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“You idiot!” Foeslayer yelled at Winter. His head bashed into the cave wall and tears of pain sprang into his eyes. “Do IceWings get dumber every year? Don’t you want to win?”

He flung her off so hard she spun across the ice and nearly slid over the edge into the chasm.

“That’s not what I want!” Winter shouted. “I don’t want to win if it means Hailstorm has to die!” He whirled to face his brother, who was on his feet and panting, his sides splattered with red and blue blood. “What are we fighting for? A number on a wall? Your life is more important to me than the rankings, Hailstorm!”

Hailstorm growled. “I would have said the same thing, brother,” he said. “But I sacrificed myself for you once already, and it was the worst thing that ever happened to me. You can’t imagine how it feels to know what I’ve done — to have these memories in my head.” He clawed at his temples. “I want my life back. I want myself back! And I won’t get it if I reach my hatching day in last place. I have to be first again.”

The old, familiar guilt was surging back through Winter. My fault, my fault, my fault.

“I didn’t think it would be you I’d have to destroy in order to get back to first,” Hailstorm admitted. “But it had to be someone. I won’t be a traitor to my tribe anymore. When I’m number one, I can prove it.”

Winter looked back at Foeslayer, who had slowly risen to her feet and was listening with a curious expression.

“Is there any other way?” he asked her. “A way we can both live?”

“I'm not the right dragon to ask,” she said. “Frankly I’d rather see you all dead.”

“I’ll take last place,” Winter said to Hailstorm. “What if we told the queen that? Would she let us switch?”

Hailstorm snorted. “Where’s the honor in that for me?” he asked. He picked up the spear Foeslayer had dropped and twisted it between his talons.

The NightWing breathed a jet of flame that melted the wings of the statue closest to her. “This is very moving, but would one of you please kill me already?” She paced toward them, her dark eyes reflecting the light of their moon globes. “I’m tired, I haven’t eaten in who knows how long, and it's gotten to be more painful to stay awake than to have a spear skewer me.”

“Dying?” Winter asked.

“Yes,” she said, stopping in front of them and spreading her wings. “You stab me, I die painfully, and then I go back to being frozen until someone wakes me up again. It’s a cunning enchantment. The first forty times, Queen Diamond killed me herself.” Foeslayer let out a bitter chuckle. “I suspect the original point of the spell was that she wasn’t satisfied with killing me just once. But then the forty-first time, there were two dragonets here… so she must have decided I could be used for this other purpose, whatever you two are here for.”

“So you just get murdered over and over again?” Winter asked.

“That’s my punishment.” Foeslayer shrugged. “Here’s some advice for you — never make an animus mad with power angry.”

Winter turned to Hailstorm, puzzled. “Then how did all these other dragons get frozen? Maybe that’s part of the spell, too. One kills Foeslayer, and then the other one freezes?” It seemed more complicated than the usual animus spell.

Hailstorm’s eyes were fixed on the spear in silence.

“Hailstorm, you’re right,” Winter said. “You’ve already sacrificed yourself for me. I’ve been waiting for two years to make it up to you. You do it. You kill her.”

“Winter—” Hailstorm said.

“I'm not going to be responsible for your death a second time,” Winter insisted. “It’s my turn. And it’s what Mother and Father would want anyway.”

Winter waited for his brother’s argument, but none emerged in the silence.

“Giving up so soon?” Foeslayer said to Hailstorm. “Guess I should thank you for sparing me the tedious histrionics. ‘I’ll die for you!’ and ‘No, I’ll die for you!’ It’s like all of you IceWings come here with a script.”

Hailstorm winced, yet still said nothing. He then glanced between the two of them and slowly readied his spear.

“And so it goes,” Foeslayer said with a sigh. “Just make it quick, please.”

He approached Foeslayer, leveled his spear at her heart, and drove it swiftly through her chest. She gritted her teeth, her face twisted in pain — and then the ice came crawling up from the shackles on her ankles, freezing her from her tail forward to her wings, neck, and head. Hailstorm pulled the spear free before the ice got there, and Winter saw the wound heal over just before Foeslayer was completely frozen.

He closed his eyes, expecting the world to go dark.

But it didn’t.

Nothing happened at all.

After a moment, he opened his eyes again and saw Hailstorm standing by the edge of the chasm.

“Why didn’t it work?” Winter asked, shifting back onto his hind legs. “I’m not frozen.” He looked around at the other statues. Something whispered in his mind — an explanation, although it still didn’t quite fit together.

Hailstorm turned to look at his brother. “That’s because it’s not part of the original enchantment. The spell on the Nightwing isn’t what froze these dragons. That’s what these do.” He lifted the spear. “That’s what… that’s what I’m supposed to do to you.”

Winter was silent. Everything was starting to make a kind of awful sense. 

“Mother and Father told me earlier today.” Hailstorm’s wings drooped to the floor. “They told me that no matter who killed Foeslayer, I was the one chosen to win. That I was to take this spear and stab you the same way I stabbed her, freezing you like all those other dragons. Then I was guaranteed first place.”

Was this why the trial was kept secret? A way for them to pick and choose who ends up at the top?

Or to get rid of an unwanted dragon?

Winter glanced at one of the frozen IceWings nearby; the betrayal and fear and pain forever carved onto their face mirrored his own. He shouldn’t have felt the way he did. Of course his parents would pick Hailstorm, he was a true IceWing destined for greatness.

For nearly every waking moment of his life, Winter strived to be the perfect IceWing — to surpass the expectations placed upon him as Queen Glacier’s nephew and match the perfection of his tribe. But everything his brother was, he failed to be. So of course they would condemn Winter, the disappointment that weighed the rest of his family down, to die. That was all he would forever be known for, if anyone even bothered to remember him.

A liability. A disappointment.

A failure.

The spear began slipping from Winter’s talons; he loosened his grip, letting it clatter onto the ground. This was his duty: to die for his brother’s and his tribe’s future. He thought he had accepted that, until he felt a frighteningly familiar hollowness and hurt blossom within him.

He tried smothering the feelings as he had always done before. But this time, they stubbornly persisted, and he quickly understood why.

They would never do anything like this to me. Qibli, Kinkajou, Turtle, and Moon.

They’ll never know what really happened. They’ll only know that I left them when I could have stayed, and never came back when I had the chance. 

Will they remember me? Would they even want to remember me?

Winter collapsed to the ground and then glanced up at Hailstorm. “Please, just promise me,” he quietly pleaded before closing his eyes. “Promise you’ll help keep the tribes at peace. That’s what I would want.”

There were only a handful of memories he treasured and nearly all of them were with Hailstorm. So instead, he thought of the moments he spent with his new friends while waiting for the end. He remembered how they stood by him no matter how hard he tried to push them away. An indignant screech echoed from the back of his mind, lambasting him for cherishing the company of non-IceWings, and a NightWing worst of all. But he didn’t care. In another life perhaps, he would have stayed with them if given the chance.

Seconds passed, then a minute — and death still hadn’t come. Why was Hailstorm hesitating? His perfect life was within his reach. And the agony of it all built up inside Winter with every breath he was still alive for.

“What are you waiting for!” Winter’s shout felt as if it slashed his throat on the way out. “Just do it already!”

A roar suddenly bellowed throughout the cave. Winter held his breath, and a sharp scraping noise followed.

And then, nothing.

The chill of the frigid cave floor reminded Winter that he was still alive, and he slowly opened his eyes.

The diamond-tipped spear pierced the ground, inches away from his snout, supporting Hailstorm’s weight as he clung to the shaft. His agonized grimace shocked Winter; he had never seen his brother like this before.

“I can’t!” Hailstorm roared. “I won’t murder you like this! You’re my brother! I can’t...” He pushed himself off of the spear. It slanted in the ice from his weight with a grating scratch, like claws tearing into venison. “Guess that means you’ll have to kill me instead.”

There the two of them waited, staring at each other for what felt like an eternity, hoping that the answer would miraculously pop into one of their heads. But at least the quiet rustling of the stream splashing through the cavern helped Winter steady his mind. He imagined Qibli furrowing his brow in thought, then abruptly cutting in between them with the answer to their conundrum in that annoyingly sly grin. He hated how much he admired the SandWing’s cleverness.

“Maybe… there’s a way out for both of us,” Winter offered. “If you go out and claim victory, I can stay here for a while and sneak out later. That way, we’ll both live.”

Hailstorm shook his head. “The moment they find out you're still alive, they’ll kill you. And they’ll probably toss me back into last place.”

They would kill me, if they had to choose , Winter admitted to himself.

“I won’t go home,” he said, nearly choking on the words. His neck tightened in the hope it would keep more from leaving his throat. He swallowed, and forced himself to say the rest. “I’ll stay far away from the Ice Kingdom, forever.”

Winter could hardly believe what he had said. Giving up the only life he had ever known — it seemed almost impossible for him. But his mind again wandered back to the rainforest, Possibility, and Jade Mountain. Qibli and Moon were still waiting for him and Kinkajou was hurt.

His friends needed him. And against every fiber of his being screaming otherwise, he believed he would be happier out there.

Because happiness isn’t where I am… it’s who I’m with.

Hailstorm averted his gaze, his claws curled in and out while he pondered Winter’s suggestion. “Before I go,” he finally said, “I need to tell you something.” 

Winter eyed the spear in front of him with trepidation. Then, slowly, he stepped around it to face his brother.

Hailstorm shuddered and his eyelids snapped shut; he began muttering to himself in a barely audible whisper. “She is my enemy” was all Winter could pick out amidst the indistinct mumbling. Whatever was left of Pyrite, it was probably trying to break out again.

Without yet meeting Winter’s gaze, he forced himself to speak. “When Hailstorm—” he winced, then forced out a breath between pursed lips. “When I was captured by the SkyWings… I said some really awful things to you.”

Winter’s mind warped him back to that fateful day; he began reliving the moment in perfect clarity.

Useless. Worthless. 

Not worth saving. 

No one would care if you never came back. 

But he was right. He had always been right.

“You’re not worthless.” 

Hailstorm’s sudden declaration broke Winter out of his trance. His brother’s dimly-lit expression was blanketed with remorse. 

“Everything I said, I… I never meant any of it. I was only trying to get you to run away — anything to stop you from being captured… or worse.” Hailstorm ruffled his wings, his face tightened into a pained grimace. “You and your friends are the only reason I’m still alive. What mother and father demanded of you was never where your strength lies. It’s with them , and you know they would care if you never returned. You don’t need to be one of the best IceWings because your NightWing friend was right. You’re already one of the best dragons.”

Winter gawked at him in silence, he almost couldn’t believe what his brother had just said. This wasn’t the confident, dedicated, at times ruthless brother revered by all throughout the Ice Kingdom. Even though he'll be promoted to the top when he claims victory, his words would undoubtedly destroy his standing in the rankings and his entire image as the perfect IceWing. How could he suddenly become an iconoclast to everything he had ever worked for?

Winter looked around the cave, and remembered that all the other dragons around them were dead. There were no nobles, no competitors, no rivals or prying eyes, no Mother or Father hovering over them. No one would ever know what truly happened here.

“I promise I haven’t lost my mind again,” Hailstorm smiled, recovering some of that familiar confidence. “I just want you to know that I never stopped believing in you. And that I think you’re a braver dragon than I ever was.”

An avalanche of emotions suddenly overwhelmed Winter, completely smothering the doubt he felt. Slowly, he lumbered closer to Hailstorm and, after awkwardly angling his arms, he hugged his brother for the first time in his life. 

Hailstorm reflexively jerked, but stopped himself from pulling away, and instead shifted his posture to sit. A moment later, Winter felt his brother’s talons gently rest against his back. Their wings wrapped around one another as if forming a cocoon.

Winter pressed his head against his brother's neck with gritted teeth, the walls he built around himself began to crack. His brother’s talons gently stroked his back, the chill of his scales offering comfort he desperately longed for. Hailstorm knew the walls were crumbling too, and he was inviting Winter to let it happen.

“I’ll miss you,” Winter whispered. 

“I’ll miss you too,” Hailstorm replied.

The sound of the river splashing against the cavern walls joined the reverberating chorus of Winter’s quiet sobbing. Years of guilt, shame, self-hatred, anguish — every emotion he had ever quashed burst out of him in a cathartic release. The tears cascading down his snout gradually crystalized as they dropped onto Hailstorm’s neck. 

He hated himself for crying. He hated how he was too cowardly to die for Hailstorm. And now he was wallowing like a pathetic baby seal in an irredeemably shameful display. 

He hated… how right it felt. How liberating it was to finally release everything he had kept inside of him. How much joy he felt from finally being free of the rankings. He was no IceWing, and he never would be again. But a part of him hoped that one day, he would accept that he didn’t want to be.

It had taken several minutes before Winter eventually steadied himself, and the two separated from each other unceremoniously. Hailstorm retrieved his spear, then met his brother’s gaze, brushing off the frozen droplets studded across his neck to Winter’s embarrassment. His posture once again exuded the confidence and bravado Winter remembered him having years ago.

“Thank you… Winter,” Hailstorm said with a smile. “I hope… I hope one day we’ll see each other again.”

Winter wiped his eyes as dry as he could make them, and returned his brother’s smile with a nod. He didn’t dare risk letting out another sob by speaking, but fortunately, no more words were needed.

Hailstorm flew across the chasm, then glanced back to Winter — hesitating for a long moment — before finally retreating into the caverns. His echoing talon-steps didn’t linger for long before fading away forever.

♦    ♦    ♦

Winter couldn’t sleep. 

He had tried to force his mind away from the trial and the painful truth of his parent’s intentions. But now that he was alone, the petrified stares from the frozen statues of long dead dragonets unnerved him. Some part of him was afraid he would join their ranks if he allowed himself to sleep. But he also felt it disrespectful, as if flaunting his fortunate circumstance in their presence — that he would get to wake up, while they never would.

He glanced at the frozen IceWing nearest to him again, their scales an uncommon pale tint of lavender, and wondered what they were like when they were still alive. What was their name? Who were they before the trial? Were they also chosen to die like Winter?

Did anyone care enough to remember them?

It was strange, Winter thought, that he cared about this nameless dragon whom he knew nothing about. But what was even stranger was the sense of familiarity those feelings had, as if something he had buried deep inside himself began to rouse from its long slumber.

He probably wouldn’t remember every dragon in the cave, but he would remember this one. The one who kept him company while he waited quietly for the hours to pass.

He hoped that gave them solace.

When Winter felt he had waited long enough for the sun to set, something in his mind kept him from leaving. Out of all the frozen dragons in the Diamond Cave, there was one that could wake up from their slumber, and indeed had.

He stretched his joints loose, picked up his spear, approached Foeslayer, and tapped the spearhead against the shell of ice.

Chapter Text

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“I left them in that valley,” Turtle said, pointing. “They said to signal when I needed them.” His scales began flashing, and Peril nearly flew into a cliff, she was so startled. She knew SeaWings had glow-in-the-dark scales, but she’d never seen a dragon use them at night before. Luminescent spirals and shapes like webbed talonprints lit up all along his wings. It was sort of beautiful, in a weird fishy way.

Two thin fiery plumes burst out from the valley below them. Shortly after, the silhouettes of three dragons rose out of the woods. One of them was barely noticeable in the night alongside the other two pale figures.

Qibli swooped ahead of Winter and Moon to greet them first. “Wow,” he said with surprise, “You uh— you really did find her… huh.”

“See? I told you I could.” Turtle tried crossing his arms to look confident. It didn’t really work.

Winter was close enough for Peril to see his frigid squint. His wing beats were quicker than the others, like he was ready to dodge an attack. “Can you tell if she’s safe to be around, Moon?”

“I AM, I SWEAR,” Peril said very loudly. Then very loudly thought, MONKEY MUNCHING MONGOOSE BERRIES . Her face must have scrunched into something funny because Moon suddenly started giggling.

“Well, that’s a good sign at least.” Qibli smiled at Moon in a way that reminded Peril of that NightWing who always followed Queen Glory around.

“I think she is,” Moon assured Winter. “We can trust her.”

There was an apprehensive gleam in the IceWing's eyes. He was still very unsure if he could really trust her. But a moment later, he loosened his stance a bit. “All right, “ he said. “I’ll just have to take your word for it.”

“Great. Now that we’ve all made up, we’ve got a huge problem,” Turtle cut in. “Scarlet’s ally escaped. He’s a shapeshifting RainWing that can change into any tribe, and he has an animus-touched scroll that can enchant anything.”

Moon’s sharp yelp ricocheted off the mountain peaks, and she abruptly lurched over to Turtle. If it weren't for her warm demeanor earlier, Peril would have interpreted it as an attack, though she had reflexively splayed her talons out anyway.

“A s-scroll?” Moon stuttered. “Are you absolutely sure?”

“Uh— yes?” Turtle tilted his head. “We’re certain.”

“Did it have a black leather casing with gold trimming?”

Turtle replied with a wary nod.

Peril narrowed her eyes. How did Moon know about her father’s weird magical scroll?

“What exactly do you know about this scroll?” Qibli probed, echoing Peril’s thoughts. “It sounds like it’s really important to you.”

“I just… I read a story about it in the library,” Moon cautiously answered. “It’s an ancient NightWing talisman created a long time ago. It’s been lost since its… creator disappeared. We have to go get it. We can't let anyone else use that scroll.”

 “It does sound dangerous in the wrong claws.” Winter furrowed his brow. “But where would we even begin to look?”

“Maybe you can try listening for his thoughts, Moon?” Turtle proposed. “He only just escaped. He might be close enough for it.”

Moon paused and closed her eyes. “No… he isn’t anywhere near us right now.”

“Let’s start by following along the river east,” Peril suggested. “He said something about changing both of us into MudWings to get away from the Sky Kingdom.”

“But he’s probably still in his NightWing form,” Turtle added. “The one he called Shapeshifter.”

“Very subtle,” Qibli chortled.

“He still couldn’t have gotten very far,” Turtle continued, ignoring Qibli’s interruption, “but we’ve got to find him before he changes his form again.” 

Chameleon didn’t have very many options now. Peril would easily recognize Cirrus, Ruby would hunt him down as Soar or Shapeshifter, and she couldn’t imagine him going back to the rainforest as himself. He’d have to go back through the Sky Kingdom to reach the Sand Kingdom as a SandWing, which seemed too risky. And he definitely wouldn’t last long as a Seawing, he hated the water and it might ruin the scroll.

The Mud Kingdom was his only choice. He might even be able to tempt Queen Moorhen with the scroll too.

“You should still be able to hear his thoughts, right?” Qibli asked Moon, and she briskly nodded.

“We’re all in agreement?” Turtle said. “Good. Let’s get to it.”

Together, they dove towards the Diamond Spray river, silvery glimmers of the surface reflecting scant moonlight that pierced through the clouds. Peril remembered watching Clay swim through here with his friends to the Mud Kingdom — away from her. Her chest tightened at the thought. 

Peril looked behind her to escape the memory; trepidation governed the wingbeats of Turtle’s friends. She also sensed what felt like a sharp prodding on her left flank where Winter was, as if his gaze was hurling sharpened icicles at her hide. He turned away before she could meet his eyes. 

Peril would have to mend old wounds with other SkyWings that weren’t Ruby eventually, so she should probably try to smooth things over with this grumpy IceWing. She slid back to align herself next to Winter, keeping what she felt was a respectable distance. He kept his frigid gaze forward, briefly glancing at her in the corner of his eye.

“Look, if it’s worth anything, I really am sorry I egged you on — and almost killed you,” Peril said. “I didn’t mean to, and it won’t ever happen again, promise.”

Winter quietly angled his head towards her, his stare piercing into her thoughts, then he averted his gaze.

“I… could’ve handled that better as well,” Winter admitted. 

“Your apology could use some work,” Peril lightheartedly offered.

“I know,” he muttered, glancing wistfully at both Moon and Qibli ahead.

Suddenly, Moon banked right and stopped, hovering in place while her front talons pressed her head. After a moment, she lifted one of them and pointed.

“I think he’s over there,” Moon whispered.

They slipped after her, gliding as quietly as they could.

In a clearing by the river, fiddling with something in his talons, hulked a large black shape.

He made himself enormous , Peril thought. The kind of NightWing you only hear whispers about.

Qibli flicked his wing to catch her eye. He pointed to each of them individually then to a spot around the NightWing. Then, he counted down with his talons.

The very next moment, they all simultaneously landed in a circle around Shapeshifter and Peril held her talons an inch away from his neck.

“Don’t move,” she said.

The hulking NightWing flared his wings, startled by their ambush. The golden, jewel-studded harness that adorned his chest clattered against itself as he whirled around to meet the glares of Peril’s entourage.

“Oh moons, who are all of you? Have I done something wrong?” His voice was unexpectedly light and airy for his size, unassuming and even welcoming.

Peril flinched as doubt began to creep in. Were they threatening the wrong dragon? She glanced at Moon, who seemed to have no such reservations.

“No. This is him, I’m sure of it.” Moon said.

“She’s right,” Winter hissed then turned to Qibli and Turtle. “This is the dragon that ambushed us, and he almost killed Kinkajou.”

Turtle uttered as fierce a growl as he could muster. Qibli lowered himself closer to the muddied ground and aimed his tail barb at Shapeshifter from above.

“But why aren’t there any injuries from my fire and Winter’s frostbreath?” Moon asked. “It’s only been a few days.”

“It’s probably part of the enchantment,” Qibli proposed. “Every time he shapeshifts, it must reset each form back to an original copy — back to a completely healthy template.”

Like Tourmaline, Peril recalled. 

Shapeshifter had quickly dropped the charade; he swept his spiteful glower back and forth until it settled on Peril.

“You know why we’re here,” Peril warned. “We don’t want to hurt you, but we will if we have to.”

Please don’t make me hurt you, Father.

“Speak for yourself,” Winter growled. “I think he should pay for what he did to Kinkajou.”

Shapeshifter’s mouth cracked with a wickedly crooked grin. His tail bristled with a disturbing pleasure. “How kind of you to jog my memory, IceWing,” he hissed, his voice much deeper and much more threatening than before. “The joy I felt rendering that miserable creature limp was well worth the temporary inconvenience.”

“Y-You monster!” Turtle shouted with a wholly unexpected ferocity. His body seemed to shudder with anger. 

Shapeshifter had unearthed a side of Turtle that Peril thought he lacked, and he seemed unaware of the danger he now found himself in because of it. Peril had to get ahead of this before Turtle used his magic. But her father’s behavior was deeply unsettling to her. Was he always this cruel and power hungry? Was it the threat of losing the scroll? Or was it just this particular form?

“It doesn’t matter,” Peril shot a glare at Winter. She brought her talon closer to her father’s neck. “If you give us the scroll, we’ll let you go and you’ll get to keep your transformations.”

“You can’t be serious!” Winter protested. “How can you possibly trust him after everything he’s done? He attacked us! He almost killed Kinkajou!”

“Winter, it’s okay. She just wants all the violence to end,” Moon said, casting a sympathetic glance at Peril.

“He’s got a point though,” Qibli chimed in. “Scroll or not, he’s too dangerous to let loose. We don’t have to kill him, but we should give him to Ruby for punishment.”

“Taking away his precious scroll is punishment enough,” Peril replied, doubt still lacing her voice. She drilled her gaze into Shapeshifter’s, desperately prodding for any semblance of good within him to assuage her.

“Why are you so convinced he deserves mercy?” Winter shouted. “He’s Scarlet’s ally! For all we know he could still be working for—”

“Because Scarlet is dead!” Peril paused until the echo of her shout faded. “She’s dead and… he’s my father.”

Winter looked as if he had the wind completely knocked out of him. The rest of the Jade Winglet looked similarly bewildered, except for Moon. Her unflinching expression felt like it was reaching out to her, to comfort and encourage her. Peril had almost forgotten she could read minds.

You already knew, huh?  

Moon gently nodded at her.

Peril returned her gaze to Shapeshifter with a growl, spitfire jetted out through her gritted teeth. “I’m still MAD that you tried to make me loyal to Scarlet again, AND ALSO MADE ME FORGET ABOUT CLAY!” She paused. “But I also want to believe that your kindness was real and not just a trick to get me to wear the necklace.  I want to believe my father, of all dragons, could see me for me, and not how I could be used by someone else.”

I need to believe that any dragon can change, no matter what they did before.

“I don’t want to be a monster, or a hammer, or a tool, or a weapon, or whatever anyone else tries to call me! I WANT TO BE PERIL! I want to be my own dragon and make decisions for myself! I’ve done a lot of awful things and I can’t make them all go away. But everyone here believes that I can be a better dragon. And I want to believe that you can too.”

Peril could hear soft rustling behind Shapeshifter, the winglet quietly exchanged glances with each other.

“I do too, Chameleon.” Moon took a couple steps forward. “Just let us have the scroll, and everything will work out in the end.”

Hearing Moon say that sparked a glimmer of hope within Peril. She had to have read Shapeshifter’s mind — she must have seen the good in him, as she had with her. 

Shapeshifter’s hardened glare was unmoved by their pleas, however. He glanced down at his extravagant harness, then began staring off into the distance. “Well, this has all been very touching, but I will not be relinquishing my property to the likes of you.”

“So you DO want a face full of fire and ice, maybe a little venom on the side too?” Qibli threateningly stabbed the mud with his tail barb.

“That won’t be necessary,” Shapeshifter grabbed Peril’s talons, then began slowly pulling them away from his neck. He lowered them into the soggy terrain, the mud sizzled on contact, before pulling away completely unharmed.

“What the—” Qibli uttered.

“How—” Peril gasped.

“Oh? Did you think I was foolish enough not to modify this form after our first encounter?” Shapeshifter chuckled. “Your fire, ice, and even your venom — SandWing — will have no effect on me.”

“Father, you don’t have to do this!” Peril pleaded, stepping back in disbelief. “Scarlet’s gone! You’re free! You can live peacefully in whatever form you’re happiest in now!”

Has he really lost it? Was Scarlet the only thing keeping him in line? Or was he always like… this?

“I’ll be happy after I watch the rainforest burn to the ground for what those things did to me,” Shapeshifter growled. “And I foresee a very gruesome and painful death for you all. Shame it had to come to this, but I—”

A sickening crack rang out, accompanied by Shapeshifter’s sharp yowl. His body began to wobble, and he slowly leaned forward. Peril jumped backwards before he collapsed on top of her, and a large stone splashed into a nearby puddle. Blood trickled down the NightWing’s neck from a gash on the back of his skull.

Peril stared at her father, bug-eyed and overwhelmed with consternation. She reached out and cradled her father’s head with a talon, and felt the gentle whistling of air flowing in and out of his nostrils. The rhythmic movements of his breathing helped ease her worry.

Behind Shapeshifter stood Turtle, where he had always been, quietly scowling at the NightWing’s unconscious body. Not a hint of regret or doubt flickered in his eyes. His friends gawked at him, speechless and dumbfounded.

Moon was the first to break out of the uneasy stalemate. She sprinted over to Shapeshifter and began rummaging through the harness. She pulled out the enchanted scroll a moment later, exactly as she described before. Everyone else quickly came to their senses once she held the artifact up for them to see.

“Take his transformations too!” Winter spoke up. “He’s too dangerous like this.” 

“Wait!” Qibli shouted. “If he transforms, he’ll definitely wake up, and we don’t know what other surprises he may have for us.”

“Ooorrggggg” the unconscious NightWing moaned.

“We’ve got the scroll, that’s what’s most important,” Moon reiterated. “Let’s get out of here while we still can.”

Turtle violently shook his head and, as if nothing had happened, he seemingly returned to the shy, well-meaning SeaWing that Peril knew. He, Moon, and Qibli all launched into the air while Winter stayed. He glanced at Peril with an unreadable expression, then leaped in the air to join them.

Peril stayed a bit longer, sorrowfully examining her father’s motionless body. She despaired that she couldn’t reach him and for a moment wondered if it was even worth trying. Yet, she couldn’t find it within herself to give up on him. Maybe without the scroll, things would have turned out differently. Maybe he still can change, with enough time.

Peril nuzzled her father’s head, hoping one day he would let go of the hatred plaguing his heart, before springing up into the air to take flight.

♦    ♦    ♦

They had been flying south along the Claws of the Clouds Mountains’ eastern ridge for what felt like hours. One of the moons, nearly full and now at its apex, beamed a ghostly glow onto the mountainous peaks around them.

Moon held the front while the rest followed her. Winter and Qibli kept to themselves in the rear of their formation, watching for signs of pursuit when they weren’t bickering with each other. Turtle seemed to be struggling between wingbeats; he would probably need to rest soon. They all would.

“Turtle, are you… Okay?” Moon’s troubled voice was almost a whisper. “You didn’t seem like yourself back there.”

“I-I think so,” Turtle swooped up to Moon’s side. “I mean. I don’t feel any different.”

“Are you sure your soul is fine?” Moon fretted, closely examining Turtle from head to talon. “I’ve never seen you so upset before. Maybe you should stop using your magic for a while.” 

“You were pretty vicious with that rock,” Peril added.

“I suppose I did get a bit carried away.” Turtle glanced at Peril apologetically. “I just didn’t want him to hurt you guys like he… like he hurt Kinkajou.”

Moon did not seem the least bit reassured.

“I promise I’m not gonna end up like Albatross,” Turtle quickly added, anxiously fiddling with his talons. “I know you’ve read about that old SeaWing tale. I promise I’ll be a lot more careful.”

Still no luck with easing Moon’s worry. Turtle winced, then meekly slid back to escape her scrutinizing eyes.

They eventually found a large-looking cave punched into the steep slope of one of the larger mountains and decided to rest there for the night. Moon dropped the scroll onto a ledge within the cave and planted herself next to it, while the rest constructed a makeshift campfire from the surrounding kindling at the cave’s mouth. They agreed to hunt in turns on Moon’s insistence that no one be left with the leather-bound talisman alone.

Peril was first to hunt. Darkened clouds slowly crept towards their camp, blanketing the stars off in the horizon. There would be rain soon. Fortunately, there seemed to be plenty of wayward goats and boars for them all. The large mountain goat she snatched quickly scorched into a blackened, indistinguishable mass within her fiery grasp. Before returning, she was able to herd several other potential catches closer to their cave with a muted roar and her threatening presence.

Turtle was next, though still sore from the flight, and he reluctantly limped towards the cave’s opening. Relief blanketed his face and he veered his gaze back into the cave, back towards Peril. Though silent, the gratitude in his eyes sent a wave of satisfaction rippling throughout her body, and she couldn’t help but smile in return.

Once he was gone though, the bantering between Winter and Qibli forced itself back into Peril's focus.

"There's no way that, after thousands of years doing that dumb trial, you're the first to figure out you can just… not kill each other." Qibli shook his head in disbelief.

“Perhaps I wasn't,” Winter muttered. “But there were a lot of frozen bodies in that cave." 

“Moons… Are you holding up all right?” Qibli slid himself a little closer and opened one of his wings.

Winter swatted it away with his, before it wrapped around him, and gave Qibli a forlorn look.

“I’ll manage.” Winter averted his gaze. “But I can understand why so few chose to walk away, if any. Everyone in the Ice Kingdom believes I’m dead, so I can never go back. It would be the same for anyone who stepped into that cave.”

“I mean, at least they would get to, you know… live. Are you saying all those other IceWings would’ve rather…?” Qibli's voice trailed off, not willing to say the word they both already knew.

“It’s not so simple, though I don’t think I can explain it,” Winter sighed, puffing a cloud of tiny ice crystals out. “But we wouldn’t have built a giant wall that killed non-IceWings if we liked leaving the kingdom. It all seemed so normal.”

“I think you and I have very different definitions of that word,” Qibli said with a rueful smile. “But why risk death if whoever is in last place would be exiled to a distant outpost anyway? Why not just leave and not even bother with the trial?”

“Exiled within the Ice Kingdom. Even the worst, most lowly IceWing is still an IceWing. To leave the kingdom is to no longer be considered an IceWing.” Winter plucked the silver crown-thing from his head. He gently brushed a claw over the blue gemstone at the top with a pensive look. “I thought the same, too, and that it’s what I deserved. But living outside of the palace, outside the kingdom even — it just seemed so incomprehensible to me, once.”

“Once?” Qibli said, raising a brow. “As in, not anymore?” 

Winter set the crown aside but didn’t look back at Qibli. Still, there seemed to be a gleam of agreement flickering in his eyes. Qibli seemed to have caught it too.

“Well, obviously not anymore, because you came back to us!”

"I'm beginning to regret my decision," Winter gave the SandWing a miffed look.

"Admit it, you missed us,” Qibli teased. “I bet you missed me the—”

“The least,” Winter interrupted.

“So you DID miss me!” Qibli beamed, flaunting an obnoxious smile. He sprang up and placed a talon on his chest. “Knew you couldn’t resist my sparkling personality. At least it's not the only sparkling thing here now, eh buddy?”

“I wonder if there’s a large enough rock here to knock some sense into you,” Winter growled, covering his eyes with his talons.

“Before you do that, you gotta tell the rest of that story to Moon.” He tilted himself slightly to look past Winter.

"Wait—"

"Hey Moon! Winter wants to tell the rest of his story!"

His shout reverberated through the shallow cavern. Moon absentmindedly waved him off, and Qibli's bright expression quickly faded. Only the rhythmic plopping of water droplets and the crackling of campfire within the cave answered.

Winter quietly sighed then shot Qibli a sharp glare. The SandWing shrugged, then scanned the cave until he and Peril’s gaze met. She saw the exact moment another idea popped into his head.

“Now that I think about it,” Qibli said. “Peril, you haven't told any of us what happened after you left Possibility right? Must have been exciting if it ended in Scarlet’s death.”

“Actually, that does sound pretty interesting,” Winter said, much to Peril’s surprise.

“Scarlet, huh? Guess I’m not important enough for my own story,” Peril jeered, though she was secretly ecstatic they had even asked. Qibli winced at her remark though, he probably didn’t mean it that way. 

“But I GUESS I can tell you air-heads all about it,” she added with a mischievous grin.

As Peril regaled her recent adventures, she tripped over her words at points, and sometimes rambled for WAY too long. Words were never her strength. But Qibli didn't seem too bothered by it though, and Winter always looked annoyed. Still she made sure to get the important stuff right. Glory’s fake head, how Chameleon fathered her, and Scarlet’s death at the claws of Tourmaline.

Turtle returned partway through her tale, and he enthusiastically sat himself close. Seeing these dragons take genuine interest in her, Turtle especially, made her feel wanted, appreciated, like she belonged. He began tearing into his meal, downing each chunk with a strained grimace. He gave her a wide, embarrassed grin when he noticed she was looking, bits of meat lodged between some of his teeth.

Qibli stood up for his turn before Peril finished, though she didn’t take it personally, and Winter’s scowl slowly faded as he watched him leave. Peril shot him a teasing smirk, which the IceWing rewarded with a flustered growl before snapping his head away. His gaze fell sullen as it drifted toward Moon. He then glanced back toward the two of them out of the corner of his eye, and Turtle nodded encouragingly. 

Winter straightened himself up, and anxiously took a single step. Then something tugged at him, as if he was shackled to the ground by invisible chains, and he slumped back down. 

Qibli returned with two goats, and Winter briskly shuffled out for his turn. He quietly waddled over to Moon, then offered her his extra catch. She remained transfixed on the scroll, obsessively beholding it while ignoring Qibli. He quietly left one of the goats beside her and, just before he turned around, she finally broke her gaze away and met Qibli’s inviting smile.

“Thank you,” Moon said, smiling in return.

As they ate, Qibli recounted some of his exploits as an Outclaw with Queen Thorn. His captivating tales seemed to abate her fixation on the scroll. Peril quietly listened from afar, not wanting to interrupt their moment together.

Winter returned with his meal fairly quickly but stopped abruptly several steps in. He stood motionless as if time froze around him, his statuesque expression directed squarely at Qibli and Moon. He then turned away from the rest of the winglet towards a particularly lonely corner of the cavern.

He hadn't escaped Qibli's notice, however, and he pestered Winter to join them. Reluctantly, the IceWing dragged himself over to Moon’s side and his irritable expression returned. However, Winter’s tail gleefully swishing side to side betrayed his facade. Only without a retaliatory growl this time, just the vociferous cackling of Qibli laughing at his own jokes.

Eventually, the lunar ghostlight vanished from the sky; the outside of their cave cast into an eerie black as rain began pouring down. By then, any conversation had long been put to rest. Silence permeated the humid air as they exchanged warry glances from across the campfire they circled around. It was clear that only one thing preoccupied their minds, yet none of them wanted to talk about it — except for Peril.

“All right, so what are we going to do with that thing?” Peril pointed at the scroll. “We can’t just keep staring at it till the end of time.”

“Agreed,” Qibli nodded. “We should probably start by figuring out how this thing works. I’d hate to try and use it then accidentally turn Winter into a pile of fruit.” 

“At least then I’d be free of your horrendously awful jokes,” Winter huffed with a deadpan tone.

Turtle nudged himself forward. “You just write whatever spell you wish to cast on the scroll and it will happen.”

“So something like this?” Winter pulled a small scrap of paper out of his ankle pouch.

It looked similar to the one Chameleon wrote for Ruby earlier. Peril shuddered at the sight of it, remembering the necklace he made for her.

Turtle carefully examined the parchment. “Yes, but you don’t have to tear out a scrap unless you want to enchant a specific item.”

“So anyone can use animus magic with the scroll and not become another Albatross?” Peril asked, still unsure of who Albatross even was.

“Or another Queen Diamond,” Winter mumbled under his breath. 

“So it would seem,” Turtle said.

“Let’s give it to Queen Thorn!” Qibli beamed excitedly. “If anyone knows what to do with a powerful artifact, it’s her.”

“Or we could give it to Queen Glacier,” Winter hastily interjected.

“Sure, let's give one of the most powerful weapons in existence to one Queen alone. Totally not asking for another war,” Peril said.

“Maybe we should give it to the Dragons of Destiny?” Turtle suggested.

“We shouldn’t do any of that,” Moon suddenly chimed in, “because the scroll already has an owner, and we should give it back to him.”

“Makes sense,” Turtle nodded. “If it’s his magic, then it’s only fair that he gets it back.”

“Hold on,” Qibli said without his usual mirth. “You said its creator disappeared long ago, so why are you talking about him like he’s still alive?”

Moon’s face flushed with regret. She bit her lip, glancing at their prying eyes, all expecting an answer she now had to give.

“That’s because… he is,” Moon admitted.

“Who is he?” Winter and Qibli asked at the same time.

Moon apprehensively shuffled her talons. “I… started hearing his mind while at Jade Mountain. He helped me get used to my powers. He made the scroll so he could use his magic to help his tribe without corrupting his soul, and so it would always be used for good.”

“Or for unlimited power,” Winter narrowed his eyes.

“Chameleon wasn’t using that scroll for good either,” Turtle observed. Both Peril and Moon winced.

“But he only wants what's best for all dragons!” Moon quickly added. “I promised to look for his scroll before we left Jade Mountain. He’s trapped underground somewhere, starving and alone. He was put into a long slumber by his friends who betrayed him.”

“If this dragon is who I think he is…” Winter’s expression hardened.

Moon’s eyes darted across the winglet, and Peril recognized the look. It was the same look many dragons had when backed into the walls of Scarlet’s arena, when they were desperately looking for a way out.

“But the dragons who defeated him were the ones who wrote all the stories about him, and we’ve had it all wrong!” Moon pleaded. “Nobody actually knows the whole story, and he just wants to be given another chance to do good!”

“Moon—” Winter's voice rumbled with foreboding as he stood up. “Is he the Darkstalker?”

Moon drew her wings in as if to make herself smaller. Then, she slowly nodded her head.

“HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND?”

“Hey! Back off, all right?" Qibli cut between Winter and Moon with his talon. “You don’t need to yell.”

“If the Darkstalker is buried away, alone and starving, then that’s exactly what he deserves!” Winter growled.

“Oh?” Moon snapped with indignation. “What about that NightWing you set free in the Ice Kingdom? Wasn’t she some ancient IceWing enemy too?”

“Foeslayer’s only crime was eloping with her lover against the wishes of a mad queen. Your tribe didn’t abandon their kingdom to live in squalor over nothing!”

“Well,” Moon’s voice wavered slightly, “they’ve had it all wrong too.”

“But you don’t? What if he’s lying to you?” Qibli cut in. Peril felt the faintest hint of jealousy in his words.

Moon squeezed her wrist. She didn’t seem to have an answer to that. 

“No. Maybe? I don’t know.” Moon shook her head. “But he’s been trapped there for over two thousand years; he’s suffered enough. Look at you and Peril! You were willing to give her a second chance after she almost killed you, so how is this any different?”

“Peril is at least here, in the scales.” Winter swatted the air at the SkyWing. “And I can clearly see she isn’t going to go on a murderous rampage, or kill her father, anytime soon.”

“Gee, thanks,” Peril sarcastically quipped. 

“You have no idea what the Darkstalker will do if he’s released, and if I’m right, you will have doomed all of Pyrrhia!”

“But Moon was the one right about Peril all along,” Qibli interjected. “What makes you think she’s wrong about this?”

“Enough,” Turtle said, jumping between them all. ”Maybe we should discuss this tomorrow after we’ve all calmed down?”

“Agreed,” Qibli nodded.

“Fine,” spat Winter and Moon.

Peril wasn’t enthused at what were supposedly friends arguing with each other like this. She also wasn’t happy with how she was used as a prop, as if she weren’t even there. She began to wonder if friends were even worth it, again. 

“I’ll sleep outside”, Peril spoke up.

“In the rain?” Turtle asked.

“It won’t bother me,” Peril said, “And I’ve been told I’m a restless sleeper.”

“Oh,” Turtle said, eyeing her wings nervously. “In that case, sure, absolutely, you bet, great plan.”

Peril shot him a grin as she walked out of the cave into the rain. There was a partially sheltered spot at the base of the cliff and she huddled there, thinking about the scroll, the argument, and whatever this Darkstalker was until she finally fell asleep. 

For the first time in years, her dreams were peaceful. No furious Queen Scarlets chasing her through winding hallways with too many doors. Nobody burned between her talons. There was no fire, no smoke, no death or screaming. Just a long, quiet, dreamless slumber. 

“Peril? Peril?”

She was awoken by something gently poking her shoulder, followed by what sounded like Turtle yelping with surprise. She saw him finish leaping backwards in surprise, the stick he had poked her had already burst into flames. 

Peril stretched, yawning. “What did you think was going to happen?” she asked. She then noticed Qibli and Winter standing behind him, both looking deathly serious. 

“Uh-oh,” she said.

“Moon’s gone, and she’s taken the scroll with her,” Turtle said.

Chapter Text

The light of dawn enveloped the mountainous valley in a luminous glow, morning dew shimmering against the leaves with a faint breeze welcoming all to spread their wings and wash their worries away. Plenty of Skywings took the offer, Peril observed, though she realized they probably should have sent word to Ruby that they had the scroll now.

Winter kept muttering to himself, dismayed by the possibility of his tribe’s worst nightmare returning. Qibli was quiet for once, appearing lost in thought.

“Why would she do this? We all agreed to discuss it in the morning!” Winter’s abrupt whining ripped Peril out of the environment’s serenity.

“Calmly discuss,” Turtle reminded Winter, who scowled back at him. “Perhaps she wanted to show it to someone, ask for their advice?”

“Someone like Darkstalker…” Winter growled.

“I don’t like this either, Winter,” Peril said, “but I get the feeling you wouldn’t have listened to Moon at all if she stayed.”

“So it’s MY fault that she lied to us and ran off with the scroll behind our backs?” Winter’s yell was somehow even louder than before.

“No.” Peril shook her head, then gave him a meaningful look. “But I thought you would have learned by now what happens when dragons get angry and don’t listen to each other.” Just like I had to , she thought, because you almost died from it.

Winter opened his mouth, but seemed to smother the shout before it left him. He then looked away with an indecipherable frown.

“You can fly faster than us, faster than Moon,” Qibli suddenly offered. “You might be able to catch her.”

“Finally someone remembers,” Peril huffed. “Figured none of you would’ve liked it if I took off without saying anything.”

“So go!” Turtle pressed. “Stop her before she sets him free!”

“Right. One problem. How do I do that?”

“Just tell her what a bad idea it is!” blurted Winter.

“Like you did yesterday?” Peril raised an eyebrow at him.

Winter winced. “I don’t know. Just… don’t burn her, okay?”

“Right, no firescales. Let's be very clear about that,” Turtle agreed.

“Are you sure?” Peril said. “I mean, it would definitely work, and quite quickly too. Maybe just a tiny bit of her tail— Kidding! I’m kidding!” Peril cut herself off after she noticed Qibli and Turtle staring in horror while Winter had the most unamused scowl she’d ever seen. 

She wasn’t exactly opposed to the option, but felt it safer to offer it as a joke first. If the alternative was doom upon all the world, maybe it would call for desperate, terrible measures. But their answer was clear: do not harm a single one of Moon’s scales even if she is about to unleash an ancient nightmare dragon.

“If she insists on doing it,” Qibli said, “just ask her to wait for all of us. She shouldn’t release him alone.”

“Well, that’s something at least.” Peril flicked her wings to break out of the turbulence of their formation. “I’ll try my best.”

Time to use words instead of talons, Peril! 

I’m sure this will go well…

“She’ll be somewhere around Jade Mountain!” Qibli called out. “She has to be there if that’s where she could hear him!”

“Got it,” Peril called back.

It was almost midday and Peril still hadn’t caught up to Moon. She must have had a much bigger lead than they expected.

She only stopped once to drink from a mountain lake, and spent the rest of her day flying as fast as her wings would allow.

Exhaustion began to creep up as the sun nearly set, the brightest stars beginning to dot the sky. Jade Mountain was now coming into view ahead.

Clay’s in there , she thought with a thrill of excitement. I could see him tonight. I can tell him everything that’s happened.

But first, she had to stop Moon.

Peril slowed down as she got closer, and began to scan the peaks around her with focused eyes, examining for unusual movements in the waning light.

But instead, she spotted a shadowy figure sitting on a grassy slope on the western face of a mountain not far from Jade Mountain. It was the dragon she had been looking for, Moon. The sunset cast golden rays over her form and her shadow sloped like a long second tail up the hill behind her.

Peril looped around overhead, studying the ground around Moon until she spotted a boulder where she could safely land. It wobbled slightly, threatening to tumble into the narrow ravine nearby, but she steadied it with her claws.

The NightWing didn’t look up. She was curled over the scroll, reading it so intently that her claws were crushing the binding where she held it. 

“Um,” Peril said. “So. Hello. I’ve been instructed not to set you on fire. In case you were worried,” she added hastily. 

Moon raised her head and Peril realized that her eyes were full of tears; she looked as if she had been crying for a while. 

“Yikes,” Peril said. “I’d offer you a hug, but…”

“I just wanted to hear him again,” Moon said. “After my dream. I wanted to remember why I trusted him, but then I started reading.” She trailed off, touching the scroll with one mournful claw.

Peril tilted her head at the paper. She could see that Moon was on the page where the writing stopped and the rest of the scroll was blank. But she couldn’t read the letters from where she was and didn’t dare get closer.

“What does it say?” Peril asked. When Moon stared into space instead of answering, she added, “Hey, I’m not a mind reader, remember?”

“Why does that matter?” Moon said harshly, making Peril jump back. She paused. “Me? I never even opened it until now! And I could read it just fine.”

“Wait, he’s talking to you?” Peril asked. “Darkstalker? Right now?”

Moon finally glanced at her apologetically. “Sorry… Yes. He is.”

“That’s… creepy.”

“A dragon’s not a thing!” Moon suddenly exploded, shouting at the air again. “You shouldn’t be able to enchant someone like that! It’s wrong! Don’t you— no, stop, it doesn’t matter how bad he was. This,” she jabbed the scroll so hard it ripped a little, “this is the cruelest thing I have ever read.”

“Okay you really have to tell me now,” Peril was itching with curiosity. 

“I am,” Moon said. “I’m going to tell her. When you do something this terrible, you don’t get a say on who gets to know.” She turned to Peril. “Remember when Winter mentioned you wouldn’t kill your father?”

“Yeah?” Peril scrunched her snout. “That was a weird thing to point out specifically.”

“Well to make a long story short,” Moon continued, “Darkstalker’s father was an animus IceWing Prince named Arctic, and he killed him. I also read that on that same night, Darkstalker did something so horrible that it terrified the entire NightWing tribe into abandoning their kingdom to go into hiding. Just so he would never find them again if he ever came back. Even when they thought he was dead, or gone, the entire tribe stayed in hiding just in case.”

“Yeesh. And I thought my tribe hated me,” Peril quipped. She started feeling a shiver under her scales. This menacing dragon was buried alive somewhere below their talons?

“Well,” Moon said, “now I know what it was. And if I saw a dragon do it, I’d go into hiding too.”

“ And ?” Peril said impatiently. 

Moon dropped her voice. “He used his magic on his father, enchanted him as if Arctic was no more than a necklace or a rock or a piece of cheese.”

“Oooh,” Peril said, momentarily distracted by the idea of an enchanted piece of cheese. 

“The spell is right here,” Moon said. She spread her front talons on the scroll, starting to cry again. “‘Enchant Prince Arctic of the IceWings to obey my every command.’ That’s it. What did you make him do?” she demanded. “You made him kill himself, didn’t you?”

“Woah,” Peril said. “Is that possible? Could Turtle do that?”

Moon gave a furious shake of her head. There was a long pause, then a sudden yelp, “Disembowel? Did you really say disembowel?”

“Who disemboweled who?” Peril asked. “Oh, GROSS, Arctic disemboweled himself? That is much worse than anything that happened in the arena. Oh my goodness, Scarlet would have loved to get a self-disemboweling dragon in her arena.”

But Moon was lying down on top of the scroll, pressing her talons over her ears with her eyes closed.

Peril wondered if she should try to get Moon away from Darkstalker’s voice, but she couldn’t think of a way to do it without either touching her or throwing rocks at her to get her attention, which seemed a little heartless considering what Moon was going through. 

She decided to watch over her and wait for the others instead. She glanced around, found a tree that was growing at an angle out of a ravine, then lit its branches on fire. That should help the others find them.

It felt like hours of Moon not moving, and Peril sitting there watching her not move. But at last, she heard wingbeats, and she turned to see the other three dragons straggling up, looking much worse for wear after flying all day. Turtle in particular barely kept himself afloat, drooping so heavily as if his scales and muscles were about to drip off his skeleton.

“There— she is!” Turtle gasped.

“Moon!” Winter and Qibli shouted in unison. Both of them immediately darted straight to her when they landed.

“And me, I’m here too,” Peril sighed.

Turtle landed shortly after and nearly collapsed from exhaustion. “Moon, has she—” he said between gasps for air.

“No, she hasn't,” Peril answered. “She’s just been talking to him and reading the scroll. Looks like she didn’t get the answers she was hoping for.”

Qibli stepped closer and wrapped one of his wings around Moon as she sobbed. “What happened? Is he talking to you right now?” he gently asked.

“Yes, and he won't shut up,” Moon snarled, wiping the tears from her eyes. “Winter, you were right. We can’t release Darkstalker,” She shoved the scroll into Winter’s talons with enough force to make him backpedal.

Winter blinked at the scroll for a moment before he sighed with relief, then slowly rolled it open. Qibli shuffled up and leaned against Winter’s side, and he replied to the IceWing’s glare with a weirdly pleased grin. Qibli puffed out a small plume of flame for light as they both began reading the scroll, still somehow attached at the hip.

“Woah…” Qibli said in awe.

“What he did, using his magic to control other dragons — that he even thought of doing that in the first place is why we can’t free him.” Moon suddenly froze for a moment and gazed off into the distance. “There's no way we could trust you or hold you accountable! Your word is not enough! …No, stop. I don’t care what your visions say!”

Winter and Qibli stared at her, disquieted by the sudden outburst.

“She’s still talking with Darkstalker,” Peril whispered to them. 

Winter was still frozen, trying to process it all, while Qibli snapped back to the scroll with a revelatory glimmer in his eye.

“This is incredible!” Qibli snatched the scroll out of Winter’s talons to his eventual surprise. “Think about it! Every problem, every evil, everything wrong with the world we can fix by just writing the solution here!” He brushed his talon lightly against a blank space. “We could enchant the NightWings to love Queen Glory. Moon must know how many of them hate her, especially since she has heard their thoughts. Glory can rule safely without the threat of assassination!”

“Ya know,” Peril interrupted, suspiciously eyeing Qibli. “I’m not too thrilled about enchanting dragons to make them love their queen, but maybe that’s just me.”

“What’s interesting?” Moon said harshly. “…Don’t lie, I know what I heard!”

“Okay, what about something that warns Glory if there is a plot against her or before someone strikes? Or I could enchant her and Thorn so that they would never die. I could make Thorn’s stronghold immune to attack.”

“If we're going to be using this to protect Queens, we should include Queen Glacier,” Winter huffed. “She was one of the few in the royal family who was good to me,” he said distantly.

“What about my mother? And Queen Ruby?” Turtle chimed in.

“At that point, we might as well just make it so all the Queens rule forever, which also seems like a really bad idea.” Peril furrowed her brow into a frown.

“Not in Queen Thorn’s case,” Qibli stubbornly insisted.

Peril was not enthused about where this was going.

Qibli quickly realized he wasn’t mollifying her. “Ok how about giving you control over your firescales?” he hastily offered. “Or how about fireproof scales for everyone here? That’s something you’d like, right?”

Oooo , Peril thought. I do like the sound of all my friends getting fireproof scales. Which I guess means Clay and Turtle. And maybe Ruby? Definitely Cliff.

Qibli rolled up the scroll and began clenching it tightly. “Look, you guys have these amazing powers that you’ve been learning to use safely right?”

“Quiet! I’ve been perfectly fine without you!” Moon shouted, and Qibli shot her a wounded look.

“Not you,” Peril assured.

“Anyway. Point is, I’ve trusted you guys so far with using your powers for good, so wouldn’t you guys trust me to do the same? To carefully think through the consequences and use the scroll for the good of all dragons?” Qibli eyed the winglet with an ingratiating smile.

“ You ?” Winter snarled. “What, so we just let you, alone, gallivant around with a powerful artifact because you asked nicely? How could you possibly know what’s best for everyone?”

“We could just decide together as a group,” Turtle proposed, but only Peril was listening to him now.

“Because I earned everyone’s trust, Winter,” Qibli growled. “I deserve this! But do any of us trust you ?” 

“Enough that Moon gave me the scroll while telling me I was right, which you snatched out of my claws without even asking!”

“Please stop fighting! And stop yelling Darkstalker!” Moon’s pleas fell upon deaf ears.

“You abandoned us at Possibility!” Qibli shouted.

“So I should’ve abandoned my brother instead?” Winter shot back.

“You’ve been a real jerk to all of us, Moon especially, and you still haven’t apologized!”

Winter flinched, he glanced at Moon with a heartbroken expression before shaking his head and glaring back at Qibli. “E-Easy for you to say when it’s not your tribe’s greatest nightmare!”

“What a great excuse! Are you gonna blame Darkstalker for all the times you threatened us at the academy too?” 

“Well I’m not going to stay quiet when one of you makes a terrible decision, like using magic to force dragons into obedience!”

“Oh, clearly Queen Glacier’s amazing nephew, Prince Winter of the IceWings, always makes the right decisions, every time. He would never do something so stupid like throwing himself at Peril!”

“I WAS TRYING TO PROTECT YOU!”

“PLEASE STOP!” Moon screamed. She lurched forward and ripped Winter’s wolfskin pouch off his ankle with such ferocity, it caused him to momentarily buckle. Immediately she buried her forehead into her clenched talons as they tightly gripped the pouch. Her haggard and rapid breathing wavered violently as she shivered. 

Silence smothered the rest of the winglet instantly as they all turned to face her. Their startled expressions were consumed with worry and regret. One by one, they all slowly sat down without another word shared between each other. Winter looked as if he understood why Moon took his pouch, though.

Was that where he kept his skyfire? Peril thought.

Moon’s breathing gradually slowed, punctuated by a deep sigh and one last shudder as she collected herself. She opened her eyes, her dejected gaze poured over her friends until she could find the words to speak.

“Look at us!” Moon cried. “Why are we fighting each other over this stupid scroll? We should be trying to stop the prophecy, together!” She dipped her head. “Last night, I had a vision or… a nightmare. Darkstalker was released, Jade Mountain was destroyed, dead NightWings and IceWings everywhere. I didn’t want to believe it, so I took the scroll when I woke up. I just… I just needed to talk to him again. I needed to understand what I saw.” 

Moon brought her gaze back up, tears welling in her eyes. “I was so afraid that you wouldn’t trust me to do what I needed to do, but I still should have talked to all of you about it first. I never meant for this to happen. I’m so, so sorry.”

Moon turned to Winter, and his expression immediately softened. “You were right about Darkstalker, Winter. But I wish you would have at least tried listening to me and what I was going through.”

Winter lowered his head with a repentant gaze.

Moon then faced Qibli, who seemed surprised, as if he wasn’t aware he did anything wrong. “Thank you for trying to defend me Qibli. But please let me stand up for myself. And using magic to control other dragons is wrong, no matter what.”

Qibli’s wings drooped. He set down the scroll and slowly nudged it away.

Peril couldn’t help but feel pity. Watching these friends fight and yell at each other, again and again, everyone believing they know how to best use another dragon’s magic. Bonds broken and betrayals abound, all for the promise of infinite power. Peril had seen it plenty before.

“I just…” Moon’s grip on the pouch tightened. “I just don’t want this scroll, or anything else, to tear our winglet apart.”

A chill wind scraped across the mountainside. None of them could bear to look any of the others in the eyes. Truly, no one knew what to do next. But Peril had an idea. Maybe not a good one, but it was at least an idea.

“I dunno what the best way to use that scroll is,” Peril chimed in. “I don’t think any of us do.”

“Then what can we do?” Turtle asked quietly. “We should all agree on what happens to it, but I’m not sure we ever will.”

“Give it to me,” Peril said bluntly.

She met the stares of the winglet following her suggestion, expecting immediate rejection. But to her surprise, she was met with expressions of interest, curiosity, and even approval.

“But won’t that…?” Qibli began to ask.

“Yep, that’s the idea,” Peril interrupted.

Moon wiped her eyes dry. “That scroll is Darkstalker’s, but if he shouldn’t have it because he’s evil…”

“Then no one should,” Peril finished.

I could just walk over and touch it now, no one would be able to stop me. But no one dragon should ever decide what to do with another’s power. We ALL need to agree.

“I think that’s the best idea we’ve had so far.” Turtle trotted over to Peril and sat beside her with a reassuring grin. “I’m in.”

“Me too,” Moon added. She extended her talons toward Winter, holding out the wolfskin pouch in her palm.

Winter stared at it for a moment before gently cupping his talons on top of Moon’s. They briefly gazed into each other’s eyes, then he looked at Peril.

“So am I,” Winter said, then threw Peril a thin smile. She was almost taken aback by it, she thought he wouldn’t ever smile!

They all turned to Qibli, he appeared to be the most conflicted about Peril’s suggestion. He tapped his talons against the stony ground while staring intently at the scroll, the rhythmic clicking shedding the uneasy silence. He opened his mouth but closed it before speaking. Finally, the clicking stopped. Without looking at any of them, he picked up the scroll. 

Peril’s muscles tensed. Of all the dragons she met, Qibli was one of the best at masking his thoughts, making him difficult to predict. 

“We could do a lot of good with this…” Qibli mumbled ponderously. He turned to Moon as if asking for her advice. She only smiled back at him.

Peril looked to Turtle for the same. What if Qibli disagreed, would Peril have to burn him? Would she let them go back to shouting and arguing with each other again? Was it a stupid idea all along? Peril’s racing thoughts were quelled by a soft thud.

The scroll laid in front of her, only a few inches separated it from her talons, and Qibli returned to where he once sat.

“But we’ll find another way to save the world, I’m sure of it,” Qibli smiled.

"Phew!" Peril sighed with genuine relief. "For a second there, I was worried that I'd have to torch you!"

Qibli's smile immediately vanished, while Peril’s widened.

"Kidding!”

Mostly .

“But if any of you change your mind now, I WILL burn you and I won’t feel bad about it,” Peril cheerfully warned, still smiling. The others didn’t seem to take her too seriously, thankfully.

No. Not mostly, Peril. You would NEVER do that. Not anymore…

Peril reached out and touched the scroll. Instantly it flared into a bright inferno. They all watched quietly as the scroll was rendered into a smoldering pile of blackened dust over a matter of seconds.

Now nothing can set the Darkstalker free, and nobody can abuse his powers.  

For once, she was sure it was the right thing to do. Not because somebody told her, but because she felt it in her core. 

I did it. I saved the world. And Clay wasn’t even watching. Even if he never knows I did the right thing, I will. And that’s enough for me.

She lifted her head to the rising moons, taking a deep, tranquil breath. 

Wait. Why were the moons wobbling?

It wasn’t them; it was the ground. Harder and harder, an earthquake trembling throughout the veins of the mountain. Peril’s boulder toppled into the ravine, she had to take flight, and pounded her wings to get as far away from the shuddering hillside as possible. The others had done the same.

“What’s happening?” Turtle yelled. “Is Jade Mountain falling, is this the prophecy?”

Clay!  

Peril twisted forward to look towards the academy. But it wasn’t moving. Only the mountain below them was. And it was doing far more than violently shaking and tossing rocks, it was splitting apart.

An enormous crack appeared in the earth, and the single largest dragon the world had ever seen rose out of the darkness. Silver scales glittered in the corners of his eyes and along the underside of his black wings. His bones were almost visible under his skin, emaciated beyond belief, with a narrow yet somehow handsome face, long twisted horns, and eyes as black as underground caverns.

Darkstalker, the ancient nightmare dragon buried thousands of years ago, had returned. 

Darkstalker stretched his wings out to their fullest span, almost as wide as the mountain itself. He swiveled his neck, expanding in every direction, like he hadn’t been able to so much as move an inch in thousands of years.

“Ahhh, sweet freedom,” he said. His booming voice nearly shook the ground once more.

And then, he saw them. He saw Peril. He smiled. All teeth bore themselves in a menacing yet somehow charming grin. 

“I suppose I have all of you to thank for releasing me,” Darkstalker said with disturbing charisma. “A pleasure to finally meet in the scales.”

Chapter Text

Chameleon was certain there weren’t many ways his situation could possibly get worse while a pair of squabbling SandWings yanked him around in just about every direction. They had covered his blocky MudWing head with a suffocating but not completely airtight burlap sack, so he had only their… aggressive guidance to follow.

His brain was still clouded in a thick fog after his misguided daughter, along with the gaggle of dragons that followed her, had so violently stolen his magic scroll. He had somehow managed to convince Shapeshifter’s twitching body to exchange its necklace for whatever replacement he could claw out. And even after he had shape-changed into his current form, the ghastly ache and obnoxious ringing persisted for hours.

It would be just his luck that mere moments after he resumed his flight out of the Sky Kingdom, he would stumble upon a pair of shifty SandWings gathering up dragonflame cacti.

Come with us or die — they crowed — our boss has been lookin’ for a stray MudWing .

But… they had promised a reward in jewelry and gold. So really, things could only go up for Chameleon. Just tolerate this silliness and secrecy and sneaking, and he’ll finally get his due.

He didn’t know exactly where he was, just that he was somewhere under Possibility. The damp air around him was so thick with a pungent musk that he could practically taste it. Oh — and now his talon just stepped in what felt like a revolting puddle of slime. Wonderful.

“Watch it!” one of the SandWings squawked way too late as Chameleon tripped over some scale-ridden mound. He admittedly hadn’t acclimated to this new body yet — it felt frustratingly clumsy and dopey — but he still hissed at where he thought the voice came from to express his indignation.

A few more twists and turns until they finally stopped him and removed the sack. The corpse of a bloodied MudWing greeted him, dressed in more gold and jewelry than Chameleon had ever seen before.

All in one place. Right there for the taking.

Sure, most of the accessories were covered in the dead MudWing’s blood. But with a little bit of soap, water, and some polishing, he imagined it would look brilliant against his maroon-brown scales.

He reached a rapacious talon out without another thought.

A dragon outside of his field of view violently cleared his throat, freezing Chameleon in place like a dragonette getting caught red-taloned. He looked up. The cloaked visage of a SandWing, much larger than the ones next to him, stepped out from the shadows.

He, too, fostered the simmering envy in Chameleon's heart with how much gold adorned him. But strange splotches of black were scattered all over his scales. When Chameleon squinted, he discovered they were all in the shape of a dragon skull. If there was any part of his body that wasn't covered in tattoos, he couldn’t see it.

But there was something else Chameleon felt; he’d only felt it in the presence of one other dragon before. It was a kind of fear that compelled him to do whatever Scarlet asked of him, and he had a hunch he would do whatever this dragon commanded as well.

The spotted dragon raised a brow. “This?” he droned. “This is what you two wished to show me so badly?”

“We found him snoopin’ around one of the cacti farms,” the SandWing to Chameleon’s left said. “Don’t even know what ‘is name is or where he’s from.”

“That so? How interesting,” said the spotted dragon, sounding more curious. He sauntered around the dead MudWing, carefully avoiding the puddles of scarlet to spare his gold-covered talons from a ghastly stain. He stopped halfway and eyed up Chameleon’s body from head to toe. “A pleasure to meet you, Bog of the MudWings.”

“Huh?” Chameleon said. “I think you’ve got the wrong dragon. My name isn’t Bog. I’m not actually—”

“Be silent,” he commanded, and Chameleon obeyed. “I already know who you are underneath those scales. But as of this moment, you are Bog. And if you would like all this treasure you seem so enamored with, you will do as I say.”

Truthfully, he had only needed to offer Chameleon the treasure; that was all it took to buy his loyalty.

“Well, why didn’t you say so?” Chameleon chirped with a sordid grin. “So, uh, who are you exactly?”

The spotted dragon’s face cracked with a wickedly crooked smile, and a shimmer of gold flickered from the corner of his mouth.

“You may call me Vulture.”

Chapter Text

...

This is the part where I die pointlessly. The one who gets sacrificed so the real heroes can get on with saving the day.

His wings were shaking so hard he couldn’t stay in the air. He dropped down beside Moon and Qibli, clutching the ground with his talons. Winter and Peril were still hovering in the sky, their wings beating, silver and gold flashing in the moonlight.

I need to hide, Turtle thought. But how could anyone hide from the most dangerous dragon in the world — a mind reader, an animus, and a seer who knew the future?

He can’t read my mind, though. Turtle’s gaze dropped to the three remaining skyfire stones in his armband, which shielded him from mind readers. Maybe he had a millisecond to do something, anything, before Darkstalker foresaw it and stopped him. 

He scrabbled his talons along the ground, keeping his eyes on the towering NightWing. His claws closed around something small and rough — a broken stick from one of the trees that had fallen when the mountain cracked open. 

Hide me, Turtle thought at it frantically. Hide me from Darkstalker.  

“Ahh, sweet freedom,” Darkstalker said as he stretched his vast wings before grinning at the winglet. The giant dragon’s booming voice rumbled the ground as if heralding another quake. “I suppose I have all of you to thank for releasing me. A pleasure to finally meet in the scales.”

The silence between them stretched for so long, it felt like it could snap. But Turtle didn’t dare look away; he wasn’t convinced his improvised spell had worked yet.

“Hmm, but weren’t there… more of you?” Darkstalker mused, squinting at the winglet with a frown. His eyes darted past Turtle as if he was nothing more than a boring rock among many. “Wasn’t there one I especially wanted to meet?”

Does he mean ME? Turtle’s grip on the stick tightened; the slight give in the wood suggested that any tighter would break it. For any dragon next to, touching, or carrying this stick, I enchant it to hide their entire existence from Darkstalker. Darkstalker cannot hear or see them, cannot remember them, cannot remember ever learning about their existence, cannot hear or learn about them in the thoughts and conversations of others, cannot be seen in any futures, and is completely absent from his awareness at all times.

A moment later, Darkstalker shrugged, discarding his question entirely.

“How! How did you escape?!” Winter furiously demanded. His recalcitrant posturing didn’t completely mask his barely constrained terror.

Darkstalker’s jovial mood vanished and he scowled at Winter. His hostile gaze felt similar to the one Turtle imagined himself getting, were he not hidden. He must hate IceWings too, he realized. 

“That’s really quite simple,” Darkstalker politely responded. “When the scroll was destroyed, it returned my magic to me which I then used to escape. Speaking of which—” He turned to Peril with a menacingly charming smile. “I have you to thank for that! Peril, right? For a dragon worried about not being good with words, you sure were convincing back there! Even I’d have been swayed had I not already wanted you to burn it.”

Peril exploded with a furious roar and hurled herself towards Darkstalker with reckless abandon. Embers flashed out of her maw like the splash from a stone tossed into water.

“Peril, don’t!” Moon shouted.

Fire enveloped the entirety of Darkstalker’s unflinching expression as Peril soared past his left temple, raking him with her claws for good measure. She curved back towards him, ready to launch another strike.

“Oh no no no, this won’t do!” Darkstalker said, effortlessly swatting the smoke clouding his face away. With talons splayed, he caught Peril with his palm before she could get close again. When she tried to crawl around, he pressed a single talon against her chest, holding her in place despite her struggle. “How very brave, but if you haven’t noticed, I’m quite larger than you. I doubt anything you did would hurt me, even if I weren’t already invincible and immortal. Secondly, I’m your friend, not your enemy. I understand that this is a very new and strange concept for you, but let’s settle down and drop this needless hostility.”

Darkstalker guided Peril to the ground as she gradually relented. She slashed her talons against the earth then struck a nearby boulder in frustration with her tail, sending it tumbling down the ravine. Then, she stomped away, probably so she wouldn't accidentally hit her friends in a blind rage.

Turtle wished he could comfort her, to walk up and tell her it wasn’t her fault and that she couldn’t have possibly known this would happen. But she probably wanted to be left alone for now. Also, Turtle still was unsure if his new enchantment had worked; he wanted to avoid doing anything that could draw Darkstalker’s attention, just in case.

Darkstalker shifted his gaze to Moon and his expression brightened instantly. “Ah, Moon! Finally, we get to meet in the scales!” he cried, beaming at the petrified NightWing. “You’re a lot smaller than I imagined. Or maybe it’s because I’m so big. I suppose two thousand years of slowly growing will do that to a dragon. I must be the biggest dragon that has ever lived! Probably the oldest, too. And by the shining moons, have I mentioned how HUNGRY I am? I feel like my stomach is folding in on itself. Do any of you happen to have any food?”

Moon slowly backed away from Darkstalker while shaking her head. And Turtle had a feeling that it wasn't because she didn’t want to feed him.

“You lied to me…” she murmured. 

“Pardon?” said Darkstalker.

“You lied to me!” Moon shouted, stomping the ground and flaring her wings. “You asked me to destroy the scroll if it ever looked like it could fall into the wrong talons! You said it would trap you forever but it would be worth it if it could protect everyone. But you knew the truth all along! You wanted this to happen!”

“Yes, I may have left that part out so I wouldn’t stay trapped under a mountain forever,” Darkstalker said, narrowing his eyes. “Is that so wrong? Friends shouldn’t leave their friends trapped under mountains. Can’t you be excited for me?”

“Friends shouldn’t lie to each other, either.” Moon’s voice trailed off with an almost apologetic drag.

“You’re right, they shouldn’t, as you’ve recently learned yourself, no?” 

Moon winced. She seemed to shrink herself while avoiding Darkstalker’s eyes.

“Good point, Darkstalker,” the massive dragon chirped with an unnaturally high pitch, flapping his talons like lips. “Look, I understand, really I do. So let's both learn from our mistakes and move forward as better dragons. You’ve always seen the good in others, and you’ve inspired change both in strangers and in your friends. I know part of you wants to give me the same opportunity and prove how wrong all those stories about me are. All I ask is that you let me.”

“Beware the darkness of dragons,” Moon mumbled under her breath, “Beware the stalker of dreams.”

“Oh, that's not me!” Darkstalker put a talon over his heart. “Come on, you know that. I don’t slither about in the dreams of others, apart from fixing your nightmares. It had to have been about Queen Scarlet who, if you remember, was chock-full of darkness. On the other talon, ‘something is coming to shake the earth’ — that’s totally me!” He stomped one foot on the ground so hard that tremors shuddered out in all directions. Turtle stumbled, and the closest tree fell over with ease. 

“Pretty Impressive, right?” Darkstalker grinned at Moon. “Actually, I still can’t get over how humongous I am!” He looked down at his talons as he held them out, he flicked his tail, knocking a shower of boulders down the slope.

Turtle’s heart still pounded against his chest, but Darkstalker began seeming less and less like the nightmarish horror the stories painted him as. He really wasn't as big as the entire mountain as Turtle initially thought too. Maybe three times the size of the largest, fully-grown dragon he knew.

Moon looked as if she thought so too — her ambivalent gaze sank to her talons. Where there was once resistance, there was now uncertainty.

Winter and Qibli noticed the massive dragon’s words having sway over her, and the IceWing appeared particularly vexed.

“Moon, don’t listen to this monster!” Winter pleaded, swooping closer to her. “You saw for yourself what he did with the scroll! Please don’t let him—"

“Now that’s not very fair,” Darkstalker forcefully interrupted. “I don’t dare make assumptions about your personal life based on half-truths and ancient myths. Please do give me a chance to prove myself, Prince Winter. Spend some time getting to know me. I’m sure that after a while, you really will agree that I’m actually a pleasant dragon.” He smiled, bearing all his sharp and partially decayed teeth.

Winter blankly stared at Darkstalker for a moment before rubbing his forehead with one of his talons. He shook his head, his eyelids fluttered open, then he sank to the ground before looking up at the massive NightWing.

“…You’re right. Let’s start over,” he said.

“Winter?” Qibli yelped, bounding over to him. He closely examined Winter’s arctic blue eyes, waving his talons in front of them.

“Is something bothering you, sand-snorter?” Winter said wryly.

“Yeah, you are,” said Qibli. “I dunno who you are, but the Winter I know spent an entire day arguing against giving ‘evil’ dragons a second chance.”

“Guess you don’t know me that well.” Winter huffed a plume of icy mist out of his nostrils. “I’ve been trying not to judge dragons too quickly anymore.”

“I—okay, I’ll give you the ‘trying’ part,” Qibli said with an incredulous frown. “But Darkstalker? It was hard enough convincing you to give Peril a chance.”

“As Moon keeps saying, dragons can change. I’m trying to change. And I’m sure he is, too.” Winter tilted his head up at Darkstalker.

“Indeed,” Darkstalker nodded innocuously. “I’ve had plenty of time to reflect on my mistakes.”

“Moon,” Qibli muttered with a worried look, “does any of this sound right to you?”

Moon slowly approached the IceWing, his scowl vanished when she was in arm's reach. She peered into his eyes, squinting, inching her neck closer, forcing Winter to shrink himself more and more with an unnerved grimace. Peril had returned to their huddle sulking, but quickly began oscillating between Moon and Winter with a bewildered stare. 

“Are you enchanting my friends, Darkstalker?” Moon sharply questioned, finally backing away from Winter to his relief.

“Of course not!” Darkstalker protested, and “No, he isn’t!” Winter cried simultaneously.

“How could I possibly trust your word, though?” Moon said, shuffling her talons. “You’ve already proven you will do it, to your own father even.”

“This really is degrading. I thought you guys would be happy that I’m trying to be more open-minded.” Winter’s voice was marinated with humiliation and betrayal, despite the attempt at sounding gruff.

Qibli and Peril turned to each other. Both looked torn and unsure, and Turtle felt his own face begin to mirror theirs.

“Those days are long behind me, I assure you,” Darkstalker said. “Why would I waste my animus and my soul on a spell to make this random IceWing like me? My scroll was destroyed, so I have to bear the cost of my magic again, remember?”

Moon circled around Winter, not yet convinced, but seemed more unsure of herself. “I guess… but—"

"So stop worrying so much!” Darkstalker cheerily said. “Boy, you remind me of someone I used to know. Listen, it’s getting harder to talk because MOONS am I hungry. What’s say we go catch something to eat and we can tour Jade Mountain together! There’s some dragons there I can’t wait to meet! So can we save the ' oh, no, but what about that evil thing you did' talon-wagging for later?"

Moon paused. She curled her talons into the ground, then looked up with a firm glare. “You have to promise me that you will never harm any of my friends.”

Darkstalker comically gasped, the swift gust of wind from it kicked up the loose dirt and leaves as if it was the birth of a tornado. “I’m OFFENDED you would think so low of me to ever consider that!” he said mockingly. “But if it makes you feel better, I promise that these dragons are the safest from harm in all of Pyrrhia.” He waved his talons over Qibli, Winter, and Peril.

Moon and Qibli glanced at Turtle with confused looks, and he vigorously shook his head then pressed his belly against the ground. He hoped they understood what he meant by it.

“Here, I’ll even do you one better,” Darkstalker added. “If I ever feel the need to use my magic for anything, you will be the first to know.” He stretched his massive wings out, slowly moving them in a flapping motion, as if he were trying to remember how to fly, and eventually managed to lift himself off the ground. “So what do you say — will you give me a second chance? All I want is to see the world, to use my voice, to hunt and fly, to live again! And I would love nothing more than for my new friends to join me!” He beamed at Moon one last time, his eyelids nearly shut from how wide his smile was. 

“We should at least try,” Winter said, stepping closer to Moon and Qibli. “If I’m willing to, of all dragons, then surely you all must be too.”

“Let’s go hunt as Darkstalker suggests,” Qibli agreed, nudging Moon, “and figure out what to do next after that.” He shot a significant glance at Turtle.

That glance had a meaning, a message. Qibli was expecting Turtle to do something, and Turtle dreaded that “something” wasn’t ‘fly all the way back to the Sea Kingdom, find a deep trench, and stay there forever’. A queasy, tense feeling started bubbling through Turtle’s stomach.

Moon nodded at both of them, then she too gave Turtle a meaningful look. 

By all the moons, what did they think he was going to do? Attack Darkstalker, like Peril had? But if Peril couldn’t even make a scratch on him, what hope did he have?

Did they want him to hide them as well? He winced. He should have thought of that sooner. A good friend, a better dragon — a hero — would have thought to protect everyone instead of just himself. But they all wanted to talk to Darkstalker, didn’t they? I just wanted to hide. That's all I’m good for.

As the dragons flew away, veering southwest, Qibli twisted in a spiral, looked at Turtle again, and flicked his tail in the direction of Jade Mountain.

Oh, Turtle realized. He wants me to warn the school. I can probably do that without messing it up. I think.

Peril remained on the ground mutinously off to the side, watching her friends fly away for a moment before she leaped into the air. Noticing Turtle had also stayed behind, she swooped closer to him.

“Aren’t you going too?” she asked. “Don’t we all have to follow his grand mighty lordship Sinister-Face?”

Turtle shook his head and held out the stick. “He can't see me,” he whispered. “I hid myself from him.”

Peril’s face lit up. “Of course!” she said, grinning widely. “That’s right, you have animus magic! You can totally kill him!”

“Oh,” Turtle said, flustered. “No, I— I don’t really… kill anyone.” A flash of scales and blood darted through his mind. He looked down and saw his own talons bloodied, gripping the earth; a phantasm of Shapeshifter laying limp in front of him appeared before his eyes. He suppressed a scream and shook himself until he was back to his normal self. “That’s NOT my thing!” 

He didn’t intend to shout, but it helped stop the wave of panic from growing.

“I know, I know, it’s my thing,” Peril said, and immediately winced. “Or, was my thing… I hope. But I can’t kill him because of his STUPID magic! So you’re the only one who can. Don’t worry, it shouldn't be that hard for you cus you wouldn’t even need to get physical. And it would also be a relief. For me, I mean. Because I have this feeling — I don’t know what to call it, but it’s kind of big and heavy and annoying? And it’s filling me all up inside like everything is awful and it’s all my fault? I really don’t like it, so if you can make it stop, that would be the greatest.”

“I think that’s ‘guilt’ you’re feeling, but it’s not your fault. You couldn’t have known that would happen. Not even Moon knew. And we all agreed to it anyway.”

“I guess,” Peril said. “That didn’t really make it stop, but thanks.”

“Peril!” called one of her friends in the distance.

“Good luck,” she whispered. “Make it something really cool, like his insides exploding or his face falling off. Kidding! I mean, only a little. Because his insides exploding would be REALLY cool, right? Never mind, up to you! Kill him and save the world! Three moons, wish I could do it!” She took off and flashed away, fast as a skyfire falling from the stars.

Turtle shivered. Save the world? That’s not my thing either. I’d definitely mess it all up. That’s way, way too much pressure.  

Clearly I’m not a hero. 

He raised his eyes to the shadowy peaks of Jade Mountain. 

But at least I know where I can find some .

♦    ♦    ♦

...

Heavy raindrops pattered against Turtle’s wings and snout as he flew up to where his friends were. Peril, brightly illuminated against the darkened sky surrounded by a hazy mist, like a torchlight in a dark and misty cave, immediately waved at him as he approached. 

“Turtle! Call off the exploding guts plan!” she cheerily cried, swooping around in a wispy loop as raindrops sizzled away on her scales. Winter quickly grabbed his own tail and drew it close as she flew by. “Turns out Darkstalker isn’t all that bad after all!”

“Wait, really?” Turtle said, tilting his head. “What made you change your mind so quickly?”

“Well, he’s been really nice to me for one! Which already makes him more awesome than most. He even said the same thing you did! That animus magic and my firescales are kind of the same. And that dragons who don’t have these powers are scared of us, and they shouldn’t, right? I don’t want my insides exploded just because someone finds ME scary!”

“You are scary,” Qibli chimed in, “but I’m all for not ‘exploding your insides.’”

“Why, thank you,” Peril said sweetly.

“So… that’s it then?” Turtle asked. “We’re no longer worried anymore?” 

“Correct,” Winter nodded. “Peril got the chance to prove herself good. It’s only fair Darkstalker does too. I was worried at first, but he really does want to make friends and use his powers for good.”

“See, I feel that’s true,” Qibli interjected. “But then Winter, of all dragons, says something like that and I go back to worrying.”

“This again?” Winter chided. “Must I claim to despise him for you to see the truth?”

Qibli prodded his chin with a wing talon. “Perchance,” he said haughtily.

“You can’t just say perchance,” Winter groaned.

“I just did,” Qibli snickered. “But before you get all higglety-pigglety on me, let me ask you something. Do you trust Moon or Darkstalker more?”

“Well obviously I—” Winter froze. A faint shiver flushed through his body, and he rubbed his forehead with one of his talons. “I… trust them both equally,” he finished.

Qibli regarded the IceWing with suspicion. “Even though she lied about the scroll and Darkstalker? Or what about when Darkstalker lied to Moon about the scroll? And what about that whole ‘disemboweling his father’ business?”

Winter gnashed his teeth. “He— They both had understandable reasons for doing what they did. Darkstalker only wanted to be free and no one knows if he actually forced Arctic to disembowel himself.” Winter paused for a moment as his strained expression faded. “I didn’t exactly… engender open dialogue with Moon, either.”

“Woah, I think you’re on to something Qibli!” Peril said with a mischievous grin. “Maybe Darkstalker did bamboozle the royal pain here.”

“Oh shut it,” spat Winter. “You all can think whatever you want, since my opinion is so worthless apparently. Now, if you will excuse me, I’d like to dry off from the rain.” Without waiting for a response, he quickly dove toward the academy entrance.

“See? Now that’s the Winter I know,” Qibli said. “Gah, this is all making my brain feel like it’s swimming through honey.”

“Don’t tell Prince Grumpy this, but I actually agree with him,” Peril said. “So off with that hidey-stick, Turtle!”

Turtle clutched his neck-scarf and whipped himself back. He felt his brain rattle in his skull with how vigorously he shook his head.

“Or don’t, do whatever you want.” Peril shrugged. “I’m going to go say hi to Clay! I mean, to uh, him and his friends. So I can tell him— THEM what I did to Scarlet! Tell all of them. What Ruby did, technically. But with my help! He’s going to be so excited. Don’t you think? So excited? I mean, not that it’s any big deal. Well, I guess it’s kind of a big deal that I stopped his, like, super worst enemy from coming after him. He’ll be happy about that, right? Not that it matters. Why am I nervous? I’m not! STOP BEING NERVOUS, PERIL. Ha ha! That’ll work.”

“Three moons, just go talk to him, you unexpected flutter-head,” Qibli laughed. 

“I AM! Right now!” Peril pouted. “Don’t wish me luck because I don’t even need it because why would I because who cares!” She buffeted her wings, billowing the cloud of steam surrounding her, then spiraled down to the school.

As Peril’s figure shrank into an orange flicker, Turtle couldn’t help but think that maybe everything truly was okay. Maybe Darkstalker is as good as everyone says and Turtle was just anxious over nothing. Peril felt like the kind of dragon who would waffle between opinions on a whim, so it seemed like things were normal. But something still felt off, and she could easily change her mind the next time they met.

“Wow,” Qibli said. “Am I like that around Moon?”

“Oh— uh,” Turtle stammered, surprised Qibli was still there. “I mean, you make it almost as obvious. But, um— so does Winter.” 

Qibli scratched his head. He opened his mouth as if he were about to say something, but closed it then shook his head. “A-anyway, just forget it. So, um, did you try to warn the school? I hope my signal was obvious enough.”

“I tried, but I guess it didn’t make any difference,” Turtle said glumly.

“Hrm…” Qibli frowned. “I think, actually, don’t unhide yourself yet.”

“Really?” Turtle twisted toward him in the air. Raindrops kept splashing in his eyes and made it hard to see. It felt as if the clouds were gathering lower and lower, as though they might all pile on top of his wings at any moment.

“My instincts tell me I can trust Darkstalker,” Qibli said, tilting his claws to watch the droplets slide in different directions. “But my head says to be more careful. So maybe it’s smart to have one dragon who can watch him without being seen for a little while. Can you do that? Watch him and then tell me what you see?”

“I guess.” Turtle nervously tugged the webs between his talons. “But like what? What if I miss something? What am I looking for?”

“I don’t know,” Qibli admitted. “But whatever you see, come talk to me about it, all right? We’ll figure it out together.”

...

♦    ♦    ♦

... 

Umber had felt like a new brother right away. Turtle missed him. 

He glanced along the hall, then quietly slipped down to Winter and Qibli’s room.

Turtle peeked his head as discreetly as he could into the open doorway. It was a lot emptier now that Winter’s scavenger cage was gone. Both were intently focused on their work, silently resting in their respective beds. Winter seemed to be scribbling something on a piece of parchment while softly mumbling to himself. Qibli meanwhile curled himself around several scrolls, his pensive gaze consumed by whatever he was reading, or so Turtle thought. 

Qibli’s ears seemed to twitch and, almost instantly, his gaze snapped to Turtle, scrutinizing the SeaWing with a startled look.

“Ah— Turtle,” Qibli sighed with relief. “Don’t sneak up on me like that.” 

Winter glanced at Turtle for a moment, then returned to the parchment.  

“Sorry…” Turtle muttered, dragging the rest of his body into their den. “Um, is it all right if I sleep here? For tonight, I mean.”

“Sure,” Qibli smiled, leaping over to Turtle. “I don’t mind.”

“Yes, hello,” Winter interjected without looking up, “I wonder if the other dragon that sleeps here has an opinion on this.”

“I bet you do,” Qibli said wryly. “Your very important and totally not-worthless opinion is essential to the functioning of this cave.”

Winter finally whipped away from the scroll. “Are you mocking me?” he said, eyeing Qibli with a dubious squint.

“I would never!” Qibli gasped. “But you have our ears, my liege. Let’s hear it.”

Winter stared at the two of them for a moment. “...Fine. He can stay the night.”

“And there you have it,” Qibli said, returning to Turtle while Winter grumbled behind him. “So what’s Darkstalker been up to?”

“Not much,” Turtle said. “He’s been really quiet all day, just reading a bunch of scrolls, and he fixed Flame’s face, and made talismans to protect his and Anemone’s souls, then gave superpowers to some of the NightWing students, and then Flame tried to kill Stonemover and—”

“Woah, woah, slow down there.” Qibli patted the air in front of him. “That’s a lot more than ‘not much’. Why don’t you start from the beginning?” 

Turtle told the two of them as much as he could about Darkstalker’s activities that day. They both looked horrified when he told them what happened to Stonemover and about Darkstalker handing out superpowers to the Nightwings.

“Wait a second.” Winter frowned. “I thought NightWings could only read minds or see the future. You’re telling me there are even more powers now?”

“I… think that’s still true,” Turtle said cautiously. “These new ones are from animus. And you have your skyfire, so you’re safe from mind reading at least.”

“Still, powers like ‘super strength’ and ‘turn drawings into real objects’ are a bit troubling.”

“How terrifying it must be now that Mightyclaws can create bananas,” Qibli snickered. “Pyrrhia may never recover.”

“At least those of us with working brains can see the obvious danger of it,” Winter scoffed. “Instead of bananas, he could make—”

“Dragonflame cacti?” Qibli interrupted. “Or a deadly venom? Wow, I’d have never thought of that, since my brain is all broken from the sand-snorting, you know?”

Winter gawked at him in surprise, and Qibli spat out a pleased flicker of fire.

“But what does all this mean?” Turtle interjected. “What does this tell us about Darkstalker? I think that’s the real question here.”

“Well, he hasn’t hurt anyone,” Winter said. “And all he’s done is help other dragons. So clearly he’s staying true to his word.”

“That’s what it seems like.” Turtle nervously scratched the side of his head. “It’s really confusing… I’ve only seen him do good things all day.”

“As far as you can see,” Qibli pointed out. “You haven’t seen everything. We don’t know if he might be doing things in secret.”

“Why are you so suspicious of him?” Winter snapped with exasperation.

“How are you not?” Qibli retorted. “Just two days ago you were yelling at Moon over how evil Darkstalker is.” 

“I was wrong!” Winter admitted with a wounded glare. His tail lashed against the stone floor. “Is that what you want to hear? Will that stop your endless caviling? It was Darkstalker who saved Stonemover, what more do you want? He truly is a good dragon at heart.”

“If you really think that, then why were you so worried about NightWing students getting superpowers from him?” Qibli questioned.

“Those dragons aren’t Darkstalker. I barely even know them,” Winter said.

“But you know Darkstalker oh so well, right?” Qibli pressed. “Or does all this talk about being more open-minded only apply to him? Shouldn’t all dragons get a chance to prove themselves good too?”

Winter stared at Qibli blankly for a moment before averting his gaze with a frown. Plumes of icy crystals spurted out of his nostrils. The silence lingered between them while Qibli worryingly poured over him.

“I suppose… you’re right,” Winter muttered.

Qibli sat himself beside Winter and wrapped one of his wings around him like a blanket. “Listen, I believe you when you say you’re trying to change,” he said. “But I put myself in Darkstalker’s talons, and right as I emerge from the mountain, here is this strong, smart, fierce, handsomely shiny IceWing prince with a million potential great futures. I’m pretty sure I’d think, hmm, this dragon could be a serious threat. I’d better neutralize him as soon as possible. I just worry that’s what he actually did.”  

Winter fluffed his wings, as though he wasn’t sure if he should be offended or flattered. “I think I would know if I was under a spell.”

“Maybe,” Qibli said, “but I’m not sure anyone could know. I’m not hounding you with questions just because I think it’s funny — even though it kind of is sometimes.”

Winter narrowed his eyes at Qibli but said nothing. He eventually stood up and slunk toward their cave’s opening. “I need to be alone,” he said, pausing with his back turned to the two of them before leaving the room.

 Qibli peered his head out of the cave to watch Winter disappear into the hallway before returning with a rueful expression. “Off he goes to brood again, I just hope he doesn’t tell Darkstalker about this conversation.”

“He can't tell him about me, though,” said Turtle. “Or if he does, Darkstalker won't hear it. My enchantment hides me completely from him.” I hope. I hope I hope I hope. If I did it right. Which seems unlikely. Knowing me. Ack.

“That’s clever,” said Qibli. “How did you come up with that?”

“I used this brainstorming method called pure terror,” Turtle admitted. “It wasn’t so clever as deeply cowardly.”

“How does your soul feel?”

“Like it’s still there,” Turtle said with a shrug. He wasn’t going to talk about the flashes of a bloodied and limp Chameleon in his head. Or the way his heart sped up when he thought about how he’d do the same thing again to anyone else who hurt Kinkajou.

“Would you be willing to do a couple more spells?” Qibli asked. “If I had any powers of my own, I wouldn’t ask…”

“Oh,” said Turtle. “I mean, yes, I suppose so. The problem is I don’t even know what. I’ve been thinking about it all day. I should be able to do something useful, shouldn’t I? If I can just figure out the exact right thing. Peril wanted me to kill Darkstalker, but I don’t think that’s possible, and I’m just… not the kind of dragon who kills other dragons. I don’t want to be.”

The images emerged yet again: the enchanted boulder smashing into Chameleon’s skull, the grotesque cracking, the blood splattering. The power tingling in Turtle’s claws, the power to punish those who deserved it. The half-light of his primal instincts clamoring for blood — burning ever so slightly brighter inside him. 

No! No no no. That is NOT me.

“Plus, what if he actually is good?” he hurried on, pushing the phantasms away. “Winter’s not the only one who thinks so — Peril does too, and I think Moon is coming around as well. Then it would be really wrong to kill him. So I wondered if I should do something to protect Anemone from him, right? Just in case? But I don’t want to do anything he might notice, You know? I don’t want him to even suspect there is another animus out here.”

He shifted his tail, thinking of all the heroes his mother had ever written about, and how none of them would have ever said anything like that. 

“I understand,” Qibli said. He scrunched his snout and took a deep breath. “This is something small, but I was hoping you could tell me if there is a spell on me.”

“On you?” Turtle said, startled. 

“Remember how I wasn’t sure Winter would be able to tell if there was a spell on him? Applies to me, too. I like Darkstalker. He’s funny and charming and he does seem helpful and he acts like we’re all important, valuable dragons. And that bothers me. Why aren’t I more suspicious? I can think logically of all these doubts and worries, but none of them seem to change the way I feel. That’s driving me crazy because I’ve always trusted my mind to figure things out for me when my gut is wrong.”

“All right,” Turtle said. “But the spell on you might not be on you. It might be on something else, like the earring Darkstalker is wearing, and it might apply to everyone around him.”

“Huh,” Qibli frowned. “Handn’t thought of that.” He tapped his claws. “Then what else can we do? Could you —” He hesitated. “You probably wouldn’t want to do this.”

“What?”

Qibli traced a crack in the cave wall with one of his claws. “Could… you turn me into an animus dragon, too?”

Turtle’s stomach jerked with a guilty lurch. “I shouldn’t,” he said. “You wouldn't want that. You think you do, but you really don't.”

“I’d be careful,” Qibli insisted. “First thing I’d do is protect my soul, I promise. And then I’d enchant something that would make sure I always did whatever would help the most dragons.” Qibli looked down at his claws. “I’d have done the same with Darkstalker’s scroll, if you were wondering.”

Turtle remembered the fight Winter and Qibli had over Darkstalker’s scroll. How badly Qibli wanted its power for himself. How he wanted to use that power to control others. It scared him — not as much as Darkstalker, though. But would Qibli using the scroll look anything like how Darkstalker is using his own powers?

“I… believe you,” Turtle lied, “but I still don’t think it’s a good idea.” Making him animus after all the things he said he would do worried him. It would also put Qibli in danger. Either way, Turtle would feel culpable for whatever happened after.

“Fine, that’s all right I guess,” Qibli sighed. “Not sure what all the worry is for but it’s your magic to waste.”

“It’s not—” Turtle started. “I mean, it’s not you. I’m not trying to—” 

“Don’t worry about it,” Qibli said, fiddling with his earring. “Maybe something else would make more sense anyway. Can you make me immune to animus spells?”

It was strange to be discussing his power openly with another dragon. Strange to be taking someone’s advice, and to know that the other dragon would never be able to stop wanting things from him, even if it was a friend like Qibli.

...

Chapter Text

Qibli had been toying with a lone banana in the prey center for nearly an hour. The tangled knot in his chest tightened with each passing second the stone slab beside him remained blank. His stomach growled in retaliation; he hadn't eaten yet. He couldn’t bring himself to eat, not while Moon was away with some ancient nightmare dragon. 

The familiar sharp prodding of an IceWing’s tail greeted Qibli’s flank. His impatient clawmate stood idle behind him, slowly clicking his talons against the ground.

"Are you done moping?" Winter said. "We have class soon."

"I'm not moping!" Qibli yelped. "I’m… admiring Mightyclaw's artwork." The banana had already splattered against the wall before he realized it left his talons. 

Winter glanced at the pale, fibrous debris caked on the wall with a puzzled look. "I'd hate to see what you would do with art not up to your standards," he sardonically droned. "But don't lie, I know the look."

"Of course you would, you broody sad-snout," Qibli grumbled, trying not to sound flustered. 

"Whilst I do indeed brood, that's besides the point," Winter huffed. "Now come, we're expected at history class."

"History?" Qibli barked, snapping up to all fours. "History isn't in some dark cavern or crusty old scroll, it's out here! We're living it, and we should be doing something about it!"

"Like what?" Winter said. "History already left us for the rainforest, we're just the footnotes." He again poked Qibli with his tail. "Now let's go before Tsunami gives us an earful."

Qibli trailed through the tunnels after him, trying not to look as glum as he felt about the idea of being a footnote.

The new history cave was still too dark and chilly for Qibli, but had the benefit of a skylight. That, and the cave’s entrance, were the only two exits, he noted. Scrolls haphazardly piled in the corners could also offer easy kindling. Though Sora was gone, her scorching legacy remained in Qibli’s mind, and he wondered what might have happened without Moon’s warning. 

Tamarin, the injured Rainwing, was already there, circling the cave cautiously, tapping the walls and sniffing the air.

“Anything we should worry about?” Qibli asked her. 

She shook her head. “Unless… do you smell smoke?”

...

♦    ♦    ♦

...

Where is Ostrich? Qibli wondered. She’s usually so excited for her classes, no matter how boring they are. How did she escape this torture?

“Now where were we?” Webs said in his maddeningly slow voice. “Ah yes, the five hundred years of transformation and resettling that followed the Scorching... ”

Thrush raised one of his talons and spoke without waiting to be called on. “Can you teach us about Darkstalker today, please?”

“Yes!” Changbai agreed. “He doesn’t seem anything like the dragon from our old stories. In that he did not immediately start murdering all of us.”

“Three moons,” said Boto, his claws turning lime green. “Is, uh... is he likely to do that?”

“Darkstalker,” Webs grumbled. “Wrecking my lesson plans. That’s over three thousand years after the Scorching! We’re not scheduled to get to that era for months.”

“But we need to know about him now,” Tamarin insisted.

“Because of the maybe murdering?” Boto said. “I think I agree yes, I would like to hear about that? Or more specifically about how not happening that is?”

“Why are we suddenly worried about old stories that are clearly wrong?” Winter sighed. “We can see what kind of dragon he is now. And I’d trust my own judgment over some old scroll.”

“Says the dragon whose sister turned out to be a murderer,” Sepia suddenly interjected.

Winter leaped to his feet and whirled toward her, his teeth bared. Qibli darted in between them, wings outstretched, ready to hold Winter back or help him fight, whatever turned out to be necessary.

“It was Sora who blew up the cave and killed two dragons, not Icicle!” Winter spat.

“But she did it because of what your sister did,” Sepia said stoutly.

“During a WAR!” Winter rebuked. “Was she supposed to roll over and let herself be killed instead?”

“Winter, to be fair,” Qibli pointed out, “we did stop her from murdering Starflight and Glory, so technically…”

“Stay out of this!” Winter growled at him.

“Now now,” Webs fretted, flapping his wings. “The war is behind us. Stopping this senseless fighting is the entire point of this school. So settle down, both of you.”

Winter sharply inhaled then held his breath for several seconds before slowly exhaling. He ignored Sepia’s presence as he sat himself down. Steady breaths cycled through his nostrils, loosening his scrunched snout.

Sepia had sat back down as well. She shot Winter a glowering squint then turned back to Webs.

“Thank you,” said Webs with a nod. “Now, since all of you insist, I’ll teach you everything I know about Darkstalker and the stories surrounding him.” Reluctantly, he rolled up the scroll on his desk and set it aside. 

As Webs began his ramblings, Qibli returned to his seat but caught Sunny peering into the classroom. She scanned the room and frowned slightly, then disappeared again.

That was worrying, Qibli thought, as Web’s diatribe careened back into his focus.

“—his friends Fathom and Clearsight conspired to stop him, stuffing him under a mountain and putting him to sleep forever.”

“Clearly not forever,” Changbai interrupted. 

“Right,” said Webs, a little flustered. “Until now. But he has emerged as a changed dragon, humbled and unambitious, who only wants to use his powers for good. So, nothing to worry about; can we get back to our actual lesson?”

“Um, wait,” said Qibli. “How exactly do we know he’s humbled and unambitious now?”

“Pardon my clawmate’s paranoia, Webs,” Winter chimed in, swatting his wing against Qibli. “He means well, I think, but he keeps asking these inane questions with obvious answers. And it’s not like Darkstalker is demanding he be made king of the NightWings.”

With impeccable comedic timing, the slate in Qibli’s pouch gave a little jump. He waited until no one was looking at him anymore, then pulled it out and hid it under his desk. He could see a message from Turtle appearing on the surface, agonizingly slowly.

DARKSTALKER WANTS TO BE NIGHTWING KING. NIGHTWINGS DECIDING WHAT THEY WANT.

Qibli nearly laughed, but he didn’t want to draw attention to the slate.

And also, it was too terrifying to be funny.

Tell me more, Turtle, he pleaded silently. What’s happening? How are the NightWings reacting? What about Glory? And Moon… does Moon want him to be king? Is she still acting like herself?

But nothing else appeared on the slate, and after a few minutes, Qibli had to accept that was Turtle’s entire message. He sighed.

...

♦    ♦    ♦

...

The others agreed eagerly, while Qibli stared down at his feet. It didn’t feel right to him that Darkstalker was already the first answer they were all reaching for… that Darkstalker seemed like the solution to all problems. 

He reached up to touch his earring. This was his protection. This was the only thing that ensured his mind was his own. Turtle had enchanted it for him, using the words Qibli had planned out.

But Darkstalker had sense Turtle casting this spell; that’s how they’d learned that Darkstalker would know any time an animus dragon used their magic. So Turtle couldn’t safely make any more protection spells, and if there was only going to be one, maybe someone else should have it. Maybe he should put the earring on Tsunami, or Sunny, or Starflight — on someone who could make a difference, if only they were seeing clearly.

Wait. There's someone who needs it even more than they do.

“I’ll be back soon,” he said, turning and hurrying out of the library. Qibli dashed through the tunnel that led to the sleeping caves. He skidded at an angle just before reaching his room, nearly slipping onto his side as he scurried in.

Winter eyed him from his bed with suspicion and concern and irritation in equal measure, then sighed.

“What do you want this time?” he said, his royal scowl growing yet another new wrinkle under his eyelids. “And please be quick about it, I’d like to get back to reading.”

Qibli examined the scroll in front of Winter from afar. No words were inked onto the parchment. Instead, there was a remarkably detailed but incomplete portrait of a NightWing sketched with charcoal. A tender smile adorned her features, with glittering silver scales next to the eyes. 

Qibli’s heart ached at the sight. He wasn’t sure what kind of face he made, but it probably tipped Winter off, and he frantically slid the drawing under his blanket. A flustered hiss rattled between Winter’s teeth.

“Reading… Right,” Qibli said wryly, cracking a thin smirk. “You’re just full of surprises, aren't you?”

“ANYWAY,” Winter shouted. “Did you only come here to stick your scruffy-snout where it isn't wanted?”

“Not only,” Qibli said, unclipping his amber earring. “I want you to try this on.” He pincered it between two claws and held it out in offering to the IceWing.

Winter got up from his bed with a reluctant drag and began to study it closely, inspecting every facet of the glimmering gemstone.

“Why?” Winter said cautiously as his eyes narrowed.

“I just think it’d look good on you,” Qibli offered with a charming grin, even slipping in a sly wink. “Not like you need any help doing that on your own.”

Winter made a face that Qibli couldn't immediately figure out — disgust or repulsion or embarrassment, and maybe the tiniest bit of gratitude. “It looks utterly hideous,” he said. “And it would absolutely clash with my scales.”

“Come on,” Qibli insisted. “It’ll only be for a little bit. Won't you do it for me?” He stepped forward and reached out to one of Winter’s ears.

“Especially not for you,” Winter growled, briskly swatting Qibli’s arm away with his wing.

“I’m only trying to help you.” Qibli continued his advancement undeterred, forcing Winter to backpedal.

“No! Get away!” Winter snapped. He ducked, then circled around Qibli, bolting out of their cave and down the corridor. The rapid clicking of his talons slowed as they echoed from further away.

Qibli peeked out into the hallway, meeting Winter’s apprehensive expression before he turned around and continued down the tunnel.

He didn’t follow. He could have tripped Winter then, while he was dazed, quickly clip the earring on him before the admittedly larger IceWing could shove him off. It could have worked, he had the dexterity in his talons to pull it off. Or it could have burned a bridge he was not yet willing to bet. Or he could have lost an arm to Winter’s frost breath. Either way, Qibli felt he had better options left. Maybe the earring would still work if Winter simply held it in his talons?

No, the spell I wrote used the word “wearer”.

Qibli briefly agonized over this astonishingly obvious oversight. Over how just one simple word could have such drastic effects over a spell. He should have known Winter would be a stubborn donkey, even over jewelry. But he wasn’t thinking about Winter at the time, only about himself.

Maybe it doesn’t have to be on the ear? You can wear an armband wrong but still say you’re ‘wearing’ it. Qibli couldn’t immediately refute his own argument, so he tucked the thought somewhere safe in his mind.

He also realized giving Winter his only earring would leave himself unprotected, and he quickly put it back on. Just the idea of willingly giving up his mind made him uneasy. If only I asked him to enchant two earrings at the same time, one for me and one for Winter, and made it so you just had to hold them.

He froze, struck by a sizzling lightning bolt of an idea.

Two… duplicates… Yes!

He darted down the tunnel to Turtle’s nearly empty cave. Turtle’s sleeping mat was on the floor of Qibli’s room from the night before, but Umber’s was still there. 

Under Umber’s mat was the satchel Turtle had left behind. 

And inside that satchel were three pieces of carved wood that slotted together to make a bowl.

Qibli slid them into place, his talons trembling.

He put the bowl gently on the floor and reached up to remove his earring. 

If this works, will Darkstalker sense it like he sensed Turtle’s spell?

...

♦    ♦    ♦

...

“He just doesn’t seem that sinister to me,” Peril added with a shrug.

“Because I can’t take the spell off you,” he pointed out. “Not yet, anyway. I’ll figure out a way.”

“We have to get one of these earrings to Glory, too,” Sunny said, touching the bowl lightly with one of her wings. “If only we could convince all the NightWings to wear them.”

“They won’t, not if they know what it is,” Qibli said. “It would mean giving up all the powers he’s given them. None of them will agree to that. But we can at least make enough for a lot of the RainWings.” And Moon… Moon should have one.

“I could fly to the rainforest,” he added. “But I’ll have to make more earrings first. Then I can take them to Glory and Moon and…” He trailed off, remembering Ostrich.

“Someone else can go to the rainforest and hand out the earrings,” Sunny said, putting one of her talons over his. “Just show us how to make more and we’ll take care of it. But you have to go after Ostrich.”

“I know,” he said.

“I found her with the dreamvisitor, although she was too shaken to hear me. But I could see that there were dragons in black hoods all around her, and she kept dreaming about their leader — a really tall SandWing with a hooked snout and tattoos of dragon skulls all down his neck.”

“Tattoos of dragon skulls,” Qibli said slowly. “Like… lots of them?”

“Too many to count,” Sunny answered. “The whole place gave me this dark, crowded, trapped feeling, and it had a smell I remember. I think she might be in the Scorpion Den.”

Qibli rubbed his neck as though he could feel the stab of the tattoo needle on himself. “She is,” he said. “And I know who has her.”

They all turned to stare at him. “Who?” Tsunami asked.

He took a deep breath, trying to speak past the claws that were closing around his throat.

“My grandfather.”