here and lightly tap against the forehead of this SandWing, onto the floor.

A small pebble, as requested flies in through an open window, slows down as it approaches, then gently hits Qibli between the eyes, leaving him blinking several times. "Ooohkay... that's certainly not creepy at all," Qibli mutters. "Perhaps you are his animus magic."

"I'm less-so his animus magic," Scrollwriter reiterates for what feels like the umpteenth time, "and more the enchantment that formerly kept his animus magic contained in the scroll that I now wear."

And then Winter, the IceWing, yelps and puts his talons to his head. "Someone's trying to dreamvisit me... at a time like this!?!"

"Don't go to sleep," Scrollwriter warns.

Winter glares at him, as if Scrollwriter said the most atrocious thing in existence.

"What?" Scrollwriter asks. Moon answers by giving him a glance that tells him Not now. "Alright, alright... fine." He lets a growl seep into his voice... some leftover dislike towards IceWings or something along those lines. "But just remember, the dreamvisitors, like almost every other enchanted object - there were a few, like the one that Kinkajou and Foeslayer used me to make, that he is not aware of - are now actual dragons who are blindly following this 'Chameleon' individual because he gave them life."

Chapter Text

Pyrite has been in weird situations before. She's been essentially both a prison cell and a torture device made just for Hailstorm, who is sitting nearby. That's the weirdest part. Hailstorm should hate me, Pyrite thinks. I would hate me if I were him, so why does he forgive me? She shakes her head.

When she flew here, to try to apologize to Hailstorm, she had found a group of IceWings wandering around out in the open. She learned, since then, that they were royalty and they lost their palace (how a group of 20-or-so dragons can lose a massive palace is something that Pyrite can't fully understand). They let her stay with them, especially when she found a cave that they could live in. They were pretty desperate, due to the snow storms that had started frequenting the Ice Kingdom ever since the incident.

No time like now, she decides. "Hailstorm?" She pauses when the prince looks at her. She swallows her nervousness. "Are you mad?"

"Yeah," Hailstorm answers flatly, almost growling. Pyrite flinches. "I mean, we lost our home. Generations of IceWing royalty lived in that palace, and now it's gone."

"That wasn't..."

"No, it's not you," Hailstorm interrupts, now aware of what Pyrite was meaning. "I had this conversation with Winter. You remember Winter, don't you?" Pyrite nods. "He dreamvisited me a few years ago, upset because of something he got told. I talked to him, and helped him calm down enough for him to actually tell me what was going on. He was upset over something a friend of his, some RainWing named Kinkajou, did. He was angry because he remembered you and the impact you had on him during the brief moment he wore you."

"And?"

"And I told him that it was Chameleon that made you the way you are," Hailstorm says. "And I told him that Chameleon did it out of greed, because Scarlet had promised riches. Kinkajou, however, did what she did because I guess she wanted to believe that there was hope. That was my impression of her desires from what Winter said about her."

Pyrite looks down. "That doesn't help..." she mutters.

"Well, I will say that you're not Chameleon. He's the one who put me through the torture of being you. You weren't at-fault for that. When Winter removed the scrap that forced you to not want to take that necklace off, you were completely fine with releasing him from yourself. That tells me you're a good dragon... or animus-touched object... or whatever." Hailstorm suddenly laughs, making Pyrite laugh a little as well. "Okay, maybe some part of you is still clinging to my mind, five years after you were removed from me, because I still haven't been able to get a full grip on my words like I used to."

Pyrite looks down, at the little scrap of parchment she had been gripping tightly enough to make holes in it, and even break through her scales and draw blood whenever she squeezes too hard. "Completely loyal to Queen Scarlet and the SkyWing tribe," it says. Not anymore... not when she forced it to no longer be a part of herself, the last time anyone wore her, before she became her own dragon fully and completely. "Excuse me for a moment," she says. Hailstorm nods and Pyrite walks out of the cave, into the snowstorm. Some stuck-up, snobbish IceWing that might be related to Hailstorm tries to stop her, but she shoves her way past them. She doesn't go too far away; just enough that she hopefully won't be seen or heard.

"Whoever that scroll of Darkstalker's became," Pyrite whispers, "I'm sorry if whatever I'm about to do hurts you in any way, but I'm free now..." She holds the scrap in front of her mouth, focuses on the feeling of heat building up in her throat, and - when the smoke starts to flow out - exhales.

What was parchment is now ashes blowing in the wind, blowing like the snowflakes currently threatening to blind her. Pyrite turns around and lunges back into the cave, safe from the blizzard.

She'll finally build-up the nerve to ask about everything else, but that will be later. Right now, she's tired. She was up all night, fretting about her situation. But now, her situation doesn't exist. She can fall asleep easily. I hope sleeping during the day doesn't suddenly make me a NightWing. Shapeshifter was scary.

Chapter Text

Someone's going to die.

Cat-eye's claws are sparking. The SandWing stares up at Vulture. The idiot who wants to be king. He's no good for the throne. When Cat-eye was the Eye of Onyx, it was her job to make sure the only SandWing on the throne was one who would be a fair and kind, yet strong and smart, ruler. Yeah, sure, she'll let commoners (or, by the moons, potentially even a male, but she'd be really strict) on the throne if she can sense that they have what she's looking for. But that's the thing, Vulture does not.

He gives her the creeps.

The way he brushes past her side. The way he grips her forelegs. As if to say Look at us! We're best buddies! But he's a fraud... a cheater. The dragon that turned her into Cat-eye had made Vulture immune to anything Jerboa enchanted, and that includes the Eye of Onyx. She can't prove that he's unworthy; she can't kill him in the way she usually would. She lets out a growl. And she, too busy glaring at Vulture to watch where she's going, bumps shoulder-first into Opal. "Sorry!" Cat-eye yelps, at the exact same time as Opal, as she stumbles back.

There's a moment of silence. "This way," the IceWing abruptly whispers, pointing at a nearby shelter. Cat-eye frowns. Something to show me? Alright, then.

They go in and Opal holds her talons out. Cat-eye, no longer within Vulture's vicinity - no longer looking like she's about to vaporize anyone - takes them and lets the dizziness flow over her. The last thing she hears is her body thumping to the ground.

She comes around, and sees a hollowed-out cactus half filled with water next to her. She drinks as she recalls the back-to-back visions that the Gift of Vision gave her. The two deserters... they left because they saw through this stupidity even before Chameleon handed the group over to Vulture. It's clear what Opal's trying to tell her: she doesn't have to stay.

Well, tough luck, IceWing, Cat-eye decides. Vulture and Cat-Eye have the same goal (if for different reasons): Get to Thorn. Cat-eye may as well stick around, if only for that purpose. But there's another: she needs to kill Vulture. So what if he's immune to her enchantment? He wants the throne, and he's not worthy to have it. The fact that he torments Cat-eye with his immunity to her enchantment makes the no-longer-jewelry even more ticked-off and determined to see the selfish idiot dead at her talons. Cat-eye is a SandWing now; she can just stab him through with her tail barb, or snap his neck, or do whatever else she could do. But, right now? She needs allies. She would hope that the other enchanted objects have about as much loyalty to Vulture that she does, but the only one she's absolutely sure about the loyalty of who hasn't run away yet is Opal.

Opal meets Cat-Eye's gaze. "If only my enchantment can work on me," Opal admits. "I would love to know what your perspective is. Moons, I'd like to know what everyone's perspective is. Yes, Opal, even Vulture's."

"What?" Cat-Eye asks, shocked. She thought Opal didn't like Vulture.

The IceWing blasts the sandy ground with a puff of frostbreath, then steps in the icy patch letting herself cool down in the desert heat. Cat-Eye quickly backs off from the cold. "He has a reason for being like this, I'm sure of it," Opal says, "but the question is... what?"

Cat-Eye can't help but snort. "He's like that because he wants the throne, but he can't have it... not on my watch, anyway."

Opal shrugs. "Perhaps, but if there's one thing I teach any immature queen, it's that the world is not so black-and-white."

"He seems very black to me."

"Don't let any NightWing hear you say that."

"Too late... I think..." the voice cuts through Cat-Eye and Opal's chatter. Cat-Eye's mind blanks as Moonstone grabs her tail.

"Sorry, Moonstone," Opal says.

Moonstone notices that Cat-Eye froze and quickly lets go. Cat-Eye gasps for breath, choking and coughing as she regains the ability to think and move. "Sorry, Cat-Eye. It's rather hard to remember that we're all just objects."

Unlike with Cat-Eye, Opal, and... really, any of the other enchanted objects, Moonstone has rather clear imperfections, likely due to the fact that he's been damaged before he became a dragon (he's one of the few enchanted objects that managed to stay awake while damaged; many other destroyed objects fell unconscious after being given life and haven't woken up). His chest is shattered, as if he was split in two (but only from the front), and then seemingly glued back together with liquified moonstone that had then hardened. "Anyway," the former copper-wire bracelet (now a NightWing/SeaWing hybrid) says, "I've overheard you two, and it is not exactly hard to piece things together. You don't like Vulture."

Cat-Eye opens her mouth to deny it, to not give herself away, but Moonstone is quicker. "Don't worry, neither do I. Actually, I don't really think anyone does. It's just... we're all too scared to do something about it. I mean, I was there when Chameleon enchanted him to be immune to the two of you. Every failure we have at stopping whatever plan he has, the weaker we'd get against him."

Cat-Eye glances at Opal. "Long story," the IceWing whispers, "but Vulture was also made immune to my enchantment."

I already hate puzzles, and this one got a lot more complicated. Cat-Eye manages to prevent her tail from lashing (Opal is way too close next to her). Should she trust Moonstone's statement about how much Vulture is hated? And, if she does, what can be done to not get anyone wrongly punished?