Chapter Text
Reflection was all Avid had time for now. He still quite clearly recalled the stake that had impaled him, and the looks on Owen and Pyro's faces as they'd driven it in.
Once, Avid had been a regular SilkWing. He'd lived in a small unremarkable village with his sister and best friend Elle, and they would go out in search of strange wanderings of the world.
They'd heard rumors, tales passed down from the seer Clearsight of horrid monsters that roamed the continent of Pyrrhia. Pantala, the home of the SilkWings, had no such beasts. No dragons waited in darkness to drain your blood, no moonlight could transform a loved one into a nightmare.
But there certainly were myths, legends that should have stayed legends. Avid and Elle had been about five, nearly old enough to live on their own and grow their wings. They'd braved wandering into the Poison Jungle. That was their first mistake. Their second… their second came when they stumbled across an unusual plant, thick vines that covered the ground, and Avid, being a young, naive, foolish dragonet, decided to eat some.
Which was why he was here, not dead, despite what the stake still lodged in his chest wanted to say.
He felt like it had been no more than a minute, a quick moment in time, but he knew deep within his heart that more time had passed, far more time than a minute. Which would explain the plant.
The very same plant he had eaten was now growing out of him as if he were soil. He could not see where it grew from— his head, maybe, definitely his chest— but he could feel it tightening around his arms and wings, almost like chains.
Also, he couldn't move. That was new as well, and what he assumed was a side effect of having plants growing from you. He felt a presence, nearby, perhaps the plant. Perhaps Owen had realized Avid was still alive, yet not alive, yet not dead, and had come to kill him a second time.
Then Avid stood up slowly, flexing his wings, his talons. So he could still move. Except it wasn't him moving, it was something else, because Avid could not move himself. The presence grew stronger now, an unfamiliar voice within his mind.
So this is Pyrrhia. Or rather… a cave… in Pyrrhia. That was where Avid was now, except he could not remember arriving there. He did not remember the journey. He only remembered right before, the way Elle had begun to speak weirdly and move erratically, the way he'd feared the stories from Pyrrhia had come to haunt Pantala.
The way he'd impaled her with a stake. The same way Owen and Pyro had staked him. The memories burned, but the memories were all Avid had now, it felt. Not even his own body would obey him.
—
Skylight considered herself a fairly reasonable dragon. She never spoke much, though when she did dragons considered it worth listening to.
She was one of the older hybrids in the small town of Sanctuary— rebuilt rather recently from the ruins of an abandoned town to be a safe space for hybrids— having survived the whole of the recent SandWing succession crisis and war, so many came to her for wisdom.
Yet she was pretty sure if she went back and claimed she saw a strange butterfly-like dragon with vines twisting out of him, she'd be labeled a lunatic.
But Skylight knew what she was seeing. She tried to study the dragon further, hoping perhaps if she could draw him (or rather, get an artist to draw him), she might be seen as more reasonable.
The dragon, from what she could see, was not particularly tall nor short, with brown scales and four rounded wings. Long antennae that quivered sat on his head, and he had unusual purple eyes. Perhaps a hybrid, maybe a MudWing-NightWing hybrid, or even a SkyWing-SeaWing hybrid such as herself. Maybe there was some RainWing blood in there. But nothing she could think of seemed likely, nothing could explain the wings or the antennae.
That also didn't explain the plant. It did not look like any plant Skylight had ever seen, though she was no expert in them. She made a mental note to find the town's best gardener later and ask about the plants.
Curiously, tentatively, she took a step forward, wincing as a twig snapped beneath one of her light blue talons. The dragon turned to stare at her, and Skylight debated the best course of escape.
Maybe, Skylight thought as she stared into the soulless eyes of the dragon, entranced by the unusual mossy shimmer within them, maybe she ought to talk to more than just a gardener and an artist. Maybe she should find that monster hunter, the one who didn't quite live in the village but also lived near enough to be considered a resident anyway. Pearl, if Skylight could remember names correctly.
"Oh, hello!" The dragon said suddenly. Skylight backed away slowly at the cheerfulness in the dragon's tone, the way the words sounded forced.
Skylight decided that her best course of action now was to flee. She was facing off against a dragon with unknown capabilities and also vines growing out of him, and quite frankly Skylight did not want to find out if the plants were lethal.
She continued backing away before leaping into the air and soaring off, grateful she'd inherited the natural swiftness of SkyWings. She flew away from the direction of Sanctuary, towards the mountains, hoping that if he followed he would both lose her and lose Sanctuary.
Skylight twisted her head back once to see if he followed, but saw nothing. Perhaps, she worried, the vines prevented his flight. Perhaps he was just too slow. Or perhaps he'd not even bothered to follow.
She slowed her own flying before landing in a particularly tall tree, catching her breath. First, she decided, before she talked to the gardener or the artist or the monster-hunter, she should tell the current head of the town, Prince Winter of the IceWings, of what she'd just seen. He was younger than her, and technically not the only one in charge, but the other dragons would certainly be of less help. Yes, that seemed like a great idea. Only, for all her wisdom, Skylight had forgotten the way back.