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Wings of Fire - Pyrrhia

Summary:

Pyrrhia :3

Comic page 85-100 will be done by July 21
Writing page 152-180 will be done by July 21

(151 pages written as of July 14 2025)
(84 pages turned into a comic as of July 14 2025)

Notes:

Written and Drawn by XyeH2O

WARNING: this fanfic is full of spoilers from the original Wings of Fire series, and may be subject to change due to ARC 4

(Prologue) Ocs I don't own:
Parakeet by u/Unicat-
Hoop pine by u/Old-Rip7421

This fanfic is unfinished for the next few years

Chapter 1: Prologue: Odd One Out

Summary:

In a world governed by Talons of Peace, hyrbid and original tribal monarchy, the story follows multiple storylines grappling with personal and political struggles. Cacti, a SandWing, becomes her tribe's advisor after her predecessor’s mysterious disappearance, facing overwhelming responsibilities and the mystery of her role. Abyss, secretly in love with Cacti, struggles with a moral dilemma: follow orders to destroy Nebula's male eggs or face severe consequences.

Parakeet risks her life searching for Nebula's missing eggs. Meanwhile, Nebula and Scorch, resentful parents with a mask of loving couple, bound by duty, despise their family and the system that reduced them to symbols of peace. Their family dynamics are fraught with hatred, except for Magma, who is hated for being different.

The story sets at a critical hatching in the SkyWing queen's palace, where five royal hybrids Sandstone, Hurricane, Aurora, Seapearl, and a male soon named Pyrrhia hatched 909 years later in Brightest Night in hopes of NightWing powers (though was not gained). Pyrrhia, a perfect hybrid royal but a male, was secretly ordered to be beheaded by Abyss. but did he?
Who is the Antagonist? Multiple connected stories unfold

Notes:

Page 10-12 needs a rewrite and redraw

Each page is a different POV [ Page ### (Character) ]

Written and Drawn by XyeH2O

Included OCs I don't own:

Parakeet by u/Unicat-
Hoop pine by u/Old-Rip7421

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

 

Finalized fanfiction cover art


Execution of an unwanted prince

PROLOGUE - ODD ONE OUT


Page 1 (Cacti)

Pyrrhia sat silently beneath the night sky. As the moon had an eerie glow across the continent. The wind and ocean waves were more turbulent as usual like cloudless a storm.
           The alignment of the three moons formed a bright spot in the sky nearly as luminous as the sun. Casting a shimmering light across all the land, it was almost as bright enough to rival the dawn. The horizon in all directions seemed to be glowing a blue gradient as if the sun was about to poke out in all directions.
           High above the mountains, SkyWing soldiers patrolled the craggy mountain peaks, their eyes scanning the ground, looking at even the faintest stirrings from below. The extra moonlight made it easier to spot any suspicious movement.
           Rumours have spread all over the Sky Kingdom that all Pyrrhia's queens will be gathering in the palace for a mysterious event; some SkyWings say it's another peace treaty or an unusual meeting. Many theorized it had something to do with the brightest night but it was unusual to choose the SkyWings palace for this. Scholars thought the Hybrid queen had something to do with this as she is known to be currently living with the SkyWing queen.
           In the year five thousand nine hundred twenty-one years after the Scorching. Nearly a thousand years into the future, the SkyWing Kingdom had grown vast and prosperous. The SkyWing arena, now a botanical park was covered in foliage.
           The streets near the palace were bustling even before dawn as merchants hurriedly set up their stalls with the air filled with scents of all kinds of roasted meat.  The rumour of all seven queens gathering in the SkyWing palace was spreading like wildfire throughout the kingdom.

Within the palace's royal hatchery, the atmosphere was thick with anticipation. The flames of nearby torches flickered, forming shadows dancing on the walls as dragons awaited the imminent hatching. At the edge of the chamber stood Cacti; her appearance was a typical SandWing in the room. Her eyes flicked to the SkyWing and IceWing guards stationed by the door.
           "Call the Hybrid Queen," she commanded with a low and firm purr, she raised her talons to act on what she seemed authoritative. "Tell her the clutch is about to hatch."
           The guards exchanged hesitant looks which flickered some fear in her, but it was expected for them to be wary of some random SandWing giving them orders. But to her shock, they nodded, gripping their spears before departing from the room to fulfil her order.
           Cacti exhaled softly, a mix of relief and surprise waved across her snout. She hadn't expected them to obey a random SandWing so readily; she was the SandWing representative, though, but how did they know?
           Her gaze went across the hatchery, searching for any hint of onlookers. The other dragons around her seemed to be either too engrossed in their conversation or too distracted. A pair of SeaWings and RainWings chatted quietly over their drinks or a nearby NightWing and IceWing gossiped in hushed tones, completely oblivious to Cacti's presence.

(Pyrrhia) Prologue: Odd one out - Page 1 (REDRAW)


Page 2 (Cacti)

I hope she's in the mood... Cacti thought, hesitating if calling Nebula was a bad choice or not. As the new SandWing advisor, she didn’t want her first day ruined by disturbing the queen unnecessarily. Besides, Nebula’s eggs were already trembling rumors said, which should have been cause for her to be present—yet she was nowhere to be found. What mother, especially one responsible for peace across seven tribes, wouldn’t be present at her own dragonet’s hatching? It gnawed at Cacti. This was unlike Nebula, who was known for her duty. Cacti shook her head, telling herself not to overthink it.
           I don’t understand why no one’s called her. It’s her dragonet's hatching. She wondered, glancing at the dragons gathered around her. The crowd buzzed with anticipation, but the queen’s absence was glaring. Her tail twitched, unsettled by the notion that none of these dragons had reached out to the Hybrid queen.
           Deciding to see the eggs herself, Cacti moved closer to the center. Coincidentally, they were being wheeled out of the vault in front of her as she arrived. SkyWings flanked the wooden wagon, carefully guiding it forward. The wagon itself was plated with gold, intricate designs covering its surface, It looked like it was worth more than Cacti's family home. These dragonets were clearly special, being the next in line to preserve peace across Pyrrhia. The importance of their roles wasn’t lost on her.
           There are five of them?! So many baby dragons! Cacti's eyes widened as she counted the eggs nestled in the wagon. Each egg had a different appearance, which seemed incredible for a single mother to lay. The first was icy and deep starry blue, the second a muddy, sandy color. The third had a reddish-green hue, the fourth a pearly blue gradient. The last egg, however, was so strangely colored that Cacti couldn’t guess its tribe. Though all the eggs were female, five heirs still felt like far too many.
           That could cause problems. She murmured, her snout wrinkled a little.
           Only one of them can become queen, but there are five. The idea of a potential succession war made her uneasy. It seemed unlikely, given that there hadn’t been one since the SandWing succession war almost one hundred years ago. Still, the possibility lingered. Cacti imagined Nebula choosing the most competent dragonet to inherit the throne, but even that decision carried its own risks.
           As a SandWing advisor, Cacti knew she would play a crucial role in guiding these dragonets, almost like a nanny. Not only would she advise Nebula, but she would also have to help shape the future queen. Choosing which of them to mentor would be up to her future self, assuming she didn’t get fired. Then, an unsettling thought crossed her mind.
           What happened to the previous SandWing advisor? The question hung in the air, sending a chill down her spine. She forced a smile, brushing the thought aside.
           Maybe they just got fired. she muttered, trying to reassure herself as she turned her attention back to the eggs.


Page 3 (Cacti)

          Her obsidian eyes fluttered for a moment, realizing she'd been dozing off when she was supposed to be working. She looked around and froze, noticing how dangerously close she was to the wagon. A SkyWing guard hissed at her, leaping out of the way as the wagon rumbled deeper into the hatchery. He snarled, fixing her with a fiery glare. All she could do was give him a rueful look with an awkward apology in her eyes.
           She finally shifted her attention from the eggs back to the door where the two guards she had ordered to leave were stationed. Above the exit, an open hallway loomed, and the cold wind rushed through the dragon-made fissures. The chill only deepened her dread; she feared she might have disturbed the Hybrid Queen. Perhaps she didn't want to attend the hatching after all. But why were there so many important dragons gathered if she were to be absent? It didn’t make sense to her.
           An idea struck her; she remembered hearing about other advisors from the other tribes. Determined to meet them and her queen. She began her journey through the room. It was somewhat crowded, but she pushed through with the urgency driving her forward. As she navigated the crowd, she unknowingly brushed lightly against a RainWing, momentarily startled by the contact but too focused to pause and apologize.
           The RainWing and her friend scowled at Cacti, their expressions darkening as she passed. The RainWing's scales shifted to a vibrant cherry red before fading back to their usual foliage hue and resumed their conversation. Fortunately, Cacti missed their intense glares as she pressed on, murmuring apologies to those she bumped into while making her way deeper into the crowd.
          As she finally reached the throne area, her eyes were drawn to three massive, gaping holes stretching out behind the thrones. The moons were just nearing the horizon, casting their final, fading light across the floor as dawn crept closer. In that perfect, fleeting moment, silvery beams poured down through the openings, illuminating an empty nest nestled at the center of it all. The moonlight pooled around the nest, as if marking a sacred place, ready for the eggs that hadn’t yet arrived.
          Cacti glanced around and spotted Queen Dreamcatcher of the NightWings, sitting silently on the NightWing throne. It felt strange to see her alone, without the RainWing queen by her side, especially given how closely their tribes were entwined. Cacti couldn't shake the thought. Maybe because Dreamcatcher was just a puppet queen, sent here to act on the RainWing queen’s behalf.
          She seemed unconcerned, letting her dark, pearlescent scales blend into the shadows as if there were no consequences for her actions.
           On the left side, Queen Seashell of the SeaWings was deep in conversation with one of her generals, their bioluminescent stripes flashing vigorously. Cacti couldn't understand a single word, she wish she did. Maybe non-SeaWings could also understand aquatic, she might try that.
          Queen Frazil of the IceWings listened quietly to the gossip shared by.. Queen Ventifact? of the SandWings? Her queen was already here, does she know her representative was replaced, does she know her name? The queen was the dragon she thought to revere all her life
          My queen is here? Cacti thought.
          Should I introduce myself to her? Of course I should! I am the representative of the SandWings... Right?... Now she have thought about it, she had no idea about the queen's personality, all she knows is that the queen has been ruling for a long time. Will she be harsh on me?
          Her thoughts were cut off by a bitter hiss, a dragon cleared her throat, and she could already smell the smoke a SkyWing usually spews out

(Pyrrhia) Prologue: Odd one out - Page 3 (Redraw)


Page 4 (Cacti)

          “Cacti, is it?” The SkyWing queen asked, her golden eyes narrowing as she fixed the SandWing with an appraising glare under a quizzical look. She gestured with curiosity on one polished claw.
           Cacti's scales stiffened. She didn’t dare to turn around, every nerve in her body was locked in place. The faint hiss of breath from the queen’s guards reached her ears, followed by the muted clink of their armor as they shifted.
          The SkyWing queen?! Cacti’s scales prickled as she realized how badly she handled SkyWings and how long she’d avoided them. When was the last time she’d spoken to one? Years ago, probably
           I'm not good around SkyWings! she thought, panicking. Back at Jade Mountain Academy, she’d been stuck with one in her winglet, and even the smallest interactions had been a disaster. Asking for something as simple as a pencil earned her a glare and a hiss.
          Angering the SkyWing queen was the last thing Cacti wanted. She didn’t want to provoke the queen of a hornet’s nest. The SkyWing guards grew impatient, and one of them snapped, thumping his spear against the stone. “SandWing! The SkyWing queen is talking to you!”
           A jolt of anxiety shot through her sandy scales. Despite the tightness in her chest, she forced herself to stay calm, turning slowly like a mouse creeping into the den of a prowling cat.
          Okay, greet her just as you practiced Cacti thought as she turned to face the SkyWing queen. Crimson was slightly larger than her, the bright crimson scales catching the moonlight. A golden ring adorned her wavy horns with an engraved name of her husband. A gold necklace wrapping around her chest decorated with sparkling gems of rubies, diamonds, emeralds. a clear sign of how wealthy and powerful she id. Cacti forced herself to remain calm, meeting the queen’s gaze despite her nerves.
          Cacti took a deep breath, steadying herself. She focused, trying to keep her nerves from spilling out. “Oh! Queen Crimson, I’m glad—”
           “Yes, yes, whatever.” Crimson interrupted, rolling her eyes and waving her claw dismissively, signaling Cacti to skip whatever rehearsed pleasantries the Talons of Peace had drilled into her.
           Though she kept her expression neutral, Cacti felt a flicker of annoyance. She had practiced her introduction so carefully, only to have it dismissed in an instant. But she knew better than to show it. After all, Crimson was a queen and there was nothing Cacti could do about it. Still, she couldn’t help but wish the queen would be a little more… gracious.
           “You’re the new SandWing advisor? I have some questions for you regarding my palace,” Crimson said, her voice sharp, almost as stinging as the barb on her tail.
           Cacti blinked, taken aback. It was an odd question, she knew almost nothing about the SkyWing palace, aside from the garden that had once been an arena and the sweeping architecture. It felt strange for the queen to ask a SandWing about it.

(Pyrrhia) Prologue: Odd one out - Page 4 (Redraw)


Page 5 (Crimson)

"What reasoning did Nebula's council have for choosing my palace to raise her dragonets?" Crimson asked, her yellow eyes narrowing at the SandWing. She paused, then added sharply, "Can you tell me that?"
           The SandWing hesitated, clearly unprepared for the question. It was obvious, and it irritated Crimson. How could someone in such an important role fail to prepare? Perhaps this was the perfect opportunity to push her vote in hopes to have the palace of Nebula's choice changed.
          "I wasn't there during the voting; I hadn't been the advisor yet," Cacti excused hesitantly. Her sheepish expression only irritated Crimson further. Was she really this clueless? She hadn't even bothered to put any effort into her response and seemed to have forgotten that the vote could still be changed.
           The whole situation had already given the queen a headache, moving in things, renovating her palace, and adjusting for Nebula's residence and now this SandWing was only making it harder to avoid even more complications.
           That's not much of an excuse stupid SandWing... Crimson thought, her frustration mounting. Deep down, she wished to tear apart the SandWing's fake, composed smile.
           "Perhaps... you could ask the previous SandWing advisor?..." Cacti added, her forked tongue flicking in and out.
           One of the guards muttered to Crimson, speaking too quietly for Cacti to hear. "My queen, Tumbleweed is assumed to be deceased"
           Was she playing a joke? Oblivious to her predecessor, and now asking her to question a dead SandWing, it was insulting. Crimson could feel her insides sizzle even more, but she forced herself to move on. Now you're asking me to question a dead dragon? Insolent SandWing!
           "Why not Frazil's palace or your queen's palace?" she pressed further.
           "Um... the IceWing palace is too cold, and the SandWing palace was too warm for her liking," Cacti replied cheerfully, though her smile quickly disappeared under Crimson's withering glare.
           "Did she tell you that? I asked for facts, not your intuition! Have you even met her?" Crimson scoffed.
           The SandWing's stuttering reply only deepened her irritation. She couldn't believe someone so unprepared held such a role. Crimson felt a surge of relief that Cacti wasn't her advisor, she was even more incompetent than scrawny Simmer. For a brief moment, Crimson pitied Ventifact, who had to manage such ineptitude. But, considering Ventifact's lack of queenly composure, she likely didn't bother dealing with Cacti at all.
           "Moons! How could the Talons of Peace choose such an incompetent SandWing? You're no better than your predecessor," Crimson snapped, covering her snout in exasperation.
           The way Cacti spoke made it clear she didn't even realize who she was addressing. She didn't act like she was speaking to a queen or perhaps because Crimson wasn't her queen. With a flick of their tails, Queen Crimson and her guards dismissed her, heading toward one of the throne.
           Cacti hadn't expected the SkyWing queen to test her instead of her own queen. She could only hope Queen Ventifact wouldn't do the same.

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Page 6 (Cacti)

Cacti wanted to say something but she forced herself to stay silent. It was probably the wisest move. Defending herself would only make Queen Crimson angrier, and the thought of what the SkyWing queen might do to her so publicly burned beneath her scales. Only a few SkyWing guards seemed to notice the queen's sharp words, their expressions unreadable. Hopefully, the gossip wouldn't spread. If it did, it would make her life in the palace even harder.
           Still, the sting of being reprimanded so publicly burned beneath her scales. Only a few SkyWing guards seemed to notice the queen's sharp words, their expressions unreadable. Hopefully, the gossip wouldn't spread. If it did, it would make her life in the palace even harder.
           Worse than my predecessor? Incompetent? The queen's words echoed relentlessly in her mind, sharp as cactus spines. They hurt more than she cared to admit, but Cacti knew she had to improve. She needed to become a better SandWing advisor. At least the queen didn't know about her blurry vision. If she did... well, Cacti didn't want to imagine how much worse this confrontation could have gone.
           I have to fix this—I have to fix this—I have to fix this.
           Her thoughts spiraled, trying to figure out a solution. Should she offer an apology gift to Queen Crimson? Would that even work? Did SkyWings value gifts, or mercy at all? Cacti barely knew anything about them, let alone what the queen liked. Probably her severed forked tongues and her groveling? No, she was overthinking it. Crimson might not be that bad.
           Or maybe she was. Cacti sighed, her shoulders drooping. So much for gaining the SkyWing queen's respect.
           Before she could delve deeper into self-pity, a sudden tap on her shoulder jolted her. Turning, she found herself face-to-face with a RainWing who was practically glowing with cheerfulness. Her scales shimmered in shades of buttery yellow and rich sunset orange, like dandelions kissed by the evening sun. Her pale, curly horns glinted faintly, and her tail swayed in a loose coil.
           For a moment, they simply stared at each other. The RainWing's gaze flitted to the nearby SkyWings before snapping back to Cacti, her magenta eyes sparkling with mischief. "SkyWings are such silly-grumps, aren't they?"
           Cacti blinked, startled by the boldness of the statement. Her mind, still tangled with confusion and worry, couldn't process the joke. She offered a weak, strained smile but said nothing.
           The RainWing tilted her head, looking faintly puzzled before breaking into another bright smile. Without hesitation, she clasped Cacti's talons in hers.
           "Hi! I'm Dandelion, RainWing advisor!" she chirped, shaking Cacti's talons with exuberance.
           "Um, hi," Cacti said, managing to make a smile.
           "I'm so glad to meet you first! It's sooo exciting to work with someone new!" Dandelion's voice bubbled with enthusiasm. Her magenta eyes sparkled even brighter in the moonlight as her scales shifted to a vibrant pink.
           Cacti stared at her, caught off guard by the RainWing's energy. The sheer joy radiating from her seemed out of place in this formal, tension-filled palace. Maybe Dandelion was just thrilled to have someone new to talk to after dealing with the other advisors
           "I'm Cacti. SandWing advisor," she replied, stumbling slightly over her words.
           "Cacti! Such a great name!" Dandelion beamed, giving her talons another enthusiastic shake.

(Pyrrhia) Prologue: Odd one out - Page 4 (Redraw)


Page 7 (Dandelion)

A new colleague meant a fresh, untouched relationship to explore. Someone different. Unlike the sluggish SandWing advisor she had tolerated for years, this one was a female and shy, by the looks of her. It was the perfect opportunity.
           "Already making friends with the new SandWing advisor, eh?"
           The voice cut through her thoughts. Dandelion's head snapped toward the source, her eyes narrowing as if caught off guard.
           H– How did this idiot found us?!? Her frills flickered with fiery streaks of orange, and Cacti watched in stunned silence, amazed at the sudden flare of emotion rippling through her scales.
           Cacti followed Dandelion's gaze and saw a NightWing stepping out of the shadows. His grin was wide, and his emerald eyes gleamed under the light. The silver band around his tail caught the light, it was the NightWing advisor.
           Her scales shifted from vibrant yellow to a gradient of red, like autumn leaves, pulsating with anger. She had forgotten how easily her emotions were displayed through her scales, visible to both Cacti and Thunder. But beneath her defensive anger, she didn't care if her emotions were exposed for everyone to see.
           "Youre getting a little hasty there, Why don't you share some interaction with her for me?" he purred.
           Dandelion's ruff flared, shifting to a rusty color. Her eyes turned a bitter shade of orange as she glared at him. The NightWing shoved her aside, and that was it. She wanted to spray him with some magical death spit. How dare he push her, let alone touch her? She was going to wash that scale a million times to cleanse it. *Idiot, don't you dare touch me!*
           But then, she realized it was too late. Thunder had already reached Cacti. How tragic.
           "Oh, by the moons, Thunder! Don't you dare flirt with her on her first day!" she snapped. "She doesn't even have her band yet!"
           Thunder simply ignored her, turning his attention to Cacti.
           "Hello there, I'm Thunder, NightWing advisor..." he said, gently clasping Cacti's talons. She smiled awkwardly, unsure whether to feel uncomfortable or flattered. "Wow, It's wonderful to see your first beautiful smile from you..." he added smoothly
           *That's not even a good compliment* It was hard to watch.
           "Ew! Leave her alone!" Dandelion interjected sharply, her voice laced with reproach.
           "Don't be upset, Dandelion. I only complimented her, no need to be jealous." Thunder chuckled.
           "I'M NOT JEALOUS!" she snapped, grabbing Thunder's wing in defiance. Thunder, still grinning, tried to shove her away.
           A SeaWing, an IceWing, and a SkyWing appeared, each with an advisor's band wrapped around their tail. Cacti figured they were the remaining advisors of Queen Nebula.
           "Both of you, get off of our new SandWing advisor! Where are your manners?" the light blue IceWing barked, his voice cutting through the chaos. But she and Thunder continued to argue.
           Out of the corner of her eye, Cacti noticed Bluefin waving at her, drawing her attention away. Grateful for the distraction, Dandelion left Cacti to the SeaWing and turned her focus back to Thunder.
           Now free to express her anger, she hissed at him, unable to even glance at his smug face without her scales flaring brighter.

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Page 8 (Verglas)

Verglas attempted to scold Thunder and Dandelion, but their bickering continued unabated. After several futile attempts to neutralize them, he gave up, feeling the heat of embarrassment rise as the SandWing watched. Determined to shift focus, he devised a plan to deemphasize the squabbling pair and pulled Cacti aside.
           His icicle-like spikes drooped with exhaustion, and he let out a cold sigh, his frosty breath forming a shimmering cloud. He paused for a moment, casting a lingering glance at the RainWing and NightWing advisors still arguing, before turning his weary gaze to Cacti.
           This council is giving me a headache.
           "I apologize on behalf of those two wayward lizards," he said with a polite bow, pressing his talons to his chest. The pastel blue underscales of his body sparkled like the inside of an ice cave on the brightest night. "Name's Verglas, IceWing advisor."
           Cacti nodded, seemingly accepting his apology, much to his relief. Dandelion and Thunder had already botched their first impressions, and he could only hope the rest of the council would do better.
           "This is Bluefin, the SeaWing advisor," Verglas said, pulling Bluefin forward and patting her on the spine webs.
           "Hi!" Bluefin chirped, her voice bright and cheerful.
           Verglas saw an opportunity to make her useful. "Bluefin, would you be kind enough to escort Cacti to her office later?"
           "Absolutely!" Bluefin beamed, her enthusiasm practically bouncing off her scales.
           "And this is Simmer, SkyWing advisor." Verglas gestured toward the older dragon, who trembled slightly as he stepped forward. "If you need advice from an expert, ask him. He's the oldest among us." Verglas added.
           "Hello," Simmer greeted, his voice quavering with age and weariness.
           "Hi! Nice to meet you!" Cacti replied warmly, offering a smile. Verglas felt a wave of relief as the introductions went smoothly.
           "And last but not least, Helonias, the MudWing adviso—" Verglas froze mid-sentence, his gaze sweeping the surroundings. Helonias was nowhere to be seen. She had been following him just moments ago.
           "Hold on, where's our MudWing advisor?" he asked, his tone tinged with exasperation.
           "I think she wandered off again," Bluefin remarked dryly. Verglas puffed out another icy breath in disappointed.
           "Seriously?" he muttered in frustration, glancing at Cacti, who still stood nearby. He turned away from the group, scanning the area as though he might spot Helonias.
           I can't with this council. Why can't anyone just stay in line? he thought, his teeth grinding in frustration. Why am I suddenly babysitting all these goofs?!
           When he turned back to the group, his face bore a strained, slightly manic smile. He refused to falter; he could handle this as well as Tumbleweed had, he had to.
           "You two stay put. I'll go find her. And don't make us look like fools in front of our new SandWing advisor," Verglas said.
           "Okie dokie!" Bluefin chirped with her usual enthusiasm. Verglas pushed past her, her smile fading as she watched him leave.

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Page 9 (Helonias) 

           Helonias glanced around nervously, her amber eyes scanning the other advisors. None of them seemed to notice her lingering at the edges, but she couldn't let her guard down, especially with IceWings around.
           Verglas, in particular, could pick her out in a crowd without even trying. The thought made her stomach churn. It was best to avoid them entirely.
           She turned back to her friends, eager to keep things light. Talking with them was far better than dealing with the others. Especially with the new SandWing advisor. Losing an advisor still stung, and she worried the replacement might hold it against her. For now, it was easier to stay away.
           "So, Thunder," Helonias began, her claws toying with the edge of her plate. "He accidentally compiled all the MudWing kingdom's harvesting data the other day. When I confronted him, he just looked at me and said, 'You're welcome,' like it was no big deal!"
           Her friends chuckled, one of them shaking their head. "He's obviously flirting with you."
           Helonias blinked, heat creeping up her neck. "Flirting? Really?" She let out a nervous laugh, glancing down at the frosting on her chiffon cake. "I mean, sure, he's got that smug, cunning look sometimes, but—"
           Then, Cold talons suddenly gripped her shoulders.
           She gasped, her plate slipping from her claws. The cake toppled to the floor with a splat, the plate shattering as it hit the stone. The murmuring crowd barely seemed to notice, but Helonias froze, her wings trembling slightly.
           Nearby, a few SkyWing maids rushed to clean up the mess, their movements brisk and efficient. Helonias didn't dare look back, her mind racing.
           "MY CHIFFON!" Helonias yelped, staring at the ruined cake on the floor.
           "Let's go, Helonias. We've got someone to welcome, remember?" Verglas said, his tone cold but not unkind.
           Helonias could only nod. Now that he was the leader of the council, it felt strange taking orders from the IceWing advisor. At first, she let him drag her forward, but eventually, she picked up her pace, falling into step beside him.
           "This is Helonias, MudWing advisor. Forgive her... behavior." Verglas introduced, his icy demeanor making her scales crawl.
           Helonias wanted to cover her snout in embarrassment, but her nerves were soon overshadowed by the chaos ahead.
           "IF ONLY YOU'D STOP NAGGING ME LIKE A FLY!" Dandelion's voice boomed over the chatter of the room, the SandWing's tail lashing behind her.
           "If only you'd stop being so easy to irritate," Thunder replied smoothly, his calm tone fanning the flames of her frustration.
           "EXCUSE ME?! EASY TO—" Dandelion snapped, her voice climbing an octave.
           "Yeah, you heard me." Thunder said, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Admit it, you're obsessed with me. You can't help reacting every time I talk."
           "For the moon's sake, both of you, stop!" he snapped, his frosty glare freezing them in place. Helonias stood awkwardly behind him, nodding in silent agreement.
           "Maybe we should get to know each other by asking questions!" Bluefin suggested, her tone bright and hopeful. "You go first, Cacti!"
           Cacti hesitated. "Is it okay if I ask about the previous SandWing advisor?"
           Bluefin's cheerful personality faltered. "Oh... Tumbleweed?" she said softly.
           The mention of the name sent a ripple through the group. Simmer's sharp glare shot toward Bluefin, silencing her immediately. The SeaWing advisor pinned her ears back.


Page 10 (Simmer)

Bluefin flinched under Simmer's glare, her snout twitching nervously. She hesitated, unsure how to proceed, but finally found her voice.
           "You see... Tumbleweed recently died from a sickness." she said uncertainly.
           "He was murdered!" Simmer interjected.
           "We don't know that yet," Bluefin countered. "He disappeared from his office and left a letter of resignation, mentioning an illness."
           "He wouldn't just leave a letter like that!" Simmer exclaimed in frustration. 
           Simmer caught Cacti's concerned glance, and his bitterness began to fade. He knew it was her first day, and he realized that by mentioning the death of the previous SandWing advisor, he might be planting fears that she could be next. His head drooped as he let out a sigh.
           I'm sorry..." He apologized, giving a rueful glance at Bluefin and Cacti, who both looked at each other in shared concern. "I just can't believe I'm never seeing him again..." He sorrowfully murmured.
           Cacti's thoughts of Tumbleweed faded as she looked at Simmer, a pang of sympathy welling up inside her. She wished she could ease the burden of this troubled SkyWing, hoping that helping him might improve her standing with his tribe. But she wasn't sure where to begin. The cool air of the hatchery brushed against her scales as she searched for the right words.
           "After decades of being with him, he would never suddenly disappear from my life..." Simmer continued with a trembling trembling. Catching Cacti's pitying look, he paused, trying to gather himself, wiping the dampness away from his eyes in a swift motion.
           Simmer envisioned Tumbleweed hunched over his reports on the SandWing kingdom, a familiar scene etched into his memory from their years of working together. Tumbleweed had always been the best SandWing to him.
          It's too late to confess now. he thought bitterly, the weight of the wistful thoughts pressing heavily on his heart.
           "It's okay, Simmer," Bluefin said, as she brushed her wings against his, in acceptance of his apology. "I pushed a little too hard, I'm sorry. I have no right to question a friendship older than me." She anxiously brushed her talons against her other arm.
          "Thank you, Bluefin. But I need to learn the truth." Simmer replied, his gaze shifting back to Cacti. His mind raced with questions. Why would someone want to kill the SandWing advisor? Was it something to do with the SandWing kingdom? Despite all his speculation, one thought stood out ominously: Cacti might be next.
           "In honor of Tumbleweed, you'll be our next good old 'grandpa' of the council" Bluefin said, attempting to lighten the mood.
           "Old? Sixty-two years isn't that old," Simmer boasted, a hint of pride in his voice. "You don't have to tell the whole council to treat me like an ancient lizard. Besides, Verglas seems like a fitting leader."
           "Well, if you say so," Bluefin replied, her smile tinged with resignation.
           The previous SandWing advisor disappeared mysteriously? she fretted, clenching her talons in frustration and worry. Her heart raced, thoughts racing as fear gripped her. What if I'm next?
           Shaking off the morbid thoughts, she decided to change the conversation's direction.
           "Let's change the topic" she said, shifting her gaze. "what's the weirdest interaction you've had as a Seawing advisor?"
           Her question brought a sparkle of excitement to Bluefin's eyes, and Simmer was relieved that Cacti didn't start panicking.
           Across the room, a NightWing watched them from a distance through the crowd, his gaze settled on Cacti in particular. He leaned in for a better view of her.

REDRAW IN PROGRESS

Page 10            Bluefin flinched under Simmer's glare, her snout twitching nervously. She hesitated, unsure how to proceed, but finally found her voice.            "You see... Tumbleweed recently died from a sickness." she said uncertainly.            "He was murdered!" Simmer interjected.            "We don't know that yet," Bluefin countered. "He disappeared from his office and left a letter of resignation, mentioning an illness."            "He wouldn't just leave a letter like that!" Simmer exclaimed in frustration.             Simmer caught Cacti's concerned glance, and his bitterness began to fade. He knew it was her first day, and he realized that by mentioning the death of the previous SandWing advisor, he might be planting fears that she could be next. His head drooped as he let out a sigh.            I'm sorry..." He apologized, giving a rueful glance at Bluefin and Cacti, who both looked at each other in shared concern. "I just can't believe I'm never seeing him again..." He sorrowfully murmured.            Cacti's thoughts of Tumbleweed faded as she looked at Simmer, a pang of sympathy welling up inside her. She wished she could ease the burden of this troubled SkyWing, hoping that helping him might improve her standing with his tribe. But she wasn't sure where to begin. The cool air of the hatchery brushed against her scales as she searched for the right words.            "After decades of being with him, he would never suddenly disappear from my life..." Simmer continued with a trembling trembling. Catching Cacti's pitying look, he paused, trying to gather himself, wiping the dampness away from his eyes in a swift motion.            Simmer envisioned Tumbleweed hunched over his reports on the SandWing kingdom, a familiar scene etched into his memory from their years of working together. Tumbleweed had always been the best SandWing to him.           It's too late to confess now. he thought bitterly, the weight of the wistful thoughts pressing heavily on his heart.            "It's okay, Simmer," Bluefin said, as she brushed her wings against his, in acceptance of his apology. "I pushed a little too hard, I'm sorry. I have no right to question a friendship older than me." She anxiously brushed her talons against her other arm.           "Thank you, Bluefin. But I need to learn the truth." Simmer replied, his gaze shifting back to Cacti. His mind raced with questions. Why would someone want to kill the SandWing advisor? Was it something to do with the SandWing kingdom? Despite all his speculation, one thought stood out ominously: Cacti might be next.            "In honor of Tumbleweed, you'll be our next good old 'grandpa' of the council" Bluefin said, attempting to lighten the mood.            "Old? Sixty-two years isn't that old," Simmer boasted, a hint of pride in his voice. "You don't have to tell the whole council to treat me like an ancient lizard. Besides, Verglas seems like a fitting leader."            "Well, if you say so," Bluefin replied, her smile tinged with resignation.              Cacti noticed Simmer's worried expression when he glanced at her, and suddenly she realized something unsettling.             The previous SandWing advisor disappeared mysteriously? she fretted, clenching her talons in frustration and worry. Her heart raced, thoughts racing as fear gripped her. What if I'm next?            Shaking off the morbid thoughts, she decided to change the conversation's direction.            "Let's change the topic" she said, shifting her gaze. "what's the weirdest interaction you've had as a Seawing advisor?"            Her question brought a sparkle of excitement to Bluefin's eyes, and Simmer was relieved that Cacti didn't start panicking.            Across the room, a NightWing watched them from a distance through the crowd, his gaze settled on Cacti in particular. His blue eyes sparkled like a puppy seeing its owner after a long time. He leaned in for a better view of her.


Page 11 (Abyss)

Abyss spotted Cacti across the room, and his heart skipped a beat.
           'Cacti is here?' He couldn't believe it at first, but there she was, unmistakable. He watched her closely, his pulse quickening when she glanced in his direction. Panicking, he ducked down like a meerkat, hoping she hadn't seen him.
         He crouched low, trying to disappear into the crowd while keeping his eyes on her. In his talons, he clutched a small box wrapped in delicate blue silk, tied with a white ribbon. A letter was tucked beneath the bow, and the gift felt heavy with meaning in his hands.
          Cacti is really here! Now's my chance! excitement mingling with nerves. It had only been a few months since they'd last seen each other at Jade Mountain Academy, but to Abyss, it felt interminable.
         He glanced between the gift and Cacti, trying to summon the courage to approach her. But the thought of handing it to her in front of everyone made his scales crawl. What if this just embarrasses her in front of everyone? Instead, he stayed rooted to the spot, blending into the shadows of the hatchery, waiting for the right moment.
           His claws traced the smooth fabric of the box, wondering if the gift would even make her happy. How would she react to such a personal gesture from a NightWing she likely barely remembered? Anxiety gnawed at him, drowning out any clear answer.
           Does she even remember me? The NightWing in our winglet? Doubt crept in as he watched her, his heart pounding with uncertainty. Abyss worried she might not even recall his name, or worse, his face. But he held onto the hope that Cacti still remembered him. She'd always been good at remembering her clawmates.
           During their time at the Academy, their interactions had been few and shallow, but they had meant a lot to Abyss. Deep down, he found a strange comfort in Cacti's presence—a warmth he couldn't quite explain. He'd wanted to tell her, but the attention she received from other SandWings and her close friendships had kept him silent.
           Whenever Abyss tried to focus on scrolls about math or Starflight's research, he would find himself distracted by Cacti's voice. A soothing, yet distracting, presence. Despite his feelings, he had never acted on his feelings, convinced that she had better friends. Friends more deserving of her time and attention.
           But now, with the Academy behind them, he hoped things might be different now that she needed a friend in her adulthood. Perhaps he could be that friend, or maybe something more. He looked down at the gift, uncertainty gnawing at him.
          Would she even like it, especially from a NightWing? The doubt lingered.
          Then he waited for Cacti to be left alone by the two dragons, but their conversation seemed endless. Impatience gnawed at him, yet the fear of embarrassing himself in front of Cacti held him back. He knew he had to wait if he wanted to give the gift to his old clawmate—or rather, his crush.
          This feels so strange. Abyss thought, his emotions a tangled swirl of guilt, disgust, and worry. He wasn't sure how intertribal love was viewed in Pyrrhia, or within his own family, though he wasn't around them often. The uncertainty made him shift uncomfortably, his mind wrestling with conflicting thoughts.
            I don't even know if she has feelings for me. What if she doesn't? What if she finds this whole thing disturbing? His thoughts raced. He only wanted to be friends with her since we were dragonets. How could she find that weird. Is it because he's a NightWing?

          "Hey!" a clear voice suddenly called out. Abyss and his NightWing colleagues turned toward the sound. He quickly hid the gift behind his back, securing it inside a basket attached to his spine. His heart raced, hoping no one noticed his nervous movements. noticed his nervous movements.

 His heart raced as he hoped no one noticed his nervous movements


Page 12 (Parakeet)

          Abyss looked over and saw a Skywing confronting his colleagues. Nightshadow stood protectively in front of Volition, while Striver, Abyss's oldest colleague, took a step back, frantically clutching his scrolls into his old talons.
          He observed them from a spot not far away. When the SkyWing bared her fangs, he realized. This was not an ordinary Skywing, it was a SkyWing-RainWing hybrid, and to make matters worse, he recognized her. Someone who he feared would find out what him and his colleagues did.
          Parakeet was the closest to uncovering the truth. Abyss, Volition, Nightshadow, and Striver knew this. The fear of her discovery made them all uneasy as they began to sweat. Abyss curled his tail and clutched the floor tightly. Parakeet...
          "Why would NightWings be here?" Parakeet demanded. A very quiet gulp came from Volition, with beads of sweat forming on her brow. She hesitated, knowing that if she phrased something wrong, it would only make Parakeet more suspicious, and she, in turn, would alert the others, who were Volition was certain, too incompetent to manage it by themselves, first by words, and then, by informing Queen Nebula and letting the queen handle Parakeet if persuasion doesn't work
          "So NightWings are not allowed to attend this event? Even Queen Dreamcatcher?" Volition countered as she flicked her tail at the NightWing queen, her violet eyes glaring back at Parakeet to look more annoyed than scared.
          "Oh, it's not about that," Parakeet defended. "You four were tasked with monitoring Queen Nebula's eggs. I gave you nine, but only five returned—all females. Now all of the male eggs are dead? Something is off..."
          "We did our job. Leave us alone," Nightshadow dismissed, trying to shoo Parakeet away.
          Parakeet hissed at his dismissive behavior, baring her fangs. Her eyes flashed with anger and determination, unwilling to be brushed off so easily.
          "My job is to protect the eggs. I think you did something to all of Queen Nebula's male heirs" Parakeet hissed, Her eyes darted at Abyss, Volition, Nightshadow, and Striver.
          "You won't even turn over the dead male eggs for a proper burial. Don't you think that's disrespectful?" She pressed, scrutinizing every small movement the NightWings made.
          "We were asked to bury the dead eggs ourselves. Ask Queen Nebula and stop being such a delusional hybrid." Nightshadow retorted, glancing abruptly at Abyss to ensure he wouldn't spill the truth. Abyss, curled up like a statue, met his gaze with a desperate look that screamed, "Don't tell!"
          Parakeet's uniquely shaped pupils narrowed at him, her denser scales and the membrane of wings, displayed a gradient from yellow-orange to red. Even her irises shared this vibrant gradient, a trait inherited from her RainWing parent.
          Abyss backed off, knowing Nightshadow was bluffing. Guilt weighed heavily on him, torn between revealing the truth and protecting everyone involved. He knew that telling the truth would worsen the situation for himself, his family, his colleagues, and even Parakeet. So, he stayed silent, watching the tense exchange from the two.
          "Delusional HYBRID?!" Parakeet snapped, baring her fangs, ready to unleash her magical death spit.
          "Call me that again and I'll spray you." She growled. The NightWings chuckled, except for Abyss, who remained silent with a worried expression, covering himself with his starry wings.
          "Oh, we know RainWing hybrids have weak venoms." Nightshadow mocked with a sneer. Parakeet's fangs were dripping with steaming venom that stretched the air.
          "Your face will melt under the boiling-hot venom," Parakeet warned, her voice trembling with fury.
          "You don't have the guts to do that, especially with such a big audience," Nightshadow taunted, flicking his tail toward the dragons in the hatchery.

          "You don't have the guts to do that, especially with such a big audience," Nightshadow taunted, flicking his tail toward the dragons in the hatchery


Page 13 (Abyss)

           "It won't be too long until I find out the truth," Parakeet vowed.
           "Yeah, right," Volition sneered sarcastically. "Like you have anything against us." Parakeet tried to lash out with her claws, but Volition darted aside before subtly nodding at someone behind Parakeet.
           Parakeet turned at Volition's odd movement, her eyes widening as she spotted two NightWing guards. The clank of their armor echoed, and their spears gleamed ominously. They nodded at Volition, who smiled and pointed at her. Before she could speak, the guards approached in unison, gripping her shoulders firmly. Her wings instinctively flared, ready to lift her toward the vines above.
           "WAIT!" she yelped as the guards closed in, their talons gripping Parakeet's wings tightly. She struggled against their hold as they forcibly pulled her away from Volition.
           "What did I do?" she blurted as she was dragged across the rough floor, her scales scraping painfully against the ground. She was dragged on her back with her front talons scrabbling desperately for something to grab onto.
           One of the NightWings at her side had his face hidden behind sturdy armor, crafted to withstand even the deadliest RainWing venom. Jagged scars snaked through his glossy black scales, a testament to past battles.
           "Harassing those NightWings." He accused, his voice a low, menacing hiss.
           "I wasn't—" Parakeet started, but a rough shove from the NightWing guard silenced her. He glared, growling low, his maroon eyes flashing with irritation. The other one had a jagged scar from his forehead down to his snout marked his battle experience. Fighting them was a terrible idea; even with her RainWing venom, she stood no chance.
           With a rueful glance, Parakeet surrendered to the guards' grip, allowing them to lead her away.
           Parakeet shot Volition a defiant glare before the crowd swallowed them. The four NightWings sighed in relief as the SkyWing-RainWing hybrid was taken away.
           "Good riddance," Nightshadow muttered. Volition, relieved, clicked her tongue disapprovingly before leaving.
           "We must do something," he murmured to Nightshadow, who was lost in thought. Striver snapped his talons, startling Nightshadow into meeting his worried gaze.
           "We'll inform Queen Nebula. Parakeet will be dealt with. She won't remain a problem for long." Nightshadow said. Abyss immediately understood what they meant.
           There must be a better way to lure her away; killing her might not be the only choice. Abyss thought
           Ask Nebula? Why would she condemn a dragon into silence? Out of all people, Queen Nebula who was the kind, the queen who he looked up to. The queen who kept the peace amongst all seven queens of Pyrrhia. It was almost implausible to him, it was almost as if deducing this felt treasonous.
           "Wait wait wait," he blurted, fidgeting with his talons, squeezing them until it hurt, his scales shriveling as his body hesitated to defy Nightshadow, after all the favors he had done for him.
           Striver and Nightshadow glanced at him. He remained silent for a few moments before finally suggesting his alternative idea.
          "Maybe I can convince her that we're innocent, no one needs to be condemned to silence!" He protested with a sheepish grin. widening his eyes at Nightshadow, who sighed with a compunctious look. Striver scoffed, scurrying away with his scrolls. Nightshadow patted his shoulder. Abyss lurched at the contact of Nightshadow's talons.
           "Look, I understand. It's bad, but it's necessary, for the sake of us," Nightshadow said, brushing Abyss's wings reassuringly against his, dipping his head down to his level. Abyss gave him a look of repudiation "You don't have to punish yourself for this."

 Abyss kept on looking away from him repudiating what he said, Nightshadow nodded in acknowledgement and promptly left


Page 14

             Parakeet murmured curses at Volition and Nightshadow, the two NightWing guards dragged her across the cold floor, She began scraping against the surface of the ground until the guards hoisted her up. Initially, she hissed and struggled against their grip, but noticing the many dragons in the room, she reluctantly stopped, not wanting to cause a scene

          The NightWing guards dragged Parakeet across the room, away from Volition and Nightshadow. They flung her to the floor with a rough shove. Her head hit the ground hard, pain shooting through her skull. She squeezed her eyes shut, a grimace etched across her face. One guard pinned her down with his talons, while the other, his dark green eyes gleaming, leaned in close.

           "Try not to approach them, Last warning." he warned, his breath hot against her ear like he was about to burn her to a crisp. Even with the injury in his throat, he could still breathe an inferno to her face. With a sudden jerk, he lifted his head up and gave the other guard a dismissive nod. The scratch-faced guard released his grip to Parakeet and they both left the scene. After a few moments of reeling, she finally sprang to her feet. And gave a seething glare at the back of the NightWing guards
           From the vine-draped ceiling, reserved for the RainWing guests, an indigo-violet RainWing shifted to a greyish hue, blending seamlessly with the dimly lit room. Hoop Pine scanned the nearby RainWings resting on the vines, ensuring no one was watching him. With a swift, silent dive, he descended like an owl swooping down on its prey. Hoop Pine landed gracefully beside Parakeet, his colors shifting back to their original vibrant shades. He cast a disdainful look at Parakeet, his eyes silently branding her as "pathetic".

           "You find anything?" Hoop Pine asked furtively, his acerbic tone underscored by a hint of impatience. Parakeet shot him an abrupt, withering glare before resuming her task of dusting off her scales, brushing vigorously to remove every particle of dust from her beautiful, gradient-hued wings.
          Parakeet trotted to the meticulously woven lockers, crafted from delicate bamboo and rattan and adorned with intricate patterns. These lockers were for storing the royal hatchery caretakers' belongings. She unlocked her own slot. Inside, she found a nurse's hat adorned with an egg emblem, she reached her claws in and picked it out gently, adjusting it before she wore it around her horns to prevent it from slipping down. Next to the hat, she took a large journal labeled Parakeet's Journal on the cover.
           "Nothing important, same as ever," Parakeet replied with a sigh, her bitter tone pricking Hoop Pine's pride but not enough to damage his ego. Hoop Pine scoffed, his impatience clear in his growl. "Then I can't aid you with information anymore"

             "But you promised to help me," Parakeet recalled, her eyes narrowing at Hoop Pine. He couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy at her unique pupil, unable to stop staring at it. Trying to outshine her, he shifted his colors to appear more vibrant prideful hue. Unlike Parakeet, a RainWing hybrid who couldn't shift her own scales, Hoop Pine reveled in his ability to change hues at will. No wonder she felt like an outcast in the RainWing kingdom. Her gradient scales and fangs also made her an outsider in the SkyWing kingdom. Hoop Pine was thankful he's a pure RainWing and not a pathetic, desperate hybrid.
             "Well, if they were putrid MudWings, I might've dedicated more effort to this little mission of yours," Hoop Pine protested, elegantly clawing off the leftover chewed bits of fruit from his talons. "Is this even worth funding your little carpentry career?"

             "Of course it is, and I'll do it myself. I don't need you anymore" Parakeet sneered still fixed to her journal. Hoop Pine's blue eyes followed her movements, his interest piqued as he looked at Parakeet's animus touched journal, then back at Parakeet.

            "Then have fun getting yourself killed," Hoop Pine uttered. Parakeet rolled her eyes and shot him an abrupt snarl and scowl. Hoop Pine shrugged, giving her a smug look of disdain for her ignorance, then flew back up to the resting vines with the other RainWings.

          Parakeet always loathed his schadenfreude. She couldn't fathom how she ended up with him, out of all of the RainWings in Pyrrhia, she ended up working with him for this mission. Perhaps out of desperation. Bitterly tapping her talons against the notebook clutched to her chest, she unlocked it and flipped through hundreds of pages to find the last entry—a journal she'd started years ago, almost filled to the brim.
          Retrieving the attached pencil, she began summarizing today's events as she'd committed herself to do, documenting her life word by word. She noted Hoop Pine's incompetence and labeled him "untrustworthy," then recorded "No progress" on her mission to uncover the truth about Queen Nebula's mysteriously missing male eggs and their inexplicable deaths. Suspicion gnawed at her as she filled the page to its edges.
         When the page was full of inked words, Parakeet turned her gaze to the leather back cover of the journal. Suddenly, it gleamed briefly, magically creating a clean, sleek page ready for her to write on. The journal, animus-touched, replenished its pages whenever she filled them. She wondered how many more pages she could write before the journal became too cumbersome to carry.

           "Parakeet! Let's start moving the eggs" Her coworkers' urgent call snapped her from her diary. With a sigh, she closed the magical journal and glanced over at them. Several SkyWing hatchery workers were carefully maneuvering Queen Nebula's eggs, guiding the nest towards the central stage where all seven queens could observe under the moonlit sky. The eggs trembled faintly—a sign that it was time for them to hatch.
          "In a minute" Parakeet called back. Her coworker shook her head, and signaled her to hurry. Parakeet swiftly stowed her diary in her locker and returned to her duties.

 Parakeet swiftly stowed her diary in her locker and returned to her duties


Page 15

           The crowd's murmur turned to a hush as the eggs were carefully transported to the event's center. Four SkyWings hatchery workers, led by one of their own, coordinated the delicate transport of the soft nest. Among them, Parakeet remained focused and unfazed by the task.
           Despite her blurry vision, Cacti could see the eggs trembling, signaling their imminent hatching. She glanced around, searching for the hybrid queen, but she was nowhere to be found, still absent at her own dragonet's hatching.
The crowd stepped aside to make way for the hatchery workers carrying the fragile nest.

         "Wait, why are they moving the nest already?" Cacti pondered. Bluefin and Simmer exchanged bewildered looks, unsure of what to say.
         She glanced behind her and saw Verglas sandwiched between Thunder and Dandelion like a great icy wall, keeping the two sides from clawing at each other.

            "I feel like we missed to do something," Verglas muttered, shoving Thunder and Dandelion away from each other. Helonias' eyes lit up as if she remembered what Verglas was alluding to.

            "Oh no! We forgot to call Queen Nebula!" Helonias blurted out. "It's her daughter's hatching!" Dandelion gave her a condescending look.

           Dandelion shot her a disapproving glance. Obviously, she thought.

           "We're in serious trouble if she misses the hatching!" Helonias continued, her wings quivering with anxiety. "She wouldn't have named them, and the seven queens will have waited for nothing!"

             The other advisors listened in shock as Helonias' words sank in. They exchanged anxious glances, each hoping someone else had a solution. The eggs, nestled precariously in the nest, trembled more violently with each passing moment while the four SkyWings carried it carefully to the center of the event.
            Simmer stepped forward, his usual calm demeanor faltering.

          "I'll find Queen Nebula," he declared, a rare edge of urgency in his voice.

           "I know this palace inside and out, and I can track her down where she's most likely to be."

          Verglas darted forward, blocking Simmer's path with sudden resolve.

          "It should be me," he said sharply.

          "Nebula might objurgate you again; she'll accuse you of dawdling instead of calling her sooner."

          His eyes held a determined glint. Verglas, well aware of the IceWings' harsh expectations, was unwilling to let Simmer face unjust rebuke. He wanted to prove himself as a worthy leader of the council.
         Simmer gently pushed Verglas aside, but Verglas held his talons with careful, pleading hands. The younger dragon's eyes were filled with concern, but Simmer's gaze remained steady and resolute.

          "I'll be okay," Simmer said softly, his voice carrying a hint of melancholy.

          "We're expendable anyway." He murmured, his eyes shifting to Cacti, Tumbleweed's replacement. Seeing her face brought a flood of memories of Tumbleweed.

          Everyone glanced at her, their eyes briefly lingering on Cacti as if they were expecting to see someone else—a face they were used to seeing but now lost. Tumbleweed, had been a familiar presence in their meetings, his absence now a stark reminder of the void left behind.
           The reference to Tumbleweed's death lingered in the air, creating a heavy silence. Cacti watched, grasping the depth of Simmer's words. The sadness in his voice and the weariness in his eyes suggested that Tumbleweed's loss had deeply affected him. No one should feel so disposable, and Cacti felt a deep sense of empathy for Simmer's burden.

           Verglas gave up and let Simmer go, his gaze following him with a somber expression as Simmer approached the exit.

           Meanwhile, Dandelions finally got a hold of Thunder. The NightWing advisor gulped nervously as Dandelion fixed him with a piercing glare.

 


Page 16

           The advisors exchanged nervous glances, avoiding each other's eyes. Helonias' talons twitched anxiously, tapping together as the ground began to tremble beneath them. Dust and pebbles shivered, vibrating more intensely with each passing moment. Helonias crouched, pressing her talons into the floor, trying to sense the deepening pulse of the force drawing nearer.

           Suddenly, down the hall, Helonias overheard three distinct voices—each regal, tinged with laughter and gossip. One was cool and mysterious, like a night breeze. Another was bright and clear, like sunlight filtering through the canopy. The third was deep and resonant, carrying ancient wisdom. Their words flowed together like a melody, while the steady footsteps of their guards beat like a drum, a reminder of their authority.

           She straightened abruptly, her gaze locking with Verglas, who mirrored her alarm. In an unspoken agreement, they both turned toward Simmer, who was already reaching for the exit. A surge of panic propelled Verglas and Helonias forward as they rushed to intercept him.

         "WAIT!" Verglas' shout cut through the tension.

         "STOP!" Helonias' voice rang out, filled with a desperate edge.

          Successfully, they grasped Simmer's shoulders, but froze in place as three powerful figures entered the hatchery. Queen Nebula swept in with an air of effortless grace, flanked by Queen Lilypad and Queen Rosemary. The laughter and lively chatter filled the corridors long before the imposing trio stepped into the chamber.

           A MudWing guard stood firm between the advisors and queens. His armor flexed easily with each movement, shielding almost his entire body. His spear was poised before the advisors, a clear, unspoken warning to keep their distance.

           "By the way, Nebula, thank you for securing that storehouse between my kingdom and the SkyWings. I believe the malnutrition among my subjects will finally begin to dwindle," Queen Lilypad remarked, her diamond pendant gleaming softly as it hung from her horns.

           "Oh, it was just a minor negotiation with Queen Crimson. Nothing to fuss over." Queen Nebula mused, her golden crown gleaming under the light, the tallest of its three spikes standing out. Her barbels swayed as she spoke, her frills relaxed in calm indifference.

           "Well, I do hope you'll smooth over the tension between my kingdom and those pesky NightWing skirmishes. You'd do that for me, wouldn't you, bestie?" Queen Rosemary teased, nudging Nebula's elbow with a playful grin. Her head was adorned with a delicate ring of curled chenille flowers, matching the necklace draped across her chest in soft, floral loops. "You're part NightWing royal after all."

           "Of course, bestie. I'll make sure to handle that for you as well." Nebula said with a warm smile. She paused, stepping behind the queen as she continued her steady stride, and leaned in to whisper.

           "Oh, by the way, congratulations on the hatching of your daughters! If there's a MudWing hybrid royal, I'd suggest naming it Sandstone," Lilypad proposed.

           "And since I'm your second cousin, I should also get to name one of your daughters! If you have a RainWing hybrid royal, let me name it Seapearl." Rosemary chimed in.

           Lilypad gave her a puzzled yet amused look. "Isn't that a SeaWing name?"

           Rosemary laughed lightly. "By the looks of it, Nebula is going to have a SeaWing-Rainwing daughter!"

           Lilypad raised an eyebrow, still bemused. "You do have a point. I suppose it could be a name with a bit of flair."

           The two queens went on with their little conversations as Nebula fell behind, who waved regal.

           "Make sure to call your husband as well, Nebula!" Lilypad said. "I bet he's excited to see his daughters!" Rosemary added.

           Nebula's mind darkened, and her expression turned bitter as she realized who the father was—her husband. She blinked, taking a moment to compose herself before shaking off the unsettling thoughts.

           He'd rather disembowel himself. Nebula thought, her bitterness tinged with dark humor.

           Nebula turned to her advisors, who were lined up with Cacti slightly behind them.

           "Cacti, why don't you step forward? I'd like to see what my new SandWing advisor looks like. Don't be afraid, I won't bite," Nebula said, her gaze sharp and her voice laced with a chilling edge.

           Cacti instantly froze as the other advisors cleared away, exposing her to the queen. She stood there stoically, unsure how to respond.

           She already knows my name! Cacti worried, a knot of anxiety tightening in her chest.


Page 17

           Cacti cautiously approached Queen Nebula, her claws barely brushing the ground as she slinked forward. She dipped her head low in respect, coiling her barbed tail tightly around her talons. Her scales shimmered faintly under the looming gaze of the queen. She shifted her snout at the other advisors, their eyes narrowed with apprehension. The air felt tense, as though the very walls of the chamber were watching, waiting for what would unfold.

           “I trust the Talons of Peace chose the right SandWing.” Queen Nebula murmured, letting out a dangerous purr. She extended a talon, gently tracing the delicate sail along Cacti’s neck. The touch sent a shiver down her spine. Her muscles tightened beneath her scales, though she stood firm, willing her nerves to settle. She kept her gaze forward, avoiding Nebula’s piercing eyes, yet their weight pressed down on her, probing for any hint of weakness.

           “I'm perfectly qualified to be the SandWing advisor, I’ve studied under—” Cacti blurted, her voice trembling despite her best efforts to sound firm. Her wings shifted uneasily.

           Nebula’s impatience flared as she lifted a talon, silently ordering her to stop. “If that's the case. Then tell me; what is the literacy rate among the SandWings? And give it to me in percentage.”

           Cacti hesitated for a moment, her eyes flicking toward the other advisors, all of whom seemed perplexed by the situation. Bluefin, however, offered a small, encouraging gesture, her talons curling in a subtle sign of support. Verglas gave a firm nod of approval, and Helonias followed suit with a brief incline of her head. The collective reassurance of the other advisors bolstered Cacti’s resolve, allowing her to steady her frayed nerves.

           “Uh… from what I’ve gathered, I believe it’s around sixty-seven percent.” Cacti said, her voice brightening as she finally regained some confidence. But the glimmer of hope quickly dimmed when Nebula’s eyes hardened, narrowing with thinly veiled contempt, her expression cold and unreadable like an approaching storm.

           “Incorrect,” Queen Nebula said, her voice laced with disappointment.

           “The correct figure is sixty-seven point ninety-five. Round that up, and it becomes sixty-eight percent.” She shot Cacti a stern glance, as if to convey her impatience with such minor mistakes. Her tone remained unwavering as she continued, “From now on, make sure your data is as precise as possible, dear.”

           Cacti's snout drooped slightly, her wings sagging as if seeking comfort from the weight of her own disappointment. Queen Nebula's gaze shifted to the advisors behind her, who wore expressions of shock and sympathy for Cacti. However, their reactions halted abruptly under the force of Nebula's stern look.

           “As for the rest of you, return to your respective queens until my daughters have hatched.” she commanded. The advisors scrambled quickly through the crowd, which watched them with curious eyes. Cacti was the last to move, and as she did, Nebula cast a sharp, lingering glance at her before letting out a disdainful scoff and walking away.


Page 18

           The other advisors dispersed towards their respective queens, leaving Cacti lingering in embarrassment. Bluefin approached with a compassionate gaze, gently nudging her wings to hers and offering to navigate the throng together.

           Nebula shot a distrustful glance over her shoulder, focusing particularly on Cacti. She sensed incompetence in the young dragon, though she reminded herself it was only her first day. Disappointed now, Nebula hoped that with time, Cacti might prove herself worthy.

           Nebula rolled her eyes and swept away, her departure marked by a flick of disdain. Bluefin watched intently, waiting until Nebula was out of sight. Once their privacy is assured, Bluefin gave Cacti a brimmed smile. Yet Cacti remained distant, covering her face from the multitude of inquisitive gazes of the crowd.

           “It’s alright, Cacti. I made plenty of faux pas on my first day as the Seawing advisor,” Bluefin reminisced, laughing softly. Cacti watched her curiously, noticing how little Bluefin seemed fazed by her own past gaffes. Cacti longed to be able to brush off her own mistakes just as easily. But mistakes, she knew, were part of growing stronger.
           Bluefin’s laughter gradually faded, and she gently touched Cacti’s wings with her own. “You’re not alone in this, Cacti.”

           “Honestly, that was impressive. Nebula threw a random statistical question at you, and you answered it effortlessly,” the SeaWing remarked, her eyes bright with intrigue, even her bioluminescent spots glowed a tinge of orange due to the intrigue. “Most of us would’ve struggled with that—except for Verglas, of course. But even he looked impressed.”

           “It’s nothing, really.” Cacti mumbled, feeling a newfound courage under Bluefin’s reassuring babbling. The crowd had begun to look away, their attention drifting elsewhere, and for the first time, Cacti felt the weight of her earlier embarrassment with Nebula begin to lift.

           “I mean, you managed to impress an IceWing,” Bluefin teased, glancing over at Verglas, who was already engrossed in conversation with his queen. “Have you seen the way they live? So strict and sophisticated.”
           The two slipped through the gathering, their claws clicking softly against the stone floor. Upon reaching the stage where the queens are settled, Bluefin glanced quickly at her queen, who lounged with a show of impatience, her tail flicking in boredom. Bluefin then turned her gaze back to Cacti, her expression a blend of amusement and concern.

           “See you later, Cacti!” Bluefin said, waving her webbed talons energetically. Cacti felt a sense of warmth and wondered why Bluefin was so kind to her despite their recent meeting.
           Cacti returned the wave and then steeled herself as she approached her queen.
           Seated on her throne, Queen Ventifact had been idly tapping her goblet, her attention wavering. However, when she noticed Cacti approaching, her expression brightened in surprise. She hadn’t expected her emissary to arrive at the hatchery so early.

           “Ah, there’s my SandWing advisor!” Queen Ventifact exclaimed, straightening into a regal posture and curling her barbed tail around her. “The Talons of Peace told me so much about you.”
           Cacti lowered herself in respect, and Queen Ventifact gestured for her to rise.

           “Come now, sit beside me.” Queen Ventifact offered, The queen shifted to make space, her barbed tail tapping the spot beside her. “You must be weary from your journey, Sandwing.”

           Cacti looked to the other advisors seated on the queen’s right and took a similar position. Nervous but determined, she settled close to the queen, feeling the weight of her first meeting with the monarch who was slightly larger than herself.
           She settled beside the dragon she had been taught to revere all her life. The sheer gravity of the queen’s presence triggered a wave of anxiety; any misstep could be disastrous. Because of this, she curled her tail tightly, trying to quell her nerves.

(Pyrrhia) Prologue: Odd one out - Page 18


Page 19

           Cacti looked to the other advisors seated on the queen’s right and took a similar position. Nervous but determined, she settled close to the queen, feeling the weight of her first meeting with the monarch who was slightly larger than herself.
           She settled beside the dragon she had been taught to revere all her life. The sheer gravity of the queen’s presence triggered a wave of anxiety; any misstep could be disastrous. Because of this, she curled her tail tightly, trying to quell her nerves.

           Cacti nestled near the queen, their spines angled away as she settled awkwardly beside her. The SandWing queen observed with quiet curiosity.

           "Sandwing, are you fond of history?" Queen Ventifact inquired with a sly gleam in her obsidian eyes, she signaled to her general. Who with a nod,
moved to a golden chest and retrieved a tome and handed it to the queen.
           Ventifact opened the book and lowered herself to Cacti’s level. Cacti peered at the dusty tome and saw it was a history book authored by Starflight.

           “I... uh...” Cacti stammered. The fear of looking like a dull advisor gnawed at her. She had little interest in history, but she didn’t want to seem out of step with the Queen's passions. “Yes?...”
           Ventifact responded with a warm chuckle before her regal composure returned. Cacti was expecting a dismissive reaction, as she was used to the cold demeanor of other queens.

           To her surprise, Ventifact was different. Her kindness and warmth were evident, making her stand out from the harsh SandWing queens Cacti had read about in the history books.

           “You are not bound to share my interests,” Ventifact said with a gracious nod. “It is perfectly understandable that you might not, and there is no fault in that.”

           Ventifact idly caressed the golden patterns woven into the rich red velvet. Cacti observed the fabric closely, noting how gold threads interlaced to form symbols of the Sand Kingdom, reflecting its grandeur and tradition.

           “Which of the Dragonets of Destiny is your favorite?” Ventifact inquired. “I personally admire Sunny. She was pivotal in ending the Succession War when the others lost faith after Morrowseer’s prophecy was revealed as false.”

           “I like Tsunami, for her bravery and leadership,” Cacti replied shyly, her gaze dropping as she fidgeted with the edge of her wing.

           “Don’t mention this to the scholars, but I believe Sunny was the first hybrid royal,” Ventifact said, glancing at Nebula from afar. “Many think it was Firefly, but since Sunny was a SandWing princess, she counts.”

           Noticing Cacti’s confused expression, Ventifact felt a pang of amusement. She wanted to chuckle at how Cacti, despite claiming an interest in history, seemed so distant from its nuances.

           “Let’s keep that between us, shall we?” Ventifact said with a conspiratorial smile. Cacti nodded, her eyes wide with a mix of curiosity and apprehension.

           “Understood, my queen.” She replied, extending a talon. They shook talons in agreement, sealing their quiet pact with a shared sense of secrecy.

If you see the error, ur the real one XD

(Pyrrhia) Prologue: Odd one out - Page 19


Page 20

           Ventifact closed the tome and regarded Cacti with a quizzical expression. "I can see the questions swirling in your mind. Speak freely, there is nothing you cannot ask of me."

           Passing the tome to her guards, Ventifact shifted her weight slightly, her wings draping elegantly over the sides of her throne. She absently stroked the alabaster scales of her stuffed albino python, her gaze fixed on Cacti, awaiting her inquiries.

           Cacti hesitated, feeling the weight of expectation. Her eyes roamed over the tapestry beneath her talons, studying its intricate patterns as if they might inspire a question. Then, without further thought, she asked, "What's it like being queen?"

           The SandWing queen blinked, momentarily surprised by the simple yet deeply personal question. No one had ever asked her that before. No one had ever cared to know what it was like to wear the crown. She paused, considering her answer carefully.

           " It's... exhausting," Ventifact admitted, her voice softening. Her talons fidgeted, and her gaze wandered, mirroring Cacti's nervousness. Cacti felt a pang of guilt, as though her question had touched a deep, vulnerable part of the queen.

           "It makes me wish I hadn't been my mother's only heir and dragonet" Ventifact sighed, casting a forlorn glance at Cacti, as if silently begging to be freed from the weight of her responsibilities. But there was nothing Cacti could do, she'd carried her the crown for over a decade. "I had no sibling to share the burden," Ventifact continued softly, "no one to ease the weight."

           For a moment, a sense of relief washed over Ventifact as she spoke these words. Having been hatched from an elderly parents and raised under the weight of royal expectations, she had little time with them and spent most of her life being prepared for the crown. Sharing her feelings now brought her an unusual solace.

           A few moments of brooding, Ventifact realized how awkward it was to reveal such thoughts to Cacti. She blinked, flustered, and stammered, "But hey, I'm still queen, right? At least I didn't have to fight for the throne."

           Ventifact finally realized someone dearly important to her, the dragon who made her childhood more colorful, Tumbleweed had always made her life fun, and he even gifted her an albino snake to be accompanied with

           "Have you met Tumbleweed? I'm sure he offered you invaluable advice before you took on his role as SandWing advisor," Ventifact said, her tone becoming more composed as she shifted the subject. "I miss him greatly. He was like a grandfather to me, guiding me on how to be a proper queen when I was still a princess."

           "He was the SandWing entrusted with arranging my hatchday gifts," she murmured, absently adjusting the taxidermy serpent coiled around her neck. Her gaze flickered briefly to the ancient tome as it was carefully returned to its box. "Such a gentle soul, that dragon. He gifted me this exquisite albino python, and, of course, the very history tome we have just perused."

 

 (Pyrrhia) Prologue: Odd one out - Page 20


(whats 9 + 10?) Page 21 (Yo stoopid)

           Cacti sat uneasily beside Queen Ventifact, her mind racing. The queen’s voice was warm, but each word felt like a weight pressing on Cacti’s scales. She couldn’t shake the thoughts of Tumbleweed, the former advisor who had vanished under mysterious circumstances.

           Simmer already suspected foul play, his grief was evidently raw and unresolved. But Ventifact… she had no idea. She didn’t know how no one has seen Tumbleweed ever since the day he disappeared.

           As the SandWing queen reminisced fondly about Tumbleweed, Cacti’s claws dug into the velvet cloth. How could she possibly tell her? As the new advisor, it was her duty to represent the SandWings, but revealing the bitter truth risked breaking the SandWing queen who had already endured so much. Cacti swallowed, forcing herself to stay calm. She needed to find a way to tell Ventifact without shattering her.

           “I actually haven’t heard anything from Tumbleweed,” Cacti said slowly, choosing her words with caution. She didn't want to alarm the queen or plant any misleading thoughts. “In fact, no one has seen him for quite some time...”

           The queen's face showed concern, her snout angled slightly in surprise. But the glint of enthusiasm still remained in her obsidian eyes. She tilted her head, confusion clear in her gaze, unsure of what Cacti was trying to convey.

           Ventifact’s voice softened as he asked, “He retired, didn’t he? Surely, he’s fine… just taking his rest somewhere, seeking solitude. That’s the truth, isn’t it?” Her words lingered, hoping to find some reassurance in Cacti’s reply.

           "I'm sorry, I’ve only just heard about him..." Cacti murmured, his neck drifting away from the queen’s gaze, as if trying to slip away like a fallen leaf carried by the river’s current.

           Even with Cacti’s careful words, Ventifact sensed an unsettling hint: Tumbleweed might have met a silent end. Cacti becoming the new SandWing advisor was evidence enough of a replacement, yet no one seemed to question Tumbleweed's disappearance.

           Why hasn't anyone asked about Tumbleweed’s whereabouts or condition? The lack of concern festered in Ventifact’s mind, like obsidian tendrils unfurling in a crystalline pool. Neither the Talons of Peace, the council, nor Nebula had mentioned him. It was as if the entire kingdom had forgotten.

           Perhaps Tumbleweed had simply withered away, an irrelevant dragon lost to time. But Ventifact couldn’t let go of him. The thought of no one caring enough to look for Tumbleweed cast a heavy pall over her heart

           “I am not suggesting something bad happened to him,” Cacti said, her voice faltering as she tried to clarify. “It’s just that I—”

           Queen Ventifact raised her talons, her eyes fixed elsewhere, not meeting Cacti’s gaze. She gestured with a commanding sweep of her hands, signaling for Cacti to cease speaking.

           “I... I must take a moment to cogitate on this,” Ventifact declared, her voice laden with gravitas. Her head inclined as she grasped her stuffed snake, lost in rumination. Her eyes clouded with melancholy as she pondered theory after theory, striving to uncover any plausible rationale for Tumbleweed’s continued well-being.


Page 22 

          Cacti wanted to offer comforting words to soothe Ventifact, intending to dispel any misconceptions. However, she hesitated, unwilling to provoke the queen, especially on her first day as the emissary.
          While other queens and advisors were absorbed in their political conversation, the SandWing throne was peculiarly silent. Both Queen Ventifact and her Advisor looked in opposite directions. The silence was all the more peculiar since Ventifact, normally exuberant and sociable, was now unusually quiet and dim. Abyss silently watched them from a distance, his eyes tracking the subtle movements of their jaws motions as if trying to decipher the unspoken words between them, then he began to piece together what they could've possibly said but a sudden tap on his shoulder interrupted him.

          “Looks like you’ve been staring at that SandWing for a while.” She whispered, leaning closer to Abyss with a sly smirk. “Maybe you... Are you interested in her?”

          “No, I am not.” Abyss protested. Quickly hiding the small gift under his wing. His blue eyes narrowed with a faint flush creeping up his neck and coloring his cheeks. His heart began to pump faster and faster, it did not help him calm down at all.

          “She is a SandWing,” Striver quavered, disdain dripping from his voice. “You have a weird taste for love” The old dragon scoffed. Abyss looked at him sheepishly, but deep down he questioned why his attitude had the weight of tradition he so fiercely clung to.

          “I... I have no feelings for that SandWing, Trust me guys.” Abyss clarified, though his words lacked the conviction. Volition, growing more bored of his evasion, noticed the pastel blue gift cradled in his claws. With a swift motion, she snatched it away.

          “And what do we have here?” she teased, inspecting the delicate gift. Abyss’s heart skipped a beat as he lunged to reclaim it.

          “Give it back!” Abyss demanded, His voice was panicky as he reached for the package with his talons, but Volition just stood there with a smug grin.
Abyss and Volition were, well what it seemed to be playfully swatting at each other with a bit of intensity, their talons hooking and unhooking at the gift. Their wings were flashing and tails lashing, but it felt more like a game than a real fight. Amid their antics, they accidentally bumped into Nightshadow, who turned to them with a narrowed gaze, clearly annoyed by the commotion.
          From the side, Striver watched with an amused expression as his companions engaged in their stupid bickering. At this moment, he couldn’t help but think he was the only mature one in the group. Their lighthearted arguments, while amusing, felt absurd they were in charge of such a serious job he often dealt with. Yet, he found a strange comfort in their antics, a reminder that even amidst seriousness, there was room for laughter.
          “Both of you, stop this now!” Nightshadow hissed. He jumped right into the mix, trying to squeeze himself between the two dragons. With his wings spread wide, doing his best to break up the fight.

(Pyrrhia) Prologue: Odd one out - Page 22


Page 23

           Nightshadow swiftly veered to the side as Abyss and Volition clashed, their tails lashing, vying for the silk-draped blue gift. The two dragons nearly bowled him and Striver over, almost sending the fragile scrolls sprawling in all directions like scattered leaves. Retrieving them would have been an arduous task given Striver's age.
           A purple tail lashed through the air, the sharp crack echoing throughout the crowded hatchery. The noise stilled Abyss and Volition's chaos and the four NightWings halted into their position, their gazes snapping toward the source. Abyss, always alert, was the first to narrow her eyes at the approaching figure.
           Queen Nebula let out a deafening hiss, her pale blue bioluminescent scales flickering erratically, pulsing in time with her growing fury. The startled NightWings froze where they stood, the air thick with unease. Abyss nearly stumbled, shaken by the intensity of the queen's ire.

           "I hope none of you have made an error," Nebula growled, her gaze as sharp as her talons. "If even one male egg hatched tonight, the four of you will be executed without hesitation." The NightWings stood rigid, hoping they did their job right, but Abyss hoped for something else.
           Abyss’ mind wandered far from his companions, lost in a place only Nebula seemed to understand. Their gazes locked and unspoken thoughts began swirling between them, as if their minds were in perfect harmony, bound by the same elusive idea.
           He swallowed quietly as Nebula shot a sharp glare at the eavesdropping crowd. Their snouts quickly turned away, retreating from the scene, granting Nebula the perfect moment to rebuke the NightWings.
           “Especially you, NightWing,” she snarled, her talons aimed directly at Abyss. He felt exposed, vulnerable. His colleagues shot him stunned, angry glares. Each second under Nebula's talons felt like a piercing, poisonous vine tightening around him. He nearly bolted from her accusatory point.
           Volition's purple eyes flicked toward him, her glare sharp and unforgiving. Nebula's gaze followed, just as searing. Their combined scrutiny was like a beam of blinding light, cutting into his scales with the intensity of the NightWing exodus's fiery devastation. He felt naked under their stares, exposed in a way he hadn't been before.
           Panic swirled in his chest as he scrambled for an explanation—something that could appease his colleagues, now simmering with indignation. They were innocent, after all, unaware of the mess he had dragged them into. The weight of their disappointment pressed down on him, suffocating. How could he possibly repair the damage? Was there even a way to escape this entanglement of blame and consequence? The questions echoed in his mind, offering no answers.
           Nebula lashed her tail as she strode past them, her eyes glinting with displeasure. Volition immediately seized Abyss by his star-flecked wings, yanking him close enough to bellow directly into his face.

           “What did you do?!?” NightShadow demanded, stepping closer with a look that could pierce scales and snatched him, his grip tightening around Abyss’s shoulders as she shook him violently. Nightshadow cast a look of pure disgust at Abyss, as if a thousand unspoken questions burned in his gaze.
           “All you had to do was check the genders of her eggs! How could you have possibly messed that up?!” Striver exclaimed, his normally weary voice now sharp with anger, cutting into Abyss like a blade.

           “You had ONE egg to check, Abyss” Volition growled, Her eyes rolled to the roof, being so tired of his clumsy behavior


Page 24 (Nebula)

           Volition, Striver, and Nightshadow sighed, forming a close circle to quietly discuss what to do next, their hushed voices making Abyss feel even more isolated. They theorized about what he might have messed up. Abyss stood on the outskirts, his pitiful gaze lingering on them, wishing he could join in but knowing he couldn't. He felt like a burden to his colleagues, the weight of his actions pressing down on him.
           He cast a troubled glance at Nebula's batch of eggs, his eyes resting on the one he had been tasked to check. A light gulp escaped him, anxiety creeping in as his mind raced with the consequences.
           Meanwhile, Nebula casts one last scoffing look, her eyes narrowing with disdain.
           Stupid NightWings. Nebula thought, her anger simmering just below the surface. She turned sharply on her heel, her tail swishing with irritation, and stalked away, the weight of her displeasure echoing in her every step.
           I hope that one doesn't have a tongue as slippery as the others Nebula thought, her mind lingering on Abyss and the knowledge he held about her secrets regarding the eggs. Before she bumped into another dragon. It was her husband, King Scorch. His cold scales briefly brushed hers as they collided.
           Nebula immediately recoiled, darting back a few paces with a hiss, her bioluminescent spots flickering erratically. King Scorch blinked in surprise, his gaze quickly settling on the bitter expression etched across Nebula's face. His brow furrowed, but he remained silent, unsure whether to speak or simply weather the storm brewing in her eyes.
         Both of them remained silent for a few moments, locked in a tense stare. The air between them thickened with unspoken contempt, each dragon bitterly contemplating the insults they wished to hurl at the other but didn't. Their gazes were sharp, as if exchanging a silent battle of wills, neither willing to break the charged tension.
           "Oh, look. Your wife has finally graced us with her presence," Prince Peak remarked, his rough voice mirrored King Scorch's. "It seems our search was unnecessary, wouldn't you agree, brother?"
           Peak stood still, his wings tucked tightly against his sides, exuding the disciplined air of a military dragon. But even his words, sharp as they were, failed to penetrate the cold, bitter silence between Scorch and Nebula. Peak's eyes flicked between the two, his boredom simmering beneath a stoic mask.
           "Surprised you even bothered to show up for our children's hatching," Nebula said with a sneer. Scorch snorted in response, releasing a cold puff of air, his sky-blue eyes narrowing into a glare.
           "Just so you know, I was compelled by the Talons of Peace and my own family to witness our offspring hatch," Scorch retorted, his voice edged with annoyance. Nebula's lips curled into a small, mocking smile, a burst of incredulous laughter escaping her as she absorbed his words.
           Scorch and Nebula glared at each other with barely restrained hostility, their mutual animosity palpable as if they wished to claw each other to shreds. Their disdain for one another was evident, each blaming the other for their arranged marriage and the resulting misfortune. Peak observed the confrontation with a grim satisfaction, silently grateful he had not been the one selected to wed Nebula.


Page 25 (Nebula)

           "I mean, you should be thrilled by what I expect from you," Nebula said, her voice brimming with scornful satisfaction. She looked with pride at Scorch's resentful glare and Peak's weary expression. Nebula expected Scorch to be elated at the prospect of finally being free from his duty to sire heirs, rather than focusing on the hatching itself, which she too found repugnant. "Isn't that what our marriage is for?"
           "You mean our arranged marriage." Scorch corrected, his voice laced with frost. A plume of cold steam hissed from his nostrils as his eyes narrowed with contempt.
           "Like I had any desire to marry and bear dragonets with a puny creature like you," Nebula sneered. Her webbed talons hovered dangerously close to Scorch, her claws poised to rip a scale from him, while her gills abruptly flared in irritation. Just as the tension threatened to explode, Peak interposed himself between them, his imposing presence acting as a buffer against their escalating hostility.
           "Let's all take a moment to calm ourselves," Peak said, his tone brooking no argument. "Not here, not in front of everyone. Save this for later and focus on your dragonet's hatching." He placed himself firmly between Nebula and Scorch, physically separating them as their tempers flared, each ready to erupt as they often did.
           The two finally relented, stepping back a few paces. Nebula crossed her talons, her gaze drifting away from Scorch's furious stare.
           One day... one day, I will sever you from my life. Nebula thought with bitter resentment, her mind was full of fury. She blamed Scorch for everything, regarding their wedding day as the nadir of her existence. The fact of being eternally bound to him and raising dragonets she never wanted was unbearable.
           As her frustrations mounted, she fervently wished for his disappearance, though she knew he would merely be replaced by one of his brothers, Peak or Magma. This knowledge only deepened her sense of entrapment in an unending cycle of despair. Nebula felt paralyzed, her heart aching for the love she could never get.
           I can't believe I had dragonets with you. Scorch thought, his face cloaked in a seething mist of cold fumes. The icy vapors almost obscured his features entirely, a testament to the depth of his disgust. The mere thought of having dragonets with Nebula revolted him, sending shivers through his scales as though white ferrets were burrowing into his cold hide.
           He loathed the very idea of his life being a mere cog in the grand machinery of arranged marriages, a destiny dictated by the Talons of Peace and the whims of his detestable parents. His resentment extended to his brothers as well. He wished it were one of them who had been coerced into this loathsome marriage instead of him. The bitter reality of his marriage to Nebula, enforced since his early years, left him feeling trapped in a life he never chose, suffocating under the weight of a future preordained by others.



Page 26 (Scorch)

           Scorch shoved Peak aside with a sharp nudge. Stumbling slightly, Peak's wings flared instinctively for balance as he regained his footing. He shot Scorch an irritated glare, his posture rigid with defiance, refusing to be thrown off any further.
           As Peak steadied himself, he watched the two dragons draw dangerously close, their tense postures making it seem like they were moments away from tearing each other apart. His breath hitched when Nebula simply stepped back, her starry wings folding peevishly, muted royal patterns rippling in the membrane as they settled with visible disgust. The air felt hostile, but it was clear her revulsion now outweighed any desire for confrontation.
           "Step aside, brother. Your watch over us is no longer needed," Scorch growled, digging his serrated talons into Nebula's slippery scales and gripping them tightly. His eyes flicked back to Nebula with a sharp glare. Nebula's violet eyes blazed with fury as she returned the look, her fangs bared, venom nearly ready to drip from her jaws.
           "We won't tear each other to shreds," she hissed, her voice dangerously low. She flicked Scorch's scraping claws off her shoulder with a disdainful swipe. "I promise..."
           Peak let out a steaming sigh, the hot vapor mingling with the cold air of the hatchery, drifting upward like the plume of a distant volcano rising through the atmosphere. His dark obsidian eyes glinted with boredom and weariness from enduring their antics. His tail twitched, the sail trembling in the faint wisp of air.
           "Why do I have to endure your incessant bickering? Can't you two just stop fighting for once? You've been married for almost thirty years!" Peak snarled. He stomped his hind leg behind, growling quietly at the two, who leaned away from him with uneasy looks. Scorch and Nebula glanced at each other for a brief moment, exchanging a blaming look.
           "If you were the one in this 'marriage', you'd understand," Scorch muttered, impatiently sliding his barbed tail closer to Nebula, who shifted away slightly. It was hard for him to be the eldest for just hatching a few minutes earlier than Peak. It wasn't his fault he hatched first, but he resented being treated harshly with the excuse of being the eldest among the three. Sometimes, he wished he could shed his scales and switch places with Peak. Maybe then, life would be different, more better. "You're lucky you hatched after me."
           "You think I forced you to marry me?" Nebula interjected, her small gills and static RainWing frills flaring with annoyance. She grabbed one of Scorch's ice spikes on his back and twisted it slightly. Scorch nearly roared, shoving Nebula's talons away with a forceful swipe.
           Peak grew weary of the endless conflict he had to manage; it felt like dealing with two irate dragonets. He let out an exasperated huff and glanced at his parents, who regarded the scene with an imposing, authoritative presence from afar. He then slowly gaited toward them. Nebula and Scorch ignored his approach and continued their muttering argument.


Page 27 (Peak)

Peak strode past a cluster of dragons adorned in gaudy jewelry, giving them a look of disdain. The opulence surrounding his family left him indifferent, favoring the more of a militaristic life. He casts a glance at the extravagant dragons, silently questioning whether they could survive a journey to Scorpion City. He pitied them for their coddled existence.
           Before he could even draw a single conclusion about the extravagant dragons, a tail lashed, catching his attention. Standing before him was his father—old, with scales crumbling and dull. In less than a decade, he’d reach a hundred years, and truth be told, he couldn't wait to see him die, even if he himself would only be in his forties by then.
           Even after a few decades into adulthood, he still couldn’t bring himself to defy the dragon’s summons. His father’s simple beckoning was enough to stir the same old fear that had always lurked within him, and he didn’t understand why. His father was ancient now, frail and withered, hardly the imposing figure he once was, so it felt impossible to explain why the idea of refusing him still seemed unthinkable.
           Deep down, perhaps he feared the unspoken consequences of rebellion. Maybe it was guilt for all the things his father had done to him when he as a young dragonet, actions that haunted him even now. The urge to shout, to scream in his father’s face, burned within him, but the fear planted in his heart had long since grown into something monstrous. It had become a gnarled tree, its roots deep and poisonous, choking any thought of defiance.
           Despite being the commander of a vast dragon army, a seasoned warrior with scars from countless battles, he found himself bowing to the will of his scrawny father. With a single 'tsk' and a flick of his tail, he moved forward, resigned to his fate. Settling beside him, he braced himself for what was to come, ready to endure the lectures and anger that would inevitably follow. No matter how far he had risen, how strong he had become, in the presence of his father, he was always small.
           "How are those two faring?" Sastrugi’s voice cut through the air like a blade of ice, his tone carrying the weight of command. His sharp, pale gaze locked onto Peak, who glanced over at his brother Scorch, still hissing in low, angry tones at his wife. Peak sighed, his exhaustion evident, but the weary sound only deepened the irritation in his father’s eyes.
           "What in three moons do you expect?" Peak muttered, his voice low with irritation as he glared at Sastrugi. His father responded with a sharp bearing of teeth, his eyes flashing a warning.
           "Don’t you dare use that tone with me." Sastrugi growled, gripping his son by the ears. Peak’s talons twitched, aching to tear away his father’s oppressive hold, yet his body refused to respond, locked in some unknown paralysis. Nearby, his mother, Lahar, sat idly with her talons occupied in knitting, never sparing them a glance. Her face remained blank with indifference, as if the scene before her was no more than a passing breeze on a quiet afternoon.


Page 28 (Peak)

Peak tore himself free from Sastrugi’s old talons, slipping through his father’s weakened grasp with ease. He darted just out of reach before the elder dragon could make another feeble attempt to catch him. With an annoyed flick of his ears, Peak shook off the sensation of his father's lingering touch, his expression souring as he cast a sharp glance back at both of his parents. His dark eyes narrowed in irritation.
          Sastrugi made a feeble attempt to grab his son again, but a sharp pain shot through his spine, forcing him back down with a grimace. His joints protested as he tried to lurch up, only to collapse once more onto the pile of pillows beneath him. He settled into his seat in resignation. Lahar regarded him with a disdainful look, her talons busy knitting a crochet piece without pause. Barely sparing him a second glance.
          Sastrugi let out a short, bitter huff, his icy breath curling in the air as he rolled his eyes. Lahar’s silent reproach was nothing new. She’d long since made her disappointment in him clear, though he rarely acknowledged it. To him, their entire brood had become a festival of incompetence, each dragon more grating and unsatisfactory than the last. But none annoyed him quite like Magma, his youngest son.
           “Where is your brother?” Sastrugi’s voice trembled, sharp and thin, as his gaze swept across the hatchery like a predator scanning for a missing meal. His eyes, cold as frost, were tinged with irritation as they combed through the space for any sign of the missing whelp. His talons tapped impatiently against the cushions, his tone growing harsher with every word. Magma, the son who seemed to exist solely to test his patience, was nowhere to be found. Sastrugi’s tail lashed in frustration. “Where is that lazy alligator-head?”
           Peak was standing a few wing beats away, not moving at all. His glare deepened, but he remained silent, stubbornly refusing to answer his father. His father’s incessant demands were tiresome. If Magma wasn’t here, it wasn’t his problem. Sastrugi’s head whipped around, catching Peak’s stare. “Well, don’t just stand there gawking at me like some dull-brained lizard! Go find him!”
           “Tss... fine,” Peak muttered, rolling his eyes as he turned on his heels, adjusting the armor strapped tightly around his scales. He had no interest in chasing after his wayward brother, but it was better than standing around and enduring more of Sastrugi's bitter nagging.
           Peak gripped his royal blade, the weight familiar in his talons, like he was heading out on yet another hunt. But this time, his prey was his younger brother, again. He stared at the blade’s polished surface, catching the reflection of his tired, narrowed eyes, a faint smirk creeping across his face. Chasing after Magma had become a tedious routine, just another family chore he’d resigned himself to. His eyes lingered on the cold steel as it caught the light. With a sigh, he set off to find his brother.


Page 29 (Peak)

Peak wandered through the hatchery, taking in the vastness of the large cave. It was roughly half the size of the SkyWing Botanical Park, formerly known as the SkyWing Arena. It was an unusually large space for a hatchery. However, given the SkyWing tradition of leaving eggs in the care of the royals, it made sense. Most SkyWings in the kingdom seemed to prefer leaving their eggs here. Though Peak had expected to see clusters of SkyWing eggs, they had all been stored away in advance.
           From what he could tell, the chamber brimmed with a few hundred dragons from every corner of Pyrrhia. The whole room looked like a kaleidoscopic mosaic art, as IceWings gathered in tight circles, engrossed in serious discussions, while MudWings clustered near the buffet, chatting animatedly. Not a single Pantalan dragon was in sight, and despite the significance of the event, it seemed that the dragons from the distant continent had little interest in attending. That suited Peak just fine.
           He deeply loathed those unwelcoming bug-like dragons. Longing to face one in battle, but he hadn't had the opportunity in his decades in the military. Pantalan dragons, especially the treacherous ones, were rare to come across in Pyrrhia. Most of them were just harmless tourists. Maybe his misfortune, it seemed, was to be born here, in Pyrrhia. Still, it was better than the alternative. Hatching in Pantala would have made him one of them, and the thought of it turned his stomach.
           Peak blinked, pulling himself back from his wandering thoughts. He had strayed from his mission. His brother could be anywhere in this room, and he needed to stay sharp. There was no certainty, but knowing his brother’s strange obsession with painting Nebula’s eggs, it seemed likely he would attend the hatching.
           His gaze swept across the room, taking in to the hoard of dragons, he looked at the dragons with brown scales, thick limbs, and the unmistakable bulk, the usual MudWing characteristic. But None of them seemed out of place, but then again, his memory of his brother wasn’t particularly clear due to the fact their interactions were so little.
           “What did he even look like now?” Peak muttered under his snout, narrowing his eyes as he studied each dragon. Every brown dragon started to blur together as he guessed. “Did he look more like a MudWing? Like mother?”
           Magma was always Father’s favorite target for sharp lectures. His younger brother had become the most disappointing dragon in their family, dedicating his days to nothing but painting and more painting. Perhaps that was why he drew their father’s ire so easily. he was a weak and compliant target like an easy source of frustration. Unlike Peak, who had always been the stronger of the two.
           “Gotcha,” he murmured, his scales jolted as he spotted Magma in the crowd in a split of a second
           Peak’s eyes finally landed on him in the corner of the room. A grin spread across his face, he began to weave through the dragons like a shark sensing its prey.

 (Pyrrhia) Prologue: Odd one out - Page 29


Page 30 (Magma)

The canvas was drying up fast, and Magma struggled to get the painting right with his reference. The MudWings in front of him giggled softly, exchanging whispers as they posed for his portrait, their scales glistening in the sunlight. He couldn’t help but feel a bit flustered under their amused gazes, and he extended one of his talons, trying to gauge the proportions of their bodies against the backdrop of the vibrant art studio.
         Hmm, this part of the shading looks off... he muttered to himself, squinting at the canvas. If I render it again, I’ll run out of white paint. I’ll have to go get more and miss the hatching. I need to work around this-
           Frustrated, his stomach churned as he recalled the vibrant colors of the hatchery, the way the air buzzed with excitement, the smell of freshly baked treats wafting through the crowd. He couldn’t afford to miss it, especially the food they were serving.
           He let out a sigh and started to mix some colors, carefully adjusting the palette to find the right tone of color. He dipped his brush into the thick paint and began to stroke the brush against the canvas, applying long brush strokes for the base colors while using shorter strokes for the highlights and details. In this condition, each movement was constraining as he struggled to translate his vision into the canvas.
           A sudden, gentle pat on his shoulder startled him. The warmth of the talon pressing against his scales was unmistakably familiar as the heat of a SandWing scales. It was his middle brother without a doubt. He already knew what was coming. Before he could react, before his scales could bristle or a gasp could escape his throat, Peak’s grip tightened, transforming from a casual touch into a tight cold grip.
           In a blink of an eye, he was yanked backward. He strained, digging in his claws to the floor in resistance, but it was hopeless. Peak's strength was unmatched compared to him, just the brute force and years of training left him powerless. Despite his sturdy MudWing build, he simply couldn’t have the strength to break free, not against Peak, nor against any dragon at all.
           “P-Peak! Long time no see? W-” Magma stammered as he was dragged on to his tail. His brother’s iron grip didn’t loosen at all, forcing him to be tottering along beside him rather than be dragged. “Where are you taking me?..”
           “Just shut up.” Peak growled, his voice as cold as the blade he had. The weapon gleamed menacingly, a sharp contrast to the fragile brush still clenched in Magma’s talons. He glanced down at it, feeling foolish for even thinking it could matter. Compared to the blade, which could easily slice him to scraps, the brush felt weak and insignificant.
           Magma swallowed hard, his eyes flicking between his brother’s blade and the path ahead. He let the brush fall to the ground and did as Peak commanded, following without another word to whatever grim fate awaited him.


Page 31 (Magma)

Peak threw him to the floor in front of their parents. Magma groaned softly, clearing his throat as he brushed the dust from the crevices of his scales, trying to maintain some semblance of dignity to his parents who he has never seen for quite some time. He avoided glancing up at father, knowing full well the storm of fury on his father's face.
           Magma tried to avoid eye contact with his father, already feeling the weight of his father's disappointment like it was crushing down on him like an avalanche. His eyes went everywhere else anywhere but his parent's snout. The silence was loud, the sound he could hear was his own scales shifting under Peak's looming shadow.
           "Where have you been, you useless excuse for a crocodile?" Sisgarot growled as he lunged forward. Magma barely had time to get up before Sisgarot grabbed him by the snout, not even bothering with his arms. Magma's body dangled helplessly underneath his dad's claws, completely at his mercy, which his father probably doesn't have.
           "I was just-" Magma tried to explain, but before he could finish, he was slammed into the ground, AGAIN😭. Clusters of pain shot through him like fire; his bulky jaw felt like it was about to break, and his ribs screamed with every breath. The aches didn't fade, only pulsing harder every time he tried to move. "I have been..." He glanced up at his father, who looked one step away from stomping him to death, so he chose his words carefully. "...slacking."
           "Ignoring my summons, hiding out in the Rain Kingdom, still no mate," Sisgarot growled as he crouched down, his piercing gaze fixed on his talons. He caught a glimpse of glimmering blue paint nestled in the grooves, his scales didn't help hiding it as its vibrant hue was easily seen in Sisgarot's old eyes. With a sharp yank, he pulled it free, the paint smearing slightly under his grip. "and hands covered in paint?!"
           Sisgarot threw his hand to the floor in disgust, as if he had just found feces on his son's talons. Lahar clicked his tongue in disapproval while Sisgarot stepped back, his eyes narrowing at Magma. It felt as though his son had developed a terrible addiction to drawing, one he couldn't shake off of him. "Where do you think this painting will lead you? Wasting the family's valuable resources on a pointless hobby?"
           "Look at your older brothers!" Sisgarot bellowed, his voice booming like thunder. "Scorch is a king, Peak is a general, and you? What have you accomplished?"
           Magma instinctively scurried back, desperate to escape the looming shadow of his father's talons, but he collided with Peak. Without hesitation, Peak shoved him forward, sending him stumbling right back toward Sisgarot.
           "Is this how you repay us after everything we've been through?" Sisgarot continued. His impending accusation was already cutting him inside, he knew the weight of his father's words hanging in the air like a storm cloud ready to burst. "Do you have any idea who funds all those paints, those canvases, the food, and your protection?"

 (Pyrrhia) Prologue: Odd one out - Page 31


Page 32 (Scorch)

“You know what?” Scorch sneered, shoving past Nebula. “Instead of wasting my time with a dragon like you, I’d rather go see my father.”
           Nebula hissed, baring her teeth as she tried to claw his head by the crown. “Yeah, go back to your daddy, coward,” she snarled, reaching with her webbed talons. But Scorch didn’t even flinch. He kept striding forward without a backward glance.
           “Oh, I bet you regret every moment knowing you made dragonets with me,” he threw over his shoulder
           Nebula’s scales prickled with fury. Her chest heaved, and her claws twitched, aching to rake across his smug snout. How dare he speak to her that way? She was a queen, not some dragon he could mock.
           Scorch didn’t stop until he reached the throne chamber. His father, Magma, was already kneeling before Sastrugi, frozen under the weight of his king’s furious lecture. Sastrugi’s words sliced through the air like jagged claws, leaving Magma hunched and trembling, as if each word pressed like a boulder onto his scales.
           But Scorch’s attention drifted past the scene to a familiar figure he hadn’t seen in ages. There, quietly seated behind his father was his mother. She was hunched over a piece of cloth, knitting with the same methodical focus she’d had since he was a hatchling. Who he hadn't seen for a long time, even now she couldn't look at him or any of them. The scarf mother was knitting was more valuable to her than he was, even after he became a king and had dragonets with a powerful queen. To her, he was worth less than a simple piece of cloth.
           “Father,” he ventured cautiously. Sastrugi was still busy rebuking his brother, but his gaze eventually flicked to Scorch, drawn by the gleam of his crown.
           “What?” Sastrugi snapped, dropping Magma to the ground. Magma whimpered, pulling himself away as he crawled backward, desperate to escape his father’s wrath.
           “Nebula—my wife—is here,” Scorch mumbled, a hint of regret in his voice.
          Sastrugi’s eyes narrowed. “Then what are you waiting for?” he hissed, grinding his feet down onto Magma’s retreating talons, forcing him to stay in place. “Go and meet her.”
           Scorch hesitated, glancing off to the side, his breath curling into wisps of cold air. “But... she’s not ready...” he murmured, his gaze was now drifting to the floor, trying to avoid his father’s piercing stare.
           “Oh spare me your excuses! I had to endure watching the three of you hatch from your nasty little eggs," Sastrugi roared, his voice echoing through the chamber like a thunderclap. He kicked Magma hard in the belly, sending him sprawling across the cold stone floor, his scales scraping against the rough surface. "You three should be thankful I didn't bother stomping you while you were still in there!”
           Scorch and Peak stared at each other. With Magma, in the middle, appeared to be the only one who saw this situation as quite as messed up. Between them, Scorch and Peak silently blamed each other. They threw dark frowns at each other as a silent argument.

(Pyrrhia) Prologue: Odd one out - Page 32


Page 33 (Nebula)

An elderly SeaWing shuffled into Nebula’s path, his green scales faded and wrinkled, each step a struggle, the chains on his webbed feet clinking softly. His spine, once strong, was now bent and dilapidated from decades of swimming through the ocean’s depths. Something she could barely manage despite her own SeaWing heritage. His tired, greenish-gray eyes met hers, and his voice cracked as he said, “Daughter?”
           Nebula stopped, her eyes narrowing as a small hiss escaped her. She took a step back, but even with the hatred she felt for her father, her gills  didn't even flare. “Father?” she asked, her voice sharp. “What are you doing here?”
           Then her gaze shifted past him, to a portrait he was chained up to that he had been dragging around. The face in it chilled her scales, the sight rekindling memories she had buried deep. She felt as if an ice sheet crackled across her wings, spirals of sparks igniting from memories she wished she could forget.
           “Where’s your husband?” Silt asked, tugging on the chain attached to the heavy portrait. As it swung backward, it bumped him, making him jolt and glance over his shoulder with an annoyed expression.
           “Take a guess,” Nebula replied, trying to sidestep her father. But Silt blocked her, with the portrait drifting uncomfortably closer. She pushed it away, only for the chain to tug at Silt’s leg, scraping painfully against his scales. “You even bothered to bring her face here.”
           “What world would I chain myself to a portrait of your mother? Of course not,” Silt snapped, kicking his legs. The portrait swung back toward them, narrowly missing the other dragons nearby.
           Nebula smirked, her eyes drifting toward the older SeaWings lounging nearby. One in particular looked rather lost, with a caretaker at his side, patiently guiding him as he seemed to confuse one fish for another. It made her think of her father for a moment. She turned to Silt with a gleam in her eye, then back to the old SeaWing.
           “Does that squid brain of yours still work at all?” she taunted. “You’re practically almost a century old, after all.”
           Silt looked at her, then at the portrait of his wife hanging behind her. The painted eyes seemed to glare back at him, accusatory. He shot a disappointed look at Nebula. Her face held the same defiance his wife once had, the same sharpness that seemed to cut into him with taunts. Now her daughter wore that look, fixed the same scorn on her husband—history repeating itself in a parade of hollow marriage, of love turned to ash.
           And now he felt the chill of his own mortality. How often he had wished for it to come, for the burden of it all to unfasten and let him soar again, free of the chains of his mistakes. Maybe Nebula should have poisoned him too. Perhaps sparing him was her way of torment, a plan to make him suffer for his wife's neglect. To Nebula, this was karma, retribution for a father who had cast his daughter aside.


(Pyrrhia) Prologue: Odd one out - Page 33


Page 34 (Nebula)

“You’d love it if I had dementia so I’d forget that you p—” Silt hissed, but Nebula clamped his snout shut with her webbed talons, her grip tightening as he tried to pull away. She wasn’t about to let him finish.
           His bioluminescent scales flashed, sending signals only she would understand. After all, he’d forced his servants to teach her Aquatic with strict discipline, never tolerating mistakes.
           “You should be careful what you say, father...” Nebula muttered, glancing around, her purple eyes scanning for any prying ears, but the noble dragons around her were thankfully busy in their own business. She knew better than to speak too freely, especially when she was the only dragon around who looked so out of place. Her golden crown didn't exactly blend in either.
           In moments like these, she wished she could just disappear into the background. Her father's words echoed in her mind. Words that were meant to be buried deep, hidden away from anyone who might hear. Thankfully, it seemed no one had caught even a whisper of them.
           With a quick flick of his head, Silt finally shook off her talons and pulled back in silence, his gaze was as hard as unyielding.
           “Why didn’t you do it to me too?” Silt asked, Nebula barred her teeth at his mockery as he took a few steps towards his daughter. He spread his wings, letting the royal patterns pulse faintly in a dull green glow. Nebula stepped back, her neck arching away from him,  but Silt pressed on. "I ‘neglected’ you, didn't I? You never let me forget. Always reminding me of how I ignored you, how I let your mother rebuked you or ‘abused’ you."
           Nebula’s hiss sliced through the air between them. The silvery freckles on her wings glimmered in the early light of her membrane, their faded royal pattern faintly flashing in her irritation. Did he really think he could excuse himself from her suffering? The memories were true, and here he was dismissing them, making her pain sound like some trivial complaint
           "And of course, your mother was right," Silt added with a mocking edge. "All her so-called ‘neglect’ of you? Deserved, every bit of it."
           Nebula’s eyes narrowed. “You know, Father, it’s your fault you’re still here. If only you hadn’t puked up all that wine." She said ominously, flicking her talons dismissively.
           But then she paused, suddenly aware of the eyes around them. A flash of unease crept in. She was in public, after all. She’d nearly spilled her most precious secret, just because he’d pushed her buttons. She couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d planned this, provoking her just to see how far he could push her.
           Her gaze returned to Silt, her purple eyes sharp and skeptical. He only looked back at her, indignant, his snout wrinkling with that annoyingly clueless expression. As if he were the one who had been wronged in all this.

(Pyrrhia) Prologue: Odd one out - Page 34


Page 35 (Nebula)

Nebula glanced back at the portrait, its golden frame glinting like her crown. Her gaze lingered on her mother’s face, though it was hard to meet those dark purple eyes—the same eyes Nebula had once begged for approval from. Her mother. Her mom.
           She didn’t care about the Talons of Peace, or the seven queens, or what anyone else thought. All she wanted was her mother’s approval. That was it. And did she ever get it?
           By the time Nebula had hatched, her parents were already elderly, hardened, and worn thin from the years. No warmth, no love. So she poured herself into her training, striving for perfection, but... Not a single drop of approval came her way. She’d asked herself a thousand times, What did I do wrong? But she could never find the answer she wanted. She tried not to believe her mother had been cruel. She tried not to believe what she'd done to her mother.
           But their time together had been so limited. Just rare moments, and each one spent under the weight of scolding, disappointment, reminders of her imperfections. She'd spent so little time with her mother. wasted so much time. Nebula took a deep breath, steeling herself.
           Nebula would never let herself become like her mother. She would be a better mother, now that she had dragonets of her own. But she has to stay alert, especially whenever her daughters offer her food—or especially wine. She’d be smarter.
           In fact, she’d carefully planned everything, right down to the hatching of her first clutch on the brightest night. With any luck, at least one would be a NightWing with NightWing powers. She’d cherish that. And maybe, just maybe, she could produce the perfect royal hybrid dragonet. A dragonet destined for the crown by the time it turned seven. Then she’d be free of this burden, of all of it. Finally.
           She glanced at the two eggs in particular. One was unmistakably a Night-IceWing hybrid—a promising egg that, under the light of the three moons, might even develop powers. But the other... the other was something different. Its shell was a pale, muted brown, the color of scavenger skin. It was difficult to tell its tribe, yet somehow, it felt perfect.
           This was the one that filled her with hope. This was the key to her freedom.
           "Whatever you say, I’ll handle things my own way. You’re out of the equation," Nebula said with a sigh, brushing past Silt and giving his wing joint a deliberate bump as she passed. Without looking back, she headed toward where her husband waited. “Let’s just get this over with.”

(Pyrrhia) Prologue: Odd one out - Page 35


Page 36 (Scorch)

“Oh, ‘with my wife,’ my barbed tail!” Sastrugi scoffed, shaking his head. He pushed himself up, his worn femur trembling slightly with the effort. Grabbing Scorch firmly by the shoulder, he folded the other dragon’s wings with a bit of force and started steering him toward Nebula.
           “Your wife’s been looking for you! She’s standing right here!” he muttered, exasperation clear in his voice.
           By now, most of the crowd’s attention had turned toward them. Nebula plastered on a forced smile as Scorch was ushered closer. At first, Scorch bared his teeth, a mixture of anger and resentment flashing in his eyes as he glared at Nebula. But under the crowd’s watchful gaze, he reluctantly mirrored her expression, faking a smile to match hers.
           Sastrugi finally released him just in front of the hybrid queen, dusting off Scorch’s scales with a few firm pats and adjusting his tilted crown. Scorch tried to tilt his head away to avoid Sastrugi’s fussing, but Sastrugi only scoffed, giving him a look full of silent disapproval.
           “Both of you, behave. Everyone is watching. Do you understand?” Sastrugi said, giving Scorch a pointed glare. Scorch rolled his eyes and shifted away, annoyed by Sastrugi’s constant meddling.
           “Well, shall we watch our loooovely dragonets hatch?” Nebula said with dripping sarcasm, barely managing to get those undelightful words out. She hesitated to say the next word as disgust tightening her gills as she forced out the last bit. “...My love.”
           Sasgruti nodded, satisfied that everything seemed to be in order. Scorch, for once, wasn’t causing a scene and was behaving well enough to not anger his wife. With a sigh of relief, he grabbed his cane and, trembling slightly, left the scene.
           “I’m gonna vomit,” Scorch muttered under his breath, his voice just loud enough for Nebula to hear as they walked side by side, their wings awkwardly clinging together. Despite their discomfort, they both forced bright smiles, playing the part of the perfect couple, eager to meet their dragonets.
           As they walked toward the seven queens, the dragons around them watched in awe. To the crowd, the pair seemed like the ideal couple, completely in love. The gossip spread quickly: Scorch and Nebula, once thought to be at odds, were now walking together as if nothing was wrong. The dragons parted to make way for them, and even the guards stepped aside, all believing in the façade of a passionate, loving relationship. What they didn’t know was that beneath the smiles, things were far more complicated.

(Pyrrhia) Prologue: Odd one out - Page 36


Page 37 (Dreamcatcher)

Dreamcatcher played idly with the tip of her goblet, her talons slowly circling the rim, eyes distant as she gazed into the empty corner of the room. She sighed softly, taking another sip, but found the goblet now empty. Seashell, watching from across the table, raised an eyebrow with an amused look.
               “You’re out too?” Seashell said with a small grin, her eyes scanning the room. “Oh, where’s our royal wine bearer?”
               She glanced towards the crowd and spotted a green, elderly dragon standing near the edge of the crowd, oddly, chained to a portrait. And in his claws was a flagon, that’s all she needed.
Seashell snapped her talons sharply. “Oh, Uncle! Come here and refill our cups now.”
               Silt sighed heavily, struggling to approach Seashell with his aging body, weighed down by both the chain to the portrait and the sting of humiliation. She took the flagon from the tray and poured it first into Seashell’s pearly cup, then moved to Dreamcatcher’s. But before she could finish, Dreamcatcher’s goblet was swiftly taken away, and in her surprise, Silt accidentally spilled the wine everywhere, splashing it onto Dreamcatcher’s talons. For a brief moment, Silt looked sheepishly at Dreamcatcher, who shot her a sharp glare, but before anything could be said, all attention shifted.
               Queen Rosemary was suddenly standing there, snatching the goblet from Silt’s claws.
Without a word, she threw the half-filled cup at her guards.
               “Why are you here already?” Rosemary hissed, her voice low and dangerous. Silt quickly scooted back, while Seashell turned her gaze away, pretending not to notice the tension thickening in the air, she was all too familiar with the bitterness between the two.
               “You shouldn’t make decisions without my approval,” Rosemary said sharply, her mahogany eyes narrowing. “Do have I remind you? You don’t have no control here.”
               Her gaze swept across the grand hall until it landed on the thrones, hers and Dreamcatcher’s. But something was off. Her throne had been placed farther away than it should have been. It was supposed to sit right beside Dreamcatcher’s, yet now there was a deliberate gap between them.
               “And why is my throne been separated?” she hissed, glaring back at her empty throne.
               Before things could get too tense, Scorch and Nebula broke the silence with a playful surprise, drawing a smile from Ventifact, who finally seemed to lift out of her gloomy mood. Just then, the MudWing queen took her place on the throne, subtly swallowing the last of the hors
d’oeuvres she’d stashed when Nebula entered.
               “What in three moons is going on here, besties?” she asked.
               Rosemary gave Dreamcatcher one last hiss, making the queen shift awkwardly on her throne. With a frustrated huff, the RainWing queen’s scales flickered to a fiery orange before she stomped toward her own throne, settling into it with a smug grin on her snout.

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Page 38

“Oh, look who it is—our favorite couple,” Frazil purred, rolling up the scroll she’d been reading about her kingdom’s tax reforms. Without much thought, she swatted Verglas’ snout with it, earning a startled flinch from him.
           Verglas snorted reflexively, only to suck in a sharp breath of icy air through the paper. The scroll stiffened instantly, freezing solid. With a panicked yelp, he scrambled to pull it free, muttering under his breath.
           Realizing his cold breath was only making things worse, he frantically waved the scroll in the warmer air around him until it softened back to something less fragile—though it still had a noticeable crack down its center.
           “Both of you look as excited as we are,” Lilypad said.
           The server carrying the appetizers paused wearing a skeptical look as if he’d caught the irony beneath her words. His piercing gaze lingered a moment too long, making Lilypad’s wings twitch with irritation.
           Without missing a beat, she turned and shoved him aside with a glare. The tray in his hands wobbled dangerously, nearly spilling its contents onto Dreamcatcher’s polished red scales.
           The server quickly recovered, offering a rueful smile before bowing deeply to the NightWing queen, before scurrying off under Lilypad’s watchful eye.
           “Well, I guess this means Ventifact is the only one here who isn’t a mother!” Seashell teased, her voice lilting with playful mischief.
           The other queens burst into laughter, the realization dawning on them that the SandWing queen was the only one without dragonets, or even a partner for that matter.
           Ventifact blinked and glanced around the group, her brow furrowing in confusion. “Huh–wait… what did she just say?” she muttered to Cacti, trying to piece together why everyone was suddenly laughing.
           Cacti caught the remark, but Seashell’s jab felt like it might sting Ventifact if she figured it out. Thinking fast, she blurted, “Oh, it’s nothing! Just a joke about crabs—”
           The moment the words left her mouth, Cacti realized how ridiculous that sounded. She cringed internally, praying Ventifact wouldn’t press her on it.
           Ventifact squinted, her obsidian eyes narrowing as she tried to make sense of the strange explanation. Cacti’s heart raced, the weight of her white lie sinking in.
           But then Ventifact’s eyes lit up in sudden understanding, or at least what she thought was understanding. “Oh,” she said simply.
           Cacti exhaled quietly, relief washing over her. Never again. she vowed silently. As Ventifact turned her gaze elsewhere and nodded, seemingly satisfied to her answer. Cacti swore to stick to honesty next time, no matter what.
           Scorch and Nebula kept smiling at the queens' chatter, pretending to enjoy themselves. Their arms were still crossed, and their scales were pressed together, a fact they both hated but refused to acknowledge.
           The contact made their scales prickle with discomfort, but neither moved, each too stubborn to be the first to pull away. Not yet as they were still in front of the queens

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Page 39

“Well, sorry to keep you gals waiting,” Nebula said with an overly bright smile, her voice carrying a practiced cheerfulness. Scorch’s grin mirrored hers, but Nebula’s teeth clenched as she pushed forward. “Me and my love were… uh… too busy romantically goofing around.”
           The words tasted awful the moment they left her mouth, and she immediately regretted them. Scorch shot her a sharp, defiant look, clearly unimpressed, but before she could say anything, the queens’ laughter erupted.
           Seashell, Dreamcatcher, Lilypad, Ventifact, Frazil, Rosemary, and even the usually grim Crimson were all laughing, their amusement echoing across the room. Nebula tried to hide her embarrassment behind a stiff smile, grateful for the distraction but already planning how to avoid making such a slip ever again.
           “If you don’t mind,” a voice interrupted, and an elderly green SeaWing tapped her on the shoulder. This wasn’t her father—she could tell by the lack of the royal pattern—but it was worse. Much worse.
           Standing before her was the leader of the Talons of Peace, one of the organizations responsible for what had happened to her, aside from the queens themselves. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she studied the dragon before her.
           “Shall I make the speech?” Kelpstrike asked smoothly. “You wouldn’t want everyone to wait. The eggs are already nearing hatching.”
           Nebula shifted uncomfortably, glancing at the gathering crowd before giving a reluctant nod. “Sure...” she murmured, her voice barely audible over the low buzz of anticipation.
           Kelpstrike took a deep breath, stepping forward to address the crowd. He paused, letting the murmurs settle before speaking with a commanding tone. “Today marks a monumental occasion in our history,”
           The crowd leaned in closer, captivated by his words. “For generations, royal bloodlines have intertwined, their unions strengthening our equity. But now, we stand on the cusp of something extraordinary. The eggs before us carry the union of not three, not four. But all seven royal bloodlines.”
           Gasps rippled through the gathered dragons, their whispers swelling into a tide of excitement. The weight of Kelpstrike’s proclamation seemed to hang in the air, heavy with both hope and unease.
           Nebula glanced at the eggs resting in the ceremonial nest, their glossy shells gleaming under the moonlight. Each shimmered faintly, reflecting the hues of their diverse lineages. It was hard to believe such a fragile thing could hold the promise of her freedom.
           Kelpstrike continued, his voice rising over the murmurs. “If the moons bless us, today we may witness the hatching of a dragonet like no other, one with all seven royal blood, seven tribes, united.”
           Nebula’s wings twitched as doubt crept in, her gaze locked on the eggs. Could a perfect dragonet really exist, or was this just another fragile dream?
           No, it had to. She’d thrown everything away for this, her freedom, her future, even Foreshadowing. All for the next perfect hybrid queen, the one she needed to be free from being everyone's puppet.

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Page 40

The egg caretakers froze as a grey horn pierced the Winter Night Sky egg. One quickly summoned Nebula, Scorch, Kelpstrike, and the seven queens.
           Cracks spread across the egg until it split open, revealing a dragonet with scales like a frozen night sky, a gray horn, and dark blue ice spikes running down her spine. Her wings shimmered faintly, as if starlight had been caught in ice.
           Nebula shoved Kelpstrike and Scorch aside to take a closer look. Her husband growled softly in annoyance, while Kelpstrike stepped back with a calm, professional glare.
           “Let me take a closer look,” Nebula said sharply, stepping closer to the nest. Parakeet gently lifted the hatchling toward her mother. The dragonet was a Night-Ice hybrid—perfect, just as Nebula had planned.
           This was why she’d broken tradition and had dragonets early in her reign. Normally, hybrid queens waited until old age to make heirs, but Nebula had timed everything precisely with the Brightest Night. With the help of a certain useful dragons, she'd ensured the conditions were perfect, hoping one of her daughters might inherit rare and powerful NightWing abilities.
           “Does she have a silver teardrop by her eye?” Nebula asked, snatching the hatchling from Parakeet's talons. Startled, the hatchling yelped but at the smell of its mother it purred into her talons.
           To her shock, the dragonet’s face was completely black, with no silver teardrop near its eyes. No mark. No powers. Nebula’s stomach twisted. How could this be? She had done everything right—bathed the eggs in moonlight, timed the hatching to the Brightest Night. The moons were supposed to bless her dragonets. This one should have been special.
           Her gaze hardened as the dragonet looked up at her with light purple eyes, wide and curious. Nebula felt a wave of disgust churn inside her, disappointment souring her expression. This dragonet was nothing like what she’d planned for.
           Such a disappointment Nebula thought, her teeth faintly bared at the hatchling. A dark part of her wanted to snap its neck right then and there, but she held back. Not here. Not now. But she would.
           “Are you going to name it?” Frazil interrupted casually but curious.
           “It should be something we both agree on,” Dreamcatcher said, her gaze meeting Frazil’s briefly as she reached for Seashell’s untouched goblet of juice, swirling it absently.
            Rosemary let out an angry snort, the sound sharp and pointed, drawing a few curious glances.
           “Yes, something you see in the polars at night,” Frazil suggested. Both the NightWing and IceWing queens nodded, their eyes turning to Nebula, waiting for her decision.
           “Aurora,” Nebula said, her voice flat and faint as if the word carried no meaning. She placed the dragonet down into the caretaker's talons. “Her name shall be Aurora.”
           Nearby, a scribe quickly etched the name into the record, and a ripple of whispers spread through the crowd like the rustling of distant wings.

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Page 41 (Nebula)

The next egg began to crack, its sand-muddy shell splitting unevenly. A small snout pushed through the opening, wiggling as it tried to break free. The caretakers quickly stepped in, gently peeling the shell away to help the hatchling emerge.
           Bits of egg clung to the dragonet as it tumbled out, blinking up at the world for the first time.
           Both the SandWing and MudWing queen leaned in eagerly as the hatchling sniffed the air and let out a tiny sneeze.
           Ventifact's face lit up with joy, her mood noticeably brighter. Cacti, standing nearby, smiled warmly at her, glad to see her so cheered up. Ventifact clapped her talons together excitedly.
           “She’s so adorable!” she squeaked, her voice high with delight.
           Lilypad gave her a sidelong glance, raising a brow at the outburst but saying nothing.
           "Well, you know what to name her," Lilypad said, giving Nebula a pointed look.
           Ventifact frowned, her wings twitching. "Hey, could I at least have a say in naming her?"
           Nebula barely glanced at her before turning back to the second hatchling. "Sandstone," she declared.
           Lilypad flicked her tail in Ventifact's direction, a smug smile on her snout. "I already included your idea, Ventifact. No need to worry."
           Ventifact bristled, her scales flushing with heat. She didn’t like being dismissed, especially when it came to something as important as naming Nebula's dragonet. She was a queen, the SandWing queen. After all, she could come up with her own name if she wanted.
           The hatchling blinked up at Nebula, its wide, curious eyes meeting her icy glare. Nebula’s talons tightened around the little creature, her disgust bubbling beneath her elegant look. Another useless daughter. No powers, no potential—and worse of all, she part MudWing. A child who might grow to revel in mud and filth? The idea churned her stomach.
           She fought the urge to drop the hatchling right there. This would likely be the last time she held this dragonet, and once she was done, she’d scrub her talons clean.
           Nebula turned and placed the dragonet with Aurora, who chirped in delight and immediately started playing with her new sibling. Their happy squeaks filled the air, but Nebula didn’t bother to watch. Instead, she stalked away, already planning how thoroughly she’d wash away the feel of that tiny, unwelcome life.
           As Nebula placed the hatchling down, the caretakers called out to her again. Her tail lashed in irritation. Another one? When would it end? Another useless daughter she’d have to name, another disappointment she had to endure.
           She turned around with a fabricated smile. The source of the commotion was the red egg streaked with a gradient of green. It was rocking now, tiny cracks spreading across its surface. With a sharp snap, a small paw pushed through the top of the shell, its claws flexing as if its testing the air.

(Pyrrhia) Prologue: Odd one out - Page 36


Page 42 (Parakeet)

The caretakers carefully assisted the red-green hatchling out of its egg, their claws gentle but precise. Parakeet watched with wide eyes, her heart skipping at the sight of another Rain-SkyWing like herself. The caretakers around her exchanged glances, and before she realized it, the fragile dragonet was handed to her. With a shy nod, she stepped forward, cradling the hatchling before passing it to Nebula.
           Rosemary leaned in closer, her expression twisting with dissatisfaction as she examined the dragonet. Its vibrant red and green scales caught the light, but they didn’t match the name she had suggested. Seapearl? There's nothing about this dragonet that screams 'Sea' unless you count a sea of grape juice. Or maybe... Blood...
           Crimson, who was sitting nearby, shot her a sharp sidelong glance before focusing back on Nebula triumphantly. "Well," she said, her voice carrying a hint of smugness, "maybe we can come up with something that actually fits. Something that blends Rain and Sky."
           She leaned back casually, the gems around her chest catching the light and sparkling like drops of rain. Parakeet remained quiet, her gaze flickering between the hatchling and the others, wondering what name they’d land on and whether it would feel right.
           Parakeet, the name she was labeled with, felt more like a RainWing name than a SkyWing one. After all, you wouldn’t typically see parakeets in mountainous regions, but they were still considered sky birds.
           Nebula gave Crimson and Rosemary a weary glance, as if they had failed to spark any inspiration within her. She was too tired to even make an effort, let alone give this useless daughter a proper name.
           She stared at the eggs, she found herself wishing Scorch would take over the task. But he had no right to name the dragonets, it was her, the mother, had the responsibility. She was tired of it all.
           A storm loomed in the distance, lightning flashing at the very tip of the horizon. The rumble of thunder was too faint to be heard, but the sight of the storm stirred something in Nebula—a reminder of the hurricane she used to fear as a dragonet.
           “Hurricanes,” she murmured softly. Parakeet felt a rush of relief, glad she hadn’t chosen a name that didn’t fit. But she wasn’t an expert on naming hybrids like these.
           “Works for me.” Rosemary said, giving a casual nod. She glanced back at Crimson, whose serious expression seemed almost disappointed. Maybe it was because hurricane had nothing to do with fire, but there wasn’t any smoke billowing from her nostrils. She seemed calm, for now.
           “I’m fine with that too.” Crimson added coldly, her voice distant, before nodding once.
           Nebula turned her gaze back to the hatchling, noting the strange jaw horn and ear ruff that made the dragonet feel... off. It was uncanny. For a brief moment, she considered throwing it out the window.
           Instead, she placed the dragonet in Parakeet’s talons, her heart suddenly heavy. She could feel a thunderous wave of care for it, but she didn’t know if she could be assigned to care for it, but the chances were slim.

(Pyrrhia) Prologue: Odd one out - Page 36


Page 43 (Nebula)

Nebula was exhausted, drained by the disappointment that Aurora had brought her and the disgust that Sandstone had shown, and the peculiarity Hurricane had shown. Another terrible day piled on top of the others.
           She was down to just two eggs, one of which was cracked on the side. Her eyes flicked over to Scorch, who lay unmoving, his eyes closed. Was he sleeping? It was hard to tell, but she couldn't bring herself to care.
           Nebula slowly approached Scorch, stomped on his tail. His eyes snapped open, glaring at her in frustration, but she ignored him. Everyone was too focused and did not see her stomp both their tail.
            shifted as a light-blue paw punched through the glowing, oceany egg nearby. The shell cracked further, shattering as a dragonet with large, aquamarine eyes emerged. The caretakers hurried to clean off the sticky egg residue, but the hatchling squirmed and hopped, trying to escape their talons.
           She easily caught the little dragonet before she could tumble away. She noticed the way the hatchling's gaze locked onto her crown, as though mesmerized by its glistening jewels. It reached toward her, and Nebula hesitated, weirded out by the oddly determined expression on the dragonet's face.
           “Finally, a name that fits her," Rosemary said with a thoughtful tone. Seashell glanced between the dragonet and Nebula, surprised at the idea of yet another relative from her. Technically, they were all connected anyway. “You already know what to name her” she said with a smugness on her snout.
           Nebula hesitated as the hatchling's tiny paws grabbed onto her barbels with curious eyes. She gently pulled the dragonet away, but the queens couldn't help but chuckle at the scene. Nebula shot them a deadpan look, resisting the urge to glare. She glanced down at the hatchling, then sighed, “Very well, her name is Seapearl.”
           Seapearl once again got a hold of her barbels, at this point she was getting sick of this one and really wanted to stab this hatchling to death
           Nebula gently placed Seapearl with the other dragonets, who were already nibbling at each other playfully. Aurora sat off to the side in the corner of the nest, while Hurricane and Sandstone were locked in a battle, trying to bite each other's ears.
           The moment Seapearl landed on the blanket with the others, both Hurricane and Sandstone stared at her, their eyes wide with curiosity. Seapearl turned her head, and without warning, the two launched themselves toward her. With a terrified squeak, Seapearl darted away, scrambling toward Aurora. But Aurora, startled, quickly dodged aside. The two dragonets collided and tumbled into the corner of the nest with a crash.
           Nebula looked down at the mess, unimpressed, while Scorch didn’t even glance at the chaos. He hadn’t even bothered to look at his own daughters, let alone figure out what they looked like.

(Pyrrhia) Prologue: Odd one out - Page 36


Page 44 (Parakeet)

Only one egg remained, and Nebula could sense that the end of this miserable event was drawing near.
           This egg was unlike the others. Its shell was strange. Its color was reminiscent of the faded parchment of an ancient scroll, with chaotic patterns that seemed to shift under the light. It was impossible to tell at first glance if the sparkling stars belonged to a NightWing, the swirling hues to a SeaWing, or the gradient of a RainWing. The design was all over the place, unpredictable and mysterious. Nebula couldn’t shake the feeling that this one was the hardest to predict–she had no idea what the dragonet inside would look like.
           Or maybe this was the one she had been waiting for—the culmination of her life's purpose. To produce the perfect hybrid with Scorch. This dragonet was the reason her entire bloodline existed, and the thought of it filled her with a strange, heavy sense of inevitability. It was also why she was, unfortunately, part of it all.
           The caretakers gathered around the cracking egg, their attention was rapt. Everyone, including the queens, had been anticipating this moment. They knew the other egg would yield a less remarkable phenotype, but this one… This one was different. It was clear that it would take more hybrid than the others, everyone wondered what a dragonet would look like if it was seven tribes.
           The hatchling wriggled inside the egg, tiny claws scraping determinedly against the shell. With a powerful kick of its hind legs, a large piece of the shell broke away, exposing its damp, gleaming scales to the world. For the first time, its eyes fluttered open, the blurry world slowly sharpening into view. The SkyWing caretakers loomed above, their red and orange scales glowing faintly in the light. The hatchling took its first hesitant breath of air.
           Parakeet was the first one to step forward and carefully scoop up the hatchling in her talons. The room fell silent as every caretaker leaned closer.
           “It’s… perfect,” Parakeet finally declared. Gasps rippled through the room, whispers of disbelief and wonder breaking the quiet.
           “Really?” came the stunned voices of Nebula, Kelpstrikea, several queens, and even a few of the crowd, all speaking at once. Scorch, who had been distracted until now, finally turned his attention to the scene and looked like he even asked the same question.
           The hatchling was unlike anything they had ever seen. IceWing spikes ran elegantly down its neck, tapering off at the shoulders. Its underbelly was lined with thick MudWing scales, and curved russet SkyWing horns, RainWing frills adorned its ears, beneath its jaw, SeaWing barbels twitched faintly with faint royal patterns shimmered on its wing membranes, blending seamlessly with the dawn-like hues of a NightWing’s star-specked wings. Its tail ended in a deadly SandWing barb. He was perfect

But he was a prince
He was perfect, but can't be the Queen of Peace

“Grawkrrr,” the hatchling squawked. Parakeet and her colleagues froze in shock. The tiny creature flailed, instinctively reaching for their caps, completely unaware of his precarious situation. The caretakers exchanged hesitant looks; they had no idea how to break the news to Nebula. “Ooarrr?..”
           “Whats wrong? Let me see my daughter. Give her to me now–” Nebula demanded before being cut off by Parakeet stepping out, holding the hatchling gently
           “He's a prince....” Parakeet announced regretfully.

(Pyrrhia) Prologue: Odd one out - Page 36


Page 45 (Nebula)

           Nightshadow slipped through the bustling crowd, his dark scales blending with the shadows cast by the mingling dragons. He moved with practiced stealth, pausing only to signal his companions before creeping closer to the caretakers.
           When he reached Parakeet, he gave her a sharp nudge on the shoulder. Startled, she spun around to glare at him, her surprise melting into irritation as she recognized his smug expression. Before she could react further, one of the other caretakers tapped her wing, breaking her focus. Reluctantly, she retreated and gave him one last venomous glare.
           Abyss, standing nearby, flicked his tail nervously and gave Nightshadow a pointed look, like he was silently begging him not to cause trouble. Meanwhile, Strive and Volition exchanged tired glances. Hoping one of the two would stop him from causing any more problems. But none of them bothered trying to stop him.

           Nebula and Scorch stood frozen, the shock evident on their faces. It felt as though they had celebrated too soon, and the atmosphere in the room shifted. The seven queens and the Talons of Peace shared the same stunned silence. The room was still for a few moments, the weight of the moment hanging in the air, until Nebula muttered, “Wait. What?”
           Kelpstrike’s eyes narrowed in disappointment as she glanced at the two. They had failed to create the perfect hybrid queen, and now the reality of it hit hard. The queens exchanged uneasy looks, each unsure of what to say.
           Nebula dashed forward, her claws snatched the hatchling by its ice-spiked neck.
           “This can’t be,” she murmured, inspecting the hatchling more closely. Her voice rose with each word. It was a male. She had only had five female eggs, but that shouldn’t be possible. She had disposed of all the male eggs.
           “Kawma” The hatchling squeaked
           How is this possible? I dealt with the male ones, she thought, frustration and confusion were all over her mind. Her eyes narrowed at the dragonet, who sneezed, dust swirling from the sudden movement. Then, a thought struck her. The NightWings in charge of checking her eggs’ gender.
           Unless. Nebula’s gaze flicked to the group of NightWings gathered in the crowd, each one a potential answer to her growing suspicion. She sifted through the thousands of names she had learned over the years, trying to recall who had been involved with the eggs.
           The first she recognized was Nightshadow. He had inspected Sandstone and Hurricane’s egg—both females, as he had concluded correctly. He was safe. Next, Volition, who had checked Seapearl’s egg. Then Strive, who had inspected Aurora’s egg. None of them raised any concerns.
           But Abyss. Abyss had been the one to inspect this egg. Nebula’s heart skipped a beat as the realization struck her. It’s him.

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Page 46 (???)

The queens exchanged glances—some filled with disappointment, others soft with the urge to comfort her loss, and a few simply silent, unreadable. Their advisors mirrored the confusion, murmuring quietly among themselves, unsure of what to make of the moment. Ventifact leaned closer to Frazil.
           “Poor Nebula. This could’ve been something historic,” Ventifact muttered, her voice low, almost to herself. Cacti, standing a little too close, didn’t seem to hear, or maybe Ventifact hadn’t meant for her to.
           Cacti shifted uncomfortably, her thoughts spiraling. Did Ventifact still trust her after everything that had happened between them? Or was that quiet tone, that muttered comment, hiding something sharper—distrust, disappointment, doubt?
           “I wonder what she’s going to do with that dragonet…” Frazil murmured quietly, his gaze fixed ahead, unreadable.
           Ventifact straightened suddenly, as if struck by a thought. “Wait—I know a dragon who could fix this! Maybe they could enchant—”
           Her blurting was words cut off abruptly, too late. Cacti had definitely heard, and Ventifact snapped her jaw shut just as the IceWing queen’s eyes flickered in her direction.
           “Let’s not talk about animus magic at this hour,” Frazil said, his voice cool and serious, leaving no room for argument.
           Through the gaping window, the three moons hung low, their silver glow nearly grazing the jagged peaks of the mountains. Branches of trees clung stubbornly to the mountainside, their dark silhouettes overlapping the view, as though trying to hide what lay beyond.
           Perched silently among the branches was a white snowy owl. It didn’t hunt, didn’t stir, didn’t so much as blink. Instead, it stared, unwavering and unrelenting directly through the window, its gaze fixed on the dragonet in Nebula’s talons.
           Its eyes were strange: the irises glowed with an unnatural whiteness, brighter than the moons themselves, ringed by an endless black void. They looked hungry, predatory, as if they were already claiming the hatchling.
           Despite the heavy security surrounding the hatchery for such an important event, the owl had gone unnoticed. Swift and silent as the night, it had slipped past every watchful SkyWing guard, every sharp-eyed dragon. Now it sat there, still and cold—cold as the mountain, cold as the ancient bark that stood on. And it watched.
           The dragonet, along with the crowd of dragons gathered behind it, failed to notice the white speck perched in the open window. The moons’ brilliance cast too much light, washing out the shadowy figure for anyone inside to see.
           Outside, the squirrels clinging to the bark eyed the owl nervously. They couldn’t tell if it was hunting or simply lifeless, frozen in place. Even the other birds perched nearby kept their distance, unsettled by its presence and unnatural stillness.
           A trio of adolescent scavengers, hiking up the mountainside, paused near the window. They stared at the owl, just as baffled as the squirrels. But the owl paid them no mind. Its eerie, glowing eyes remained fixed on the hatchling inside, unblinking, unyielding.

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Page 47 (Nebula)

           The dragonet sniffled again, its tiny snout twitching from the dust swirling through the room. This time, it let out a sudden, squeaky sneeze, spraying a glob of mucus across the air. “Prrawwba!”
           Nebula didn’t hesitate. She saw her chance, this was the moment to get rid of the dragonet before anyone could argue. Scorch seemed to share the exact same thought; she could tell from the look on his stupid face.
           “Oh, Abyss!” Nebula suddenly shouted, her voice cutting through the noise. Her talons tightened on the hatchling’s icy scruff as her other claws shot out, pointing toward a group near the caretakers.
           Everyone’s snout whipped around to follow her gesture. There, a small cluster of NightWings stood huddled together near the caretakers, murmuring amongst themselves.
           Abyss felt his heart race as his name echoed throughout the room, a shock that reverberated in his chest. The eyes of everyone in the room turned to him, and he could feel the weight of their stares. His colleagues quietly stepped aside, exposing him to the queens. He shrank back, his eyes fixated to Nebula's stare
           “Take this hatchling and bring him to your office. Check up on him and heal his sickness,” she ordered. Abyss glanced around at his colleagues, but their glares felt like burning coals. The pressure of so many eyes on him was unbearable, so he locked his gaze onto Nebula's face, her expression unreadable but knowing, as though she was aware of what he's done.
           With a gentle smile, Nebula handed him the dragonet. Scorch, standing nearby acted relieved that someone would finally help their only male offspring. Nebula's wings arched over his ears. She reached under her wing joint, where a small painted pouch blended seamlessly with her scales. She retrieved a sharp silver knife.
           No one noticed, Abyss's starry wings covered the knife from view, and Scorch helped by blocking the view from the queens.
           “Take this knife. Go to your office. Stab the hatchling directly in the neck. Don't let him notice.” She pressed the cold blade to Abyss's underscales, the shock of it making him stiffen, but he quickly hid the knife in the gift holder he carried. “If he even yelps, you'll be executed too.”
           She was confident no one would question him; after all, he was holding a royal male hatchling. The attention was on the queens and the female hatchling in the nest, not on him. No one would bat an eye.
           “Aw, that's kind of you,” Ventifact said with a curious glint in her black eyes. “But I’m intrigued that you’d go to such lengths for a non-heir.”
           Nebula’s expression remained calm, but there was a subtle smile on jagged jaw. “Oh, it's nothing,” she replied smoothly. “I’ll be kind to all of my dragons, whether heir or not.”

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Page 48 (Cacti)

           Abyss slipped away from the scene, disappearing into the crowd with the hatchling squirming under his talons. “K-Kwa?” the dragonet said.
           “Eerrrk! Nyarrrkk!” he yelled, wriggling frantically and trying to leap off Abyss’ shoulders. “Aurrrk! Kawma! Parkpa?” His eyes scanned the crowd desperately.
           But his parents didn’t even glance back.
           “Mawmma? Pawppa?” he said, his voice fading as the scent of his mother grew weaker. His parents disappeared deeper into the room, swallowed by the crowd.
           Don’t ever call us that stupid hatchling. Why did you have to be a male? You could’ve freed me from this crown. Nebula thought, the frustration simmering beneath her calm exterior.
           Abyss clamped his talons over the hatchling’s snout, silencing him.
           Nearby, Cacti searched the crowd, her eyes darting in every direction. Something about that NightWing felt familiar, his scales, his eyes, even the shape of his snout tugged at her memory, it felt familiar. She made a mental note to ask around, especially among the group of NightWings he seemed to come from.
           But for now, her focus was on the hatchling and Tumbleweed.
           Her first hours as a SandWing advisor were already packed with responsibilities, and this was just one more issue piled onto an already overwhelming day. She had no idea what was going on, but there was too much to handle to stop and figure it out now. Lots to do. Always lots to do.
           Nebula stood tall, her scales glinting under the light, commanding everyone's attention. She nodded gracefully. “I am grateful for what I have. If this isn't satisfactory,” She cast a glance at Scorch, her expression unreadable. “Scorch and I will try for another batch of eggs. Perhaps that one will be what you seek.”
           The queens exchanged looks, their expressions varied, until Crimson stepped forward, her gaze steady. “That won’t be necessary, Nebula. This is satisfactory.”
           “Arrwy!” Aurora squeaked as she clambered up Nebula's back, her tiny claws gripping the purple scales as she nestled against the ridges of her spine. She squeaked softly, peeking out from her hiding spot, wary of Sandstone’s looming presence and sharp talons. “Arrk!”
           “Grarrk.” Sandstone tilted her head, calling out with a low, guttural sound.  Her voice was playful, almost teasing, as she crept closer. “Drrraaaa?” Her gaze locked on Aurora like she was a cornered prey.
           Seapearl's ear ruff was held between Hurricane's mouth, She resisted but Hurricane kept dragging her around the nest Seapearl yelped “Nyoo!!” and covered her eyes from all the antics her sister's doing to her
           Across the nest, Hurricane had Seapearl’s ear ruff firmly clamped in her jaws. Seapearl squirmed and pulled back, trying to break free, but Hurricane held on, dragging her around the nest like a determined tide. Seapearl yelped loudly, "Nyoo!!" She threw her claws over her face, blocking her view of Hurricane’s antics, her exasperated protests drowned by her sister’s mischievous growls

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Page 49 (Nebula)

The hatchlings were gathered one by one, scooped up as they darted around, and placed gently into the nest-trolley carried by four SkyWings. This time, Parakeet wasn’t among them, though no one seemed to notice her absence. Far from the commotion, she had slipped away, hat removed, careful not to draw any attention.
           Nebula's gaze lingered on the hatchlings, a sight she found unsettling despite her efforts to hide it. She shifted her focus as the queens began approaching her, one by one. Scorch, attempting to leave unnoticed, was stopped short when Nebula tugged his tail. The gesture was clear: he was to guard the hatchlings in her place. Scorch exhaled sharply, releasing a frosty plume of air before stalking over to where the SkyWings waited with the trolley.
           The atmosphere in the room began to shift as dragons started making their way toward the exit. Kelpstrike’s bell rang out, marking the ceremony’s end. The lime-green dragon stood proudly, his iridescent scales catching the light like a glistening river water under a canopy. “The hatching event is over,” he declared, with a steady voice. “You may now go about your day and savor what has transpired.”
           Nebula faced the queens. She clasped talons with each queen, offering polite gestures as she spoke. “There’s no need for me to keep you from your duties. You should return to your kingdoms. I wouldn’t want to intrude on your rule.”
           “This is no ordinary occasion,” Lilypad said, she wasn’t ready to part so easily. She gave Nebula’s talon an especially firm shake before glancing at Crimson. “We can’t just leave as if nothing happened.”
           Rosemary chimed in “Perhaps a banquet, then? Surely you don’t mind, Crimson. After all, your palace's garden is so… exquisite. My RainWings here ensured it’s in pristine condition, didn't they.” She tugged insistently on Dreamcatcher’s wing as she spoke, trying to keep her from slipping away again.
           Dreamcatcher flinched but didn’t cry out, even as a faint line of red began to bead along the scratched surface of her wing. Her expression was stoic, gaze fixed elsewhere, as if the wound and the conversation around her was nothing.
           “I’m fine with it—unless you give me something in return, like—” Crimson started, her voice carrying its usual gruffness. Though she sounded irritated, it wasn’t unusual enough to stir concern among the queens. SkyWings were, by nature, fiery and sharp-tongued, so no one took it personally. However, before Crimson could finish, Seashell interjected
           “Oh, my SeaWing subordinates brought crates full of fish, and I’ve brought along my finest chef,” Seashell said. “He can make sushi for everyone—you really should try it.” Her words caught the queens’ attention, some looking intrigued while others appeared hesitant. For a few, sushi was a rare delicacy from their past visits to the Sea Kingdom; for others, it was a completely foreign concept.
           As the queens busied themselves with talk of the banquet and the menu, Nebula stepped aside with Ventifact. The SandWing queen leaned closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “You could make that perfect hybrid male of yours… female.”
           Nebula blinked, taken aback for a moment before quickly schooling her expression. Whatever Ventifact meant by that remark, it was best to tread carefully. “Wait.. Elaborate...”

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Page 50 (Cacti)

The empty thrones sat in silence, save for Cacti standing to the side, her gaze wandering across the room. What had moments ago been filled with chatter, now mostly deserted. The other advisors had been ushered off to their offices or had disappeared elsewhere. She caught sight of her queen, Ventifact, whispering something to Nebula. Whatever it was, Nebula seemed deeply interested.
           Ventifact noticed Cacti lingering and turned to address her directly. “Oh, by the way, I should go now. You handle your first-time-SandWing-advisor duties.”
           “Yes, your majesty,” Cacti replied, dipping her head in a respectful bow. Ventifact gave her a brief smile before turning back to Nebula.
           Cacti didn’t mind being dismissed. She scanned the room, hoping to spot another advisor still lingering, but before she could decide where to go, Bluefin grabbed her talon, practically dragging her toward the exit.
           “Verglas asked me to escort you to your office,” Bluefin chirped, her tone light and mocking as she mimicked Verglas’s commanding voice. Cacti let out an involuntary laugh at her friend’s antics.
           “And,” Bluefin added slyly, “a NightWing wants to talk to you before that...”
           Cacti froze mid-step. Her heart skipped as her thoughts raced. Was it that NightWing? Before she could even voice her question, Bluefin turned sharply, pulling her towards a small hallway where Abyss' office happens to be nearby.
           The sight stopped Cacti cold. It was him. The same NightWing she had seen earlier, carrying Nebula’s male hatchling. He still held the small dragonet in one talon, and in his mouth was a carefully wrapped blue present. Bluefin glanced between the two with a smug expression, clearly enjoying herself.
           “I’ll just leave you two then,” she said, winking before slipping away. “Let me know when you’re done, Cacti.”
           The hallway was silent except for the soft rustle of leaves drifting through the nearby window. The moonlight filtered in through the clear view of the horizon, casting long shadows along the stone walls. Abyss and Cacti stood there, both unsure how to break the silence.
           Cacti’s mind raced as she studied the NightWing standing before her. Something about him seemed familiar, but it took a moment for her to place it. Slowly, recognition flickered in her eyes. This was the same NightWing from her winglet back when she was a dragonet at Jade Mountain Academy. He had always been the quiet, bookish one.
           “Hi, Cacti. Long time no see,” Abyss greeted her, his voice a little strained as he tried to keep the hatchling balanced in his talons. “I hope I’m not bothering you, but—”
           “Are you... the NightWing from my winglet?” Cacti asked curiously. She couldn’t help but scan him from head to tail, memories flooding back. There was no mistaking it now, even if time had changed him. She racked her brain, trying to find the name. “Hmm... Abyss?”
           Abyss blinked, clearly surprised that she remembered him. “Uh, yeah, that’s me,” he stammered, looking a little awkward. He shifted the hatchling in his arms, fumbling with the small gift he had been holding. “I, uh, wanted to give you this.”
           Finally, the gift was placed on her chest, and before Cacti could even thank him, he blurted out in a rush, “Ok—Ow! Uh... b—Ow! bye!” The hatchling, clearly impatient, had bitten his ear, but Abyss maintained a grin, despite the discomfort. She could see the blush creeping under his dark scales, his heart beating faster.
           Before Cacti could say anything else, Abyss quickly turned and hurried off down the hallway, still trying to juggle the hatchling. She stood there for a moment, the gift now resting on her chest, as the sound of his retreating footsteps echoed in the quiet hall.

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Page 51 (Cacti)

“What was that?” Cacti flinched at Bluefin’s sudden voice, startled by her colleague's quick appearance. She instinctively clutched the gift closer to her chest, not entirely sure why. Bluefin, however, seemed to notice and furrowed, her expression a mix of surprise and something a little more teasing.
           “Woah, it's not even been a week, and you’re already attracting some... boys.” Bluefin remarked, her tone was obviously full of playful envy. She gave Cacti a quick, knowing look, her eyes flicking to the gift before meeting her snout
           “No, no, don’t get it wrong,” Cacti quickly corrected, feeling the subconscious heat creep up her neck. “He’s my old clawmate from Jade Academy… we’re just friends.” She shook her head, trying to shake off the discomforting ideas out of her mind.
           Bluefin grinned, clearly enjoying Cacti’s flustered reaction. “Right, right. Just friends.” But Cacti could see the twinkle in her eye—Bluefin was definitely not letting this moment go easily.
           Still, Cacti did her best to ignore the teasing as she followed Bluefin down the hall toward her office, the gift still held tightly in her talons, her mind drifting back to the brief encounter with Abyss.
           It was a strange coincidence that she and Abyss ended up working in the same place. Cacti couldn’t help but wonder if their offices were near each other, but judging by the way they were heading in completely opposite directions, she doubted it. The chances of bumping into him again seemed slim, unless one of them made the effort.
           Who was she kidding? He’d probably just been giving a normal gift to an old clawmate. That’s all it was. No way he had a crush on her... right? Sure, he’d been nervous when they met earlier, but he was always like that around her, even back when they first crossed paths.
           The thought of him liking her sent an uncomfortable ripple through her scales. She shifted, her scales grinding softly against each other. Bluefin, walking ahead of her, didn’t turn around but smirked anyway, clearly hearing the sound of Cacti’s heavy breathing, but she didn’t dare speak. Bluefin didn’t need to say anything at all, she already knew Cacti was in love.
           Shaking off the thought, she finally managed to distract herself. So much had been happening lately, too much, if she were being honest. It was overwhelming, and this was only her first day. Who knew what lay ahead? For a fleeting moment, she considered resigning, but she shoved the idea away almost as quickly as it came.
           Her eyes wandered around the hall, its wide, open windows letting streams of light cascade across the floor and walls. The way the light split against the shadows of the pillars was mesmerizing, creating jagged paths along the walls. She glanced down at her talons, her mind aimlessly wandering, and started stepping carefully to avoid the shadows. It felt like walking a maze made of light, and for a moment, it was enough to quiet the noise in her head.

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Page 52 (Bluefin)

Bluefin was growing tired of weaving through the endless hallways. The map she’d memorized felt useless, either completely unreliable or so outdated that the SkyWings must have rebuilt or sealed off paths leading to their office. Either way, the monotonous corridors were draining her patience. She saw these same boring walls every day, and it was getting to her.
           This was harder than navigating the pitch-black hallways of the Deep Palace, and at least there, she had the sea. She missed it, missed the cool water on her scales and the weightlessness it brought. It had been a week since she’d touched the ocean, and that small thought made her heart ache.
           As she turned another corner, her eyes caught a door leading to a balcony. Finally, something different. She paused, glancing behind her to make sure Cacti was still following.
           Both of them stepped through the door, Cacti trailing behind with growing confusion. The balcony was small, barely wide enough for three dragons to stand shoulder to shoulder. The view was dark, the moons swallowed behind the jagged silhouette of the nearby mountains.
           Below, the valley stretched out, a ribbon of silver marking the small river winding its way toward the glittering towards the Diamond Spray Delta. Her SeaWing eyes caught every detail, scanning the landscape to see no eye witnesses, but to Cacti, it was all pitch black down there.
           “What are we doing here?” she asked, stepping back from the ledge. Her barbed tail flicked open, instinctively curling toward Bluefin as if expecting to be pushed down to her death.
           “Oh I know a shortcut” She smiled, spread her wings, and dove into the valley below. Cacti froze, unsure of what to do, her mind racing as she watched Bluefin summersault effortlessly through the air.
           After a moment of hesitation, Cacti opened her wings and leapt after Bluefin. The rush of air was colder than she expected, sharp against her scales. Her wings wobbled as she struggled to find her balance in the narrow space between the looming mountains.
           Bluefin glanced back and noticed the awkward way Cacti flew, her movements stiff and uneasy. SandWings were never built for this kind of flying they preferred the wide, open expanses of the desert, not the tight, shadowed valleys carved between cliffs.
           The sight brought a memory to Bluefin’s mind: Tumbleweed had struggled in the exact same way the last time they took this path together. The thought made her chest tighten, and her smile faded. Tumbleweed was gone now.
           And the same thing might happen to Cacti. No one ever figured out what happened to Tumbleweed. The thought of dragons disappearing like that, with no answers and no one stepping in to help, made Bluefin feel the weight of responsibility. She’d have to keep an eye on Cacti, whether the SandWing realized it or not.
           They flew through the cracked valleys, the narrow spaces pressing in around them. After a few minutes, Bluefin spotted a ledge and landed gracefully, folding her wings as she approached a jagged crack in the rock.
           Cacti landed behind her. The absence of windows or light made her visibly uneasy. Bluefin could see it in the way her tail swayed and her gaze darted around. She probably thought Bluefin was leading her into some kind of trap. The thought made Bluefin chuckle softly to herself as she turned back toward the crack.

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Page 53 (Cacti)

Bluefin inspected the large crack, its jagged edges just wide enough to fit an adult dragon, though anyone bigger than the average muscular MudWing would have trouble. She tilted her head, double-checking. “This is it.”
           “That thing? Are you sure we can even fit through it?” Cacti asked, clutching the gift tightly. Her ridge sail twitched in the gusts of wind funneled through the valley, and her barbed tail swayed uneasily behind her.
           Without waiting for a response, she poked her snout into the crack and began squeezing herself deeper, her tail flicking behind her as she disappeared into the narrow passage.
           Cacti followed suit, she held ehe talons at the crack's oppening, closed her eyes and went inside the same way as Bluefin. It was now pitchblack before Bluefin's tail began to glow orange, Cacti was amazed to see a SeaWing's bioluminescence work up close. But the tail began to slither away and Cacti had to catch up.
           The cave felt like it was closing in on her. Cacti’s heart pounded faster with every step in the narrow, suffocating tunnel. She and Bluefin were moving upward now, the incline steep and the walls scraping against her wings. Cacti picked up her pace, trying to get it over with, but moved too fast and smacked her head into Bluefin’s tail.
           “Wait slow down!” Bluefin yelped
           “Sorry” Cacti muttered, rubbing her head. Her wings were sore from the constant brushing against jagged rocks, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that something sinister was behind them. She flicked her barbed tail defensively, keeping it poised to ward off whatever might be lurking.
           Suddenly, a giant tarantula crawled out of a crack in the wall and landed squarely on her snout horn. Cacti froze, staring into its many glinting eyes. Then she screamed, loud enough to rattle the pebbles beneath her talons, thrashing to get it off.
           “Oh, yeah. Those things live in here,” Bluefin said casually, glancing over her shoulder. “Happened to me, too. Don’t worry, they’re harmless.”
           “Harmless?” Cacti growled, eyeing the tarantula as its fangs glistened inches from her face. “Then why do they have FANGS?” She shook her head violently, finally dislodging it, but not before she felt the sting of its bite.
           Bluefin laughed, her voice echoing through the cave. “Relax. Your tail’s probably deadlier than its venom. But that thing might comatose you for a few days at worst.”
           “COMATOSE?” Cacti roared
           “I’m kidding!” Bluefin snorted, chuckling as she dug her webbed talons into the pebbles ahead.


Page 54 (Bluefin)

The pair finally emerged from the other end of the tunnel, stumbling into an unfinished section of a hallway. The walls were rough and craggy, as if the digging had been abandoned halfway through. Cacti’s hind limb got caught in a crack. With a huff, she looked back at the SandWing and flicked her tail toward her. “Here, grab on”
           The SandWing latched onto her tail, and with one powerful yank, Cacti pulled herself free. “We’re here!” she declared loud enough to echo through the halls, it made Cacti looked startled for a bit.
           Pulling an unlit torch from the floor, she struck it against a lit one nearby. The warm glow illuminated the corridor as they began to walk again. The walls grew smoother and more polished the farther they went, gradually transitioning from raw stone to carefully chiseled surfaces
           They turned a corner and entered a long hallway lined with doors on the left. “This is our office wing,” Bluefin said, gesturing with her tail. “We’re all crammed in here like sardines. Tons of fun! And, well, tons of work related chaos too...”
           Each door told a story. Verglas’ office was pristine and frosty, a layer of chill radiating from the handle as Bluefin brushed it with her talons. Helonias’ door, on the other hand, was wrapped in flowering vines, their soft petals swaying gently in the swaying torchlight.
           When they reached the SandWing advisor’s office, Bluefin stopped short. The area outside the door was a mess of crates, barrels, and supplies stacked precariously. It was full of trinkets an elderly SandWing would have like a butterfly collection, small game bones, a chess board and a fancy leaf quill.
           “Simmer’s supposed to pick all this up,” Bluefin said, nudging one of the crates with her tail. “Tumbleweed’s stuff. He told everyone not to mess with it.”
           The new SandWing advisor, curious but cautious, crouched to inspect the crates from a distance. Bluefin's orange eyes lingered on a camel-skin doormat lying just off-center. She bent down, pulling it back to reveal a copper key hidden underneath.
           Bluefin pushed the door open, the hinges groaning with a loud, grinding creak that echoed down the empty halls. Dust and rust had settled thickly, making the sound even harsher. She scanned the room cautiously, her gaze sweeping for any signs of danger. But it was just a dull, lifeless office, a stark contrast to how Tumbleweed used to have his things scattered everywhere.
           In one corner sat a towering pile of scrolls, a neglected mountain of work left  after this position went vacant. Cacti looked in sheer horror as she took in the sight. “I guess that's where you start your work, Cacti.”
           Bluefin couldn’t help herself but let out a soft chuckle, though it was tinged with sympathy. “Well, that’s a nightmare.” she muttered, feeling bad for Cacti. The poor dragon clearly had no idea where to start. Bluefin decided she’d help, even though the work was focused on the Sand Kingdom, a territory she knew little about.


Page 55 (Cacti)

Cacti wandered around the room, taking it all in. It was surprisingly spacious. It was large enough to fit at least seven dragons, maybe more. She spread her wings experimentally and found she still had room to spare.
           At the far end of the room, a wide open window framed the horizon, jagged mountains stretching into the distance. For once, she had to admit Queen Nebula had chosen well. It was a special spot, fitting for her. For a brief moment, Cacti actually felt good about the hybrid queen for once.
           To the side, a set of empty scroll holders stood beside shelves filled with books. Most were about SandWings, though a few focused on other tribes. Cacti recognized some of the titles, books and scrolls she’d been forced to read in the past.
           The desk was the largest she’d ever seen, plated with gold and adorned with intricate carvings. She studied its shiny varnish and smooth veneer. The carvings depicted scenes of SandWing culture. Cacti couldn’t help but marvel at its craftsmanship. Nebula must be incredibly rich and influential. This desk probably cost more than her entire home and now, she owns it.
           Other objects in the room caught her eye, unfamiliar yet intriguing: scroll sorters, scroll flatteners, self-refilling ink bottles, and a fountain pen which was a writing tool so expensive that only high-ranking dragons could afford to use it. At least it would save her from getting ink all over her talons.
           “Make yourself at home,” Bluefin said casually, her gaze fixed on a pile of Tumbleweed’s belongings stacked behind the door. She fidgeted with her webbed talons before glancing at Cacti. “Just… watch yourself, okay?”
           Cacti paused, opening a drawer on the desk as she searched for any hidden compartments. “Uh, why are you acting so gloomy all of a sudden?”
           Bluefin hesitated, her voice dropping slightly. “Isn’t it strange how a dragon can just… disappear like that? And everyone acts like it’s nothing.”
           Cacti frowned, unsettled by Bluefin’s sudden change in mood. She didn’t fully understand what the SeaWing was trying to say, but it was clear she missed Tumbleweed. Being his replacement might be making things worse.
           “Hey, you can leave me here. You don’t have to stay,” Cacti said, trying to avoid the topic. “You should take a rest.”
           “I kinda don’t want to,” Bluefin protested.
           Cacti playfully pushed her toward the door. “Come on! You probably have a job to do. I’ll be fine.”
           The two struggled at the door, their soft giggles masking the unease between them. Finally, Bluefin was out, and Cacti shut the door behind her, locking it with a sigh.
           She glanced around the room again, the questions gnawing at her. She had to do something about this Tumbleweed situation. It wasn’t fair to let Bluefin shoulder the burden, or the danger. This was her responsibility now.


Page 56 (Cacti)

Cacti was finally alone. The faint rustling of leaves outside reached her ears, and the three moons were setting on the horizon. She let out a long sigh of relief.
           Today had been overwhelming. It was chaos unlike anything she’d experienced before, and it felt like there was even more to come. But for now, she savored the peace and quiet.
           Her eyes drifted to the pile of scrolls on the desk, unfinished work that Tumbleweed had left behind. It is her responsibility now.
           The thought of quitting crossed her mind, but she didn’t want to disappoint Verglas, Dandelion, or Bluefin. For the first time, she realized she wanted to form friendships with dragons from other tribes. She hadn’t thought that was possible for her until today.
           She thought back to how this job had even fallen into her lap. All she remembered about applying was a hazy memory from years ago, during her last visit home while still studying at the Jade Mountain Academy. A few members of the Talons of Peace had come to her family’s home, asking her to sign an application for an important position she might be suited for.
           She hadn’t thought much of it at the time, but now, maybe that was why she’d suddenly been chosen as the SandWing advisor. But She wasn’t entirely sure.
           Why would they choose her? Cacti wasn’t the best SandWing at school or the most competent one. She was just an ordinary SandWing in Pyrrhia, quiet and unremarkable, with no great ambitions. It felt unfitting.
           She glanced down at the gift the NightWing had given her. The pastel blue box sat in her claws, wrapped neatly with white ribbons. She hesitated but finally decided to open it.
           Cacti walked across the office and slumped into the chair at the desk. It was the most comfortable seat she’d ever experienced, upholstered in bear and alligator fur. She sank into it, feeling both luxurious and unworthy.
           Why was this happening to her? A week ago, she had been working at her mother’s fish shop. Now, she was the highest-ranking SandWing. It didn’t feel real. She reminded herself to be grateful, even if it didn’t make sense.
           With nervous claws, she untied the ribbon and opened the box. Inside, she found a pair of glasses.
           Glasses?
           It struck her as odd but strangely thoughtful. How could Abyss have known about her hyperopia? She was farsighted, but she’d never mentioned it to anyone here. Did he somehow notice? Had he stalked her? No, that seemed unlikely.
           Regardless of how he’d known, it was a deeply personal gift and a useful one. Especially now, with scrolls and endless documents becoming her daily reality.
           Oh, Abyss... you didn’t... She thought in disbelief, a small smile forming on her snout.
           For the first time, she felt a spark of curiosity about the mysterious NightWing. She wanted to meet him again, even if it meant wandering across the palace.
           Where are you now? she wondered, clutching the glasses. Maybe once she finished her work, she’d go looking for him.


Page 57 (Abyss)

Abyss locked the door behind him, still holding the fragile hatchling in his talons. He paused for a moment, letting his gaze sweep across the silent office before exhaling a heavy sigh.
           The hatchling looked up at him, its tiny eyes wide with a mix of curiosity and wariness. Abyss returned the stare with a faint, wistful smile.
           The room was cluttered with instruments and scrolls, evidence of countless experiments. In the center stood a large counter, equipped with various tools and a small sink. Abyss gently set the hatchling down on the ground, its soft talons clicking faintly against the floor.
           Without hesitation, he began clearing the counter, sweeping aside scrolls and carefully moving delicate instruments. The metallic sound of the wink's cover turning echoed in the quiet room as he tested the sink, his expression grim, knowing all too well what it was for.
           Behind him, the hatchling shuffled toward the door, its wobbly steps, unsteady as it struggled to walk on the new world. Abyss turned just in time to see it reaching for the door, its tiny form brimming with instinctual defiance.
           In one swift motion, Abyss scooped the hatchling up before it could escape, cradling it carefully. He placed it on the cleared counter, where it sat, its small head turning to take in the unfamiliar surroundings.
           The hatchling's curious gaze flicked across the room, its attention momentarily distracted. Taking advantage of the moment, Abyss quietly grabbed a knife from the pouch, quickly hiding it as the hatchling's wide eyes shifted toward him. He stood facing away, the knife now clutched in his talons, all that was left was to do the job.
           His body trembled. He couldn't fathom killing a newly hatched dragon, not in his worst nightmares. But it was the only way. If he didn't act, he could be executed. He had to fix his mistakes. The little hatchling barely had time to live, and now it was going to die brutally under his talons. He was caught in a moral dilemma, the weight of it pressing down
           “I’m so... so sorry, little one,” he mumbled, his grip tightening around the knife.
           The dragonet could only see his spiked back and his folded starry wings, its eyes widening with curiosity, peering to see what he was doing.
           The branches through the window creaked, an array of snow-capped choughs flying in a skein as they cawed. The wind bristled through the dragonet's ear ruff. The dragonet folded its barbed tail as it continued to stare at him.
           "Rarrff?" It squirmed. This was too much for Abyss. He was about to do the unthinkable. His heart raced, and his mind raced faster as the weight of the decision pressed down on him. With a sharp inhale, he straightened, his claws twitching as the temptation surged through him. He had never considered it before, but now, the thought seemed almost... necessary.


Page 58 (Hatchling)

           The hatchling’s eyes widened as it sniffed the air, searching desperately for the familiar pheromones of its parents, but found none. Its heart pounded faster, and its sticky, newly hatched scales quivered, curling slightly with unease.
           Suddenly, the starry dragon spun around and lunged at him with a knife. Instinct saved him, barely dodging the dragon, but not without consequence. A sharp sting spread across his neck, and violet liquid began to drip down his scales.
           Trembling, the hatchling lifted a shaky paw to his neck, his breath hitching when he saw the blood. Panic gripped him, but before he could react further, a sudden, searing pain shot through his wound. Acting on desperation, he darted forward, crashing into the black dragon's neck and sending them both toppling over the table.
           The knife lodged itself in the counter, giving the hatchling a precious moment to flee. He wobbled unsteadily, his small claws carrying him away from the dragon as quickly as he could manage.
           But before he got far, the dragonet slipped over the edge of the counter, landing with a heavy plop. It squirmed on the ground, its movements jerky and pained as violet liquid spilled freely, pooling around it.
           The dark dragon wrestled with the knife, struggling to pull it free as the hatchling clutched at his bleeding neck. His vision swam, but he stumbled forward, dazed and desperate, his gaze darting around the room.
           Then he saw it. A painting hanging on the far wall.
           The colors stopped him in his tracks. Violet and light brown scales, entwined in a pose so familiar it made his chest ache. The dragons in the canvas were his parents.
           “Mwamma! Pappa!” he squeaked, his tiny voice trembling with hope.
           He darted toward the painting, scrambling over anything in his path. A chair tipped over, and he slipped more than once, but he didn’t stop until he reached it.
           Panting, he placed his paws on the canvas, scratching at the familiar shapes and colors. But something felt wrong, there was something between him and his parents. He stared at the painting, confusion mixing with desperation, before the dark dragon finally freed himself and lunged at him with the knife.
           The hatchling glanced back, his eyes widening in terror as the black dragon followed the trail of violet blood he had left behind. Panicking, he turned back to the painting, claws scrambling desperately against the canvas, trying to tear through whatever was keeping him from reaching the figures beyond.
           The dark dragon bellowed, his roar shaking the room like rolling thunder. His claws raked across the canvas, the screech of talons against the surface echoing sharply.
           The hatchling froze, eyes wide with terror, as the painting trembled under the lashes. Threads began to unravel, and the vibrant image of his parents seemed to blur, on the verge of tearing apart entirely.


Page 59 (Abyss)

Abyss roared in horror as the hatchling’s claws raked across the precious painting. It wasn’t just any artwork. It was Magma’s masterpiece, a piece he’d been tasked to protect and frame. Abyss lunged forward, snatching the hatchling away from the canvas, but it was too late. The varnish was smeared, and streaks of ruined pigment marred the once-perfect image.
           His heart sank. Scorch and Nebula would never forgive this. And Magma, who had poured countless hours into the painting, would surely be furious. Abyss didn’t even know the dragon personally, but he knew enough to fear the royal's wrath. What if they saw the damage? Even if he finished the job, he was as good as dead.
           Meanwhile, the hatchling squirmed under his talons, flailing its tiny paws in the air and yelping pitifully. Abyss tightened his grip, his mind racing as the weight of the disaster bore down on him.
           “Mommy!” the hatchling cried out, its voice trembling with fear. Abyss hesitated, a pang of guilt twisting in his chest. He looked at the tiny dragonet, so small and vulnerable, and for a moment, he faltered.
           “I’m so sorry, little one,” he murmured, his voice barely audible. “I’m only following orders.”
           Little did Abyss realize that his grip had tightened too much until the hatchling let out a piercing yelp of agony. Its tiny, barbed tail shot out in desperation, plunging into his talon with a sharp, stinging force.
           For a breathless moment, Abyss found himself face to face with the bloody hatchling. Its wide, terrified eyes locked onto his, then it let out a high-pitched squeal and opened its tiny jaws. A spray of shimmering, magical spit erupted from its fangs, splattering all over Abyss's snout and into his eyes.
           He howled as a searing, fiery pain spread across his face. It felt as though the most acidic lemon had been squeezed directly onto his scales and eyes, the burn so intense it made his vision blur and his body recoil. Desperation and rage flared as he stumbled, trying to wipe the stinging liquid away.
           He shoved the hatchling away, stumbling backward and tumbling over the counter’s edge. His NightWing back spikes scraped hard against the corner, sending sharp pain radiating through his body.
           Crumpling to the floor, he gasped for breath, his instincts kicking in. He scrambled toward the cupboards, knocking over jars and bowls as he searched frantically. Finally, his claws closed around the familiar bottle of antacid.
           He bit off the cap and poured the liquid over his face in a desperate attempt to numb the pain. The bitter taste hit him immediately, making him gag. The antacid dripped into his nostrils, stung his tongue, and burned his eyes, leaving him choking and sputtering as it only made everything worse.


Page 60 (Abyss)

The hatchling spotted an opening, his only chance to escape. His neck throbbed, the pain growing unbearable, and his vision blurred with dizziness, but he couldn’t stop now. It had to survive.
           Outside, the moonlight was fading, its glow slipping below the horizon. The wind rustled the leaves, carrying a whisper that felt like a call. Summoning what little strength he had left, he pushed himself forward.
           His claws skidded over the blood-slicked floor, nearly sending him sprawling. Scrolls and instruments clattered in his wake, a bottle of ink tipping over and staining the map of Pyrrhia. Gritting his teeth, he scrambled up the window ledge, his limbs shaking. Then he saw it, a white owl, watching too closely.

Startled, just as he leaped, something caught his tail.

Abyss latched onto him, claws digging in as his barbed tail wrapped tight. The spikes helped him hold on, but the barbs bit into his own arm, sending a sharp sting through his scales. With a yell, he swung the hatchling, slamming him onto the table behind them. The impact rattled the room, but the dragonet didn’t even cry out. No scream, no whimper. Only dazed, darting eyes searching for an escape.
           Abyss picked up the stained knife with his tail. His grip shook so badly he had to curl his tail tighter around it, forcing himself to hold steady. He slowly brought the blade closer to his talons, his entire body trembling now, teeth gritted so hard they ached. His vision blurred, flickering between the knife and the bloodied dragonet.
           He raised the blade. His talons tensed. A tear slipped down his scales.
           Despite everything, he couldn’t stop shaking. He tried to distract himself, to think of anything else. His parents had been kind to him. He had grown up well, better than this dragonet ever would. And yet, here he was, standing over a helpless child, doing what had been done so many times before.
           “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his voice shaking as much as his grip. The knife wavered, and he tightened his hold, afraid it might slip and end it too soon. “I’m a good NightWing... I’m just following orders.”
           The dragonet looked at him, eyes wide with fear, then quickly covered his face with his talons, as if shielding himself from the inevitable.
           The owl behind them crept closer, moving effortlessly through the maze of branches and vines. Silent, watching. At the edge of the opening, it leaned in, its dark, glowing eyes locking onto its interest. A soft purr rumbled from its throat, and from between its feathers, thin black tendrils seeped outward. Its pupils widened, fixed on Abyss.
           “Please forgive me...” Abyss squeaked, his voice cracking. His talons trembled as he lifted the knife one last time.

With a sharp breath, he lunged—

A heavy thud echoed through the room.

The blade had sunk deep, not into flesh, but into the wooden counter.

Notes:

I have to lock in bro

Chapter 2: Chapter 1 - The Parasite

Summary:

Salmon and Tuna find a weird black parasite in the ocean. Abyss almost gets caught for not executing Pyrrhia. Cacti goes through a weird dream

Chapter Text

Chapter 1: The Parasite - Cover Art

Page 61 (Tuna)

On the eastern coast of the Sky Kingdom, waves crashed against the jagged shoreline. The sky was streaked with clouds, the wind carrying bursts of sand from distant beaches. To the northeast, a thunderstorm crept closer, its low flashing rumbles echoing over the land. The horizon stretched so far that the distant mountains could just barely be seen beyond the flora over the coast.
           A bluish SeaWing lay basking where the moons touched the water, her eyes flicking to their positions as she carefully measured the time with her talons. Not much left until dawn. Maybe a few hours at most. With a sigh, she pushed herself up and began weaving through the seawater-soaked rocks, her steps light as the tides splashed against her scales.
           Each wave sent bits of debris flying, sharp shells and tangled seaweed whipping through the air. She shielded her eyes with a wing, wary of anything that might get caught in her barbels. The rocks beneath her were uneven and slick, their cracks deep and dark, but she moved through them with ease, leaping from one to the next like the ground itself was lava.
           Tuna glanced into the distance and spotted two other SeaWings idling on a yellowish stretch of beach. She picked up her pace, nearly tripping over a rock and a slick, squirming tidepool eel before catching herself. The rocky terrain beneath her claws slowly gave way to a smoother stone, then to warm, shifting sand.
           As soon as her wet, webbed talons touched the grains, discomfort prickled through her scales. The sand clung stubbornly between her claws, wedging itself into the delicate webbing, making her shudder.
           She hated the gritty, scratchy feeling against her damp scales, how it stuck no matter how much she moved. With a huff, she shook out her talons and flicked her tail, trying to rid herself of the irritating sensation. Some of it fell away, but more clung stubbornly to her gills. She sighed, knowing she’d be feeling the sand between her scales for hours.
           A crab latched onto her tail with a sharp snap. Tuna yelped, startled, and instinctively flicked her tail, sending the crab flying. It tumbled through the air, landing with a plop in the wet sand before scuttling angrily back toward the water, its claws snapping in protest.
           The two SeaWings on the beach turned at the commotion, exchanging a glance before stepping toward her. Both of them eyed her curiously, waiting, expecting her to say something.
           "You guys actually came?" Tuna said, disbelief clear in her voice as she shook out her scales, trying to rid herself of the stubborn sand.
           A passing sea breeze swept over her, knocking loose some of the grains clinging to her fins, but at the same time, it carried even more onto her damp scales. She huffed in frustration, flicking her tail as she tried to shake it off.
           The two male SeaWings exchanged another look before turning their attention back to her, one of them tilting his head slightly. It was clear they were waiting for her to say more.


Page 62 (Salmon)

“Yeah, we came to see if you were pulling another prank on us,” Salmon said, watching Tuna throw a tantrum over the sand stuck to her scales. He had sand clinging to his own, but he didn’t bother shaking it off.
           “A-actually, I...” Eddy hesitated, glancing nervously at Salmon. His barbels drooped, and his gills clamped shut as if bracing for a sudden attack, just in case Salmon decided to throw sand at him. After a moment, he sighed and admitted, “Salmon... kinda forced me into this.”
           Tuna finally rid herself of the sand, though now her scales felt dry and tight, aching as the moisture was stripped away. She blinked at them, mostly at Salmon, surprised he had even come at all, forcing Eddy in too. Salmon let out a grumpy sigh, unamused.
           “We needed backup in case this weird fairytale of Tuna’s was actually true,” Salmon mumbled, his light blue scales shimmering under the thin layer of sand clinging to him. Eddy stiffened at the mention of Tuna’s story. His eyes darted around nervously before he shriveled up even more, his whole body sinking slightly into the sand as if trying to disappear. His barbels twitched, and his tail curled close to his body.
           Tuna pressed a talon to her snout, exhaling sharply before glaring at the two of them. Her eyes were practically begging to be believed.
           “I’m telling the truth, you squid brains,” she snapped. Salmon didn’t budge, narrowing his eyes as he studied her face, searching for the tiniest twitch of a smile or any sign that she was messing with them. Meanwhile, Eddy’s wide eyes silently pleaded for her to take it all back, to laugh and say it was just another joke.
           “I know it sounds crazy,” Tuna continued, her voice firm. “But I actually witnessed it. It’s true.”
           Salmon let out a slow sigh, his brows furrowing as disappointment flickered across his face. He closed his eyes, trying his best to believe her. Meanwhile, Eddy all but collapsed onto the sand, still clinging to the hope that she was lying. His barbels drooped, his tail twitching anxiously.
           Salmon struggled with it, this whole thing was just too strange. But Tuna had been insisting on it for so long now. If it were just another one of her pranks, she should’ve cracked by now. And yet, looking at her now, he saw something different. The fear in her eyes was real. Maybe… just this once, he could give her the benefit of the doubt.
           “All right, maybe you’re right. A black tadpole thingy has been stalking you in this area,” Salmon said, though his voice was heavy with skepticism.
           He glanced toward the sea beside them, the waves rolling in, as if mocking the absurdity of the situation. Deep down, he knew his doubt wasn’t because Tuna was unreliable, it was because he didn’t want to believe something like that could exist.
           Tuna wasn’t the type to invent something terrifying just for fun. If she had gone this far to convince them, then something was definitely going on.


Page 63 (Eddy)

“Thank you, guys. You don’t know how much this means to me.” Tuna glanced at the sea alongside Salmon, but Eddy noticed. He could see the fear in her eyes, the way her talons tensed whenever the waves crept too close. It was as if she expected a black tendril to lash out, wrap around her, and drag her into the depths. “I’m relieved I’m not alone on this one...”
           Salmon stepped closer to the waves, his talons sinking into the wet sand as the tide rushed over them. The water was nightly cold, as usual, nothing strange. But Eddy felt his stomach twist. Watching in horror, he realized there was no escaping this. Whatever this thing was, it wasn’t just Tuna’s fear. It was real. And now, he and Salmon had no choice. They had to investigate.
           “Wait, we’re seriously doing this?” Eddy blurted, his tail twitching as it dug into the sand, his talons clenching instinctively.
           Tuna looked at him, her expression tense, but after a moment, she gave him an understanding look.
           She placed her talons on his wings and clasped them gently, a quiet gesture of comfort. Eddy barely noticed. His eyes were locked on the dark sea beside them, where the three moons cast their trembling reflections across the waves. The sight sent a cold pang through his throat, an eerie sensation, like the creature was already slithering its way up from the depths, inching into his esophagus.
           The SeaWing sighed at his bewildered expression. “I know it may seem scary, but Salmon’s with you,” she said softly, her grip steady on his wings. She glanced back at Salmon, who was wading through the shallows with a grumpy look, prodding at the water as if daring the creature to show itself. “You can do this, Eddy.”
           Eddy took a shaky breath, his gaze dropping to the sand below. He pouted for a moment, reluctant, but eventually pushed himself up, trying to reassure Tuna. Deep down, he wished this was some kind of sick prank, that any moment now, she’d start laughing and admit it was all a joke. But the look of relief on her face was real. And that didn’t help at all. Tuna nodded in reassurance, her head bobbing up and down, then gave him a firm pat on the back.
           “Are you going with me or not?” Salmon grumbled, shooting them a glare before turning back to the water. His eyes locked onto a shadow beneath the surface, and he lunged at it, only to come up with a squirming tropical fish. With an annoyed huff, he tossed it aside, sending it flopping back into the waves.
           Tuna and Eddy chuckled, the tension easing for just a moment. Eddy glanced at Tuna with a weary smile before Salmon hissed, “Come on!” The green SeaWing sighed, Eddy took off after him.
           The two SeaWings dove into the deep water, using their wings to propel themselves upward for a moment before plunging down to a safe depth. A large splash erupted behind them, sending a wave of water splattering onto Tuna’s snout. Her smile faded as she instinctively raised her wings to shield herself.


Page 64 (Tuna)

Now alone on the empty beach, Tuna shivered as a burst of wind swept past her. It didn’t help her nerves. Had she just sent them on a deadly mission? The thought gnawed at her, but it was too late to take it back now.
           Then, a faint glow flickered beneath the waves. She exhaled in relief, it was Eddy and Salmon’s bioluminescent spots, still shining beneath the water. They were okay.
           It was just another dive, something the three of them had done countless times as marine biologists. But something about this night felt… off. The eerie quiet, the absence of other dragons, and the knowledge that something, some creature, was lurking in these waters unsettled her.
           Or maybe it wasn’t just in the water.
           Her talons tensed as her eyes darted around the shoreline. The palm trees behind her swayed gently in the filtering moonlight, their rustling leaves barely masking the steady chirping of crickets. There was plenty of movement in the forest, but she doubted she’d spot anything watching her, not when she already knew something had been.
           For months now, she’d felt it. A dark figure, always at the edge of her vision, vanishing the moment she turned to look. It had never harmed her, never gotten close enough to truly threaten her, but it was there.
           Was it a dragon? A scavenger? She had no idea, and that was what scared her the most. It made no sense for something to be following her. She wasn’t famous, didn’t hold any power, and had nothing of real importance beyond her research as a marine biologist. Her discoveries were small, nothing worth stalking her over. And yet, the feeling of being watched never faded.
           She tilted her head, sliding her tail through the sand as her eyes flicked toward the bushes beyond the palm trees. Insects chirped, leaves rustled, and she strained her ears, listening for anything out of the ordinary.
           For a moment, she felt foolish. Like she was letting paranoia get the best of her. Had she really sent Salmon and Eddy away just because of her nerves? But then, a sharp crack echoed through the trees. Her head snapped toward the sound.
           The noise continued. Her expression hardened, fear laced with focus as she spread her wings and braced her claws, ready for whatever was lurking beyond the trees.
           A white owl emerged, struggling against the tangled vines as if it had been trapped there. Its wings flapped awkwardly, snagging on the dense foliage. She took a step back, startled, as the owl let out a soft hoot and shook itself free. It met her gaze for a brief moment before silently taking off into the night.
           It wasn’t the threatening stalker she had feared, but something about it felt off. White owls weren’t common in tropical beaches, they belonged to colder regions. What was one doing here?


Page 65 (Salmon)

The current swept over his scales, wrapping around him like a second skin. Moonlight rippled through the shallow water, twisting and bending in a restless dance. With each step, the sand beneath him shifted, Eddy jumped as he accidentally stepped on a sea turtle.
           Then, with one final lunge, the seabed dropped away. He was swimming now, his body slicing through the water as he pushed against the pull of the tide.
          The deeper they went, the more the world blurred into streaks of shifting shadows. Silhouettes of algae wavered in the filtered glow of the moons, their long tendrils swaying in the gentle current. Schools of parrotfish and angelfish darted past in synchronized bursts of color. Eddy snapped his jaws at one of the fish, only for Salmon to bump him back to attention.
           They had reached the coral reef, just as Salmon expected. He remembered conducting research here with Tuna, back when it was just a normal place, not one tainted by the presence of something watching. The water was shallow, but not enough for the light to reach everything. Eddy blinked his bioluminescent scales, turning, only to realize he was sitting too close. Unnerved, he had instinctively drifted toward Salmon, who, with an annoyed grunt, he shoved him away. Eddy shook his head, looking at him in dismay.
           The two searched around the coral reef, eyeing any small movements, but so far, they seemed to be the only danger in the area. Small fish darted into the safety of anemones and crevices, their scales flashing under the dim light. A startled octopus shot out a cloud of ink before vanishing behind a jagged coral formation. Eddy lunged at a passing fish, hoping to snatch himself a quick breakfast, but he was too slow. The fish flicked its tail and disappeared into the reef.
           Salmon didn’t scold him this time or snap him back to focus. At least this small distraction kept Eddy from thinking too hard about why they were really here, hunting down an eldritch creature lurking in the depths. Just moments ago, he had been as scared as a pathetic scavenger, flinching at every shadow.
           They reached a familiar coral reef, at least familiar to Salmon. This place felt like he’d been here before. Maybe it was that one time he and Tuna tried to catch a veilfin angel fish for their research.
           He remembered there were leftover traps here, ones they had set back then. He could only hope they hadn’t rusted away or been destroyed. More than anything, he hoped at least one of them had caught the creature Tuna had been talking about.
           He tried his best to remember the nearest hidden trap in one of the sandy patches. Spotting a likely spot, he lunged down, disturbing the sand and sending a cloud of silt into the water.
           Eddy swam over curiously, tilting his head as he watched.
           Salmon’s webbed claws dug through the shifting grains, his vision quickly obscured by the murky water. He relied on touch instead, feeling around until his fingers scraped against something hard and sharp.


Page 66 (Eddy)

Eddy took a closer look through the swirling silt and saw Salmon clawing at something. His gray-emerald eyes widened, adjusting to the dimness. He tilted his head. What was Salmon up to? Had he found the creature? Or was it some sort of hidden treasure?… Or maybe he had caught a delicious ghostfin snapper for him?
           Salmon shot him an irritated look, clearly unimpressed by his idle curiosity. Eddy bubbled out in panic before positioning his tail, his bioluminescence flickering to life. A soft glow illuminated the murky water, and with a swift motion, he swayed his tail to clear away the silt.
           Both of them waited for the water to clear, revealing a half-buried, rusty box. Salmon gripped it and began to pull, his curiosity growing as he examined it. Eddy flickered his bioluminescent scales again to catch his attention.
           Are we really sure that Tuna isn’t playing a prank on us? his scales flashed in aquatic.
           Salmon blinked a few times, both to process the message and to adjust to the lingering silt. He turned the thought over in his mind. Was Eddy right? Before he could answer, Eddy’s scales flickered again. You know she’s been asking us to check the leftover traps here…
           The slate-blue SeaWing glanced away in thought before turning his focus back to the cage. He braced himself, shifting his entire weight as he tried to pry it free from the sand’s stubborn grip. The metal was old, rusted, and half-buried, resisting his efforts.
           Eddy swam forward to help, and together, they pulled at the corroded structure until the brittle metal gave way with a sharp, grating snap. A murky aura of silt billowed around them as the cage finally broke open, its jagged edges encrusted with barnacles and tangled in decayed kelp.
           He hesitated, his bioluminescent markings flickering as he hovered behind Salmon. His movements were cautious, his gills flaring slightly as if tasting the water for something unnatural. Salmon shot him a scrutinizing look.
           She wouldn’t look that terrified if this were just a prank or some forced task. Salmon blinked as his bioluminescence pulsed faintly, casting brief flashes over the reef. With each flicker, the surrounding fish darted away in startled bursts. Eddy rubbed his barbels, fidgeting in hesitation, his expression caught somewhere between skepticism and unease.
           Besides, she’s been avoiding this place. I’ve noticed. Salmon’s fins twitched. I’m certain.
           Eddy’s webbed feet stamped against the seafloor as he glanced around, scanning the coral for any sign of danger. For a moment, his heart lurched, he swore he saw a grinning figure watching from the shadows. But when he blinked and let his glow flare, it was nothing. Just another coral, its jagged shape playing tricks on his mind.
           And we actually need to do this. He blinked once again, his slate-cyan bioluminescent spots pulsating in the current. Turning back to the rusted cage and digging into its empty, disappointing as this ordeal.


Page 67 (Salmon)

The cage they had dug up was empty. It had been activated, but there was nothing inside. It was strange, maybe the prey had escaped, or worse, the creature had triggered the trap itself. Either way, it felt like a waste of time. And now, it seemed they’d have to split up, though Salmon wasn’t sure Eddy would agree to it.
           The green SeaWing stood frozen, terrified, his fins trembling in place like a frightened fish caught in the open. He approached Eddy, the muscles in his wing joint tight with tension. He flinched when he got too close but kept moving forward.
           Yikes! Eddy blinked, his bioluminescence flaring brightly in surprise, casting enough light to reveal a nearby shark watching them from a distance. What is it, Salmon?

Salmon took a deep breath, his gills expanding and contracting slowly as he steeled himself. He stared at Eddy, preparing himself for the inevitable rejection of his idea. But time was running out. They had to move quickly, and with the sun creeping closer, he didn’t want to waste another moment. With a firm grip on his thoughts, he finally blinked his scales.

We have to split up.

As expected, Eddy recoiled, shaking his head in denial. Salmon looked around, anxiety creeping up his spine as the weight of the decision sank in. No no no NO, in this water? Never, please. What if I—
           This is your chance to become a brave marine biologist, Eddy! Salmon’s webbed talons gripped both of Eddy’s wing joints firmly.
           Eddy arched his back, bracing himself for yet another one of Salmon’s lectures. He stared at him, wide-eyed and uneasy, but Salmon’s expression remained serious. If you feel threatened, just blink three times, then once, then twice. Got it?
           A pause. Then, Eddy gulped down a mouthful of seawater before nodding hesitantly. Salmon finally let go, giving him a long, scrutinizing look, as if making sure he’d actually follow through.
           For a moment, Salmon hesitated, watching Eddy’s fleeting but reluctant movements as he swam away. A pang of guilt tugged at his chest. Did Eddy think he resented him? That he was just throwing him into danger?
           Eddy vanished behind the corals, and a wave of tiny regret washed over Salmon. Did I just send him to his death?
           For a moment, Salmon hesitated, watching Eddy’s reluctant form flicker through the shifting moonlight. He wasn’t swimming away with confidence, his movements were stiff and uncertain. A pang of guilt crept up on Salmon, but he shoved it down.
           Eddy disappeared into the corals, his bioluminescence blinking out of sight. The second he was gone, that guilt flared up again. Did I just send him to his death?
           No, that was ridiculous. He’s an adult dragon. How could he die? But the thought lingered like a stubborn remora. Eddy had spent his whole life in the safety of the palace, sheltered by noble parents who had smoothed out every rough edge for him. He wasn’t useless, but he wasn’t built for this either.
           He’s scared out of his mind. Salmon realized with a sigh, rubbing his snout. Like a hatchling dropped into the open ocean.
           Still, they didn’t have a choice. If they wanted answers, they needed to move quickly, and splitting up was the only way to cover enough ground before sunrise. He just had to trust that Eddy could handle himself.
           Don’t get yourself killed buddy... he thought, before turning to search his half of the reef.


Page 68 (Eddy)

Eddy blinked rapidly, his bioluminescent spots flickering as he scanned the dark waters, searching every crevice where a monster could be lurking. His heart pounded. What if an anglerfish suddenly. No, that was ridiculous. It was too shallow for something that deep-sea. Or too small to be threatening.
           But that didn’t stop his nerves from prickling like crabs crawling under his scales. Every shadow swayed like it was alive. Every drifting piece of seaweed made his gills tighten. He gulped, forcing himself to keep moving, but the tension coiled in his chest refused to loosen.
           He glowed once again, his bioluminescent scales pulsing with each step. Every time he flickered, small fish darted away, scattering like startled insects. It seemed the fish and shrimp were more afraid of him than he was of them.

It was… anticlimactic.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, aside from the eerie brightness of the night. The water felt too quiet, the usual hum of distant marine life subdued. He tried to shake off the unease creeping up his spine. Surely, nothing was.
           He thought too soon.
           Something flinched in the corner of his eye, darting away before he could get a good look. It was too fast to be a crab scuttling across the sand, too dark to be one of the reef’s vibrant fish, and too big to be prey. But it was also too fast to be a shark, and too large to be any of the usual predators that lurked in these waters.
           His heart pounded as his mind scrambled for an explanation. He could’ve sworn he saw the blur of tentacles slipping out of sight, vanishing into the shadows of the reef. A cold shiver ran down his spine. No… it couldn’t be.
           Instinct kicked in. His bioluminescent scales flashed in rapid, pulsing bursts, flooding the reef with cold, eerie light. The corals glowed in the sudden flare, shadows bending and stretching like reaching claws. Tiny fish scattered, their silvery forms vanishing into the murky depths.
           When the glow faded, nothing remained, no monster, nothing smiling back at him. Just an empty reef.
           Yet Eddy couldn’t shake the feeling. Something had been there. Something had seen him. And worse, something had fled before he could catch a glimpse of it.
           He stood frozen, his mind racing to process what had just happened. His gills flared slightly, his heartbeat thudding in his ears. He didn’t dare turn back toward the path he had split off from. What if something was lurking behind him? Watching him? Instead, he stared blankly at the spot where the movement had been, wincing as a cold dread crept up his spine.
           That’s it. I’m out.
           Without another thought, he turned and made his way down another route, one that would hopefully lead him back to Salmon. His mind scrambled for an excuse, some reason for abandoning the plan, but he didn’t stop to think too hard. He just kept going, refusing to look back.


Page 69 (Salmon)

His webbed talons dug into the seabed, silt clouding around his gills before he flared them, sending the murky water scattering. With a deep, grumpy glare, he fixed his gaze on the half-buried, rust-covered cage and yanked it open. Empty. Again.
           This was the ninth one in a row. Frustration curled in his chest, tightening like a coiling net. Every piece of evidence pointed to one thing, someone or *something* had been activating these traps on purpose. There should have been remains inside, even just scraps of prey caught too long ago. But there was nothing. Worse, the bait was still there, untouched. It made no sense.
           He shook his head and turned toward the next nearest trap. In the distance, he spotted Eddy’s faint glow, flickering faintly, but he ignored it with a sharp exhale of bubbles. Instead, he swam forward, weaving through swaying kelp and coral formations. Schools of angelfish and parrotfish hovered nearby, their eyes following him warily, waiting to see if they would become his next meal. But Salmon didn’t spare them a glance, his focus locked on the task ahead.
           Then, just as he passed over a stretch of seagrass and boulders, a faint thud echoed through the water. A metallic clank followed and it was coming from the direction he's heading. His fins tensed.
           Had one of the traps just been triggered? Or was he just hearing things? Either way, it was unnatural. The timing was too perfect.
           Salmon hesitated for only a moment before making his decision. If the creature was really here, this might be his best chance to catch it. But he had to be careful. He still had no idea what it was or what it even looked like, what it wanted, or whether it was dangerous.
 
         A webbed talon gripped the edge of a jagged rock, steadying him as he peeked through the swaying seagrass for a clear view of the next trap. The water was still clouded with disturbed sand, particles drifting in lazy spirals. Something had definitely been caught here recently, and by the looks of it, whatever it was had put up a struggle.
           He stayed perfectly still and cautious. If something was still lurking nearby, he didn’t want to startle it. But at the same time, he didn’t want to end up as its next target.
           The sand settled slowly. He peeked again.
           Darkness. Not just the usual murky shadows of the deep, but a thick, unnatural blackness pooling inside the cage, swallowing all light.
           His throat tightened. He had no choice but to use his bioluminescent scales to light up the inside of the cage. Slowly, hesitantly, he drifted closer, careful not to disturb the sand or alert whatever might be lurking nearby. With a flicker of his scales, he cast a pale, shifting glow over the trap.
           At first, it was just darkness. Then, the shape inside began to move. It wasn’t just a shadow. It was thick, shifting, like a blob of crude oil trapped inside the cage. It swirled and coiled in slowly, as if it was alive. His mind raced. What is that? Was it just some strange deep-sea creature, or was it something worse? Was it even dangerous?
           Just as another thought formed, he felt a sudden shift in the water. Someone behind him.


Page 70 (Eddy)

The water dazzled around him, the shifting light patterns above resembling a canopy of trees, something he wished he was under instead of being trapped in this terrifying situation. Growing more anxious with every passing second. Where is Salmon? Just as dread started to creep in, a faint flash flickered in the distance.
           Relief flooded him. It was him! Without a second thought, he surged forward, pushing through the current as fast as he could. There he found the cyan SeaWing looking drooped down. Just as he got close, Salmon's tail lashed out, slamming straight into his face.
           Pain exploded through his snout. He let out a choked cry, a burst of bubbles escaping his mouth, agony rattling through his skull. A sharp, metallic taste filled his throat, and before he even registered what had happened, blood began pouring from his nostrils, clouding the water around him.
           Eddy clutched his snout, wincing as pain flared through his face. His fins twitched in irritation, and he shot a glare at Salmon, who stood frozen, his bioluminescent scales flickering uncertainly. What in the abyss was that for?! Salmon’s markings pulsed with urgency.
           *Sorry,* Eddy flashed back, rubbing his snout with a grimace. His annoyance faded as he followed Salmon’s gaze to the cage. It had been triggered, and it wasn't buried in the sand like the others. Something inside churned, swirling like ink suspended in water, twisting and pulsing with slow, unnatural movement. His gills flared as a chill crept up his spine. It was moving on its own. Was this… alive?
           *What in moons is that?!" Eddy flashed intensely, his bioluminescent scales flickering erratically as he shot a terrified look at Salmon. His gills flared, tail curling slightly as if bracing for something to lunge out of the cage.
           Both of them turned back to the black blob. It remained the same, swirling, pulsing, shifting like something half-formed, something that shouldn’t exist. It wasn’t behaving like ink, nor like an animal.
           *I don’t know…* Salmon admitted, his expression unreadable as he reached into his satchel and pulled out a reinforced glass jar. His movements were steady, but his fins twitched slightly. He turned to Eddy, eyes sharp with unspoken urgency. *Here, take this.*
           He pressed the jar into Eddy’s webbed talons, and for a moment, Eddy almost lost his grip. His shaking claws fumbled, and the jar drifted slightly downward, the water slowing its descent before he caught it again. He exhaled sharply, his gills flaring as he clutched it tighter, his eyes darting to Salmon, who was now approaching the cage with clear hesitation.
           The SeaWing took a long, sturdy driftwood branch, bleached by the sea and worn smooth by the currents. Hesitating for a moment before slowly extending it toward the thing in the cage. The tip of the stick poked into the swirling black mass. It passed through effortlessly, like dipping into still water, leaving no resistance, not even a reaction.
           Eddy’s frills stiffened. His stomach twisted in discomfort. That’s not right. If it was just liquid, how had it activated the rusted cage? How could something so formless, so... ghostly, have triggered an old mechanical trap?


Page 71 (Salmon)

It didn’t move, even as he swirled the branch through it. No reaction. No resistance. Salmon frowned, quickly pulling the stick back and inspecting the end. Nothing. No residue, no slime, just as clean as before, as if he’d stirred empty water.
           Eddy crept closer, his glow flickering with unease. I don’t like this… he flashed, his webbed talons twitching.
           Salmon felt the same creeping dread coil in his gut. Something this viscous shouldn’t have been able to activate a cage like this. It would take the weight of at least a dragonet to trip the mechanism, but this thing, whatever it was, moved like it had the consistency of olive oil. Too light. Too soft. Too… wrong.
           Eddy’s reaction wasn’t unwarranted. The usual steady, unmoved dragon was now curled up, watching the blob like it would lunge at them any second.
           We have to put it in that jar before it does anything funny. Salmon blinked, nodding toward the glass container.
           Eddy startled, his grip slipping, and the jar nearly drifted away before he caught it in a frantic scramble.
           Salmon sighed, releasing a small burst of bubbles, before turning back to the cage. He reached out with the stick again, pressing against a hidden latch along the rusted bars. His free talon opened expectantly, waiting for Eddy to hand over the jar, except Eddy was still frozen in place. With a frustrated flick of his tail, Salmon just snatched it himself, locking it into a designated slot at the cage’s base.
           He tapped the mechanism with the stick. A dull clank echoed through the water, and he carefully flipped the cage onto its side. The blob didn’t move. It just… sat there.
           Salmon exhaled in relief, but Eddy looked ready to bolt, his bioluminescence flickering wildly. He was coiled tight, as if expecting the thing to strike.
           Salmon tensed, preparing for the worst. But then, slowly, the blob began to drift downward, straight into the jar. It moved deliberately, sinking into the glass container like it understood exactly what was happening.
           His eyes narrowed at the blob, watching as it settled into the glass jar. The moment it stopped moving, he twisted the button with a sharp click. The jar floated free, a rusty cap sealing it shut.
           Salmon lunged forward, snatching it before it could drift away. He turned to Eddy, who looked like he was about to sink right into the seabed out of sheer terror.
           *Can we go now…? The green SeaWing blinked, wringing his talons together as he stared at the jar like it might explode.
           *Fine.* he flashed, closing the cage with a final, decisive snap. He pressed it down into the sand, leaving it half-buried, never to be touched again.
           Glancing back at the jar, he turned it in his talons, inspecting the contents. But the thing inside was still too dark to make out. No movement. No sign of what it really was.
           With one last wary glance at the cage, he flicked his tail and began swimming back toward the beach.


Page 72 (Ryba)

           The coastal forest whispered under the steady breeze, palm trees swaying like murmuring sentinels. Ryba gritted his teeth as the bucket in his mouth clanked, so much for a quiet chore. This was the worst, and at night too, just because his seashells were due tomorrow… or today, if it was already past midnight.
           He hated the dark. Hated the way the forest pressed in around him, shadows shifting with every gust of wind. And worse, what if an angry SkyWing was lurking nearby, waiting to lunge at him?
           Scales prickling, his gills rustling. Every chirp of a cricket sounded like a hiss. His heartbeat pounded louder than the rustling leaves. Above, the moon had begun its slow descent toward the horizon, stretching the night just a little longer.
           There, sitting idly on the beach, was a distant blue SeaWing. Ryba’s tense shoulders loosened slightly, at least he wasn’t alone. He brightened at the sight of another SeaWing and hoped they were friendly. Maybe they were just basking… or witnessing the Brightest Night. He quite enjoyed it too. As he flew over, he fumbled for something to say.
           “Fellow SeaWing,” he greeted awkwardly, immediately regretting it. That sounded too formal and stiff.
           “It’s a very important event, isn’t it?” he added quickly, glancing at the sky. The three moons hung bright and full, casting silver light over the waves. The SeaWing looked up, startled.
           “Yeah, I guess,” she replied, looking back at the water. She was partially buried in the sand and her scales and gills were sprinkled with sand too, meaning she must’ve been here for quite some time. “I’m actually waiting for my friends. They’re down there. I really hope they’re okay.”
           Ryba hesitated before offering, “Don’t worry about them. We’re dragons, we’re the danger here.” He attempted a smile despite the bucket handle clamping between his teeth. To his relief, the SeaWing chuckled softly.
           “I’m Tuna, by the way. One of the marine biologists,” she said, extending a webbed talon. “And what’s with the bucket?”
           Ryba glanced at the bucket still dangling from his mouth before answering, “Oh, it’s for collecting twilight shells for some project…” His voice came out muffled thanks to the handle.
           Since she was a marine biologist, she might actually be helpful. He shuffled a little closer, offering the bucket with a small, hopeful smile, the handle still between his teeth. “Since you know the ocean… can you tell me where I can find these?”
           Tuna took the bucket and peered inside, inspecting the sketch on the scroll. “Twilight shells, huh?” she mused, tracing a talon over the drawing. “They usually show up over there. You’ll want to check the shallows near the reef just before sunrise. They glow faintly in the dark—kind of like bioluminescent plankton.”
           “Uh, wow. Thanks!” Ryba’s ears perked up. Last time he searched for seashells like this, it took days. He could’ve asked for help, but trusting others wasn’t easy. Still, Tuna’s help made things easier.
           “No problem!” Tuna chirped. Then, the waves shifted, unnaturally. Two faint lights glowed beneath the surface, growing brighter. Ryba hid behind Tuna. She only looked relieved but still a little wary.


Page 73 (Tuna)

Two SeaWings burst onto the beach, stomping onto the sand Eddy and Salmon, alive and well. Eddy immediately lunged forward, hugging the ground like he’d never been happier to see dry land.
           “Ah! Finally!” he groaned, stretching out and rolling in the sand, letting it cling to his wet scales. Nearby, Salmon coated himself in sand before shaking it off in one swift motion to dry off faster. Ryba let out a quiet breath of relief, it wasn’t something dangerous after all.
           Her gaze caught on the jar in Salmon’s grasp, its rusty cap a clear sign they had found something in the old traps. He didn’t see what was inside, though, as Salmon tucked it away in his pouch. With a final shake, the two were mostly dry, except Eddy, who was still rolling around like a stranded fish.
           “We found something.” Salmon finally said. He pulled a water-filled jar from his pouch and hesitantly held it out for everyone to see.
           Ryba shot the jar a wary glance, stepping closer as Tuna leaned in to examine it as well. Inside, a strange black mass floated, thick like ink but eerily still. At first glance, it almost looked like a glob of crude oil, but something was off. It didn’t drift or swirl with the water, it stayed in place, unmoving, yet somehow shifting within itself.
           “It’s a moving ink blob?” Tuna muttered, narrowing her eyes as she inspected it more closely. She thought it might be some kind of deep-sea creature or a strange form of algae, but it was too thick to be plant life and too still to be a normal fish.
           “I’ve never seen anything like this before,” she added, tilting her head slightly at the jar. “It doesn’t move like ink or oil, and I can’t think of a single animal that looks like this.”
           Before she could get a closer look, the blob suddenly shifted, its dark form pulsing unnaturally. Then, out of the inky blackness, a glowing white spot emerged.
           Everyone froze. Ryba immediately ducked behind Tuna, and Eddy shrank behind Salmon. Even Salmon and Tuna, who had been the most composed, stared in shock.
           The glowing spot hovered in the darkness of the jar, its eerie stillness making it look disturbingly like an eye.
           “Is… is that an eye?” Eddy asked, his snout barely poking out from between Salmon’s wings and neck.
           “No, it could just be a bioluminescent spot, like ours-” Tuna offered, though she didn’t sound fully convinced. She leaned in, carefully studying the glowing mark, searching for any movement inside the swirling ink.
           Then it pulsed again. A thin, wispy tail unfurled, shaping the blob into something like a teardrop or a tadpole.
           The glowing white spot fixed itself on Tuna, unblinking. It wasn’t just a bioluminescent mark. It was an eye. The thing twitched inside the jar, adjusting to its confinement. Then, without warning, its form rippled, and a jagged mouth opened.


Page 74 (Salmon)

The creature’s jagged mouth curled into what looked like a grin, rows of sharp teeth forming in the inky swirl. Then, without warning, it lunged, only to slam against the glass with a dull thunk.
         Ryba and Eddy recoiled instantly, scrambling back, and even Tuna flinched. Salmon nearly dropped the jar, his grip slipping as the thing inside writhed, twisting and pressing against the glass like it was trying to get out.
           Salmon clutched the jar to his chest as it thrashed violently, the creature inside slamming against the glass walls with alarming force. Despite its watery appearance, it struck with the power of something solid and something alive. The impact sent a tremor through his grip, and before he could steady himself, the sheer force of it knocked Tuna off balance.
           The jar slipped from his grasp, hitting the sand and rolling toward Tuna. But what made his scales prickle wasn’t just the fact that it had fallen, it was the way it moved. The thing inside wasn’t just thrashing randomly. It was shifting, tilting itself within the jar, deliberately rolling it forward as if it understood what it was doing. The realization sent a chill through him. This wasn’t just some strange deep-sea creature. It was thinking.
           “Make it stop!” Eddy cried, tucking himself behind Salmon as the jar rolled closer to Tuna. She scrambled back, eyes wide with alarm.
           Salmon snapped out of his daze and stomped his talons down, pinning the jar firmly against the sand. He made sure not to press too hard, just enough to keep it from escaping without shattering it. Beneath his claws, he could feel the creature thrashing violently.
           “What in moons is that thing?” Eddy fearfully asked as he got up, patting away any sand out of his scales.
           “I don’t know…” he admitted regretfully. After all his years studying marine biology at Jade Mountain Academy, he should have been able to identify this. He was supposed to be the smartest, the most knowledgeable in the group, but this was a slip.
           Something so small and simple had left him stumped. Was it an urchin? No, too smooth. A jellyfish? No, too solid. He couldn’t tell.
           “Is it over?” Ryba slipped put of Tuna to inspect the jar again. It was covered under Salmon's webbed talons
           “Salmon, I think we're dealing with something dangerous,” Tuna said as she inspected the sand left behind by the violent thrashing of the creature. The way the sand caved in to fill the gaps left by its struggle was unsettling.
           The fact that this small, seemingly insignificant thing had terrified them more than any shark or colossal squid was telling. Maybe it was a parasite? Or something far worse, something otherworldly. If that's the case then they shouldn't bring this back to the ocean. It could be something very dangerous, similar to the Breath of Evil. “You should seal it in your vault. It’s too dangerous to release that thing. Who knows what it could do?”


Page 75 (Ryba)

           “You’re right…” Salmon agreed. He lifted the jar again, and oddly enough, the creature had stopped thrashing. It just floated there, eerily still, almost like it was watching them. Worse, it almost seemed to be… smiling.
           Salmon narrowed his eyes, inspecting it closer. He searched for any sign of organs like gills or a stomach or at least something. But there was nothing. Just an empty, inky void. It didn’t even have a tongue. He flicked his barbels, gripping the jar tighter.
           “Tuna, Eddy, go head back home. I’ll handle this thing myself.” Salmon said, pointing toward the marine research center in the distance.
           “Wait, alone? Are you serious?” Eddy stepped forward, eyes darting between the jar and Salmon. “What if that thing harms you? Like what it tried to do with Tuna?”
           Ryba hesitated, feeling like he was intruding on something serious, but he still wanted to offer some help. Salmon only sighed and patted Eddy’s back, gently pushing him toward Tuna.
           Ryba stepped in. “You guys could stay at my home. I could offer you some—”
           “Oh yes, please!” Eddy blurted out, flopping down in front of Ryba with an exhausted look. Ryba was taken aback by how quickly they accepted his offer. Trusting someone that easily? It felt unsafe, especially with the possibility that this creature was something far worse than the skirmishes between SeaWings and SkyWings.
           “I don’t want to be here anymore! This place scares the barnacles out of me.” Eddy added, shuddering his fins. He glanced at the creature inside the jar. It was still smiling at them, its mouth lined with thin, black strands, almost like the webbing of a deep-sea anglerfish. The way the strands stretched and curled made it look like it wasn’t just grinning, like it was watching intently.
           “How far is your home?” Tuna asked, tilting her head. Ryba blinked, surprised she was actually considering it.
           “It’s just around a hundred wingbeats southeast,” he said, pointing his webbed talons toward the stretch of beach leading south and curving west.
           Tuna looked skeptical, glancing between him and the jar, but she seemed to relent. Mostly because of Eddy’s pleading eyes and pitiful look. She gave him a tired, exasperated look before turning back to Ryba. He smiled slightly, and after a moment, Tuna sighed and nodded.
           “Fine. But I won’t be sleeping at your place since I just woke up.” Tuna flicked her tail, clearing away the sand disturbed during the earlier struggle. “I’ll keep watch.”
           “Uh… cool. I’ll cook some grilled sea bass if you want!” Ryba beamed with a hopeful grin.
           Eddy bared his teeth in hunger as the thought of it made his stomach growl awkwardly around them. This whole ordeal had probably exhausted him so much. He was probably desperate to have a comfy place to rest and a full stomach.
           “S-see, Tuna? It’s worth it,” Eddy stammered, nudging her lightly with a sheepish grin. “That’s our favorite snack, right?”


Page 76 (Salmon)

He swirled the jar to see if the creature inside would swirl too, but instead, it seemed to manipulate the water around it, making it look as if it was floating in place. This thing had advanced motor skills, able to remain completely still despite the movement. Something even most SeaWings struggled with in whirling currents. He shook the jar harder, but to no avail. The creature stayed eerily still, unbothered.
           “Hey, Salmon, are you sure you can handle this thing alone?” Tuna asked, stepping up to him and tapping her wing against his to get his attention. “That thing tried to lunge at me, it’s acting all kinds of weird, and let’s be real... It looks weird.”
          Tuna was right—this thing was unlike anything else he had ever seen. And that was unsettling. Though it would only be truly alarming if it broke the glass jar, something that even a giant squid would struggle to crack.
          “If it was dangerous, it would've broken out by now. It's too weak to break glass.” Salmon muttered, inspecting the jar closely. His confidence wavered when he noticed a thin crack along the surface. Or was it a scratch? Either way, the sight of it sent a prickle of unease down his spine. Had the glass been damaged before, or… was something inside actually trying to escape?
           "You trust me on this.” Salmon said as the trio readied themselves for a flight, Eddy stretching his whole body while Ryba seemed to only unfurl his wings.
           They waved goodbye to Salmon before the trio took off from the beach. Ryba spread his wings and glanced back once before soaring into the sky. Eddy followed suit, flapping eagerly, and Tuna was the last to take off. Their silhouettes faded into the dark horizon, leaving Salmon alone on the beach with the jar in his talons.
           He took a long look at the creature again, still baffled by everything that had happened before morning. So much had been discovered in such a short time.
           As Tuna disappeared into the horizon, the creature shifted its gaze from her to him, its unsettling grin widening. A chill ran down his spine. Was it watching him now?
           Well, good. This whole ordeal was about keeping it away from Tuna anyway. Maybe if it focused on him instead, he could study it. Or… maybe it would be the other way around. Maybe it was studying him.
           He lifted the jar toward the three full moons sinking into the endless ocean ahead. The creature’s three glowing eyes eerily mirrored them. A few moments ago, it seemed to have only one eye. But now, it appeared to have been duplicated. That caught his interest. Creatures that could grow new body parts were rare.
           “I hope you don’t cause any trouble...” he muttered coldly, a smug edge to his voice as he swirled the jar once more. As expected, the thing didn’t react. With a sigh, he tucked it into his pouch, turned south, and took off into the starry sky. Even as he flapped his wings, the creature inside didn’t jostle or bump against the glass, it remained eerily still.


Page 77 (Abyss)

In the SkyWing palace, the sun bathed the grand halls in a warm, golden glow. The towering arches and slender spires outside gleamed beneath the midday light.
           A NightWing hurried down the hallway, each step echoing off the polished marble floor. The walls, smooth as glass and painted a deep crimson, reflected the sunlight filtering through the high windows. He glanced around anxiously, his azure eyes wide as he clutched something delicate. An egg, in his trembling talons.
           Abyss had finally completed his task after putting it off for some time. It was an important yet oddly mysterious duty assigned to him by the Hybrid Queen, determining the gender of an egg. It sounded almost too simple, far beneath the skills of a scientist like him.
           Was this one of her eggs? If so, he needed to be extra careful. From what he had heard, it was rare for an egg like this to reach such an advanced stage of development. He adjusted his grip, ensuring the fragile shell remained unharmed as he moved forward with cautious steps.
           “You're going to hatch as a loved little prince,” he murmured, tracing his talons gently over the glossy, tanned surface of the egg. Though he had determined its gender, predicting its phenotype or what tribe it would resemble was far more difficult to guess.
           “You're going to be a good little prince.” he added softly, though a lingering uncertainty remained in his mind. Would the hatchling truly be what the Hybrid Queen expected? He brushed off the thought, reasoning that if the Queen disliked him, someone else would take care of the little dragonet, just as all princes were eventually tended to.
           The hall felt too empty. Something so grand should have been filled with nobles, caretakers, or at least guards idling about. But it was silent, leaving him as a lone black speck against an endless sea of crimson walls. The emptiness felt suffocating, especially with the egg in his grasp.
           He quickened his pace toward the chamber where Nebula’s eggs were kept. When he arrived, his eyes furrowed, no guards. The grand doors stood eerily unguarded.
           Someone seemed to be inside the royal hatchery. Maybe it was just a caretaker or someone dangerous, meddling with the Hybrid Queen’s eggs. Abyss’ heart quickened. If that were the case, he had to investigate, those eggs could be in danger. He hesitated, glancing around the empty halls.
           “Where is everyone?” he muttered again, gripping the delicate egg even tighter. *Hmm… maybe it’s nothing but a coincidence.*
           Abyss hesitated, his breath catching in his throat. The thudding noise echoed again, reverberating through the floor. His claws twitched against the smooth surface of the egg he held.
           His mind raced, was someone attacking the eggs? Was the queen inside? The sounds were too muffled to make out clearly, and standing here wouldn’t give him any answers. He had to move.
           Steeling himself, he pushed the door open and stepped inside, wrapping the egg protectively.


Page 78 (Nebula)

The room was dark, the only light coming from the flickering torches, casting restless shadows across the private hatchery. A violet dragon sat in silence, her expression twisted in cold fury. Her piercing glare was fixed on the eggs before her, her breath slow but unsteady. A faint shimmer of condensation formed on the smooth eggshells, catching the wavering light.
           Two nests lay before her. One was adorned with gold, delicate flowers, and fine silk, reserved for her female eggs, her chosen heirs. The other was stark and unembellished, lacking even the simplest comforts. No decorations, no soft cushions. Just a bare nest, meant for her male eggs, her unwanted offspring who can't inherit her throne.
          “Much better” Nebula huffed, gripping a knife slick with egg fluid. Her talons were soaked in it, and the sensation made her sneer in disgust.
           The male eggs lay shattered, their contents spilling across the nest. A sickly, translucent liquid pooled beneath them, mixing with streaks of crimson. She had made sure to stab deep, ensuring the fetuses never took their first breath. Their tiny, lifeless forms lay limp among the broken shells, stained with blood.
           The door behind her creaked. Someone insolent had entered despite her orders for everyone to leave her and her eggs alone. Her gaze flicked to the corner, where a NightWing’s talons curled around the door’s edge. Then, a pair of azure eyes met hers. He was holding the egg, the one she had been waiting for.
           Nebula’s expression darkened. He was the scientist tasked with determining its gender, yet he had arrived late and now he had caught her. That put him on her kill list. He stood frozen, shock plastered across his face. That alone sent a wave of fury through her. She slammed the door shut behind him and snatched the egg from his grip.

“YOU.”

Abyss flinched, his wide eyes darting between her and the shattered remains of the male eggs. Nebula lifted the bloodied knife, pressing it against the egg’s fragile shell. “Is this a prince or a princess?”
           “I-I… It’s a princess, Your Majesty!” he stammered, squeezing his eyes shut and covering his snout.
           Too slow. He had taken too long to answer. And now, he knew. He had seen. He understood what she had just done. He held knowledge that could ruin her. She could not let him get away with it.
           No, she would not let him live. Perhaps he hesitated because he was lying. This worthless NightWing had crossed the line. He had lied to her. And for that, he would die.
            “Why did you take so long to answer?” Nebula hissed, placing the egg among the other female eggs. The NightWing took a shaky step back, his eyes darting to the door. Then, in a desperate bid for escape, he turned and bolted. Nebula lunged.
           “My queen, I can explai—” He never finished. The blade met his throat in a swift, brutal slice. Blood sprayed as he choked on his words, stumbling. Before he could even clutch at the wound, she drove the knife into his neck again. And again. The NightWing gagged, vomiting blood, his body convulsing. She didn’t stop. With a final, savage thrust, she buried the blade into his spine. His limbs twitched. Then, at last he collapsed, limp and lifeless on the cold marble floor.


Page 79 (Abyss)

He woke up with a jolt, breathing heavily as his eyes darted around the dimly lit room. His heart pounded against his ribs. Sweat dripped from his snout onto the counter, his body trembling.
           With a shaky talon, he clutched his neck, trying to calm himself. It wasn’t just a nightmare. It was a memory. A memory of the day he had caught Nebula slaughtering her own male eggs.
           The thought of it alone was sickening. The Hybrid Queen, the one meant to uphold peace across Pyrrhia, to spread universal goodwill among dragonkind, yet she had slaughtered her own offspring without hesitation. Those dragonets never even had a chance at life.
           Then came the knock at the door. Abyss froze. His heart slammed against his ribs. Was it Nebula? Had she come to silence him once and for all? Or worse—an executioner? He realized, too late, that he had forgotten to lock the door.
           The doorknob turned. His breath hitched. His claws trembled. The door creaked open, and Abyss flinched, only to see a familiar figure step inside. It was just Nightshadow. The other NightWing peered at him with mild concern, then paused. “Abyss? Are you still alive?—Oh.”
           The room was a disaster. Counters and floors were stained with splashes of deep purple. Papers lay scattered in a chaotic mess, as if a struggle had taken place. Abyss himself was in disarray, his scales were smeared in dried fluid, his breathing ragged. But most importantly the hatchling was nowhere to be seen.
           “What happened here? What did she tell you?” Nightshadow asked, his tone edged with suspicion. Abyss felt like he was intruding, making this situation even worse than it already was. Abyss curled up, wrapping his tail around himself as if trying to disappear. His breathing was uneven, wishing Nightshadow would just leave him alone.
           Nightshadow’s gaze flickered around the room, scanning for any sign of the hatchling Abyss had been carrying. His expression darkened. “Did you…?”
           Nightshadow sighed and wrapped his tail around Abyss in comfort. “Look, I don’t see you as a dragonet murderer.”
           Abyss adjusted his posture but still didn’t speak. He wasn’t in the mood—not after what he had done. If Nightshadow told his friends, they might see him as a murderer. If the news spreads, Nebula might execute him. It was safer to stay quiet.
           “You were just doing your job—”A sudden, hard knock on the door made both of them freeze. The sound was firm, authoritative. Abyss and Nightshadow turned to each other, dread creeping into their expressions. This might be Queen Nebula. And if she was here, she wouldn’t be alone.
           Nightshadow looked terrified, as if he might be executed along with him. Abyss hesitated before patting him with a reassuring touch, though his own claws trembled.


Page 80 (Nightshadow)

The door slammed open violently, and a purple dragon strode in. Nebula’s piercing eyes locked onto them like a predator sizing up prey.
           Nightshadow immediately backed away from Abyss, distancing himself as if he had nothing to do with him. He pressed himself into the farthest corner of the room, his fear evident in his tense posture. He didn’t want to die because of Abyss' mistakes. Maybe Abyss deserved whatever was coming to him. Maybe his incompetence had sealed his fate. Nightshadow wasn’t obligated to feel sympathy for him… was he?
           But then, there were no guards. No executioners with their looming axes. Just Nebula, standing alone.
           Nightshadow's stomach twisted. Why was she here alone? Did she not see him as enough of a threat to warrant extra security? Or was this something worse? He quickly lowered his head into a deep bow, desperate to avoid provoking her wrath. “Your Majesty…”
           Nightshadow glanced at Abyss, then flicked his eyes toward Nebula in a silent warning. Abyss swallowed hard and immediately slid off the counter, lowering himself into the deepest bow he could manage.
           Nebula only scoffed. She flexed her talons, the sharp claws clicking together as she took a slow step forward. The sound sent a shiver down Abyss' spine. “Nightshadow, leave us.”
           Abyss shot him a desperate look, silently pleading for him to stay or defend him in some way. But Nightshadow wanted no part in this mess, it was clearly Abyss' fault for failing to correctly identify the gender of Queen Nebula's egg. With a cold, dismissive glance, he turned away, ignoring Abyss’ silent plea.
           He stepped up, bowed stiffly to Queen Nebula, and left the room, shutting the door behind him. Still, curiosity gnawed at him. How did Abyss fail such a simple task? They had checked the egg together it was a boy. He had been right at first, but something must have happened after that. Maybe Abyss had lied when he transported the egg to the hatchery. There were too many unknowns, and that made Nightshadow uneasy.
           Hesitating outside the door, he pressed an ear against the wood.
           “Is it dead? Where is it?” a sharp female voice demanded, probably Nebula. Silence followed, then a loud bang, most likely Nebula slamming her tail against the floor. “Do you have any idea what you've done?” she hissed.
           “I killed him,” Abyss' voice answered, quiet but steady. “I also disposed of the hatchling's body, so—”
           “I ordered you to only kill it! Not dispose of its body! I need proof you carried it out!” Nebula snapped.
           Before Nightshadow could hear more, the sound of approaching dragons filled the hallway. He tensed, stepping back just as a regal figure came into view, Queen Dreamcatcher of the NightWings.
           Her piercing gaze landed on him, and he quickly forced a casual smile, nodding politely before turning to leave. His mind, however, remained tangled in the mystery of what truly happened in that room. Maybe this was the last time he will hear from him.


Page 81 (Dreamcatcher)

She watched the eavesdropping NightWing with narrowed eyes. At first, she didn’t recognize him, perhaps a spy or an uninvited intruder she should deal with. But then, recognition settled in. He was the scientist personnel she had gifted to Queen Nebula some time ago.
           Down the stone hall, she saw the group of NightWing soldiers tasked to escort her throughout the event. They were late, probably delayed by the RainWing queen but she could understand. After all, NightWings were strictly monitored due to their bad reputation. She hoped to fix that during her rule.
           The approaching NightWings were accompanied by King Scorch, who was pushing a wheeled nest-cart. Inside, four hatchlings were huddled together, pressed close against one another.
           Her gaze sharpened. Why was he here? What was he doing? Eavesdropping on his fellow coworker? A muffled voice, or was it shouting. Drifted through the door he was pressed against.
           She didn’t hesitate. She strode forward and pushed the door open. Inside, Nebula stood tense, eyes flashing with irritation. Across from her, the NightWing scientist, if she remembered correctly it was Abyss, one of the prodigy she chose. There she saw him stiff and frozen, his posture tight with unease. The air in the room felt heavy.
           Dreamcatcher looked around the room and it seemed to be a mess, she couldn't know if Nebula did it or something else but she sure looks furious “Am I interrupting something? Did my NightWing do something wrong?”
           “No, no, I’m just scolding him for not cleaning his room properly.” Nebula said quickly, though her tone lacked conviction. Dreamcatcher narrowed her eyes slightly. It was an excuse, but she humored the queen for now.
           “Also, where is your son?” she asked, her gaze sweeping across the messy chamber. The room was in complete disarray, with what seemed to be crushed nightshade berries spilled across the floor, staining it in dark splotches. An odd scent lingered in the air, something pungent, something wrong.
           Nebula shifted slightly, adjusting her posture as if to draw attention away from the mess. “Say… why don’t we visit the SkyWing palace’s garden?” she suggested, her voice smooth, but there was an edge of urgency beneath it.
           Dreamcatcher raised an eye at the sudden invitation, but before she could respond, the arrival of King Scorch and the NightWing guards at the doorway made her decision for her. With effortless grace, she stepped back from the room.
           “It’s quite alright, I merely took a wrong turn. I shall make my way out on my own,” she said smoothly, her regal tone dismissing any need for further discussion. Still, suspicion lingered in her mind. What had Nebula been doing? And what had that NightWing scientist done? She wished she had more time to investigate, but for now, she had to let it go.
           "NightWings, escort me to—” she began, but the guards didn’t move.
           “We are here to guard the Queen of Peace” one of the NightWing soldiers said, his tone respectful yet firm. He was clad in dark armor, his red eyes sharp beneath the shadows of his helmet. A jagged scar ran across his snout, giving him a hardened, battle-worn appearance. “With regards from Queen Rosemary.”
           Dreamcatcher paused, taken aback. She hadn't expected Rosemary to assign NightWing guards to Nebula, especially without informing her. A flicker of anger passed through her, but she masked it with a nod, regaining her composure. Without another word, she turned and continued on her way, alone.


Page 82 (Hatchling)

A beam of light shone through his head, warming his worn ear ruffs as they fluttered slightly. He tried to open his blurry eyes. It was his first sunlight, It was too bright, almost painful. He squeezed them shut before slowly trying again.
           *How do we know the hatchling is dead?* A light voice hissed.
           His tiny body trembled as he attempted to rise, but he wobbled and fell over. He tried again, pressing his tiny paws against the rough ground. This time, he managed to stand, though his legs felt weak beneath him.
           As his senses adjusted, he realized the space around him was dim. The only source of light came from a small doorway-hole, casting a straight line across the ground. Dust particles swirled in the golden light, dancing through the air. He blinked at them, mesmerized for a moment.
           *I actually have some left overs here to prove it* A squeaky voice murmured.
           Then, the ache set in. Something was wrapped around his neck, tight and uncomfortable. He reached up with his tiny claws, but as soon as he touched it, a sharp pain shot through him. A whimper caught in his throat. He tried to yawn, his jaw aching, but something restrained his snout. He touched it, feeling the rough texture of a rope, wrapped tightly, keeping his mouth shut.
           *Thats it?! Where are the rest of his remains?!* A rough voice echoed.
           Panic rose in his chest. He tried to call out, but no sound escaped. His breathing quickened as he strained his ears. Faintly, beyond the doorway, he could hear voices. The murmurs of dragons outside.
           He tried to reach the door, but the moment he moved, a rusty metal chain yanked him back. His feet throbbed from the cold, unforgiving clamps that dug into his scales. He stumbled, falling onto his side with a small, pained squeak.
           The doorway was so close, just a few steps more. But the chains held him back, just out of reach.
           *You stupid NightWing, did you eat the remains?* A sharp and venomous feminine voice echoed.
           Determination flared in his tiny chest. He wriggled, twisting his body and straining his limbs, trying to slip free of the restraints. The metal rattled with each frantic movement, scraping against the stone floor. His breathing grew ragged as he fought against the cold grip of his bindings.
           *I-I’m very sorry, Your Majesty, but this is all that’s left—* The other voice stammered.
           He reached up again, claws fumbling at the rough rope around his snout, trying to loosen it. But exhaustion weighed on him, and his limbs trembled with the effort. His body was too weak. His vision blurred. He let out a soft whimper, slumping against the ground. Yet the door was still too far.
           *My order was clear! You're a scientist! How could you fail such a simple task?!* A large thud rumbled through the door.
           The hatchling barely understood the words, but something stirred deep inside him. A familiar scent. His mother's pheromones.
           His tiny body reacted before his mind could catch up. Instinct surged through him, stronger than exhaustion, stronger than pain. His dull claws scraped against the rough stone floor as he tried to drag himself forward. His breathing was ragged, his muscles screaming in protest, but he didn’t stop.


Page 83 (Nebula)

Nebula swept her talons across the blood-ridden counters, her gaze narrowing at the dried-up purple liquid staining the surface. She traced the smeared patterns with her claws, piecing together the scene. Moving further into the room, her eyes followed the faint trail where the dragonet had tried to flee, its tiny, desperate struggle etched into the very floor.
           The stains thickened near one spot, pooling beneath where the hatchling must have finally collapsed. That was enough proof. At least, it should be. She turned, glancing at Abyss, whose guilt-ridden expression only reinforced her conclusion.
           Then, her gaze landed on something that made her nostrils flare. The trail stopped right beneath a grand portrait of her and Scorch, the frame scratched and defiled by tiny claws. The sight ignited a deep irritation within her. How dare it? Even in death, the dragonet managed to be a nuisance. Perhaps, she thought, that was enough reason to feel less guilty about its fate.
           Then suddenly, a faint scratching sound echoed from the corner of the room, like claws dragging against stone. Nebula’s frill twitched as she turned sharply, her gaze locking onto the wall behind Abyss. He was also stiffened as her
           “What was that?” Nebula demanded, her voice sharp.
           “Sorry, I bumped my head...” Abyss replied, though his voice wavered slightly.
           She narrowed her eyes. Was it the dragonet? No, impossible. Or perhaps some creature outside? That didn’t make sense either, the sound wasn’t coming from the open corridors, but from the sidewalls of the chamber. That was absurd. The walls were solid rock, untouched by tunnels or hidden chambers. The realization unsettled her, suspicion curling in her gut. She took a step forward, her claws clicking against the floor. Abyss seemed to shift uneasily, his tail flicking.
           “Your Majesty, I… actually have the dragonet’s skull,” Abyss said abruptly, as if trying to redirect her attention.
           He turned away from the wall and moved to a shelf, his talons fumbling slightly as he pulled open a heavy drawer. From within, he retrieved a charred skull, the surface blackened and flaking with patches of burnt violet liquid. When he uncurled his talons to present it, the stench hit the air. An acrid, sickly scent that made even Nebula’s nose wrinkle.
           She stared at it, the grotesque sight doing little to ease the unease prickling at the back of her mind.
           “I’m sorry, Your Majesty,” Abyss murmured, lowering his head slightly. “I hope this is enough...”
           But Nebula barely acknowledged his words. Her gaze flickered back to the wall. The scratching had stopped. For now.
           Nebula stepped away from the scratching sound, snapping her claws at Scorch without sparing him a glance. The Sky-Mud-Ice-SandWing king grumbled but obeyed, snatching the burnt skull from Abyss with an irritated huff.
           “Take that to the others,” she ordered. The stench of burnt remains clung to the air as Scorch turned and strode out of the room. Nebula’s gaze, however, remained fixed on Abyss. His posture was rigid, wings held too tightly against his sides, his tail curling slightly. She had seen enough liars and cowards in her time to recognize when something was off.
           Her talons tapped against the stone floor as she studied him. Was it merely trauma, or was there something more? The job was done, the dragonet disposed of, yet an odd stillness lingered in the room, as if something remained unfinished. She exhaled sharply, dismissing the thought. If there was anything else, she would find out soon enough. For now, there was no reason to doubt the outcome. And yet, as the scratching sound faded into silence, she couldn’t shake the feeling that the dragonet’s presence hadn’t been erased as neatly as Abyss claimed.


Page 84 (Abyss)

The Hybrid Queen glared at him before turning away, her tail flicking sharply as she left the room. A shiver ran down his spine. Had she figured it out? Was something wrong with this situation? Did she know what he had done? Would she eventually find out? The scratching behind the door beside him screeched again, sharp and grating against the silence. Then, suddenly, it stopped.
           The NightWing sighed as he stepped past the creaking door and grabbed a sponge from the kitchenette. Filling a bucket with soapy water, he knelt down and began scrubbing the stains off the floor near the door. As he squeezed the sponge, the water turned a deep violet, carrying a metallic scent that clung to his nostrils. He grimaced and repeated the motion, scrubbing harder to remove the dried parts of the blood, his talons trembling slightly as he worked.
           He tidied up the disorganized scrolls, books, and instruments, carefully setting aside the saved scrolls and discarding the ones soaked in blood. As he examined the damaged scrolls, he checked whether any were important, feeling a pang of regret for each one lost. The scratching sound echoed again, a persistent reminder of what still needed to be dealt with.
           Now that the room was mostly clean, only one task remained—the door. He hesitated, staring at it with guilt weighing heavy on his chest. Taking a deep breath, he reached for the handle and pushed it open.
           Inside, the hatchling lay at the very limit of its chain, scratch marks gouged deep into the stone floor.
           “You’re awake...” he murmured. The hatchling flinched at his voice and scrambled back into the shadowy part of the room, pressing itself behind a tangle of rusted pipes.
           “No! No! It’s okay! I won’t hurt you.” he said quickly, raising his talons in a placating gesture.
           The hatchling squirmed, trying to wedge itself between the pipes, but it was too big. Its newly hatched scales scraped painfully against the rusted metal, leaving faint scratches on its hide. Its face was now smeared with dust and grime, and Abyss felt a pang of worry. It was hurting itself, just to get away from him.
           “It’s okay—it’s okay. You don’t have to hide,” he murmured, keeping his voice as gentle as possible. “I won’t come closer if you don’t want me to.”
           The hatchling didn’t move. Its head remained tucked behind the pipe, but the rest of its tiny body was still fully exposed. It stayed perfectly still, as if hoping that if it didn’t move, he wouldn’t see it. Abyss could hear its shallow, uneven breaths, the slight trembling in its limbs.
           His chest ached. This was the hatchling’s first experience of the world. Pain, fear, abandonment. Left to rot in the dark, shackled before it even had a chance to live. He swallowed, guilt twisting like a knife in his gut.
           “I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry this is the life you were given.”


Page 85 (Pyrrhia)

The black dragon glanced at the map, then back at him. Pyrrhia didn’t understand what he was doing, but he knew this dragon was the one who had hurt him, the one who had chained him up.
           He wanted to hide. The only thing in the room that could shield him was the rusty pipe. Desperate, he dug his head into the narrow crevice, pressing himself against the cold metal. Maybe if he stayed still enough, the dragon wouldn’t see him.
           “You shouldn’t die nameless,” the black dragon murmured. He didn’t understand the words. He just knew the sound the dragon made was deep and sharp, like the growl of something dangerous. His instincts screamed at him to run, but he had nowhere to go.
           The black dragon’s gaze flickered to a map pinned to the wall, his eyes lingering as if searching for something. The hatchling peeked out, curiosity stirring in his tiny chest, but the moment the dragon turned back, he shrank away, pressing himself deeper into the crevice of the rusted pipes. A few moments passed in silence, the black dragon lost in thought. Then, his expression shifted, like he had decided something.
           “Your name shall be Pyrrhia.” he declared. His voice wasn’t harsh, but the sound of it made the hatchling flinch. Pyrrhia didn’t understand the words, only that they were meant for him. A name. Something solid, something real. But all he could do was whimper and bury himself deeper, as if the name itself was a trap waiting to spring. “Yeah! That's a perfect name!”
           Pyrrhia flinched. The noise, his noise, was too much. It rumbled like thunder, like something that would strike him down if he wasn’t careful. He whimpered, digging himself deeper between the pipe’s crevices, trying to disappear.
           The black dragon hesitated, glancing at the trembling hatchling. He felt a pang of guilt, he had caused this fear, and he knew that earning Pyrrhia’s trust would take time. Perhaps it would never come at all. “I’ll just light up this torch, okay?..”
           The hatchling’s instincts were set: avoid the one who had hurt him. The dragon took a careful step inside, but the moment he did, Pyrrhia shoved himself deeper into the pipe, his tiny claws scraping against the rusted surface. “Wait—it's okay! It’s okay!” the dragon urged, but the hatchling wasn’t listening.
           Pyrrhia’s heart pounded. He was in danger. He needed to run. The door was open, and the black dragon wasn’t close enough to stop him.
           Without thinking, he lunged forward with all his strength. The rusted chain gave a sharp snap, breaking him free, but it had a cost.
           A searing pain shot through his limbs as the force wrenched his bones, bruising him, maybe even fracturing something. But he didn’t care. He was free. He scrambled toward the exit, but the black dragon reacted just as quickly, throwing himself at the door and slamming it shut. Pyrrhia screeched, his tiny claws raking against the wooden surface, his whole body writhing as he tried to escape.


Page 86 (Abyss)

Abyss immediately locked the door as the hatchling clawed and thrashed inside. The tiny, desperate whimpers made him feel like a monster, like Morrowseer, like Darkstalker from the scrolls. But he wasn’t doing this out of cruelty. This was for the hatchling’s safety. If Nebula discovered it was still alive, they would both be executed. His life was on the line too.
           The hatchling slammed against the door, the sharp thud sending a jolt of unease through Abyss. He pressed his forehead against the wood, breathing heavily. Was it hurting itself? He didn’t want to imagine what its tiny body had already been through.
           Then came more clawing, louder, more frantic, splintering against the wood. He winced. He needed the dragonet to calm down before it injured itself, but there was nothing he could do. If it got out, it would make a run for the window again and without knowing how to fly, it would fall to its death.
           “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” he gasped, pressing his entire weight against the door to keep it shut. His claws dug into the wood as the hatchling scratched and thrashed from the other side. He could feel every frantic movement, the tiny scrapes rattling through the door, the muffled whimpers that made his stomach twist with guilt.
           Slowly, he lifted his tail and slid it toward the latch, pushing the rotating wooden lock into place with a soft click. He exhaled shakily, his heart hammering. He never expected to trap an injured dragonet, one that probably needed immediate medical attention, in a dusty, cramped room. But what choice did he have?
           “This is for your own good,” he whispered, resting his forehead against the door. “Please… forgive me.”
           After a few moments, the struggle behind the door faded into a small, high-pitched, heavy breathing. Then came a soft thud, probably the hatchling collapsing from exhaustion. He lowered his head, covering his face with his talons. Guilt weighed down on him like a boulder. The silence on the other side of the door wasn't comforting, it was worse.
           He slowly stepped away from the door and into the room, hoping the hatchling wouldn’t hear his movement and try to fling itself at the door again. He treaded lightly, as if the floor itself might betray him.
           His mind raced, what should he do next? Should he keep the dragonet hidden for the rest of its life? Or should he try to find a way to set it free, to let it live like any other dragon? That felt impossible. The Queen of Peace—its mother was powerful, respected, and had deep influence over every queen in Pyrrhia. If she ever found out the hatchling was alive…
           For now, he had only one option: tend to the hatchling’s injuries. But he wasn’t a healer. He didn’t know how to treat broken bones, bruised wings, or the psychological scars of the hatchling. He needed help. Someone gentle. Someone who knew how to keep a secret. His mind landed on Salmon, the SeaWing who once cared for him when he was barely more than a hatchling himself. A dragon he could trust.
           “I’ll find a doctor I can trust to fix you, little one…” he murmured, glancing back at the door with a heavy heart. “Just stay put…”


Page 87 (Cacti)

The hallway outside was quiet, sunlight spilling in patches through the stained-glass windows. Abyss rushed out, talons skidding slightly on the polished floors as he made his way down the corridor, murmuring quick apologies as he passed.
           Bluefin had just stepped out of her office, a pile of scrolls clutched to her chest. She blinked in surprise as the NightWing dashed past, and once she recognized him, a smirk crept across her snout. She didn’t say anything, just watched him disappear down the hall.
           The soft, rhythmic sounds of footsteps echoed through the SandWing advisor’s door. They grew louder, reached their peak, then slowly faded. Inside, Cacti was slumped over her grand desk, which was buried under a mountain of scrolls and wax-sealed documents.
           Ink stained her talons, and the quill lay forgotten on the floor. One claw dangled limp off the side of the table, the other curled under her golden jaw. She let out a snoring mumble as a strand of drool slipped from her mouth, glinting in the lamplight. The footfalls returned, this time closer, causing her ear frills to twitch and her brow to crease in sleep.
           “Mmmhhhh… toooo louuudd…” she grumbled, her voice thick with drowsiness, twitching as she coiled her wings tightly around her head like a blanket. Outside the window, a stained-glass mosaic of dunes, suns, and oasis flowers
           A Lammergeier landed soundlessly on a branch, its eyes glinting with strange intelligence. It crept forward, talons clicking gently against the ledge, then reached a clawed foot toward the emergency latch cleverly hidden in the window’s base. It unlatched the window without a sound.
           Cacti stirred slightly, mumbling again, but did not wake. Then, the vulture convulsed. A dry gagging sound escaped its beak before a slick black tentacle emerged, forcing the creature's body to seize and fall limp like a puppet cut from its strings. The writhing appendage slithered down from the bird’s beak and crept toward Cacti’s A, coiling with eerie patience.
           “Mumm?!. Are you stalking near my room again?!” she mumbled in her sleep, twitching her wings in annoyance. The black tentacle hovered above her, dripping an inky, tar-like substance that sizzled when it touched the polished wood of the desk. It pulsed, becoming more impatient. “I told you I don’t want more fishies—”
           The tentacle curled back, coiling like a spring, and lunged directly at her neck, aiming for the narrow crevice between her ornate gold armor and the softer scales beneath. Her spinal ridge picked up the shift in air pressure just a second too late.

“YYEEAAAOOOWWWWWWWWW!!!!!!!”

Cacti jolted upright with a howl as a searing bolt of pain exploded down her spine. She instinctively slammed both talons to the back of her neck, claws scrambling against her scales, but there was nothing there. Nothing to grab. No wound. No mark.
           She blinked hard, breath ragged, slowly beginning to wake. Her claws trembled as she rubbed her face, eyes struggling to adjust to the light and the sudden shift from dream to reality, or was it?


Page 88 (Cacti)

She immediately stood up, her limbs suddenly heavy and the air around her colder than usual. It was more windy, and it felt unfamiliar. She blinked rapidly as the brightness faded from her vision. Thankfully, her obsidian eyes are built for the blinding desert, her eyes adjusted quickly.
           Her talons brushed against cold stone beneath her. It was narrow. Unstable. She tried to step forward but almost slipped. When her eyes were fully focused, she finally took in her surroundings.
           Fluffy, billowing clouds drifted around her. The sun blazed directly against her snout. She was in the sky, but she wasn’t flying. Her instincts screamed at her to open her wings, to steady herself, but they wouldn’t move. Twisting her head, she spotted the thick clamps locking her wings tightly in place.
           Panic crawled down her spine. Her limbs were chained too. The obsidian shimmer in her eyes followed the blackened iron trailing from her body to another tall stone tower, another dragon. Another prisoner.
           She whipped her gaze around, and dread sank deep in her chest. Fear spiked and anxiety bloomed as she eyed every single dragon. Tower after tower, dragon after dragon, dozens, maybe more. all bound in the same chained system, one dragon connected to the next.
           Then it hit her. She knew this place. The SkyWing Botanical Park. But not like this. It was wrong. It wasn’t lush or peaceful. The colorful flora was gone. No healers. No RainWings. Just grey stone, metal, and silence. It looked like the ancient SkyWing arena from the history scrolls, once used for executions and spectacle, renovated hundreds of years ago into a sanctuary. But now, it was something else again.
           Her talons trembled. Her scales twitched with unease like ants were crawling under her scales. All around her, dragons were chained and silent. Prisoners. Just like her. Interconnected, helpless. And even if they tried to fly away together, the towers they stood on were chained too.
           “Oh, b–by the moons! Where am I?” she gasped, trembling. She tried to move, but the chains yanked against her limbs—tight, deliberate, like they were pulling her back into place. Her struggling rippled through the entire line of chains, and the dragons beside her groaned and stumbled as the pull affected them too. “S—someone!! Help me!! Bluefin?! Verglas?!”
           “Will you shut up over there, SandWing?” hissed a voice to her left.
           Cacti snapped her head to the side. A royal blue SeaWing snarled from the next tower over, eyes narrowed with irritation. The SeaWing gave her chain a hard tug, and Cacti slipped, scraping her talons before managing to steady herself again. “You’re dragging all of us down here!
           She blinked, taken aback. That SeaWing… something about her felt familiar. She narrowed her eyes, trying to focus past the haze of panic. The SeaWing’s wings were partly flared—ready to strike, like a predator lying in wait. Cacti could just barely make out patterns hidden in the membrane. Intricate. Royal.
           That was no ordinary dragon.
           “Is that… Tsunami?” she muttered under her breath, stunned as her gaze followed the familiar shapes, the posture, the commanding presence.
           It looked like her. And the longer she stared, the more sure she became. That wasn’t just any SeaWing. That was one of the most well-known dragons in Pyrrhia. But what in the moons was she doing here, chained up like the rest of them?


Page 89 (Tsunami)

She eyed all the SkyWing guards idling nearby, counting at least thirty of them scattered around the perimeter of the crowded arena. The stands were jam-packed with dragons in shades of red, orange, and yellow, packed shoulder to shoulder, chattering and muttering restlessly among themselves.
           Tsunami scanned them with narrowed eyes. If any of the guards got too close, maybe—just maybe, she could snag one and use their fire breath against her own chains. It was a long shot, but it was better than rotting here. Her gaze flicked sideways, catching sight of a strange SandWing beside her.
           A few minutes ago, that same SandWing had been screeching, flailing, and yanking on the chains like a panicked hatchling. Now… she was still. Too still. Blank-eyed. Quiet. It was unnerving, but not Tsunami’s problem.
           Escape. That was her only priority. She had to get out, find Sunny and Glory. If they were even still alive. Hopefully.
           “Hey,” the SandWing suddenly whispered. Then again, louder. “Hey. Hey!”
           Tsunami growled, irritation surging through her. “What?!”
           She flared her gills and whipped her head around to glare. A SandWing. Of course. One of Dune’s tribe. One of the tribes responsible for splitting Pyrrhia into chaos and making her live under a mountain to solve all their succession problems. It was because the SandWings couldn’t settle their own royal squabbles.
           The SandWing blinked, then asked quietly, “Are you Tsunami?”
           Tsunami froze, eyes narrowing. *How did she know that?*
           She sized the dragon up. She was definitely not Sunny, too tall, too sharp in the face. But she knew her name. Was this dragon part of the Talons of Peace?
           “Well, duh! How do you even know my name?” Tsunami snapped, yanking on her chains with a harsh clatter and slapping her tail against the side of her tower. She waited for an answer, but the SandWing just stared at her. She was getting on her nerves.
           “Are you one of the Talons of Peace?!” Tsunami barked, claws curling into the stone. Her wings strained against their clamps. If this dragon knew her, then maybe there was still a plan. Or maybe it was a trap. Either way, she needed answers. Now.
           “Uhhmm.” The SandWing tilted her snout, scratching her chin thoughtfully. Her eyes darted toward the other prisoners chained around the arena, then back to Tsunami.
           Tsunami could tell she was hesitating, not because she didn’t know the answer, but because she was trying to come up with one that wouldn’t get her in trouble.
           The SeaWing narrowed her eyes. She knew that look. It was the same look Clay got whenever he tried to lie and failed miserably.
           “I think I’m new to the Talons of Peace,” the SandWing said finally, voice a little too casual.
           Tsunami snorted. “Really? That’s your story?”
           She didn’t trust her for a second. Whatever this dragon was playing at, Tsunami would be ready. She had escaped before. She’d do it again. And this time, she wasn’t going to be anyone’s pawn, not the queens’, not the Talons’, and especially not this sketchy SandWing’s.


Page 90 (Cacti)

The more she made sense of her surroundings, the more impossible it all felt. None of this should be real. And yet, every part of her body ached, a deep, pulsing soreness that throbbed in her joints and scales. It was the first time she had ever felt pain in a dream. Was this some kind of lucid dream… or a nightmare gone horribly wrong?
           She could’ve sworn she had already woken up.
           But how could she wake up into something that felt more like real life than anything she’d dreamed before? Her head spun, disoriented, and her vision was blurry, like fogged glass. Still, she could feel the wind brushing against the sensitive hairs along her ridge, soft, cold, and far too real.
           She also realized, with a creeping chill down her spine, that she had been talking to Tsunami. the Tsunami, the SeaWing princess who had lived more than eight hundred years ago. That wasn’t just impossible. it was absurd. She shouldn’t even know what Tsunami looked like, let alone be able to talk to her like they were in the same time.
           You only see dragons you know in dreams. That’s what everyone said. Faces your brain already recognizes, voices you’ve already heard. But she had never met Tsunami. Not in real life. Not even in passing. So why did she feel like she knew her? Why did this whole dream feel like more than a dream?
           *Wait a minute, none of this makes sense.* she thought, her gaze darting across the arena once more. Everything looked consistent, too consistent. Her dreams never held this much clarity. No matter how vivid they were, the details always shifted, colors melted into each other, and faces blurred. But here… here, the colors of the IceWings and SeaWings on the towers stayed the same. Even Tsunami, crouched in her battle stance, hadn’t moved a scale.
           *I don’t know any of these dragons… I’ve never even met Tsunami…*
           *This isn’t a dream, but it is.* she thought, her heartbeat thudding like thunder in her chest. She turned her attention to the chains digging into her limbs. The rusted iron scraped against her scales, painfully real. Too real. A dream shouldn’t hurt like this. She winced, testing the weight. They weren’t just props. They pulled.
           Her eyes scanned the stands again. Dozens of SkyWings, scattered with a few bulky MudWings, filled the arena. But there was something off about them too. No SilkWings. No RainWings. No LeafWings. None of the vibrant mix she was used to seeing in a crowd this big. Just reds and browns. Where are the others?
           *What happened to the SkyWing botanical park? What happened to this place?*
           The dragons below began to clap. Slow at first, then building louder, more rhythmic. A handful of the chained prisoners leaned forward to see what was happening. Cacti did too, her heart pounding in her throat. Across the arena, Tsunami's expression had hardened into a tense, furious glare. Her wings twitched like she was ready to pounce, even if she couldn’t.
           Then, from a high balcony carved into the side of the coliseum, the kind meant for royalty and important figures, a dragon stepped forward into view.
           “Greetings, noble SkyWings and honored guests of the MudWing tribe! In today’s spectacular event.” A booming voice echoed across the arena. “we present... Her Majesty, Queen Scarlet of the SkyWings!”
           The clapping erupted into a thunderstorm of cheers and stomps. Roars of excitement rolled through the stands, shaking the chains on Cacti’s limbs. She barely noticed. Her eyes had locked on the blood-red figure emerging from the shadows.


Page 91 (Scarlet)

SkyWing maidens helped fasten her iconic gold chainmail. This time glittering with ruby, sunstone, and garnet. The gems were scattered in a graceful arched pattern that swayed elegantly over her shoulders with every movement.
           She snapped her claws, and with a chorus of clinks and clanks, soldiers quickly formed a protective formation around her as the attendants scurried away. Guards flanked her sides as she lifted off the ground and flew upward through winding caverns, the stone walls pulsing with the muffled rhythm of distant cheering.
           Two guards pushed open a massive set of gilded doors before her, and the roar of the SkyWing arena hit her like a wave. Over the chaos, she could already hear Vermilion’s booming voice echoing through the arena, announcing her arrival
           She strutted over to the leaf-decorated balcony, spears from great defeated warriors, mostly SeaWings and IceWings, pierced dramatically through the edges like trophies. With a practiced pause, she stood tall and spread her wings wide. The crowd instantly erupted into cheers.
           With a lazy flick of her talons, the arena settled into silence again, obedient and breathless.
           Moments later, Osprey appeared, clutching a scroll with the list of current prisoners. The guards immediately moved to block him, but she raised a single claw to signal them away. “Let the pathetic relic through,” she muttered.
           Osprey shuffled forward, trembling as he offered the scroll. Scarlet didn’t even thank him, just shot him a scornful glare and snatched it from his claws. He flinched and scurried off, finding safety beside Vermilion.
           She lounged beside her newest trophy, a vibrant RainWing she’d pulled from the wreckage of the Dragonets of Destiny. Scarlet still didn’t understand what a RainWing was doing with the group, but clearly the Talons of Peace had scrambled to replace their missing SkyWing with whatever they could find. Pathetic.
           She grinned to herself, remembering with pride how she’d ensured the brightest night, the SkyWing eggs born under all three moons, had been wiped out. And now, the so-called prophecy dragonets were incomplete and rotting beneath her talons. Perfect.
           One of her top generals strode in, and Scarlet gave a small nod of approval as he passed the RainWing’s frozen tree-form. Her latest masterpiece, pulsing with brilliant purple and gold, a monument to her twisted artistry.
           “Are the dragonets of destiny behaving well, hmm?” she asked, voice like honey laced with venom.
           The general bowed deeply. “Yes, Your Majesty. And... who shall we have fight today?”
           Scarlet lazily scanned the scroll, a few names already crossed out with red ink. Her eyes drifted toward the bottom, new arrivals. One name caught her eye.
           “Cacti,” she said. “A lost SandWing... how interesting.” She tilted her head toward the general. “Let’s see how the newbie does in the pit.”
           “Excellent choice, Your Greatness. She wasn't even a soldier—should squirm nicely for the crowd.” He turned to glance at the tower where Cacti was shackled.
           Scarlet smiled wider, teeth gleaming. “And who do we pit her against? Hmm...”
           She trailed off in mock thought, then let her voice purr with satisfaction. “Bring out our lovely SeaWing savior—Tsunami.”
           The general blinked, then nodded, smiling with dark amusement.
           Scarlet licked her fangs. “Let’s see how our starfish kills a hopeless SandWing. That should shatter her little hero act once and for all.”


Page 92 (Cacti)

Cacti leaned closer at the edge of her tower, her feet gripping the stone tightly to make sure she didn’t fall. She wasn’t used to being in this kind of situation. Heights never really bothered her—until now. Her wings were clamped tightly to her sides, stiff with tension.
           She blinked as the wind rushed past her snout, brushing the tips of her scales, and realized something odd: she still had her glasses.
           Somehow, they hadn’t flown off or shattered, even with all the chaos she’d been through. That didn’t make sense. She brought a talon up to adjust them, her claws tapping lightly on the frame. Abyss had designed them well, sure, but how were they even here, in this strange, dream-like place?
           She took the glasses off and looked down. To her surprise, the fine grains of stone at her talons blurred instantly, while the fine details of the red dragons below shifted but stayed mostly in focus. She blinked. She was farsighted, even here?
           Her eyes flicked toward Tsunami, perched nearby in that tense ambush stance, and without the glasses, the SeaWing’s features were unrecognizable. She might not have realized it was Tsunami at all if it weren’t for the glasses.
           But how did this dream know she was farsighted? And why did the glasses work, just like they did when she was awake? The thought unsettled her. Was she dreaming at all? Or was this something else entirely, something far more dangerous and unpredictable, as vivid and uncontrollable as real life.
           She slipped the glasses back on, feeling even stranger than before in this hyper-real illusion. She muttered to herself while adjusting the fit behind her horns. Then, almost instinctively, she shook her head. A tiny attempt to jolt herself awake. But the cold wind cutting past her frills felt too real. She doubted now that this was a dream at all.
           She leaned back from the edge this time, fully aware of her glasses and clutching them tightly so they wouldn’t slip off in the wind. From there, her eyes caught sight of a familiar figure among the guards—an older, greyish dragon with a hunched posture and dulled scales.
           *Wait… is that Simmer?* What is he doing here? she thought, heart skipping. But something was off. He looked different, submissive, quiet, his posture nothing like the proud, sarcastic dragon she remembered. Her gaze flicked toward the arena balcony. A dragon cloaked in gold chains stood tall there, commanding presence impossible to miss. *Is that Queen Crimson?*
           *What is she doing here?*
           The queen suddenly turned and looked straight at her. Her sharp talons extended outward, pointing directly at her. Cacti jerked back with a breathless jolt, nearly dropping her glasses. Queen Crimson didn’t shout, but she seemed to be reading off a scroll. For what it could mean, Cacti didn’t know. But the gesture had made something in her twist. *Why was she pointing at me?*


Page 93 (Osprey)

Osprey had made sure he looked presentable for the occasion. Not too sparkly to seem flashy, but not too wrinkled to catch Queen Scarlet’s sharp, judging eye. Still, no amount of grooming could ease the tension in his chest. He was more worried about what Peril might do, or feel, once Scarlet turned her cruel attention to the MudWing she kept mentioning.
           He hadn’t expected Queen Scarlet to actually catch the Dragonets of Destiny. It seemed like a rumor, a far-off fantasy, yet here they were. And something about it all felt…off.
           His mind kept circling back to the conversation he’d had with Peril the night before, during their weekly lecture. Oddly enough, she had actually shown up this time, something she rarely did, since she was too busy being the queen’s golden champion, torching dragons in the arena like it was nothing.
           But for some reason, last night, she wanted to talk. Really talk. Ask him questions. Seek advice probably relating to the MudWing of the Dragonet of Destiny. And the strange coincidence of the Dragonets’ capture lining up with her sudden curiosity felt... too convenient.
           “Hey, Osprey, is there anything bothering you?” he whispered, Vermilion leaned in, his amber eyes gleaming with curiosity, or perhaps something darker.
           Osprey hesitated. He didn’t trust Vermilion, never had. But he also knew Scarlet and her son shared secrets like candy. If he didn’t say something now, Vermilion might twist things to make him look disloyal later.
           “It’s just Peril,” he admitted softly, choosing his words carefully. One wrong phrase, one slip, and he could find himself in the arena tomorrow, a burnt smear beneath Peril’s talons. “She asked me for advice… about a MudWing immune to fire.”
           Vermilion’s head perked up. “Did you give her one?”
           “Of course… not,” Osprey replied, though the regret laced in his voice made it sound almost like a confession. He saw Vermilion smile. That smile made Osprey’s insides twist. Does he know something I don’t? He didn’t like the implications. Peril might be in more danger than she realized.
           Especially with her mother still imprisoned in Scarlet’s dungeons. If anything happened to Peril, it’d crush her mother, and maybe that’s what Scarlet wanted.
           “Before that,” Queen Scarlet announced suddenly, rising to her feet with dramatic flair, “I’d like to give the audience, and myself, a little appetizer.” She tossed the scroll lazily toward a nearby scribe, who fumbled to catch it and scurried off.
           She clacked her talons together with a metallic ring and turned toward her general, gesturing with a lazy flick of her claw toward the lower prisons. Osprey followed her gaze, relief briefly washing over him that it wasn’t the tower prisoners, but that relief evaporated instantly when he realized who she meant.
           “Some leftovers from yesterday’s arena match,” she purred. “I want to see those two SandWings again—the husband and wife. Let’s see if today they’ll stop playing games and finally kill each other.”
           Osprey’s heart dropped. He remembered them clearly. Two SandWings, terrified but desperate, had found each other inside the ring. And instead of tearing each other apart, they had fought to a deliberate draw, perhaps their last show of defiance. It had almost earned them mercy. Almost.
           Osprey clenched his old claws. She promised they'd be spared. But Scarlet never cared for promises. Not really.
           He wanted to speak, to object, to reason. But anything he said now could either doom those two dragons… or worse, Tsunami. Or Peril. Or himself. He was trapped, just like the rest of them. And Scarlet was still smiling.


Page 94 (Cacti)

She observed several SkyWings moving in unison as the crowd shifted restlessly to see what was going on. Squinting her eyes, the soldiers seemed to gather beneath the balcony as SkyWings arched their necks to peer upward with curiosity. Something was happening, but her mind still lingered on why the SkyWing queen had pointed at her.
           She scanned every glistening armor below, making sure no guard was flying up to them. But there, near the edge of the arena, was a group of heavily armored SkyWings who appeared to outrank the others. They were huddled in conversation, and several regular soldiers surrounded them in a protective circle. A few of them had their snouts tilted up… looking directly at her and the SeaWing beside her.
           She was even more uneasy now, her scales prickling with the sense that something terrible was about to unfold. Then a loud clank of steel echoed from down below, and the crowd burst into cheer. Two massive iron doors on opposite sides of the arena creaked open.
           At first, nothing came out, just the distant howling wind and the excited murmurs of the crowd. But a few moments later, a yellowing SandWing snout poked through the left gate, darting forward, claws swiping at the air as if searching for an escape. The dragon hesitated, realizing their opponent hadn’t entered yet.
           Then, from the other side, the second SandWing emerged, this one slower, more cautious. Their eyes locked.
           Their colors were so familiar. Too familiar. A chill ran down Cacti’s spine. The golden scales, the warm undertones, the faint shimmer of red sand, they were just like hers. At first, she thought it was a trick of the dream. But something in her chest tightened, something deep and instinctive. That’s them. That’s really them. Her mom and dad.
           A reddish dragon stepped forward from the balcony above, chains swaying as she raised her wings and declared with a sharp, boastful voice:
“SkyWings and allies, I present to you, Datura of the SandWings! Victorious in several arena battles! With one more win—freedom!”
           Cacti’s mouth fell open. Her chest seized. Her mother’s name, Datura, echoed across the arena, louder than she’d ever imagined it could be. There she stood: scarred, tired, and trembling, eyes filled with a sorrow too familiar.
           The announcer continued, unfazed: “And her opponent from yesterday’s draw! Ashen of the SandWings! One more win… and he, too, shall walk free!”
           Cacti could barely breathe. Her parents, together in the arena, pitted against each other. The crowd screamed for blood, but all she could do was stare in stunned silence.
           “MOM?! DAD?!” Cacti suddenly lunged toward the edge, heart pounding like war drums. Her claws scraped the stone as she nearly slipped off. She arched her neck down toward the arena, screaming. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?! MOM! DAD!”
           Her parents couldn’t hear her, the cheer and thunderous stomping of the crowd was washing her voice out, drowning it like crashing waves. She wasn’t used to screaming this loud, her throat already burning from just one cry.
           Datura and Ashen remained in a tense battle stance as they slowly circled around the arena, their tails low, wings half-spread, eyes locked, not with fury, but with pain


Page 95 (Datura)

The cheers flooded her ringing ears, the sun beat down harshly against her scales. It was uncomfortable, she hadn’t been bathed under sunlight for a long time. The light was too much after spending so long in the dungeon rather than one of the towers surrounding the arena. But at least she could spend a little more time with her husband.
           This dream was getting the best of her, but she wasn’t sure if it was really a dream at all.
           “Claws up! Barbs ready! FIGHT!” the SkyWing announcer bellowed.
           The crowd around the coliseum roared in anticipation, leaning in, wings bristling with excitement.
           She kept her distance from Ashen. She knew he was ready—and they both remembered the plans they whispered in the dungeon. If they were going to get out of this twisted dream, they had to work together.
           She wasn’t really sure if Ashen was  her husband… or just a version her dream had conjured. But Ashen felt real. He talked like a real dragon. And he was the only recognizable face she'd seen in all of this.
           She nodded slowly, and her barbed tail whipped the sand in a sharp arc, sending dust into the air. Ashen immediately lunged toward her, talons outstretched. The crowd erupted in cheers, and Queen Scarlet leaned over the balcony, her eyes gleaming with amusement.
           Ashen's pace slowed just before he collided with Datura, enough that their bodies crashed with a believable thud but not enough to hurt. Their talons locked mid-air, claws scraping dramatically as they spun slightly from the impact.
           Ashen’s snout was close to hers, just enough to speak low. “Do we really have to kill each other?” he asked quietly, twisting her foreleg just enough to make it look like a real grapple.
           Datura grunted, flipping him over her shoulder, but not hard enough to injure. She landed on top of him, slamming her tail down beside his head for effect. “This is a dream, after all?”
           “No, not yet. We don’t know if it’s a dream or not.” Her voice was hushed as she leaned down, claws pinning his shoulder. She sliced the air above his neck with a swipe, avoiding his throat. “I don’t know if we actually die… if we do.”
           Ashen groaned and rolled them both sideways, now on top, slamming his claws against hers again with exaggerated force. “Then let’s not find out.”
           “We just have to give ourselves some time,” Datura said through gritted teeth as she shoved Ashen back, their claws scraping with a shriek of scale against scale. She twisted and slashed near his wings, missing on purpose but close enough to make the crowd roar.
           Ashen stumbled back with a grunt, flaring his wings for balance. “But what if this Queen Scarlet loses her patience and kills us both?” he said, his worried expression flickering through the fury of their staged brawl. He lunged forward again, aiming for her shoulder, but his claws slipped, cutting across her upper arm.
           Datura winced but didn’t break character. She spun dramatically, her tail sweeping under his legs and forcing him to leap back. “We already did this yesterday,” Ashen hissed, catching his breath as he circled her, “What if it doesn’t work this time?”
           “We just have to find a way out of here. Maybe she’ll get bored and let us fight someone else next time,” Datura said. She lashed her tail sideways, grazing Ashen’s side and leaving a shallow cut that trickled with blood. He winced, but nodded. “Besides, she seems thrilled. And the crowd—” she blocked his talons with hers and flipped over his back, landing behind him, “they’re still distracted.”


Page 96 (Ashen)

At this point, the fake fight was taking its toll on Ashen’s body. His sandy scales throbbed with pain, especially his right foreleg, where Datura had accidentally carved a deep gash during yesterday’s draw. The muscle there flared with every movement, sending sharp jolts up to his shoulder.
           This wasn’t just a nightmare. It was too vivid. Too sharp. The ache in his limbs, the tang of blood in his mouth, the fire in his lungs with every breath, it was all too real. Something was wrong. Deeply, unnaturally wrong.
           This wasn’t a dream. Not a normal one, anyway. There was a strange weight to the world, like something had sunk claws into the very air around them. A spell? A curse? Some twisted arena magic?
           Whatever it was, Ashen didn’t trust it. And he and Datura had to survive it, no matter what this illusion demanded of them.
           “We have to survive no matter what,” Datura muttered, ducking under his talons and launching herself upward. Her wings beat hard against the air, kicking up a gust of sand as she arched around him. Ashen responded with a loud roar, spinning with a wide swipe that barely missed her head.
           But he couldn’t ignore the throb in his arm or the heat of the half-infected wound. Could he actually die in a dream? This didn’t feel like a coma. The faces in the crowd were unfamiliar, their voices echoed with ancient cadence. This wasn’t the future, it felt like the past. A long, long time ago. And every sensation, the exhaustion, the stabbing pain, the thirst clawing at his throa. It all felt real.
           “I already miss our daughter... I’m worried sick for her,” Ashen said hoarsely, lunging forward and locking claws with Datura. They spun briefly in a dramatic grapple before breaking apart, each panting from the effort.
           He couldn’t shake the fear: if one of them died in this nightmare, would they vanish forever? Would they leave Cacti alone? “If this is happening to us, what could be happening to her?”
           “She’s probably fine,” Datura grunted, swinging a heavy tail strike that Ashen narrowly dodged. “She’s got her new important job. She’s the new representative of our tribe now.” She vaulted at him, her shoulder colliding with his chest in a painful thud, almost dislocating his jaw.
           “That’s why we can’t give up. We have to survive. For her.”
           Ashen stumbled back, faking a dramatic fall into the sand, his breath heavy. Datura roared and circled him, claws scraping sparks from the arena floor. The crowd erupted, believing the spectacle. He forced himself up again, blood dripping from his shoulder, his eyes locked on hers.
           “Promise me one thing,” he rasped, charging at her again, their wings flaring as they clashed. “We BOTH get out of this. For our daughter. For Cacti.”
           Ashen twisted beneath Datura and shoved upward, sending her tumbling backward with a dramatic snarl. He pounced again, their talons clashing in midair, and with a whirl of sand, he pinned her to the arena floor. Dust exploded around them as the crowd roared louder.


Page 97 (Datura)

Ashen pinned her down with just enough weight to keep up the illusion. Their claws scraped together in a dramatic clash, his tail coiling behind him like a striking snake.
           Datura growled and kicked up with her hind legs, flipping them both over, but Ashen twisted mid-air and slammed her back into the sand again. Her snout tilted up toward the tower as her back hit the ground, and something caught her eye, movement, scrambling up the stone.
           Her breath hitched. Ashen noticed it too. His eyes darted up just as a SandWing launched herself toward the edge, gold scales flashing in the sunlight, the wind whipping her wings as she barely caught a chain hanging from the battlements.
           Datura’s heart dropped. “Wait… is that—Cacti?!”
           Ashen’s eyes widened in horror. “What in the scorching sands is she doing here?” His voice cracked with panic, his body trembling just slightly despite the performance they were supposed to be keeping. She knew those colors. That posture. Those wings
           Their daughter was here, terrified, clinging to the edge of a tower, her wings shaking in the wind. And worse… Queen Scarlet had surely noticed.
           “CACTI! MY DAUGHTER—!” Datura’s voice cracked like thunder with raw and panicked roar. Her eyes burned as she looked up at the trembling figure clinging to the tower’s edge. It was her, her beloved daughter, not some illusion, not a memory, her daughter. Seeing her up there, frightened and alone, shattered what little control she had left.
           She couldn’t die now. Not before knowing Cacti was safe. Not before stopping this nightmare from swallowing her too.
           She wasn’t going to let her child be thrown into this bloodstained arena, not like this. Not to die a brutal death at the claws of some war-hardened dragon. Datura knew she had been lucky, being forced on facing her own husband in this charade instead of a dragon warrior. Ashen was no soldier, and neither was she. But they knew each other, and they could fake it well enough.
           But Cacti? Cacti was as fragile as a panicked hummingbird in a firestorm. Without thinking, Datura lunged toward the tower, wings half-flared, trying to catch her daughter’s gaze and signal
           Ashen grabbed her mid-lunge, twisting their bodies into a convincing lock of combat, slamming her back into the sand. “Wait!” he hissed. “Don’t break character—they might suspect something!”
           “That’s our daughter!” Datura snarled, tears stinging her eyes as she struggled against him. “And Scarlet is staring right at her!”
           Ashen tightened his grip, pushing her shoulder into the ground as he hissed through clenched teeth, “We can’t save her if we’re dead first!”
           Their tails whipped through the air, barbs slicing past each other in a dramatic clash. Datura slammed a foreclaw into Ashen’s shoulder, and he rolled with it, pulling her down with him as they tumbled through the sand in a chaotic spiral.


Page 98 (Vermilion)

He made sure to look right for the occasion—last time, Scarlet snapped at him for smelling like roasted nuts. He hadn't even eaten breakfast today, figuring it would be safer to wait until this twisted event was over. For now, Scarlet seemed to be ignoring him, which was a relief, but also strange.
           She’d been off lately.
           Spending too much time with that odd SkyWing, the one who always had that unsettling grin plastered across their snout. Maybe they are the only dragon allowed to smile more than Queen Scarlet herself. The two of them had been whispering back and forth for days now, laughing under their breath, exchanging glances like they shared some terrible little secret.
           He tried not to care. He really did. But curiosity gnawed at him like hunger.
           The problem was, he couldn’t risk it. Not with Scarlet. Not with *them*. One wrong question, one lingering look, and he could end up in the arena next. And he had no intention of becoming the next morning’s bloodstain.
           He also felt Osprey was up to something—and that old, saggy-scaled dragon might just get himself killed for Peril, the Dragonets of Destiny, or by breaking character entirely. Honestly, it was written all over him. The way he paced, the way he spoke too carefully, the way his eyes followed Scarlet’s every move, it wasn’t loyalty. It was dread.
           “Excuse aside, Vermilion.” A familiar voice snapped him out of his thoughts. “I need a word with your mother—why am I even asking.”
           The SkyWing brushed past him with the casual arrogance of someone who thought the world should kneel at their claws. Vermilion felt his scales prickle with irritation at the SkyWing’s ego, but before he could say anything, Scarlet lit up like firestone.
           “Ah, Parasite! How you've been? I thought you wouldn’t watch the arena for me today.” Scarlet beamed
           “I had some business to deal with,” the Parasite said. “You know what I mean.”
           They poured wine into Scarlet’s golden goblet, the crimson liquid swirling like blood. “By the way, that new SandWing prisoner surely is excited to be in the arena—look at her jump excitedly in her tower.”
           Scarlet burst into laughter, nearly spilling her drink. “Haha! Oh, you do have an eye for the dramatic.”
           The Parasite handed her a scroll, another list of the day’s prisoners.
           “You’ve got a twisted sense of humor,” Scarlet said, grinning wide. “Why doesn’t everyone think like you?”
           She crossed off the name Cacti on the scroll with a flick of her claw, but instead of lazily tossing the parchment to the Parasite like she did with everyone else, she handed it to him. That small gesture didn’t go unnoticed—Scarlet rarely respected anyone. If anything, it confirmed Vermilion’s suspicion: they were two sides of the same sinister coin.
           “Why don’t we make her parents watch from the towers?” the Parasite said, his eyes glinting as he glanced toward the arena, where Datura and Ashen still tumbled in their mock fight. “And have the daughter face Tsunami instead?”
           Scarlet grinned wickedly. “You’ve read my mind.”
           She turned sharply toward her general. “Take those two SandWings out of the arena. I want them posted in the tower—where they can see everything. And bring out Tsunami... and the SandWing newbie.”


Page 99 (Tsunami)

She peered over the tower’s edge, claws gripping the crumbling stone as the wind whipped at her wings. From up here, the arena looked like a bloody sandpit, scorched, scarred, and unforgiving. She watched the two SandWings below roll and clash, their scales dulled by dust and bruises. They looked exhausted, beaten down by countless matches. Yet… they were still standing.
           How was that possible? Maybe they were stalling. Faking the whole thing. Could she pull that off too?
           Her mind raced, scrambling for any possible plan that would get her, the other Dragonets of Destiny out of this place. Untouched. Uninjured and Free.
           But she didn’t even know where Sunny was. Or if Glory was okay The thought burned.
           Down below, the two SandWings circled again, claws raised, yet never drawing blood. With occasional small lashes of blood but not once had they struck to kill. They were definitely faking it. But to what end? Escape? Mercy? A miracle?
           It didn’t make sense. If they kept delaying, they could just as easily be executed the next moment. Queen Scarlet didn’t need reasons.
         Still, as she tracked the SkyWing queen's gaze, she noticed Scarlet was now locked in a hushed conversation with that other SkyWing. The one with the too-wide grin. The one she also didn’t trust. Maybe now was her only chance to think, to act, before the queen looked back and remembered her.
           She was distracted by the sudden tug of her chains, nearly losing her balance. The SandWing from earlier. Cacti, if she'd heard right. Was now flailing at the edge of her own tower, yelling down into the arena like her voice alone could change the outcome. “MOM! DAD! DON’T DO THIS!”
           The chains linking them strained as Cacti kept lunging forward, wings fluttering wildly, claws scraping stone. It yanked her own restraints with every movement.
           “HEY—stop doing that! You’re pulling me!” she snapped, wings flaring to steady herself.
           A pang of sympathy struck her as she caught the anguish on Cacti’s face, the desperation in her voice. The SandWing looked completely shattered. And who wouldn’t be? Her parents were about to be executed by entertainment, right in front of her. But even so, the constant yanking was driving her insane.
           She groaned. “Ugh, I get it, but we’re chained together! You flail, I fall!”
           Cacti didn’t seem to hear. Or maybe she just didn’t care.
           “What are you doing? You’ll get us all killed!” the IceWing in the neighboring tower barked, yanking against his own chains as they pulled taut. His snout jutted forward, icy breath curling in the air as he glared at Cacti.
           “Stop thrashing, SandWing!” he growled. “This isn’t a tantrum pit! You're gonna drag the whole tower down with us!”
           He looked like he’d been there a while, frost crusted around the edges of his shackles, wings ragged, one horn chipped. But his voice still held that sharp, commanding tone IceWings always had, even when they were falling apart.


Page 100 (Cacti)

She tried flaring her wings, but the cold iron clamp bit into her scales, pinching painfully. The two dragons chained between her tugged at the same time, jerking her forward so hard her chest slammed against the stone edge.
           Down below, it was her parents. She couldn’t give up, not when they were down there, tearing at each other. But were they really fighting? Was it deliberate? Or were they hopefully faking it. Her heart twisted. It was sickening to watch them claw and lunge like strangers. She wanted to believe it was just the dream playing tricks on her, but what if it wasn’t?
           Tsunami flared her wings beside her, eyes going wide in alarm as something stirred beneath her tower. The IceWing prisoner across from them dropped low and backed away from the edge, muttering something and trying to hide from something.
           Then, suddenly—SkyWings.
           Several of them shot up from below, talons sharp, wings glinting. They landed hard on the edge of her tower and wrenched the chains free without a word. Cacti barely had time to scream before she was yanked into the air.
           Tsunami roared. She lashed her tail and slammed it into one of the guards, knocking a few teeth out with a satisfying crunch.
“Hey, flame-breathing buzzard!” she snarled. “What’s going on?! The fight’s not done yet—!”
           A SkyWing smacked Cacti hard across the snout, silencing her instantly. The force made Cacti wince. Another one threw a blow to Tsunami’s jaw and then her head, and still she fought. It took several more SkyWings to wrestle her down.
           Cacti wasn’t as lucky. They didn’t bother knocking her out. Her wings were clamped tight, her limbs bound, and she was dragged down, helpless. The wind scraped her face as they descended, talons bruising her sides. For a terrifying moment, she thought they’d drop her.
           Below, she caught a glimpse, Tsunami coiled in a struggling ball of red and blue wings, still resisting.
           But it was her parents who broke her.
           Now that she was closer, she could see them clearly. Datura and Ashen, bound in the same metal tower chains she had just escaped. They were being flown upward, straight past her.
           “MOM! DAD!” Cacti screamed, thrashing in her captors’ grip.
           “MY DAUGHTER!” Datura cried, reaching out as far as her chains would allow, wings flaring in desperation. She twisted against the guards, one of them nearly losing his grip.
           “We’re not done fighting!” Ashen roared, yanking hard against his restraints. His claws scraped sparks off the chains. “Let me go! Not my daughter!”
           Cacti strained to reach them, but the SkyWings only gripped her tighter. Her parents were being taken away, again, and all she could do was scream.
           The guards slammed her to the sand below, the smell of dry blood hitting her like a wave. It was thick and coppery, clinging to her snout and scales. She grunted as her chest hit the ground, the wind knocked out of her lungs.


Page 101 (Ashen)

Him and his wife passed by a crumpled knot of SkyWings struggling to restrain a furious blue SeaWing being dragged down into the arena. Her scales shimmered like ocean glass, even under layers of blood and grit. She was snarling and kicking, fighting with enough strength to take down three soldiers at once. That must be her—Cacti’s opponent. She looked like she could rip through a dragon twice Cacti’s size.
           Panic surged through Ashen’s chest. This was it. This was what he feared more than anything. He wasn’t going to die in the arena. He was going to watch his daughter die.
           “No! Let me go!” he shouted, thrashing his tail as the SkyWings tried to force him upward. His talons scraped across the stone edge of the balcony tower as he twisted toward the SeaWing. “Hey! SeaWing! Don’t kill my daughter! Please!”
           “She’s not trained for this!” Datura roared beside him, her voice full of fury and desperation. Her clamped wings beating wildly against the guards, claws scoring bright lines into their armor. “Our daughter is not built for combat! Please, have mercy! She doesn’t deserve this!”
           After a few more violent struggles, they were both chained tightly to their new prison towers. Datura in the one where Cacti had been, and Ashen in the tower opposite, the one that belonged to the SeaWing they’d just passed. It was almost too perfect. Too cruel. A deliberate arrangement, meant to make them watch, to watch their daughter be torn apart.
           Datura trembled on the narrow platform, sniffing the air as if to reassure herself. “It’s really her,” she whispered, tears welling up in her eyes. “It smells exactly like Cacti. Her scales… her scent… it’s her.”
           “We have to do something!” Ashen growled, trying to hurl himself off the edge, only to be yanked back by the thick, iron chains clamped around his wings and limbs. They were over bound, twice as much as the average prisoner. They weren’t supposed to move. They weren’t supposed to try. This wasn’t a mistake. This was a punishment.
           Down below, Cacti lay slumped in the sand, her small body barely able to hold itself upright. Her scales were bruised, flecked with blood and sand, her eyes wide and unfocused. And across from her, Tsunami was still putting up a furious fight, dragging three SkyWings with her as she thrashed and twisted and tried to take flight, only to be shoved down hard. The crowd roared in delight at the spectacle.
           But Ashen didn’t hear them. All he could see was his daughter. The way her chest barely moved. The blank, haunted look on her face. The way her claws trembled. His heart didn’t just sink, it collapsed entirely, like the bones of an old carcass picked clean by vultures. The pain from his own injuries didn’t matter anymore. He slumped down in his tower, weighed down in despair.
           “Ashen! Stand up! Our Cacti is in danger!” Datura said hoarsely over the wind.
           “I can't watch...” He mumbled


Page 102 (Cacti)

The arena was buzzing as the crowd howled and jeered. She staggered to her talons, dazed, as her eyes flicked over the hundreds of eager faces in the stands. They all looked thrilled, hungry to see her get torn apart for their amusement.
           Tsunami was hurled roughly into the sand nearby, landing with a grunt before immediately springing back up, gills flaring wide, shooting a feral glare blazing in her eyes to the SkyWings. The SkyWing guards hissed in irritation, smoke leaking from their snouts. Tsunami bared her teeth, a low rumble vibrating in her throat.
           Cacti lowered her head slightly, muscles tensing, her instincts screaming at her to run, but there was nowhere to go.
           Suddenly, the crowd quieted slightly as a new SkyWing emerged onto the balcony. Cacti didn’t recognize them. They wore armor that shimmered gold in the sunlight, and their smile was sharper, more dangerous, than even Queen Scarlet’s or the bloodthirsty dragons circling the arena below.
           The strange SkyWing raised a claw for silence and bellowed, voice booming over the arena:
           “SkyWings! Honored guests! Our queen has decided to postpone the SandWing couple’s duel for later. For now” the dragon’s grin widened “she craves something far more exciting!”
           The crowd roared even louder, stomping their claws in a deafening rhythm. Cacti's scales prickled uneasily as the dragon continued
           “A battle between the new SandWing prisoner, Cacti!” they swept a claw toward Cacti, making her flinch “and the infamous dragonet of destiny herself, Tsunami of the SeaWing!!”
           The noise rose to a fever pitch. Around her, dragons pounded the stands with their talons, chanting and screeching for blood.
           Her heart pounded painfully against her ribs.
           *They’re going to make me fight her...* she realized with horror. *I’m supposed to fight Tsunami. Her?!*
           She backed off slowly from Tsunami, but the roar of the crowd behind her was pressing in like a wall of fire. No matter where she turned, there was no escape.
           “Her?” Tsunami snapped, lashing her tail and kicking up a plume of gritty sand and blood. Her snarl echoed across the arena. “I'd rather fight one of your cowardly SkyWing soldiers!”
           Cacti shrank lower to the ground, trying to sink into the sand as if she could disappear. But the sand was crusted with dried blood, scales and bones, sticking to her scales, rough and unmoving. Hundreds of hungry, gleaming eyes pinned her in place, a sea of predators, waiting for the smallest sign of weakness.
           She shivered, chest heaving, wings pinned tight to her sides. I don't want to die, she thought wildly. Not like this. Not in front of them.
           Tsunami was pacing now, her tail cutting sharp lines in the bloodstained sand, glaring up at the balcony where Queen Scarlet and the grinning SkyWing stranger watched, amusement flickering in their eyes.
           Cacti was dragged back up toward the prisoner towers, her wings limp from the rough flight. Her glasses, somehow still clinging to her snout, were smeared with dust and blood, the cracked lenses making the world blur strangely around her. She blinked against the sting of grit in her eyes, trying to focus.
           The sky above was shifting, the golden blue of earlier fading into a bleak, heavy gray. Clouds boiled slowly across the horizon, casting long, cold shadows over the arena.


Page 103 (Tsunami)

The SandWing on the other side huddled low, tail drooping in the sand. It was obvious she wouldn't fight her — even if she tried, she was no match. Tsunami could see the fear trembling in her wings, and even though she was still angry at her for pulling the chains earlier, clawing her now would feel wrong.
           Hurting someone who was just as trapped and terrified felt like stomping on a dying ember.
           The crowd, restless and bloodthirsty, began to shout, their voices crashing like waves against the stone arena walls.
           “Gouge her eyes out!” a ruddy red SkyWing howled, baring his fangs.
           “Rip her wings off!” barked a dusty brown, armor-plated MudWing from the lower stands.
           “Crush her head with your tail!” another SkyWing scream, her scorched orange scales gleaming in the light
           The words made her scales crawl. Tsunami glared up at the crowd of red and orange SkyWings. She hoped her own tribe were more honorable than this. That they wouldn’t stand around screaming for blood like starving scavengers.
           She tightened her jaw, trying to block them out, but then she caught sight of the grinning SkyWing, sauntering out from the shadows near Queen Scarlet’s throne, like he had all the time in the world.
           “I’d rather rip apart that grinning SkyWing!” Tsunami snapped, shooting a furious glare at the two dragons perched smugly on the balcony. She flexed her talons, ready to leap if she had even half a chance.
           The grinning SkyWing casually moved closer to the balcony’s edge, swishing their tail like it was bored. “Fight,” they called out lazily, its voice slicing clean through the roaring crowd, “or little Sunny gets hurt.”
           Tsunami’s heart slammed against her ribs. She bared her teeth in a silent snarl, wings trembling with barely contained rage. They were serious. And she couldn’t afford to lose Sunny. Not to them.
           Tsunami’s head snapped up, her gills flaring wide with rage. Her claws dug into the sand as she fought the urge to roar. Every part of her wanted to hurl herself into the sky and claw that smug expression off their snout. She wished, more than anything, she could fight them instead, wipe that twisted smile from existence.
           But Sunny… Sunny was somewhere out there, maybe alive, maybe not, and Tsunami wasn’t willing to risk it. Not yet.
           She looked at Cacti still hunched over the corner, trembling and clutching her filthy glasses like they were a shield.
The crowd near her booed and jeered, hurling insults and stomping their claws in the stands.
           Tsunami felt a stab of pity for her, she was just a scared dragonet, way out of her depth. But she had no choice.
Not if Sunny’s life was on the line.
           She tightened her wings to her sides, steeling herself. Then she readied her stance, claws scraping the bloodstained sand, and darted forward like a breaking wave.


Page 104 (Cacti)

The Parasite took a step to the edge of the queen's balcony, their wings folded tightly against their sides. Cacti noticed for the first time that their eyes were a different color than any other SkyWing she’d seen, and whenever she glanced at their snout, a subtle but intense feeling of dread curled through her chest.
           “Claws up! Teeth ready! FIGHT!”
           The crowd burst into cheers again, a tidal wave of noise crashing against her scales. Cacti looked up at the bleak, cloud-stained sky and locked eyes with her parents, chained high in the prisoner towers. She refused to look away. If she was going to die here, she would at least keep them in her sights.
           Maybe if she died painfully enough, it would jolt her awake. Maybe. Or maybe... dying here would mean dying for real.
           The sand beneath her claws shifted, something was moving. The crowd’s attention flicked over her, excitement bristling.
           She snapped her head around and there was Tsunami, darting toward her, muscles coiled, her expression fierce but not cruel, determined but hesitant, as if she hated every second of this.
           She scrambled to her feet and sprang aside just in time. Tsunami lunged after her, trying to counter the dodge, but slammed into the stone wall with a teeth-jarring crack.
           The crowd erupted into a shocked, jagged gasp, some laughing, others booing.
           Cacti’s heart hammered wildly. She was faster than Tsunami, for now. Of course she was, Tsunami was still a dragonet, and Cacti had been an adult for over a year now. She had also been trained, at least in defensive maneuvers, at Jade Mountain Academy, which had the best trainers than what this era had.
           But her offense was as weak as a wilting cactus flower.
           And her stamina? Even worse. Her lungs already burned from the quick dodge. She couldn't keep avoiding Tsunami forever. Sooner or later, one hit would land, and when it did, Cacti knew she wouldn’t stand a chance.
           She desperately glanced at her barbed tail, the poisonous tip twitching behind her.
           Could she use it? Maybe if she struck fast enough, she could stab the SeaWing’s gills just deep enough to knock her out without killing her, or letting the venom spread too far.
           She winced, guilt slicing through her like a claw to the heart.
           She remembered being scolded back at Jade Mountain Academy, furiously scolded after nearly stinging a HiveWing in her winglet during a training match. It had been an accident, but the memory still burned with shame.
           She had promised herself, sworn, that she would never open her barbed tail again, never strike another dragon on purpose.
           But now she had to get desperate.
Cacti’s tail wavered, half-unfolded, the barbs trembling in the thick, dusty air.
           She turned just in time to see Tsunami push off the wall with a powerful lunge, wings snapping open like a breaking wave.
           They crashed into each other with a heavy thud, rolling across the arena sand in a wild, scrambling tumble.


Page 105 (Tsunami)

The two of them clashed in a flurry of wings and claws, their talons scraping across scales, tails whipping sand into the air. Tsunami lunged forward, trying to slam her weight into the SandWing’s side, but Cacti ducked, narrowly missing the hit, then swiped at Tsunami’s face.
           Her claws skidded off Tsunami’s scales, not cutting, not even scratching.
           Tsunami blinked, confused for a heartbeat. Finally taking a closer look at the SandWing, she noticed something odd. No scars, no battle marks, not even old bruises beneath her golden scales.
           Her body was unblemished, too smooth for a warrior. The only signs of injury were fresh ones from the prison chains, raw abrasions where the iron had bitten her limbs.
           Her posture was nervous, her movements frantic, not trained. This SandWing didn’t look like a seasoned soldier. She looked like someone pretending to be one.
           But the SandWing still fought. Sloppy, wild, terrified. but she still fought.
           They tumbled onto the cracked sandstone floor of the arena, drawing a roar of excitement from the bloodthirsty crowd. Tsunami managed to twist and pin Cacti beneath her, one talon on her chest, the other restraining her shoulder.
           Then, like a flash of gold lightning, Cacti’s barbed tail snapped up.
           Tsunami’s eyes widened, she threw herself sideways just in time, the venomous barb slashing the air where her neck had been. Barely missing her tail.
           Still, the SandWing recoiled as if she’d struck herself. Her eyes were wide and panicked, she shoved her tail away like it had betrayed her, like she hated it.
           “How are you dodging my attacks?!” Tsunami narrowed her eyes. She doesn’t know how to use it. She’s trained to defend, not kill. No soldier hesitates like that. “You’re no soldier–”
           The SandWing hesitated, eyes lingering on the tail-whip bruise she'd inflicted. Tsunami felt a flicker of guilt in her expression. She seemed too sensitive to such a blow, like she hadn’t been hit in a long time. Cacti looked back at her with a strained, almost pleading look.
           “I already told you—” she panted, breath catching in her throat”
           “I’m the newly appointed representative of the SandWings for the Talons of Peace,” Cacti said hoarsely, her voice cracked from stress and exhaustion. She winced as she adjusted her stance, clearly feeling the sting of her wounds. Both of them were still circling each other in the arena, steps slow and tense.
           The moment the words Talons of Peace reached Tsunami’s ears, something in her tensed. It was enough to make her instincts flare with distrust. But then again, the way Cacti moved, cautious, defensive, nimble but not aggressive, made her seem more like a peacekeeper than a soldier.
           “I’m supposed to do diplomatic stuff—” Cacti added weakly.
           *Diplomacy?* Tsunami questioned in her mind. That word felt so out of place here, like a dead flower in a battlefield. There hadn’t been much of that, not in a long time, especially not during the SandWing Succession War.


Page 106 (Yun)

The spectator stands were packed to the brim, as if every dragon in the kingdom had been ordered to attend. Yun usually enjoyed watching battles, not out of bloodlust, but to study techniques, to learn how dragons moved and fought. But this… this wasn’t the same. He knew the arena before him wasn’t real. This whole place was an illusion.
           Every time he glanced at a nearby dragon in the crowd, he felt it, the emptiness behind their eyes. They weren’t real dragons. They were hollow echoes, puppets made from fragments of memory, conjured by whoever had built this twisted dreamscape.
           Just below, before the entrance of the upper spectator stand, just east of the SkyWing arena. Yun could hear the dragons roaring in anticipation. The sound rattled the stone beneath his talons.
           He hoped he wasn’t too late. He still wasn’t sure if the dragons fighting in there were just illusions or if they were real minds, actual consciousnesses trapped in the same nightmare as him. He had to go.
           Before he entered the corridor, rows of vendor stalls lined the outer courtyard, hawking roasted meat, shiny trinkets, and crudely carved wooden figurines of Queen Scarlet.
           “Get yourselves some meal! Roasted marinated meat!” barked a squat SkyWing behind a smoke-stained grill. “Fresh from the forest! Still sizzlin’!”
           “Get yourself some glow-gems!” crooned a SkyWing illusion, holding up a tray of glittering stones. “Shiny and sparkly—fit for a queen!”
           “Scarlet figurines!” screeched a small dragonet illusion, waving a clawful of lopsided wooden carvings. “Hand-crafted and beautiful—just like the real one!”
           The aroma was disturbingly realistic, but he passed them without a glance. He knew it was all fake. Every word, every scent, every smiling merchant face, fabrications. If he interacted with any of it, It might notice him. The Parasite was always watching.
           He pulled his hood lower and adjusted the layers of his mismatched armor, dull and dented on purpose to disguise his RainWing-SeaWing heritage. Smears of dried red clay paint streaked across his visible scales, masking the vibrant hues underneath.
           Clutched tightly in one talon was a tattered, rune-marked book. It pulsed faintly with heat, alive with some kind dark magic. He believed it was the key. The core of the illusion.
           Somehow, it was connected to the prison they were all trapped in. If he could decipher it, he might be able to tear the dreamworld apart. But he couldn’t do it alone. Not before The Parasite found him. He needed help, he needed to find the others like him. Before they lost themselves too.
           He finally entered the spectator crowd. Surprisingly, there weren’t any guards that looked suspicious of his hooded figure, nor did anyone bat an eye. Or maybe the Parasite was purposely ignoring him.
           He found a spot nestled between a group of tense SkyWings, each one watching the arena with feral anticipation. Some glared at him grimly as he passed through their line of sight.
           “Excuse me—Pardon me…” he muttered, slipping between wings and tails.
           I hope I’m not too late, he thought as he sat down, his robe brushing against the flank of the SkyWing beside him, who flinched slightly but said nothing, only narrowing her eyes at him with a silent, simmering suspicion.


Page 107 (Yun)

The crowd roared as the SeaWing and SandWing below thrashed and tumbled across the bloodstained arena sand, wings flaring, tails lashing.
           Yun leaned forward, heart pounding, trying to get a better look. He squinted, scanning their movements, the SeaWing’s striking blue scales, the way she moved like crashing waves
           *That’s Tsunami...* he thought. Or… at least a version of her.
           The book clutched in his claws throbbed faintly with warmth, the word ‘TSUNAMI’ etched into the cover in deep, ancient lettering. Everything in this twisted illusion, the arena, the crowd, even the stench of blood, was built from her memories. The world through her eyes.
           But the SandWing she was fighting. Yun’s snow white brow furrowed. She wasn’t familiar. Her movements were awkward, her blows hesitant, and something about her aura, it didn’t feel like an illusion. It didn’t feel hollow.
           *Who is that SandWing?* he wondered, his claws digging into the leather binding. She never fought a SandWing like that. Not here.
           Then it clicked. She wasn’t part of the memory. She wasn’t another puppet.
           She was new. A real consciousness, another dragon trapped in the Parasite’s illusion. And she was about to get killed.
           *Another one!?* Yun’s muscles tensed as he began to rise, he had to do something, but immediately dropped back to the stone bench as a sharp voice hissed beside him.
           “Hey! Weird cloak guy, sit down!” a scar-faced SkyWing snapped.
           “We’re watching!” another barked, eyes glued to the carnage below.
           Yun swallowed hard, forcing himself still. He couldn’t draw attention. Not yet. Not until he knew how to get her out.
           He opened the book. It was massive, every thick page crammed with jagged, looping lines, symbols that shifted when he stared too long, rearranging into gibberish. No sentences. No punctuation. Just a writhing sea of ink, coded in a language only the Parasite could truly understand.
           “Okay…” he whispered under his breath, flipping through pages. He stopped on one that felt right, like the air around it bent differently, colder and sharp.
           The arena below shook as Tsunami pinned Cacti again, and he sensed urgency tick in his chest.
           Yun pressed a claw to the strange text, mumbling under his breath: “Remove Clay’s chains… remove Clay’s chains…” over and over, like a prayer, like a spell.
           His claw slowed when it grazed a corner of the page that hummed, an electric buzz against his scales. That was it. That was the memory thread. He didn’t hesitate.
           “Gotcha.” He blurted, ripping it off the page. The page hissed as it tore. For a moment, nothing happened. Then the crowd gasped. Heads jerked upward.
           From above the arena, a dragon soared down in a streak of copper and ochre. Clay had no chains clattered, no collar dug into his neck, he was free. He blinked like someone waking from a dream, confused but alert, his wings catching the air with practiced strength.
           Tsunami looked up, stunned mid-movement. The SandWing beside her froze.
           Yun clutched the book tighter, a tremble in his claws. That worked. But now the illusion was unstable. The Parasite would notice.


Page 108 (Clay)

He watched in dread as Tsunami fought below, her movements sharp and relentless. She had always been the strongest in combat, even more than Kestrel had expected. Her training had been brutal, efficient. Unlike him. He was the "monster". He the muscle meant to defend, not to win. Never the killer.
           But as he looked at her now, slashing at a SandWing who barely fought back, something twisted inside him. This wasn’t what they were training for. That wasn’t their destiny.
           They were supposed to be the dragonets of peace. The ones who promised the end the war. The dragonets of not just prophecy but hope. Not this. Not bloodshed.
           Tsunami was being forced. He could see it, her hesitation, her fury, her desperation. The SandWing wasn’t even attacking, just dodging, pleading. Clay’s heart sank.
           For a moment, he wished, really wished that the chains around him would vanish. That he could dive down, stop her. Remind her who they were. Just one moment. He only wished for one thing, not just food.
           And then, something snapped. His wings felt too light, he noticed it. No clinking, no tug at his wrists. The rattle of chains was gone. He blinked, glancing down in disbelief, and the sight made his breath catch: nothing bound him anymore. His talons were free.
           He hesitated only a second, just enough to regret looking away from Tsunami, before instinct took over. His wings spread wide, and with one powerful beat, he launched into the air.
           The crowd gasped, a ripple of confusion and alarm spreading through the stands like wildfire as Clay dove down, massive and unmistakable.
           From the high balcony, Queen Scarlet spat wine across the floor, some of it splattering across the Parasite’s scales. “How did that MudWing get out?!”
           The Parasite rose to their feet with unnatural grace, cold eyes flashing. “Guards!” they roared, voice amplified like thunder. “Seize him!”
           Guards shot into the sky like arrows, wings blazing rust and tangerine, but Clay was already past them. He barreled through the air, ignoring the rush of wind, the burning in his muscles. They closed in fast, but he was faster, heavier.
           He crashed down between Tsunami and the SandWing, sending up a wave of sand. The landing was brutal, he felt a sharp jolt in his front talons, maybe even a dislocation, but there was no time for pain. He forced himself upright, every limb screaming, and lunged forward. Straight at Tsunami.
           She spun in shock, water-blue eyes going wide as Clay grabbed her in a desperate grapple, not to hurt her but to stop her.
           Scarlet shoved the Parasite aside with a snarl, storming to the edge of the balcony, her wings flaring wide and her chest heaving. Thick and black moke billowed from her snout, curling into the air as if she was about to unleash a torrent of searing fire straight down onto Clay.
           “BRING OUT MY CHAMPION!” she roared, her voice cracking across the arena like a lightning strike, trembling with fury.


Page 109 (Peril)

The obsidian-black walls were slick with condensation, the dungeon’s air thick and cold. Rows of barred cells lined the stone corridor, where the occasional groan or shuffle of a prisoner echoed softly, carried by dripping water from the ceiling above.
           Peril’s scales hissed with faint steam, reacting to the dampness, but she sat relaxed on a charred patch of stone in the waiting area, her designated spot.
           A bowl of half-burned charcoal snacks sat beside her. She munched on one idly, though it tasted dry and ashy, and Peril thought, *Maybe they forgot how to season these.*
           The roar of the crowd from the arena above had dulled to a low murmur, and she assumed the match was over. Hopefully, Tsunami had won, she liked Tsunami. She was fun. And brave. Even though she might treat her like a monster and she would be insanely furious if she found out she was interested with Clay.
           But then came the pounding. Sharp knocks against her heavy metal door. Voices shouted on the other side.
           Then she heard it, echoing from far above, Queen Scarlet’s unmistakable screech: “BRING OUT MY CHAMPION!”
           Peril sprang to her feet in a burst of heat. The guards didn’t even try to stop her, they jumped back instinctively, shielding their faces from the sudden rush of blistering steam as she bolted past them. Her wings flared wide and flames licked at the walls as she burst through the corridor toward the arena.
           The doors slammed open and the guards scrambled out of the way, their wings trembling as heat blasted past them. The crowd erupted, half in wild cheers, half in stunned gasps. As Peril soared into the arena, her blazing wings cutting a streak of fire across the sky.
           Without slowing, she dove at Clay, mistaking him for a nameless MudWing intruder. She tackled him hard, sending them both skidding across the sand, but the moment her claws touched him, something felt wrong. Her fire hadn’t scorched him. Her deadly touch hadn’t melted through his scales.
           Eyes wide, she reared back. “Clay?” she breathed, voice trembling.
           Before she could pull away, Clay shoved her off with surprising strength, trying to keep her from getting too close to the others, especially Tsunami and the bewildered SandWing. All three of them stared at Clay, stunned, not because of what he did, but because he had touched Peril and hadn’t turned to ash.
           Even Peril gawked at her own talons. He didn’t burn. He didn’t burn.
           Clay stepped forward, breath uneven. “Peril, stop,” he said firmly, eyes pleading. “We’re not enemies.”
           Peril blinked hard. “Clay?!” she gasped again, voice cracking with emotion. She shoved him away, eyes darting to the strange SandWing with suspicion blazing in them. “Who is that?!”
           But before she could charge, Clay grabbed her tail to stop her, accidentally yanking too hard. There was a loud snap as the brittle tip of her tail cracked, and Peril shrieked in pain, twisting toward him with fury and betrayal flashing in her eyes.


Page 110 (Scarlet)

Her claws dug into the balcony’s ledge, cracking the stone beneath as her breath hissed through her fangs. The guards scattered like leaves in a storm, fleeing from her seething presence as if her fury alone could burn them alive. Below, Peril stood still, staring at Clay with wide, unblinking eyes.
           She wasn’t moving. Not yet. Her gaze drilled into the MudWing’s, her claws trembling, not from fear, but from restraint.
           A small spark flickered from her snout, curling upward into smoke as she clenched her jaw. Every muscle in her body screamed to lash out, to incinerate something, anything. The nearest dragon. The useless guards. Even Tsunami.
           She wanted to tear apart whoever ruined her plan. She wanted to light up the arena in blue-hot fire. But she didn’t. Not yet.
           They weren’t supposed to find out about Clay’s fireproof scales this soon. It had been meant as a cruel surprise. A twisted gift. A test of loyalty, if Peril ever tried to defy her, especially after what was planned for tomorrow. Her mother’s trial.
           Now the reveal was wasted. Worse, someone had tampered with the chains. Someone had freed Clay.
           “The surprise is ruined,” Scarlet growled, voice shaking with rage. She turned sharply, eyes blazing like wildfire. “PERIL, KILL THEM ALREADY!”
           “By the Tui...” the Parasite whispered, almost reverently. Their wings flared, scales shimmering eerily as they scanned the stands. “Someone’s meddling... again.”
           Their head snapped toward the crowd, eyes narrowing. Through the blur of wings and roaring dragons, one figure stood too still. A shape among movement. A cloaked dragon, hunched, clutching something close.
           The Parasite’s voice dropped into a hiss, “YUN.”
           The pastel-blue dragon frantically started darting down the stands, stumbling over several rows of SkyWings as he clutched the thick, battered book to his chest. His hood slipped slightly, revealing a glimpse of shimmering RainWing-SeaWing scales streaked with red paint.
           Guards began shouting, wings flaring open as they launched after him. His suspicion had been right, the Parasite had noticed him. But not soon enough.
           He accelerated, half-falling down the stone steps, toppling over a tray of meat skewers and splattering fruit juice across shrieking spectators. SkyWings turned in alarm, some growling, others too stunned to react. Still, none stopped him. Not yet.
           The Parasite leaned forward with intense fixation. Its claws twitched on the balcony rail, its gaze glued to the fleeing dragon. Clenching their talons.
           Guards halted mid-dive, SkyWings blinked in slow motion, and even the wind seemed to still. Scarlet’s power seeped into the crowd like venom.
           She scanned the arena again, her own mind clouded with suspicion. Why was everyone letting him go? Why hadn’t anyone stopped him?
           “Who–” Scarlet murmured, but then her masterpiece stirred. Glory bared her fangs and unleashed a jet of black venom. The Parasite arched their neck just in time, the magical death spit splashing across the side of their face. Pain began to wash all over her ruby decorated eyes.


Page 111 (Glory)

The SkyWing queen writhed on the slick marble floor, claws scraping as she tried to regain her footing. She hadn’t planned to kill Queen Scarlet first, but her instincts had taken over.
           Now her fangs were empty, her venom fully spent on a target she was going to kill later. The Parasite, cloaked in its ridiculous golden armor, stood untouched.
           She launched herself forward, aiming to tear the gilded scales off its smug face before any guards could intervene, but the chains yanked her back, anchoring her to the twisted ceremonial tree.
           The Parasite snarled and batted her aside effortlessly. She crashed into the tree's gnarled roots, dazed. Before she could recover, it pounced. Pinning her against the pale, barkless trunk, one talon pressed tight over her throat.
           Scarlet thrashed and spat cinders, her wings flailing wildly against the crushing grip, but it was no use. The Parasite didn’t even flinch.
           Around them, the guards, generals, and elite SkyWing warriors stood frozen, not out of fear, but in eerie stillness, like statues with fire behind their eyes. None of them moved to help their queen.
           She had always been skeptical. From the moment she was re-crowned and “honored” with this arena ceremony, she’d suspected something was wrong. The way they looked at her, too calm, too blank. Like puppets waiting for a command.
           She should’ve acted faster. She should’ve aimed her venom at the real threat, not wasted it on Scarlet. But now it was too late.
           Scarlet screamed in pain as she toppled down the balcony stairs, her limbs twitching and her mouth spewing smoke. Vermilion and Osprey stood rooted in place, their eyes wide as they watched her face melt away, her scales sloughing off in patches, one eyeball bulging before it slid out and hit the ground with a sickening pop.
           The guards and nobles nearby backed away in stunned silence, but the Parasite didn’t move a muscle.
           “Someone—do something—!” Scarlet shrieked, thrashing weakly over the marble steps slick with her own fluids. But no one rushed in. No one screamed.
           The crowd didn’t panic. Instead, they simply stared, their expressions eerily calm, eerily vacant. Some murmured under their breath, their lips echoing silent words like a prayer or code, mirroring the Parasite’s stillness.
           Finally, Scarlet fell limp. Her skull was half-exposed, half-melted, a blackened socket where her eye had been. The Parasite stepped closer, peering down at the corpse with a hollow gaze.
           Glory felt her breath catch. At the sight of the damage, of how thoroughly it worked. Her stomach turned. She hadn’t expected it to work so well. She hadn't expected… that.
           “You killed my beloved Scarlet…” it said flatly, as if the words had been rehearsed but carried no feeling at all.
           Then it reached out, one talon clamped around Glory’s throat, lifting her off the ground. She kicked and thrashed, her claws scraping helplessly against its golden armor.
           With the other talon, it steadied her head. There was a terrible pause. A sickening crack.
           Her body twitched once, then went limp, her head slumping at a sharp angle as her wings drooped uselessly.
           The Parasite let her fall like discarded meat.


Page 112 (Yun)

He passed through the crowd, who were eerily still, frozen in place like broken marionettes. He heard the screams from the balcony and chose not to look back. Whatever was happening behind him, he knew it couldn’t be undone.
           The screeching was definitely not from the Parasite, but from Scarlet. That voice, raw and wild, had to be hers. But someone else had roared too. A sharper sound. Familiar. He dared to wonder, did Glory shoot the magical death spit at Queen Scarlet?
           Even so, it wouldn’t have mattered. She was all an illusion, most of them are. It's just the Parasite hurting itself.
           Still, Yun knew there were consequences. In a world made of pages and memories, every action pulled taut on the strings of something deeper.
           The puppeteer must’ve feel it when the puppets start tearing each other apart. If that was true, it would give him enough time as a distraction for the Parasite.
           He ran, ran, and ran. Past frozen SkyWings and statuesque spectators and guards, through halls of silence and over arena bridges that shimmered in and out of existence. None of them reacted. None of them moved.
           At last, he reached the two looming towers, faintly pulsing structures that shimmered like mirages. He stood at their base, heart pounding.
           His claws gripped the book. He flipped until he felt it, there, beneath his talons, a page thick with weight. He ripped a corner of it.
           The towers wavered. Cracked. Then vanished in a rush of air. The chains that once bounded Ashen and Datura snapped. The silence broke.
           Datura’s wings exploded open, her eyes wide as she plummeted from the freed tower.
           “Wh–what’s going on?!” she cried, spinning once in the air before she caught herself.
           Ashen wasn’t far behind. “Wait for me!” she shouted, nearly colliding with Datura as they both darted toward the chaos.
           The two landed near Cacti, who stood still at first, too stunned, blinking fast as if her mind hadn’t yet caught up with reality. Her eyes widened.
           “Mom! Dad! You’re okay!” Cacti rushed forward and threw her wings around them.
           “Are you hurt?” Datura asked, holding her close and inspecting her frantically. Her voice shook. “I’ll never let you go ever again.”
           “How did you get here?” Ashen demanded, eyes darting between the chains, “Who would do this to you—”
           “To us,” Cacti corrected, her voice small.
           Yun landed heavily behind them, sand kicking up around his talons.
“All three of you—we have to go now!”
           “Why—” Datura started, instinctively stepping in front of Cacti as Ashen did the same. “Who are you?”
           “I’ll explain later!” Yun snapped, urgency in every line of his body. He patted his wing hard against the sand, sending a small wave of it toward them like a signal. “We have to go! NOW!”
           Peril, Clay, and everyone else in the arena stood eerily still, staring at them. No one moved. No one spoke.
           Then, The Parasite leapt from the balcony, wings stretched like a shadow blotting out the sun, diving straight toward them.
           Yun didn’t hesitate. He grabbed Datura’s talon. And all three were yanked into motion, running across the sand as the arena began to twist behind them.


Page 113 (Datura)

The Parasite tumbled on the side of the arena they had just left. Datura looked back, eyes wide, as the impact sent a shockwave of sand exploding into the air like a miniature storm. If they had been even a few seconds slower, they would've been crushed under the force.
           From behind them, the crowd erupted. Not in panic, but in garbled, unnatural yelling, like a broken chorus shouting meaningless commands. The Parasite, without even glancing at them, hurled Peril and Clay aside like broken puppets. Guards began scrambling through the smoke, wings twitching erratically, expressions blank.
           Datura looked at Yun. A thank-you sat on her tongue but never came out. She still didn’t trust him.
           They ran, skimming over the sand, her heart pounding harder with every step. Scarlet’s corpse was still lying there, half-melted, ignored, grotesque, and something about how no one cared sent a chill through her spine.
           This had to be a dream. None of these dragons were real. Except Ashen. Except Cacti. And hopefully whoever this dragon was.
           The pastel-blue talons gripping her own tightened, yanking her forward with terrifying speed. They barreled toward the far entrance, where Peril came out. The one with the black iron door and the smoke-stained archway.
           “WHERE ARE WE GOING?!” Ashen shouted. They tumbled over a still-glowing coal bowl, knocking it aside. Ashen yelped, wings recoiling, he had been burned.
           The white-bearded dragon didn’t respond. His eyes were locked forward, dead set on escape.
           Behind them—BOOM!
           The Parasite slammed through the metal door with a sickening screech of steel and wood, bursting into the hallway. Coals scattered like fireflies.
           The old dragon fumbled for the book in his talons, pages flapping. He pressed his claws against the parchment and muttered something unintelligible.
           Then the hallway behind them collapsed in a roar of dust and stone. The five of them tumbled forward, landing in a disorganized heap, wings tangled, claws jabbing into ribs.
           “Oof—watch the tail!”
           “Whose horn just stabbed me?!”
           “Move, move, get off my—ow!”
           They finally spilled into a dim dungeon hall, echoing with their groans and heavy breathing.
           Datura was the first to scramble upright, eyes darting. She froze. A shadow moved behind them, quiet, fluid. A SeaWing.
           “AHHH! WHO’S THIS SEAWING?!” Datura shrieked, yanking Cacti behind her protectively. Cacti groaned, annoyed but grateful. She pointed with her barbels at the newcomer.
           “Moons, calm down! It’s me, Tsunami!” the SeaWing huffed, brushing soot from her scales. “Right, Cacti?”
           “Yeah…” Cacti muttered, getting to her feet and brushing sand from her wings. “But… are you real? Like, a real dragon?”
           “Of course I am, you dried-up cactus-sniffer!” Tsunami snapped, though her eyes darted warily down the corridor. “What kind of question is that?”
           “She is,” wheezed the old sky-blue dragon, collapsing against a cracked column as he gasped for air. “This whole place… it’s made from her memories. This book—this whole trap—it’s titled to Tsunami's memories…”


Page 114 (Yun)

They all slumped down, dust clinging to their scales. Cacti could still faintly hear the distant crowd in the arena, but the roar was fading into an eerie, uneasy silence. Yun stood near the back, tense, eyes scanning the dungeon corridor.
           Everyone’s breathing gradually slowed, and the group fell quiet in the dim, broken hall.
           Rocks still dropped occasionally from the far end, where the collapsed hallway had sealed them in. Ashen glanced toward the rubble with a tense expression, perhaps worried about other dragons trapped behind it. Yun didn’t have the heart to tell him the truth: there were no other dragons. Not real ones, anyway.
           This entire place was a prison of illusions, puppets crafted from Tsunami’s memories and fears. Only they were real. But how could he explain that without shattering them further?
           He glanced at Ashen again. The SandWing dragon’s posture was heavy with guilt, as if he’d failed the others. Maybe he thought they had abandoned the prisoners. Maybe, if Yun didn’t explain soon, Ashen would blame himself, or worse, be blamed by him for letting them "die." Yun didn’t want that. He had to find a way to tell them. Later. When it was safe.
           But then, they all froze. A single, sharp sound echoed from a nearby cell. The others remained dead quiet, their iron doors barely hanging on corroded hinges.
           Tsunami didn’t flinch. Her eyes went straight to the source like a drawn blade.
           From the shadows of the cell, a frail shape slowly emerged, a dilapidated, dehydrated SeaWing, scales cracked like dry leaves, eyes hollow. Greenish scales dulled by time and thirst. He stared back, unblinking.
           “Dad?!” Tsunami gasped, stepping closer to the rusted cell.
           Inside, Gill lunged forward, slamming into the bars with a maddened snarl. His claws scraped wildly, trying to reach through the gaps as if he meant to tear them apart.
           “Yun! Use the book! Set him free!” she shouted, eyes locked on the SeaWing. Yun hesitated. His talons tightened around the book’s spine.
           “Wait…” he said slowly, eyes narrowing. There was something wrong here. Tsunami shouldn't know this was her father. In the real world, she'd only learned that long after leaving the SkyWing palace.
           But now, here, she recognized Gill instantly. And how did she even know his name? They never met before and he never told his name to her, it would be impossible for her to guess his name.
           It felt off. Too convenient. Too scripted. He shook his head. “He’s unstable. If we let him out, he might kill us.”
           “SQUID BRAIN, HE’S MY FATHER!” Tsunami snapped, whipping around with a glare. “Are you seriously going to let him rot in here? Just give me the book—”
           “You’re not Tsunami…” Yun said quietly, stepping back. He motioned for Datura and Ashen to move behind him. “Something’s wrong. Something’s very wrong about you.”


Page 115 (Yun)

The hallway fell into an awkward silence, except from the relentless thrashing of Gill see l o.  the bars. The grinding of his claws against metal echoed like nails on stone.
           Tsunami's face remained turned toward the cell, hidden in shadow. Her wings were tense, trembling faintly, and her talons flexed, grinding slightly against the cracked floor.
           Datura slowly stepped forward, placing a protective wing in front of Cacti, who hadn’t moved, her expression twisted with confused hope. She wanted to believe this was Tsunami from the Dragonets of Destiny, she looked up to, the real one. Yun could feel it, and it made his chest ache.
           Ashen stood rigid, his eyes bouncing between them all, as if desperately searching for someone to tell him what was real.
           Yun hated this. Hated that this was how they had to learn the truth.
           Suddenly, ‘Tsunami’ flinched. Her muscles tensed. Her head snapped around with a fury that didn't seem entirely hers.
           “What are you even saying, old fish-breath?” she hissed through gritted teeth. Her voice sharpened like a blade, far too quick to anger.
           “How many times do I have to say it?!” she roared, eyes flashing, “I AM Tsunami!”
           Yun didn’t back down. “If you’re the Tsunami, then why didn’t you react when Glory’s neck was snapped?” His voice cracked, heavy with restrained rage. “Why did you just stand there, like nothing happened?”
           He took a step forward. “And how did you already know my name? I never told you. No one did.”
           He raised the book slightly in his chest. “And how did you know that SeaWing was your father when Tsunami didn’t find that out until after she escaped Scarlet’s palace?”
           The fake Tsunami didn’t answer right away. Her snout twitched, something dark flickering behind her eyes. Then came the smile, that same eerie grin worn by the golden-armored SkyWing Scarlet favored. Everyone stepped back, except Yun. “Give me the book, Yun.”
           The SeaWing lashed Yun’s hind legs, sending him crashing to the stone floor with a grunt. Before he could recover, the Parasite lunged, seizing the book in its claws. They tumbled, rolling over cracked stone and kicked-up dust as claws swiped and tails lashed, each desperate for control. The SandWing family instinctively backed away, shielding Cacti behind them.
           Yun gritted his teeth, twisted his hips, and drove a powerful kick into the Parasite’s stomach, launching it off him. He scrambled to his feet just as the book flew loose, spinning toward the SandWings. His heart nearly stopped, but he dove forward and snatched it mid-air before it touched the ground.
           The fake Tsunami slammed into Gill’s cell with a sickening crack. She tried to recover, but it was too late. Gill lunged with feral hunger, his jaws crushing her like paper. Blood splattered the floor as he tore through her scales and drank desperately, overcome by thirst and madness.
           “You killed Tsunami!” Cacti screamed, voice shaking with rage and horror.
           “That’s not Tsunami!” Yun barked, already sprinting toward the narrow stairwell up the dungeon’s far side. “Let’s go!”
           Behind them, the Parasite rose slowly, brushing off stone dust as its gaze burned into Yun’s back.
           “Oh, Yun...” it crooned, its voice now silk and tar. “The more you struggle in the quicksand… the deeper you sink.”


Page 116 (Yun)

He never looked back. He should’ve expected Tsunami wasn’t real, it shattered his theory that the book’s owner and this realm were conscious. But now, he wasn’t so sure.
           They might be the most real thing in this place. Puddles splashed underfoot as he and the SandWing family raced through the twisting maze of stone halls and winding staircases.
           Torches burned everywhere, even in dead ends. It was clear, the Parasite was inviting them deeper into its game. He clutched the book tighter, praying it would show him the way.
           Then something clicked. He caught a flicker of light against a broken tile and turned sharply, springing toward it. The SandWing family hesitated, heading the opposite direction, then stopped and doubled back, following his lead.
           They finally reached the stairs, racing up toward a horizontal hall lined with narrow windows on one side. At last, they were out of the dungeon and inside the palace proper.
           But before they could push forward, the sound of claws echoed up the hall. They froze and ducked behind a towering portrait of Queen Scarlet.
           A figure emerged. It was the grinning SkyWing, the same one that had chased them before. Somehow, they were already here. Unnaturally fast.
           They heard a dry, clicking laugh… followed by the slow, dragging clank of golden armor against stone.
           Yun tried to push forward down the hall, but Datura pulled him back with a firm nod, warning him to wait. She clearly sensed someone nearby, but Yun couldn’t afford to stay, if they lingered, the fake Tsunami might catch up.
           Brushing off her grip, he rushed into the corridor and collided with an old, washed-down red dragon. Datura tried to grab him again, but he was too fast.
           “Wait!” she yelped, spotting a wingless SkyWing slowly strolling down the hallway in the direction Yun was heading.
           Cacti covered her face, and Ashen stepped in front of her, shielding her the best he could, but it was already too late. The two old dragons bumped each other with Yun almost dropping the precious book.
           Osprey blinked at him. “Yun?..”
           His breath caught. For a second, the world tilted. That voice, that snout, it pulled memories from a place he’d tried to bury. Stargazing in silence, the warmth of scales against his own, whispered promises under desert moons.
           Osprey had been real, once. His. But that was long ago. The dragon standing here now was just another illusion, another shadow cast by the book. And yet it still hurt.
           “I missed you so much...” Osprey mumbled, wrapping his arms around Yun.
           Datura, Ashen, and Cacti stayed hidden behind Queen Scarlet’s portrait, tense and unmoving, they were unsure unsure if Osprey was truly real or just another puppet of the Parasite. Yun wanted to believe it, wanted to melt into the warmth of something familiar, but a part of him couldn’t accept it. Not yet.


Page 117 (Cacti)

The two old dragons embraced tightly. Cacti stood awkwardly to the side, unsure what to do, not that she could do much. This place was beyond her understanding, strange and shifting in ways that made her head ache.
           But Yun, he seemed to know more. Maybe he’d been here a long time. She hoped not. She hoped he hadn’t grown old in this place, or worse, he hadn’t aged at all.
           Yun’s ear ruff twitched. His expression twisted into something between sadness and dread as Osprey hugged him tighter, clinging like someone who’d been lost for decades.
                      “You’re alright…” Osprey breathed, his voice shaking. A tear welled in the corner of his eye as he slowly returned the hug, careful to keep the book clutched close, just in case.
         Osprey pulled back slightly and patted Yun firmly on the shoulder. “Yun, we could use that book to get out of here.” he said, his tone a little too urgent.
           Before Yun could react, Osprey snatched the old book.
           “Hey!” Yun yanked it back, holding it protectively against his chest.
           “What are you doing?” Osprey snapped, his voice rising. “We need that—”
           Yun’s expression crumpled. He looked heartbroken, as if something inside him had cracked. His claws trembled as he backed away.
           “You’re not Osprey…” he whispered, voice tight with pain. He tried to yank the book back but the SkyWing wouldn't let his talons go. He tried pulling it out but they had an oddly strong grip. “Let go!”
           “What do you mean?” Osprey growled, stepping forward. “I am Osprey!”
           “No, you’re not!” Yun shouted, shoving him back. They grappled, the book caught between them, claws scrabbling and wings flaring as they stumbled across the room.
           Osprey lunged again, claws reaching for the book. Yun twisted away, but the older dragon was faster than he looked. They slammed into a shelf, knocking over dusty scrolls and sending a candle holder clattering to the floor.
           “Give it to me!” Osprey hissed, his eyes burning with something Yun didn’t recognize, desperation? Greed?
           “No!” Yun growled, pushing him back, but Osprey struck him across the snout, leaving a shallow cut. Yun staggered, dazed, but held onto the book like it was the only thing anchoring him to reality.
           They grappled again, wings flaring wide as they slammed into a table, toppling it with a crash. Decorative flowers flew everywhere. Cacti and her parents flinched, frozen in place as the two dragons snarled and shoved, claws scraping, tails whipping across the floor.
           Then Yun let out a hoarse cry and heaved forward with everything he had.
           “Both of you stop!” She gasped as Yun, with a final desperate push, knocked Osprey off balance.
           There was a sickening crash of splintering glass. Osprey tumbled backward through the window, his shout echoing into the valley below.
           Yun lunged forward, reaching out a claw, but it was too late. His talons scraped the shattered edge of the windowsill as he stared into the swirling leaves below.


Page 118 (Ashen)

Cacti tried to rush forward to help Yun, but Ashen caught her by the forearm and pulled her back, wincing as his still-healing leg dragged behind him.
           “Wait—” he started, but then froze. His ears twitched. His expression shifted from concern to fear.
           A single, slow footstep echoed down the hallway behind them, the same hall the Parasite had emerged from.
           Ashen’s grip on Cacti tightened as he instinctively positioned himself between her and the sound. Blood from her earlier fight with Tsunami still matted her scales, and he pressed a trembling claw to her side, trying to soothe the worst of the bleeding.
           “We have to go!” Ashen hissed, trying to pull her toward the shadows. “Someone’s coming down the hall.”
           “No… no, no…” Yun whispered nearby, still at the window. His breath fogged the glass as he trembled, refusing to look away from the river and forest.
           Datura appeared beside him, silent and tense. She gently took him by the shoulder, her touch grounding, steadying.
           “Yun,” she said quietly, her voice soft as falling desert snow. “He’s gone.”
           Ashen limped closer, Cacti leaning on him for support.
           “Look… we’ve all gone through stuff,” Ashen said, trying to keep his voice even, wrapping one wing around Cacti’s side to steady her. His eyes never left the hallway, ears twitching at every creak. “But we can’t fall apart now.”
           He glanced around, breath short, panic creeping in. Datura stepped in and firmly turned Yun toward her, her claws on his shoulders. “We have to hide. Somewhere inside these winding halls—before it finds us again.”
           The Rain-SeaWing pulled himself together, blinking fast to clear the sting in his eyes. He looked at the SandWings, Cacti still bleeding, Ashen shaking, they looked like they were depending on him now. It was a terrifying feeling.
           “Where else to hide anyway?” Yun muttered quietly, a little smug edge curling in his voice as he surveyed the corridor ahead.
           The halls were lit under the sunlight, carpeted in dusty crimson velvet, muffling every step. Several wingbeats ahead, the passage took a sharp left turn. The walls were decorated with faded portraits and curling castle shrubs grown from cracked marble pots, their leaves oddly glossy despite the gloom.
           He grew impatient with the old, ragged dragon, his face twisting into a scowl. Datura tried to calm him, placing a claw gently on his shoulder, but he brushed her off and stormed ahead, his wingbeats tense with frustration.
           The footsteps behind them grew louder, more closer. Panic prickled at his scales.
           Several doors lined the hallway, all dark wood and iron handles. He spotted one near the stairwell they had just come up from and darted toward it. It was locked, but that didn’t stop him. With a few sharp kicks, the wood splintered and the door creaked open.
           Datura and Cacti called after him, their voices hushed and urgent, but he didn’t wait. He disappeared inside, leaving the door cracked behind him.
           “This whole place is a stage,” Yun added under his breath. “The Parasite knows where we are, no matter what.”


Page 119 (Datura)

She brushed the glass off Yun and helped him sit up. The fight had really hurt him, more than it should have. Maybe that old SkyWing wasn’t really just an old dragon. Maybe it was the Parasite.
           The blows Yun took were too powerful for a ragged elder. Datura was starting to believe Yun had been right all along.
           Everything here, the plants, the dragons, even the portraits felt like it was watching them, maybe these were pieces of Its twisted puzzle.
           She helped Cacti near the door. The SandWing hesitated, still bleeding from the lashes Tsunami had given her. The bleeding had slowed, but the wounds remained open. Datura didn’t know if infection even worked the same here, this place teetered somewhere between dream and reality.
           Ashen’s snout poked out from the room up ahead. Datura unsure if the Parasite had gotten to him too, but his annoyed expression was the same one he always gave Yun. At least that felt real.
           She passed Cacti off to Yun and helped guide them both into the room. Ashen assisted as best he could, pulling the door shut as the sound of footsteps echoed down the hall.
           They held their breath as the door creaked closed, slow and silent, not wanting to alert whatever was approaching.
           The room was small, a storage chamber for who-knows-what. Cramped, but it could maybe fit ten dragons if they squeezed. The air was oddly damp. The walls were lined with moldy shelves, and the whole space reeked of dust and rot.
           Yun still clutched the old book like it was his lifeline. Datura caught herself staring at him, suspicious. Part of her wanted to believe he was just another prisoner here like the rest of them.
           But another part, the part that had been hurt too many times, wondered if he was the one orchestrating all this. Keeping them scared. Keeping them hoping.
           But when she looked into his sky-blue eyes, she saw someone just as lost.
           They settled into the middle of the room. Cacti yelped as she forced her talons to relax. Yun slumped into a corner, hugging the book tight, guilt written all over his face.
           Datura approached him carefully. Yun seem to not trust her, she had to be cautious on what she would say.
           “Look,” she said, soft but firm. “I may sound like that old SkyWing, but we need that book. It’s the only thing we’ve got left.”
           Yun looked up at her like he was about to deliver terrible news. His gaze drifted to the dusty shelves. “I don’t know how to use it.”
           “What?” Datura and Ashen both exclaimed. Ashen’s voice was edged with fury. She used her tanny wings to block Ashen from Yun’s view.
           “We can’t be stuck here,” Datura said, grabbing his shoulder, more desperate than angry. “I saw you make our tower cell vanish. You’ve done something.”
           “Yeah!” Cacti chimed in, struggling to stand, though Ashen held her back. “And the hallway behind us collapsed. That was you, right?”


Page 120 (Cacti)

Yun sighed and slowly stood up from the corner, brushing dust off his back. Datura flinched at the sudden motion and stumbled back, spooked.
           He didn’t seem to notice. Yun walked toward the center of the room with the book pressed tightly to his chest. It was faintly glowing in the dimness, casting eerie lines across the damp walls.
           Cacti felt a strange tingling sensation crawl along her scales as the book got closer. It was like static, soft but persistent, like something brushing her from the inside out. Her breath hitched.
           “Fine,” Yun muttered. His ear frills twitched outward, alert. He ran a claw down the soft white fuzz of his chin, his sky-blue scales shimmering ever so slightly, becoming more vibrant as he focused. “I don’t know if this will work.”
           The SandWing family huddled around him. Cacti crept in hesitantly, her stomach tightening as the book was placed on the floor. It gave off a quiet hum now. Shadows flickered at the crack beneath the door. She heard footsteps, soft, bare, almost gliding. No armor. No scraping talons. Something felt terrifyingly wrong to whoever was passing by the hall.
           The shadows didn’t move like a dragon. They were too smooth, too flowing. Like melted ink. Like leaves twisting in reverse wind.
           Yun flipped open the book. A puff of dust and tiny spores scattered out across the floor. Datura coughed and shielded her snout with her wing. Ashen stepped closer, squinting at the pages. Cacti followed, adjusting the small wire frame resting on her snout.
           Datura noticed, her expression briefly softening with surprise. “You have new glasses?” she asked quietly.
           “I got them from someone,” Cacti replied, not meeting her mother’s gaze. She could feel Datura wanted to ask more like who gave them to her, when it was given, but she didn’t bother to ask. Her mother just looked away.
           Her parents had always refused to get her glasses. Said she didn’t need them. Said she’d get bullied or too reliant. She’d managed fine, until the day she became an advisor, and reading became more than a passing skill. It became survival.
           “I can’t read any of this,” Ashen muttered. He leaned in, claws gently brushing the paper. The writing was warped, more like tangled roots than text. Just twisted loops and crooked symbols.
           “Is it a language?” Datura asked, narrowing her eyes.
           “It’s encrypted,” Yun said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. He glanced toward the door like he expected it to burst open. “Only whoever built this… this mind-space… could unlock it.”
           Ashen’s wings shifted uneasily. “Is it some kind of spellbook? You used it to collapse that hallway. How did you do it?”
           But Yun didn’t respond. His lips pressed into a thin, unsure line. He looked like he wasn’t just afraid to answer, he couldn’t, so Ashen said nothing more.


Page 121 (Yun)

The huddled dragons gathered tighter around the book. The SandWing father leaned forward, squinting hard, sweat beading under his sunny scales. Ashen could feel his tension, he was trying desperately to read it.
           He’d been clinging to this book for what felt like days now, though time had lost meaning in this strange, shifting dream-world. The glyphs inside were scrawled in a chaotic, curling language no dragon should understand.
           And yet, part of him did. The book seemed to respond to him. It moved, changed, obeyed. His desire to save this SandWing family had already bent the dream’s fabric once, maybe it was why the arena towers vanished. Or why the prison collapsed.
           “I can't see!” someone cried.
           The light from the outside dimmed like a curtain slowly being drawn. Yun froze. Something massive had blocked the window. Cacti flinched, hugging her father tight, eyes wide in the darkness.
           The glow from the book pulsed faintly, eerie and otherworldly, but still too dim to read by. The room was plunged into blackness.
           Datura suddenly pulled away from the circle. Ashen grabbed for her. “Datura, where are you going?”
           “There must be something to light up here!” she snapped, rifling through the shelves. Her claws closed around a stub of an old candle. She blew a puff of smoke onto the wick, coaxing a small flame to life. Light flooded the room—just as something began pounding on the door.
           *BANG. BANG. BANG.* No voice. No words. Just the hammering force of something terrible trying to get in.
           “The Parasite,” Yun whispered, eyes fixed on the door.
           Cacti yelped, curling tighter into her father's wings. “Someone's at the door!”
           “Quick! Old man—get us out of here!” Datura hissed, thrusting the candle toward Ashen. Its flame licked dangerously close to his white brows. He snatched it away with a glare, using it to illuminate the book’s pages. “Anything! Do something!”
           He flipped wildly through the book. Page after page, empty. Silent. No tug. No spark. No reaction. Until finally he stopped at a random page.
           “Maybe this one,” he breathed. “Everyone, quick—put your talons on it!”
           “What?” Datura skeptically said.
           “Just do it! I think… I think if we all pray at the same time—wish for the same thing—it might listen. It’s worked for me before. But we have to all think it. Silently. Together.”
           Cacti, Ashen, and Datura obeyed without hesitation, each pressing a talon to the page. The pounding on the door grew louder. The hinges creaked. Dust rained from the ceiling.
           “Close your eyes!” Ashen shouted. “Pray! Think of one thing—getting out of here—just think it. Hard.”
           The room trembled. *BANG.* They shut their eyes. *BANG.* And prayed.
           He squeezed his eyes shut, squinting hard as he repeated the silent plea in his head. Then a blinding light flooded behind his eyelids, forcing a wince as warmth rushed in. The air wasn’t damp anymore.
           He flexed his talons against the ground, no dust or any mildew, no cracked stone beneath him. Just smooth, dry marble. He blinked, adjusting to the brightness. The banging had stopped and now it was a little too quiet.


Page 122 (Cacti)

She was the first to open her eyes, blinking against the sudden shift in brightness and the cool, still air that followed. The dust was gone, but, thankfully, her father and mother’s embrace wasn’t.
           Everything around her had taken on a gray pale monotone, like the world had been washed in silver light. Her obsidian SandWing eyes adjusted quickly, narrowing against the intensity, which wasn’t harsh, just... unnatural. Gloomy, but bright, like a sun behind thick clouds.
           She glanced at her parents. The infected wounds were gone, as if they’d never been there. The burn scars had vanished, and even the rough patches of sand and grime along their scales had smoothed out, replaced with clean, unblemished gold. They were whole, thankfully alive  and safe.
           She looked down at her own arm, where a lash had torn through her scales earlier, she found nothing but smooth scales. The pain was gone. But the memory of it lingered like an echo.
           “You have to tell us what’s going on,” Datura hissed as she stood up, her tail lashing behind her, eyes sharp and narrowed. She stepped forward fast, wings half-flared in confrontation. Yun scrambled back, clutching the old tome to his chest like a shield.“And how do we know you’re not the one who put us in that book?”
           Ashen let go of her and moved to her side, his posture stiff, his jaw clenched with doubt.
           Yun looked between the two of them, clearly hurt, like he hadn’t expected suspicion after everything.
           She felt bad for him. Yun had saved her parents, brought them back when she thought they were gone forever. And yet now her mother and father were staring him down like he was some kind of traitor.
           She tried to tug on Datura’s wing, to pull her back a little, but it didn’t budge.
           “Yeah! You haven’t even answered how you can control the book,” Ashen added sharply, his frills twitching. “You’re not telling us everything, are you?”
           Yun opened his mouth, but Datura cut him off.
           “Who is the Parasite you keep mentioning?” she snapped. Yun’s ear ruffs folded flat as his frills shivered and twitched. His eyes darted toward the floor. Fire flickered faintly between Datura’s teeth, her temper rising. She growled even “Are you the Parasite? Are you working with it? What is it?–”
           “*I DON’T KNOW WHAT THE PARASITE IS, AND I’M HONEST TO THE MOONS—I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT IT WANTS!*” Yun shouted, his voice cracking through the tension like glass. He gripped the book tighter, breath ragged, his old body shaking with strain.
           Cacti stepped between them, holding her wings out in an attempt to calm things down. “Look… we’re all confused. But Yun—he’s just been here longer, right? He seems to know more than us, that’s all.”
           “That’s exactly what the Parasite wants you to feel,” Yun snapped suddenly, voice dropping to a ragged whisper. “Confusion. Doubt. Anger. It feeds on that—feeds on you.”


Page 123 (Yun)

Everything fell into silence, even the vast halls and endless rows of rectangular, monotone grey bookshelves. Not even a creak or whisper echoed through the ancient air.
           “Sorry,” Yun murmured, stepping back. He wandered toward one of the shelves, its spines lined with books marked by unintelligible glyphs. Some were long, some short, but most shared an average thickness. One slot stood conspicuously empty near where they had appeared.
           He wasn’t sure if the Parasite could control this place. But he knew enough to say: “We haven’t escaped yet. The Parasite might still be here.”
           The SandWing couple exchanged a look, something weary and silent, like they wanted to blame one another for their suspicion earlier but instead let it drop. They both nodded toward Yun, wordlessly agreeing to trust him, for now.
           He slid Tsunami’s book back into the empty slot, it was oddly a perfect fit. The moment it clicked into place, he exhaled. He felt lighter, like something unlatched inside him had been released.
           Then Datura turned abruptly, and Ashen followed her instinctively. Her eyes locked down one long corridor of shelves, her spiked tail tense behind her.
           “What’s wrong?” Ashen asked. But before she could answer, he looked down the same aisle and seemed to understand. His obsidian eyes narrowed.
           “I think I have something I need to get… over there,” Datura said quietly, visibly disturbed. She took one hesitant step before stopping herself.
           “You should,” Yun said, stroking the white fringe of his chin beard. “This place—it’s a library of dragons. Every book is a life, a memory. If you find your own… there might be a way out.”
           The words were brief, but heavy. The urge to move was undeniable. The SandWing family could feel it, an invisible tug, drawing them toward something they couldn’t ignore. Something of themselves. And somewhere, lurking in the shelves, the Parasite might be waiting.
           Without hesitation, Datura led the way with Ashen close behind. Yun watched them go. He hoped they wouldn’t get lost. He considered following, but . . . part of him held back. He didn’t want to intrude, not after everything. And not with the way Ashen kept glancing at him.
           Ashen turned and reached for Cacti. “Let’s go, Cacti.”
           “I’m staying with Yun,” she said firmly, stepping back. “He saved us from that place. He deserves at least some trust.” She shook out her frilled head ridge like she still felt dust clinging to it. “Besides… my book’s calling me in the opposite direction.”
           Ashen opened his mouth, maybe to argue, maybe to warn her, but then thought better of it. He nodded with a hidden glare, Yun gave a weary smile before Ashen followed Datura down the hall.
           He gave Cacti a grateful smile. He didn’t know how to repay that trust. But maybe they still had time, maybe he could still help them escape this nightmare, even if it meant doing so without him.
           But then the memory of Osprey crashed into him like a wave of ice, the way he fell, the sound of shattering glass, the helpless silence after. Yun’s smile faltered.
           He clenched his jaw and quickly wiped the softness from his face, forcing his features back into that familiar, neutral smugness. Detached. Unshaken. He didn’t deserve to grieve, not yet. Not until they were safe.


Page 124 (Cacti)

Cacti curled her barbed tail close to her legs as she walked. The towering shelves pressed in on her from every side, their endless rows of grey, cubical books humming with silence.
           The halls were dull, monotone in color and mood, and even though she knew this place was some kind of dream, it still felt horrifyingly real. She could feel everything: the cold air, the weight of her wings, even the ghost of pain still clinging to her wounds. It made her shoulders tighten.
           She glanced behind her. No one. Just rows and rows of bookshelves, stretching out into foggy forever. Her parents were long gone down their own path. A shiver prickled her scales.
           Above them, the sky, or what passed for one, was pale, like a cloudy sky with no clouds. Just thick fog wrapped around everything like a second skin. She looked up, heart aching to launch herself and fly free above it all. But the thought of flying tightened her chest with dread. It wasn’t just fear. It was something deeper. Like the sky itself was warning her.
           Yun noticed. He gently held down her outstretched wing with one talon.
           “Don’t fly,” he said, quietly. “The Parasite could spot us easier up there. This place... it messes with your head. It makes you feel like flying is wrong. Like it’s dangerous.”
           She blinked and slowly folded her wings. He was right. The fear of flying, it didn’t feel like her own.
           They rounded another corner in the maze of bookshelves. The strange pressure tugging at her chest had only grown stronger. Something was calling to her, and she couldn’t resist. Her pace quickened. Yun said something behind her, startled, but she didn’t stop.
           “I found it,” she whispered.
           There it was. Tucked into one of the middle shelves, like it had been waiting for her. A thin book, smaller than most others, but with her name etched neatly across the spine. Her talon hovered over the cover. It even had her appearance drawn on the front. Her eyes widened. It really was hers. Of course it was thinner. She was only eight years old.
           Yun caught up behind her, breathless. He looked at the book, then at her, and gave a small nod. But beside her book was another book of a SandWing. She hadn’t noticed it until now, but it tugged at her even harder. Its pull was different. Familiar. The spine read: Tumbleweed.
           The cover showed an old SandWing with wrinkled scales the color of orange clay. He had round glasses perched on his snout and a quiet, tired look in his eyes. The moment she saw it, her blood went cold. Tumbleweed. The previous SandWing advisor. Her predecessor.
           He’d disappeared without a trace. No announcement, no search, no mourning. The council barely mentioned him, except for Simmer.
           She stared at the book. It felt dead. Cold. But it still yearned for her to pick it up. Her talon trembled as she hovered over it. Would she end up like him, too?
           She clutched her own book to her chest, but her eyes remained fixed on Tumbleweed’s. Was being the SandWing representative endangered her life?


Page 125 (Cacti)

The book’s pull grew stronger, more louder, almost as if it were buzzing directly in her skull. Cacti hesitated, her talons trembling inches away. Yun stood behind her, watching warily, but he didn’t seem to hear the noise. His eyes flicked left and right, scanning the aisles for danger.
           Her talons gravitated closer, faster, until they finally touched the spine of Tumbleweed.
           A jolt shot through her like lightning. A blinding flash exploded in her vision, even her sand-hardened eyes flinching from the searing white. She covered her face, stumbling, and then. It was gone. So was the library.
           She blinked. The air was dry and warm, just past dusk. She stood ankle-deep in cooling sand. Her claws curled into it instinctively, it was real. Too real. Around her, sandstone rock formations towered like jagged teeth in a canyon. The landscape stretched wide and colorless under a sky streaked in purples and reds. Wind kicked up dust behind her. She turned sharply.
           Two adult SandWings moved through the haze, their figures hard to make out. They were digging. The sandstorm howled around them, obscuring their faces, their voices, everything except their intention.
           They were burying something. No, someone. A body lay beside them. Pale golden scales, now dulled. Torn robes clung to his form, and a broken pair of glasses hung from his snout. Her heart dropped. *It was Tumbleweed.*
           He was dead. Only a few days, maybe, judging by the state of the body. But the way they treated him, like cargo, like a secret, made her sick.
           She tried to back away, but her talons wouldn’t move. The sand clung to her like quicksand, holding her in place. The buzz returned, louder this time, mixing with scattered voices across the storm. Then she heard them.
           “*Just do what they asked us to do,*” an echoing hiss startled her. A sleek SandWing dragged Tumbleweed’s corpse toward the shallow grave.
           “*Oh moons—what if someone finds it?*” the second voice whispered, high-pitched and panicked.
           “*You picked this spot. Why are you so unsure now?*” snapped the first, before unceremoniously dropping the body.
           The wind roared in her ears. But the sand, it was whispering. Whispering truths. *Northeast of Scorpion Den.*
           She could feel it. The location, the guilt, the silence that followed. The longer she stared, the more her head filled with answers she wasn’t supposed to know.
           She clutched her book tightly. The mystery of Tumbleweed—the one no one spoke about—was becoming clearer. And the truth hurt.
           *Cacti. Cacti! Hey—Cacti!*
           She gasped. The storm vanished. The sand melted away. She blinked rapidly and found herself back in the library. Yun stood close, claws gently on her shoulder, concern etched in every wrinkle of his old snout.
           “Cacti, are you okay?” Yun asked. “Did something happen?”
           She stared ahead, dazed. “I get it now.”
           Yun leaned closer. “Was it the Parasite? Did It do something to you?”
           “No…” Cacti whispered, eyes still on the book. “It wasn’t something.”
           “We found our book!” Ashen shouted down the hallway.


Page 126 (Yun)

The two SandWings couple moved past him quickly but carefully, glancing over their shoulders as if they sensed they were being followed. That alone convinced Yun they weren’t the Parasite. No creature under Its spell acted so… nervously alive.
           He kept some distance while Cacti recovered. Whatever she saw, whatever that book showed her, it had shaken her. He was curious, deeply so, but there wasn’t time for questions. Or answers. Not now.
           Getting them out of this place mattered more than anything.
           His eyes flicked toward the book she’d touched. It looked ordinary again, just a spine, a title, a cover. But he knew better. Whether it was the Parasite’s trickery or something far more personal. Yun couldn’t say. He just hoped the book had given her clarity, not more fear.
           The family of three huddled quietly between two towering shelves. Right where Cacti had found her own book and the other one. The one that made her seize and vanish. Yun couldn’t stop glancing at it. Ashen snapped his claws, breaking the silence.
           “What do we do?” he asked, firm but anxious. Yun squinted down at their books. The glowing script shimmered faintly, but it was clear enough, those were their names, their lives. His old eyes took a moment to adjust, but yes. These were real. “Do we… cast a spell or something?”
           “Do we pray to it?” Datura added, flipping through her book with quiet wonder. Though the symbols were nonsense to anyone else, she seemed to understand them. Not with her mind, but her gut. Her memory.
           Yun felt something twist in his chest. He’d helped them find their books. Helped them prepare to escape. But where was his? He looked down at his talons. Empty. Always empty taloned.
           He’d searched this place longer than he could remember. Longer than the seasons. And still, nothing. Maybe his book was gone. Maybe it had been taken. Or maybe he was never meant to leave.
           Datura noticed. She glanced between her family’s books and her daughter’s slim volume, then looked at Yun’s bare claws. Her eyes softened. “What about your book, Yun?”
           Cacti’s head snapped up. Concern etched all over her face. Ashen’s expression cracked too, worry seeping through his skepticism. “Wait—you're not coming with us?”
           Yun hesitated. He looked at them, the little family he’d helped, the only souls he’d known here who still felt real. He hadn’t even realized it until now, but no, he couldn't go with them. He had no book. No anchor. No path home.
           Maybe he never did. But at least, at least, he gave them one. He smiled, even as his heart grew heavier.
           “I simply can’t,” he said softly. “I’m sorry. My book, my escape… it’s probably long gone.”


Page 127 (Datura)

The old dragon nodded solemnly, his expression distant and unreadable. He didn’t shed a tear, not even a flicker of sorrow on his face.
           Like he’d done this before. Hopefully not. Datura’s chest tightened at the thought. If he had helped others escape, only to be left behind again and again.
           Guilt rippled through her like a sandstorm. She hadn’t trusted him. Treated him like a liability. And yet, here he was, selflessly guiding them out.
           Before she could say anything, Cacti stepped forward and hugged him, brief but tight. A silent thank-you. Datura swallowed the knot in her throat. She wanted to do the same, but she didn’t feel like she deserved it.
           “Hey… I’m sorry for not trusting you,” she said, her voice low. “You saved my daughter.”
           Ashen stepped forward too, shyly clutching his book to his chest. “I’m sorry too,” he added. “We would’ve died in that arena without you.”
           He dipped his head in a respectful bow, awkward but sincere. Yun blinked, clearly surprised by the gesture, and raised a claw as if to wave it off. But Ashen took his talons instead and pressed them gently to his forehead in respect. The gesture was old-fashioned, a traditional SandWing sign of gratitude and allegiance.
           Datura felt a pang in her chest watching her usually sarcastic, stiff-spined mate act so earnestly. She almost laughed from the strangeness of it all but instead, she smiled. Just a little.
           Cacti gave her a knowing look, one she didn’t quite know how to interpret.
           “I should also apologize,” Yun said, rubbing at his chin barbels, his voice easing. “For not telling you everything from the start.”
           Datura wanted to ask so many things. About the library. The Parasite. About him. But she knew better now than to expect answers here. There wasn’t time. This place felt like it was always watching. Listening. One wrong move and It would find them.
           She still didn’t know what the Parasite looked like. Or sounded like. And that terrified her more than anything. Maybe it was a dragon, an animus, perhaps. But if that were true, they would’ve been caught already. Maybe it wasn’t a dragon at all. Maybe it was something like the “othermind” from those Pantalan stories.
           “I’ll find a way to get you out of here,” Cacti said, gently patting Yun’s shoulder. Yun’s face fell. His eyes softened in sadness, not gratitude. He shook his head slowly, silently begging her not to try.
           “Yeah,” Ashen said, puffing up a little. “Once we’re back in the real world, we’ll come back for you. We’ll figure something out.”
           But Yun didn’t look reassured. He glanced around the library, not in hope, but in fear. Like he’d heard those words before. Like he knew what they meant. That trying to help him might only put them in danger.
           Datura didn’t say anything. She didn’t want to give him false hope. But she still wished they could promise him more.
           “Look… you don’t have to,” Yun said quietly, his eyes flicking to the shadows. “Please. You might get hurt. And besides—I can find my own way. I’ve survived this long.”
           “No,” Datura said gently, stepping forward. “Let us repay you, Yun. You deserve more than just survival.”
           And for a moment, despite the shadows pressing in and the threat always looming, she hoped he believed her.


Page 128 (Cacti)

The old dragon wiped a single tear from his eye, disguising it with a casual sweep of his claws through his long, unruly eyebrows. Cacti saw through it. She wanted to say something, anything to cheer him up. But words wouldn't save him from this place.
           She bit her tongue. First Tumbleweed, now Yun. Was this her destiny? To be responsible for saving dragons twice her age, both left behind in this warped dream-world? She didn’t feel brave or powerful or even all that clever. She’d never wanted to be a hero. Just quiet and ordinary SandWing.
           But now she didn’t have a choice. She’d need help. She couldn’t do this alone. One dragon came to mind, Abyss. The royal scientist. Maybe this was why she was here. Why all of this was happening. She didn’t want to be the only one who could save them.
           “This isn’t goodbye, Yun,” Cacti said softly, touching his shoulder with more steadiness than she felt. “We’ll come back for you. I promise.”
           “Thank you,” Yun murmured, though his voice trembled with worry. He still didn’t think they should help him, clearly afraid of what might happen if they tried. But even so. “Now, we have to get you out of here.”
           They all nodded. Cacti looked around, her nerves twitching like her scales could feel the walls breathing. Something was watching them. She was sure of it. Something awful might happen  before they escape.
           She shook it off. She had to be brave if she wanted to save Yun and Tumbleweed.
           Dhe had to become the SandWing Kingdom’s emissary. Not just in title, but in spirit. Someone who could carry others when they couldn’t carry themselves. She stood a little taller, suddenly looking more composed than both her parents.
           “Open your books and go to the latest page,” Yun instructed, peeking out from their huddle.
           The SandWing family flipped their books open. As always, the pages were filled with swirling, nonsensical symbols. But the moment they looked closer, the meaning became clear to them alone. Personal. Private. Memories captured in a way no one else could understand.
           Cacti stared at hers, it reminded her of something small, even silly. A time she dropped a crate of fish in the market and never told her parents.
           She flipped carefully to the final page, her claws trembling slightly, her scales prickling. Her parents did the same, each visibly reacting to what they saw.
           “Now,” Yun said gently, “close your eyes… and pray to it. Ask it to return you home.”
           Ashen and Datura exchanged a glance. Nodded.
           “See you on the other side,” her father said.
           Her mother turned to her. “We’ll visit you in the SkyWing palace.”
           Cacti didn’t speak, but her chest loosened at the words. They would come. She wouldn’t be alone. They closed their eyes and prayed.
           Cacti felt the book come alive in her claws, like it was breathing. The ink shimmered, pulsed, and seemed to swallow her. Her body turned light, like vapor and starlight. Echoes swirled around her, pulling her through.
           *Cacti. Cacti? Cacti!
Cacti!!* Echoed a familiar panicked voice, broke through the haze. Something banged loudly.


Page 129 (Cacti)

She gasped as her eyes snapped open. She was back in her dusty new office, hunched at her desk like nothing had happened. Her scales felt normal again, her neck was whole, and the dull ache of her injuries had completely faded. She touched her neck just to be sure, It was smooth. There was no blood or burn, this wasn't a dream anymore.
           “Cacti? Cacti! Open up!” Bluefin’s voice rang out through the door, frantic and sharp with panic. The pounding of her claws followed, loud and fast.
           Cacti barely had time to react before, there was a snap. The doorknob broke off completely. Bluefin burst through and stumbled into the room, slipping on loose parchment. Scrolls tumbled to the floor, the gift wrap on Cacti’s desk slid sideways, and the broken knob skittered to a stop near her talons.
           Cacti blinked, sitting upright as Bluefin slowly picked herself off the ground. They locked eyes in awkward silence. The orange-dappled SeaWing glanced at the mess with wide eyes like she expected to be scolded, but then she gave a sheepish smile as she brushed dust from her fins.
           “I was worried,” she mumbled, crouching to gather the scrolls. “You weren’t responding.”
           Cacti stood up to help her, her body still adjusting to the real world. “Sorry for spilling your scrolls,” Bluefin added, glancing at the broken door behind her. “And.. breaking your door.”
           “No, it’s okay,” Cacti replied, forcing a tired smile. She chuckled softly as she picked up a few rolled scrolls and dropped them back into the weaved basket. She wasn’t really annoyed, if anything, it was comforting because it felt real.
           Bluefin paused and squinted at her face. “Nice glasses.” she said with a teasing smirk.
           Cacti blinked, confused on why she was staring at her like that, she thought the tarantula was still in her skout but she remembered the glasses. She touched them and adjusted them a bit. She had almost forgotten she’d have to wear these every day now. Honestly, they did help. She could actually see.
           Bluefin didn’t say anything more about them. She just smiled and went back to stacking scrolls. “Anyway, I was, like, so worried when I didn’t see you in the dormitory.”
           “We have a dormitory?” Cacti asked, genuinely puzzled. She scratched her snout as if that would help her remember. She’d fallen asleep right there at her desk, slumped over like a SandWing paperweight. Her mother would’ve lectured her for days about sleeping like that. Bad posture, stiff tail, terrible for your spine. But a dormitory? With an actual bed? She had no idea.
           Bluefin’s eyes widened. “Oh moons—I didn’t even give you the full tour!” she smacked her forehead with a groan. “I didn’t tell you about the dormitory!”
           “No, no—it’s fine,” Cacti said quickly, guilt creeping into her voice. “I kind of shut the door on you last night, remember?”


Page 130 (Bluefin)

Bluefin’s barbels twitched quietly as the new SandWing advisor doesn't seem to take this gaffe personally. There was something different about her this morning, calmer, more centered.
           Not at all like last night’s wide-eyed dragon buried in responsibilities. Maybe this was just her morning mood, or maybe she was already pushing aside everything they told her.
           That worried Bluefin a little. If Cacti had forgotten the avalanche of duties she was introduced to last night, it’d all crash down on her later, and worse, Queen Nebula would not be pleased. Bluefin made a quiet promise to herself: keep an eye on Cacti, just in case.
           There was still a full tour to finish and barely a few hours before the daily meeting with the Queen. Cacti needed to learn how the Council worked, how the Talons of Peace operated, and most importantly, where everything was. She’d need her bearings before dragons started throwing scrolls, numbers, and diplomacy terms at her.
           Dormitory first, maybe. Dandelion and Helonias usually hang out there in the morning talking either rumors about romance or work related stuff, and it might help Cacti to meet some of the other advisors in a chill setting.
           Once the last scroll was rolled and tucked back into the basket, Bluefin stood up and stretched her fins with a spark of energy. “Welp!” she grinned. “Let’s finish the tour before—”
           She paused. Should she say it? Should she mention the meeting with Queen Nebula now, or wait until they were halfway through the tour? Cacti hadn’t done any prep work, but she didn’t need to. The meeting would just be an introduction, though that might also make her more nervous.
           *Hmm. Mentioning the meeting might get her anxious, Bluefin thought, hesitating.
           “Before what?” Cacti asked, distracted by the nameplates and sigils etched into each council member’s door as they walked.
           Bluefin winced. “Ah.—the meeting with the Queen of Peace!” The words slipped out before she could stop them.
           Cacti didn’t flinch. In fact, she didn’t react at all, like she’d already expected it. Something was definitely different about her. Maybe she really was just composed in the morning. Or Bluefin should stick close today and figure her out. She could be the support Cacti didn’t know she needed. “Which is... in a few hours.” she added, a little more gently.
           Cacti turned her head slightly, her voice curious but casual. “By the way, what about the door you broke?”
           Bluefin froze, then laughed a little too loudly. “It’ll be fixed later—haha!” She tried to keep her voice light and her grin unbothered. “Don’t tell Verglas about it. Or, um... anyone, really.”
           The SandWing nodded as they took several turns through the large palace. She was relieved that Cacti can keep a secret unlike Tumbleweed, who took 'honesty is the best policy' too seriously. She smiled, knowing Tumbleweed was also an honest and humble SandWing. Her face went neutral as the thought of his disappearance flooded back.


Page 131 (Cacti)

The halls echoed with the soft shuffle of wings and claws, mostly SkyWing guards patrolling in neat lines or chatting in pairs.
           Cacti couldn’t help but feel a strange unease crawling down her spine. For a flicker of a moment, she wondered if it was still the Parasite’s realm, but everything looked real. The dragons didn’t move like puppets. Their eyes weren’t hollow. The walls weren’t breathing. It felt like she’d finally woken up. Still, she tried to hang onto the dream as best she could, it didn’t feel like a dream at all.
           The palace looked almost identical to the one in her dream, but there were details out of place. The carpet beneath her claws was a deep crimson, not the tattered scarlet she’d seen before. The floors were polished, cared for, not neglected and cracked like under Scarlet’s rule.
           Turn after turn, the halls revealed more SkyWings than she’d ever seen in one place. It was overwhelming. She realized she might be the only SandWing walking these halls, but at least she wasn’t alone. Bluefin padded calmly beside her, the only SeaWing in sight. That made her feel a little less like she didn’t belong.
           The guards glanced their way but didn’t stare or scowl. Some even nodded. That alone was a small miracle. Maybe the SkyWings weren’t as terrible as she thought. Simmer was a good start, grumpy, but not cruel. He reminded her of the old SkyWing Yun hugged in the dream, and just like that, her thoughts drifted back to Yun.
           He didn’t escape with her. He was still trapped in that weird book-world, tucked away in some forgotten corner of a dream. She remembered the endless shelves, the books that held memories, real memories and Yun’s was still there.
           But even if he found his book and tried to leave, what would happen next? What if his body was gone? What if he’d been in that world so long that he had nothing to wake up to? What if he was already dead? And he didn’t even know
           They turned into another corridor. A pair of SkyWing scribes passed by, mumbling something about revised legislation and the queen’s upcoming peace proposal. A guard gave them both a polite nod as he passed, and Bluefin shot Cacti a look, clearly checking to see if she noticed the gesture. But Cacti wasn’t paying attention. She was staring off, lost somewhere in thought. Bluefin gave her a little nudge with her wing.
           “What’s with you?” she asked, trying to keep her voice light. “You’ve been acting... I dunno. Different.”
           Cacti hesitated. She wanted to talk about the dream, about Yun, about the library of minds. But she could feel Yun warning her not to. Not yet. Not with Bluefin. She needed to talk to her parents first. They were on their way to the SkyWing palace anyway.
           “I had a weird dream,” she said finally, her voice quiet.
           “A dream, huh?” Bluefin didn’t press. She just smiled, gentle and non-nosey, which surprised Cacti a little. “Don’t worry. We get those sometimes when we’re stressed. Comes with the job.”


Page 132 (Yun)

*Cacti… I hope she made it out.* Yun squeezed his eyes shut, talons pressed together in a desperate prayer. Please. Let them be gone. Let them wake up. He didn’t dare look. Not yet. What if it hadn’t worked? What if the SandWing family was still trapped here, stuck suffering beside him in this place that warped reality and memory like paper under fire?
           He was shaking, his breathing sharp and unsteady, his claws slick with sweat. He clenched them tighter, as if praying harder could fix what might already be broken. Silence pressed against his ears like water. Even the library’s usual creaks and shuffles were gone. *Please. Please let them be free.*
           Finally, his nerves couldn’t take it anymore. He opened one eye, then the other. They were gone.
           The three SandWings had vanished, no fading shimmer, no puff of light, not even a breeze left behind. Their books haphazardly lay on the floor. He hadn't even heard the sound of them hitting the ground. It had been total silence, except for the endless ringing in his ears from how tightly he’d braced himself.
           “It... worked?” Yun whispered hesitantly. His voice cracked around the words. He approached the books cautiously, kneeling beside them. The weight of the moment didn’t lift from his shoulders, not yet. Something about their disappearance felt wrong. It was too clean and quiet. The Parasite could’ve snatched them away just as easily.
           He gathered the three books. They were heavier than he remembered. He gently set down two of them and opened Ashen’s book to the final page.
           There it was. A faint glow pulsed beneath the paper, and ink spilled across the page in jagged lines, writing itself as if Ashen’s story were continuing outside this world. Yun’s breath caught in his throat. He flipped through Datura’s, then Cacti’s. The same thing, fresh words scrawled out across blank parchment, nonsense fragments, but alive. It worked.
           Yun let out a sigh of relief. “They made it,” he murmured. “They’re safe. They’ll save me.”
           A new warmth spread through him. Hope. The kind he hadn’t felt in what could’ve been years. He hadn’t expected anyone from the real world to ever find out he was trapped in here, let alone three dragons.
           He looked up, scanning the towering shelves of memory-books. “I’m not alone anymore.”
           But that hope, bright and fierce, came with a sharpened edge. He was still here. The Parasite still had him. And now he had to stay alive long enough to be rescued. “All I need to do is stay alive—”

“Looking for these?” The voice slithered across his spine like cold oil.
           He spun, clutching the books to his chest. There, leaning casually against one of the library’s twisted shelves, was the grinning golden-armored SkyWing, the one from the arena. It was the Parasite twirling a book in its claws, his book.
           “I can let that SandWing family go” The Parasite purred, smile widening unnaturally, tapping the cover of Yun’s book thoughtfully, “for now. But you?”
           Its grin sharpened, hungry and hollow. “You’re not going anywhere.”


Page 133 (Bluefin)

They had finally reached the dormitory, and Bluefin practically bounced with excitement as she pulled Cacti along. The door was large and ornate, too grand for something as mundane as student housing. It looked like it used to be the entrance to a ballroom, now repurposed after several heavy renovations.
           Outside the entrance bloomed a bed of flowers from all across Pyrrhia. A frosted skybell from the Ice Kingdom shimmered with pale blue petals edged in silver. A hardy sunscale bloom from the desert cracked its orange petals open toward the sunlight. And standing proudly at the center was a tall, vibrant fireleaf blossom from the Rainforest Kingdom, its red-and-gold petals fluttering in the breeze like tiny flags.
           Cacti paused to admire them, her eyes tracing the petals with quiet wonder, but Bluefin tugged her inside with a grin. “Come on! There’s a whole council to befriend in here.”
           “We’re here!” Bluefin announced, her voice bright and musical as she stepped into the room like she owned it. The dormitory was circular, with seven cozy bed-niches carved into the walls, each tailored to its occupant’s personality.
           Bluefin gestured around. “Pick your favorite aesthetic!” she said with a wink. Cacti didn’t need to guess which bed belonged to who. Verglas’s corner was cold, sterile, and practically untouched, while Dandelion’s was overflowing with potted plants, scattered petals, and pinned-up sketches of colorful flora, most of which looked like hybrids between real species and wild imagination.
           “Hi, gals!” Bluefin called as she spotted two dragons lounging near the central cushion pit.
           Dandelion and Helonias were already mid-gossip, whispering animatedly. Something about yesterday’s royal hatching. Helonias seemed to be trying to change the subject, perhaps out of guilt for dozing off during the ceremony, but Dandelion wasn’t letting her off the hook. She kept complaining about how awful it had been dealing with Thunder.
           Bluefin plopped herself down between them like a pebble dropped into a calm pool. Helonias jumped, and Dandelion narrowed her eyes slightly.
           “I found Cacti sleeping in her office,” Bluefin said cheerfully, motioning toward her.
           Cacti winced, suddenly self-conscious, but the other two just burst into light laughter. Bluefin didn’t join in, she didn’t want Cacti to feel embarrassed, but she needed them to understand why she hadn’t been around.
           “Haha, I remember doing that on my first day,” Helonias said, chuckling. She bent over her bed, rearranging it with practiced claws. It was decorated with threadmoss vines, which draped lazily over her blankets, and small moonbud lanterns glowing gently from crystal jars. “I’m glad you found me before my Queen did,” she added with a sheepish smile.
           “Hey, I always got your back,” Dandelion said, nudging her with a wing. “Even if you make a fool of yourself at a royal event, I’ll make sure you look good doing it. We’re a team.”
           All the boys were elsewhere l, Verglas is looking for Cacti. Simmer was nowhere to be seen, and Thunder had apparently pulled himself together and gone off to actually do his duties after procrastinating all week. Then Bluefin remembered, Verglas might stumble into Cacti’s broken office door. That would raise questions. Too many questions.
           She shot up from the group, eyes wide. “OH shoot! I have something to do—Cacti, stay here!”
           “Where are you going?” Dandelion asked suspiciously, her fronds twitching. Her voice was sweet, but her eyes narrowed with curiosity. She didn’t like secrets, especially not after Bluefin had once nearly kept a secret romance from her, something they’d sworn on with a tail-twined pinky promise never to repeat.
           “Gotta fix a door!” Bluefin blurted, already halfway to the entrance. “Be right back!”
           And before anyone could ask further, she was out the door.


Page 134 (Helonias)

After the SeaWing darted out of the dormitory, the room sank into a soft, thoughtful hush.
           Helonias leaned back against her cushioned wall, exhaling. Bluefin had that sort of chaotic gleefulness, that spark of sunshine energy that made the room feel warmer just by having her in it. And Helonias liked that. She really liked that. But sometimes she wondered if all that brightness was real.
           She hated thinking that way, she didn’t want to doubt Bluefin. Not after all the kindness, not after the attention, not after how fun it felt to be liked by someone so bright. But lately, that light was starting to feel a bit artificial, like Bluefin was pushing herself too hard to be the fun one. Maybe Cacti would feel that too, in time. Maybe it would fade. Maybe it wouldn’t. She didn’t want to think about that either.
           “Hm. ‘Fix a door,’ huh.” Dandelion muttered just loud enough for Helonias to hear, but low enough to fly under Cacti’s radar.
           Helonias glanced toward her. Dandelion was staring skeptically at the door Bluefin had disappeared through, her leafy brow furrowed like she was trying to solve a riddle that had no answer. “That’s a weird slang... or a weird excuse,” Dandelion continued, her voice dry with suspicion. “What do you think she actually meant?”
           Helonias didn’t answer. She wasn’t sure. Instead, she turned her attention toward Cacti, who was silently standing near the edge of the room. The SandWing was gazing at the unoccupied bed-niche that must have once belonged to Tumbleweed. There was still a faint trail of residual desert sand, a cracked fragment of a cactus spine wedged in the corner, and a faded bookmark pressed into the stone ledge like someone had left in a hurry.
           Cacti glanced between the empty spot and the other colorful, cluttered capsules as if she was planning a lay out for her bed.
           She was like Tumbleweed. But she wasn't him. First it had been Foreshadowing, now Tumbleweed—dragons vanishing without a trace, replaced quietly by the Talons of Peace like chess pieces on a board. No closure. No goodbyes. Just silence.
           But now, here was Cacti. Here to take Tumbleweed’s place. A stranger becoming a friend. Whether any of them liked it or not.
           “So... Cacti, right?” Helonias said, approaching with a soft, sheepish smile. “I just wanted to say I’m, uh... really sorry for looking like a lost bullfrog on our first meeting.”
           Cacti blinked, then cracked a small smile. “It’s alright,” she replied. Her voice was calm, with no hint of judgment. “You actually seem fun to hang around.”
           That caught Helonias off guard. She tilted her head slightly, unsure whether to feel flattered or suspicious. Was Cacti being genuine? Or just being polite? Before she could dwell on it, Cacti gently placed a wing on her shoulder.
           Helonias blinked, startled. “Ah... thanks,” she murmured, her talons curling slightly in surprise. The warmth of Cacti’s touch lingered longer than expected, maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.
           “Welp!” Dandelion stretched with an exaggerated yawn, snapping the curtain over her leafy, flower-draped bed. “I’m off to go ponder what ‘fix a door’ means in the kitchenette.”
           That was just like her, always keeping secrets, always craving privacy. but loathing when secrets were kept from her. The irony of it made Helonias smirk.
           Dandelion paused just before vanishing behind her curtain. “Cacti, if you want, you can join me later,” she said. “I can show you where we keep the moonberries and mildly expired jellyfish jerky.”


Page 135 (Cacti)

She padded the pillow with a gentle claw. It was a traditional desert weave, thick silk spun with fine strands of cactus fiber, tightly bound in a pattern only SandWings truly understood.
           The kind nobles used for festival beds or gifted to high-ranking dragons from other tribes. Fancier than what she had back home, but still, familiar with texture. A memory woven into cloth. A comfort. And yet, not quite home.
           Her old bed was covered in trinkets she had collected along the Sand Kingdom’s shores, sun-bleached crab shells, fireglass pebbles polished smooth by wind and tide, a brittle piece of sea fan gifted to her by a wandering RainWing.
           She had arranged them like a map of places she’d been, proof that she’d lived. But this bed, her new bed now, was dull and colorless, untouched and unclaimed. She thought about moving her decorations here, bringing a little piece of herself into this strange place… but the idea of stripping her old room felt wrong.
           She glanced around at the others’ capsules, trying to gather inspiration. Dandelion’s nook was blooming with pressed flora and layered with paint-splattered scrolls. Bluefin’s corner was loud and joyful, tiny shell mobiles dangling from threads, with an unfinished sculpture of what looked like a seagull. Even Helonias had her own earthy style, with knotted vines and scribbled schedules.
           Cacti didn’t want to copy any of them. She’d figure it out later. For now, she let herself sink into the straw-stuffed mattress. It smelled of clay and sun. She drew back the corner of the cover and there, stuffed beneath the hay, was a folded paper. Her claws paused.
           A drawing. A sketch of Simmer’s side profile, captured mid-laugh signed by Tumbleweed.
           Her chest hollowed. She stared at it. This had been his bed. His space. His sketch. And now… hers. She was replacing him, filling in the shape he left behind. No one had even cleaned the capsule properly. It felt wrong to touch anything.
           She had to find him. Before she could pick up the drawing, Helonias approached.
           “So. Wanna continue the tour with me?” Helonias asked, wings angled just slightly away from her sides, not tucked in but held too deliberately, like she was trying not to look nervous. It was a little too practiced, but not in a bad way. She was trying. That counted for something. Cacti quickly slid the paper back under the straw and neatened her bed. “At least that should make up for my mistake.”
           “Sure,” she said aloud,  forcing a smile. She tried to make it look warm, but it must’ve come out stiff. Her thoughts were still wrapped around Tumbleweed, where he might be, why he’d vanished. This MudWing didn’t seem like the type to talk about his disappearance. Maybe Dandelion would know. She had been the first to speak to her. She seemed more serious beneath all the petals. “That would be great.”
           “We should go to the kitchenette,” Cacti added quickly. Replacing someone wasn’t a good feeling. She worried Helonias would think her smile meant she was glad to be here, that she didn’t care about who came before.
           “Good idea! I’m starving anyway!” Helonias perked up instantly, her mood lifting as she trotted to the doorway. Her movements were heavier than a SeaWing’s or RainWing’s, but there was a spring to them now. Like she was glad just to be included.


Page 136 (Cacti)

“Come! Come!” Helonias called, waving a talon excitedly toward an unfamiliar hallway.
           Cacti followed, though she paused again at the doorway. Her eyes wandered across the narrow patch of garden flanking the door. There it was again, that flower. Small, pink-white, its waxy petals curled tightly inward like a sleeping snail. A riverside bloom. She had seen so many of them back in Sanctuary.
           *Huh. They have those here,* she thought with a flicker of surprise. It made her feel oddly hopeful.
She didn’t know why it mattered so much, but it did. Like the flowers were whispering that this place didn’t have to be so strange after all. Her new bed reminded her of home too, and Tumbleweed’s leftover decorations. It was eerie, but not entirely unpleasant. Maybe they had some similarities after all. Maybe she wouldn’t have to erase him to make room for herself.
           *I’ll get comfortable in this place a lot faster than I thought.* she told herself, nudging her thoughts forward with cautious optimism. If I don’t try to change too much, maybe the council or even Simmer might see I belong here.
           She remembered trying to eat it as a clumsy dragonet, giggling at the bitter taste until her mother laughed and pulled it gently from her mouth, tucking it instead into the small ceramic vase that always sat on their dinner table. That memory made her chest ache, but it also warmed her. A soft ember of hope glowing behind her ribs.
           But the dream she’d had last night of her family, their voices, their warmth, it wasn’t just some cruel trick of memory. It had been a reminder that they were strong. Strong enough to survive the chaos. Strong enough to wait for her. Their sacrifice would not be for nothing.
           She still hadn’t fully shaken the dream-sickness. Her claws were heavy. Her vision blurred faintly at the edges. But the meaning was clear now, and more urgent than ever.
           She would find Tumbleweed and maybe get her normal life back and tben find Yun. And she would uncover whoever had taken them. It was all up to her. The pressure was intense, but she didn’t feel alone.
           Helonias had stopped ahead and was watching her with concern. Her large eyes blinked slowly as Cacti caught up.
           She realized she’d been standing there, staring too long. She let out a quick laugh and tried to wave the worry off. “Uh. You okay?”
           “I’m okay,” she said, brushing her wing along Helonias’s shoulder in reassurance.
           “Whoa. Are you overheating?” she asked. The MudWing’s scales were warm, really warm, like sun-soaked stone. As soon as Cacti touched her, she flinched back slightly, surprised.
           Helonias gave a sheepish smile and looked away. “Oops. Sorry. I, uh, tend to run a little hot when I get nervous...”
           *Well that’s adorable.* Cacti thought but didn’t say aloud. Instead, she just chuckled and nudged Helonias forward. They stepped into the hallway together. It was busier than before.


Page 137 (Cacti)

A group of SkyWings passed by wearing soft linen sashes dyed in pale reds and golds, their patterns signaling junior status in the Talons of Peace. Two SkyWing guards stood nearby, adjusting the straps of their polished copper armor.
           The metallic clinks and clanks echoed gently off the stone walls. One of them sipped from a steaming cup of something fragrant and spicy, probably roasted cacao bark steeped with peppermint, a drink Cacti remembered from a SandWing outpost.
           Sunlight slanted through narrow windows, casting a warm glow down the corridor. Outside, she caught glimpses of the awakening campus, stall vendors sweeping away leaves, draping banners between trees, dusting off crates. The nearby river sparkled through the gaps in the fencing, threading between buildings like a silver snake.
           It felt like a gentler version of Possibility. The Diamond Spray Delta River, though curved than the Great Five-Tail River back home, shimmered with that same restless shine. There was more moss here, more birdsong, and fewer scorpion tracks in the dirt. SkyWings and MudWings moved about in quiet morning peace, nodding to each other like they had nowhere better to be.
           The air smelled of warm stone, old paper, and wind-swept flowers. She didn’t belong yet. But she didn’t feel entirely out of place, either.
           “So… where are we going again?” Cacti asked, slowing to glance at the framed tapestries and painted wall tiles lining the corridor. She hadn’t expected the SkyWings to be so flourish. She always thought of them as too proud, too militant, to care about art or decoration, but they did.
           There were painted portraits of former queens and nobles, glass panels depicting scenes from SkyWing history: a young Queen Blister dueling an IceWing general, Queen Ruby breaking her mother’s neck, and even Queen Crimson’s infamous banquet table spread with glistening sweetmeats and exotic fruits from every corner of the continent. Crimson's favorite, according to a little gold plaque, was candied vulture liver and smoked blue locust.
           “Oh, I’ll show you something first,” Helonias said, her voice lifting cheerfully but with a flicker of mischief. She glanced down both ends of the hallway, clearly trying to decide the best route.
           She reminded Cacti of Bluefin, always on the lookout for shortcuts. Except unlike Bluefin, Helonias didn’t prefer crawling through claustrophobic vents or cave shafts riddled with tarantulas big enough to comatose you with one bite. Today, she seemed to be taking the wide, sunlit halls instead of the dark hidden tunnels.
           “It’s for hygienic purposes,” she added. Taking a few glances behind a corner, she tilted her head to Helonias’ weird behaviour when it comes to traveling around the SkyWing Palace.
           “We have to do that?” Cacti asked, quickening her pace.
           “We have to do that?” Cacti asked, catching up to her pace. A few young SkyWings sat nearby by a wide window sill, playing a quiet round of chess using carved bone pieces shaped like dragons and prey animals.
           “Yeah, we have to—especially since we represent our tribes now,” Helonias said. Her tone shifted slightly, growing more serious. “There’s a schedule for communal hygiene. We all use the same warm-washing chambers and restrooms. And we’re each assigned a personal doctor and a therapist.”
           “A therapist?” Cacti blinked, surprised. “Like… someone who talks to you about your feelings?”
           “Exactly. It’s a new thing Queen Nebula implemented,” Helonias said, nodding. “She thinks dragons who fight for peace should be emotionally stable.”


Page 138 (Helonias)

With a few more turns, the hallways grew grander, more polished, more ornate. Decorative arches stretched overhead, carved with swirling patterns of wings, flames, and climbing vines.
           The walls, once plain stone, now featured murals in faded ochres and red-browns, likely painted by SkyWing artisans. The windows no longer yawned open with empty air; instead, glass panes filled the space, stained with pale crimson, amber, and gold, casting warm shapes onto the polished floor.
           They passed a pair of scholarly-looking dragons, likely archivists of history, muttering over a scroll as they headed toward a large double-doored chamber.
           Down the other end of the hall, it was busier than where they’d come from. A SkyWing noble, neck wrapped in a velvet scarf, was trying to wrangle her energetic dragonet while carrying an entire stack of cheese wheels balanced between her wings. She turned down a hallway to the left, where Helonias whispered, “That’s the grand kitchen. You'll love it later.”
           But first, they reached their destination: the washing area.
           Helonias stepped forward, lifting the wooden latch of a curved doorway. “Here we go,” she said, flicking her tail with a little flourish.
           Inside was something that resembled an artificial hot spring—far more luxurious than any bath Cacti had ever seen. The pool was broad and smooth-edged, the water gently steaming. Smooth black stones bordered the edges, and floating atop were lilypads, bright flowers, and slices of citrus bark to scent the steam. Soft vapor curled into the air, giving the space a dreamy haze.
           “So this is our washing area,” Helonias said. “We’re all scheduled to use it together every few days. Don’t worry—we get our own time blocks too, if you prefer privacy.”
           Cacti squinted, puzzled. “How do they get all of this warmed up? There’s no lava under this place.”
           She remembered something, an overheard conversation between Simmer and a group of SkyWing architects. Ah, right. The pool was warmed by underground copper pipes connected to a central geothermal vent system. SkyWing engineering at its finest.
           Before she could ask, Helonias gently closed the door. “Let’s not stay too long. One of the caretakers might think we’re sneaking in early,” she said with a giggle. “Now let’s go see something special!”
           Just a few wingbeats down another corridor, they entered the next room: the restroom. It was surprisingly serene.
           Dandelion, apparently, had designed it. The space was filled with potted flora, soft ferns, lavender sprigs, and small flowering bushes lined the corners, giving the room a natural, fresh scent. Sunlight filtered in through angled skylights. In the middle, built modestly and practically, were the sanitation fixtures, stone, porcelain, and some clever plumbing. No gold or jewels. Verglas probably put a stop to that.
           “This is our restroom,” Helonias explained, gesturing to a tidy row of cleaning supplies. “We’re expected to use it—and help keep it clean. We share the palace, after all.”
           “Huh. Neat,” Cacti said, peering around. Then, blinking in amusement, she added, “You guys actually use a room for this?”


Page 139 (Helonias)

She wasn’t trying to be rude, just surprised, by the looks of it. But rules were rules. The queen didn’t want a smelly or filthy palace, and everyone who lived within it, guest or citizen, had to comply. Break the rules, and you’d be escorted out. Or worse.
           “Yeah?” Helonias replied, ears perking up. She tilted her head curiously. “Why is that so strange for you guys? I mean… restrooms are kind of royal standard.”
           “Well,” Cacti said, chuckling under her breath, “we kind of just… bury it in the sand. Like those desert felines you see in scrolls. We don’t really need all this.” She gestured vaguely at the clean fixtures and fragrant air.
           Helonias’s ears flicked up again. Her eyes widened slightly as the image clicked in her mind. She’d known SandWings were desert-dwelling, survival-driven creatures, but she hadn’t really pictured them squatting like cats in dunes. It was kind of cute.
           Still, a part of her felt bad. Cacti would have to adapt to these customs just to fit in. And when half your job involved traveling to foreign places, ‘fitting in’ became its own survival skill.
           “Oh. Right. You guys… just use the ground?” Helonias asked, trying not to grin. Her voice wavered somewhere between polite and entertained. She glanced away quickly, hoping Cacti didn’t notice the amusement rising in her throat. Her gaze landed on the stained glass above them, the image of swirling mountains and cloudy skies colored in soft crimsons and pale silvers. The real mountain range outside framed a patch of cumulus clouds filtering in gentle sunlight.
           “Yup,” Cacti said with a dry smirk. “Sand’s the perfect litter box. Plus, we don’t want to leave trails. Safety and survival, you know. Most SandWings wander, especially out in the Scorch.”
           She paused as a few SkyWing soldiers marched past. One of them flicked a casual salute their way before disappearing down the hallway. Once they were out of earshot, Cacti added more softly, “I guess it'll take some time to get used to all this. Same way Tumbleweed had to.”
           Helonias didn’t answer right away. Her shoulders relaxed slightly, and she tilted her head at Cacti with something like understanding. She hoped the SandWing wouldn’t have to change too much, just like how Thunder had struggled when he first moved into Queen Crimson’s palace. The poor guy hadn’t known he couldn’t keep his scrolls in his private quarters. He’d ended up in the dungeon once for tracking mud across the throne room floor.
           Crimson was strict like that. And Helonias wasn’t sure how long Cacti would last if she bumped into one of the queen’s more rigid expectations.
           “In that case,” she finally said, brightening, “you’ll fit in faster than you think.”
           She looked around, spotted the kitchenette almost immediately thanks to the colorful decorations hanging around its arch, woven cloths, bone beads, painted scales, and shells. Multi-tribal. Probably Dandelion’s doing.
           Helonias darted toward it with a burst of energy, and Cacti followed.


Page 140 (Dandelion)

There were bowls of fruit from RainWing groves, spices from MudWing farms, jars of preserved meat, and smoked cactus slices from the southern reaches of the desert. Jugs of HiveWing nectar sat beside chilled dewlap berries from the Ice Kingdom, their frosted skins sweating gently in the warmth. Everything was labeled neatly and arranged with care, a testament to whoever had taken the time to organize it all.
           At the far counter stood Dandelion, too focused on making her morning coffee to notice them at first.
           She was grinding coffee beans with a small stone mill, the earthy, rich scent spreading through the air like a warm fog. Beside her on a cutting board were a few Milk Fruits, those odd white, soft-shelled coconuts native to the border forests. She was slicing them open with ease, the soft inner flesh glistening.
           “Oh hey,” Dandelion said, finally looking up with a grin. “You’re just in time. Want something to wake you up?”
           Helonias had already wandered over to a small spice shelf, grabbing a pinch of dried sweetmint and fire petals for her weekly herbal-roasted tea blend. She glanced at Cacti, who stood a little stiffly, her wings dragging slightly. She didn’t look like she’d slept well.
           There was a shadow behind her eyes, bitterness, or maybe just exhaustion. Probably still grieving. Tumbleweed’s absence weighed on everyone, but Cacti more than most. Even so, Helonias didn’t want to risk isolating her from the others. The council already had enough unspoken barriers. At this point, showing kindness was better than playing politics.
           She finally popped the lid open with a satisfying click and turned toward the exit. “Alright—Cacti’s all yours on the tour.”
           The MudWing trotted out, nibbling on a piece of dried mango, clearly enjoying it more than she was willing to admit. She thought briefly about warning Cacti not to say anything about Tumbleweed around certain SkyWings, especially the ones who still saw him as a traitor. But no. She didn’t want to ruin the SandWing’s first impression of her. There’d be time for warnings later.
           She was halfway down the hall before she realized she’d ground the coffee beans too much. Dandelion sighed as she looked down at the fine powder in the filter. It was going to be too bitter. Not the perfect latte she wanted. But… there was always tomorrow’s coffee.
           Cacti stood still for a second, staring at the setup. Then, slowly, she stepped closer, her snout twitching at the rich aroma. She inhaled deeply, eyes slightly wide. “What is that?”
           “It’s coffee,” Dandelion said proudly, brushing away some bean dust. “I’m making a latte, to be specific.” She poured the powdered beans into a funnel-shaped filter made from glossy Pantalan silk. “And that stuff there is milk. Have you ever tried it?”
           “I don’t think so,” Cacti admitted, leaning over to pick up one of the Milk Fruits. “Coffee, milk… stuff like this is expensive. Imports from Pantala don’t come cheap. My family couldn’t afford things like this.”
           “Really?” Dandelion blinked. “But your kingdom connects the Pyrrhian-Pantalan trade route. I figured you'd be drowning in imports over there.”
           Cacti gave a dry laugh. “Not unless you're royal or filthy rich.”
           “Huh.” Dandelion frowned. “That’s… unfair. I guess that’s what happens when you let nobles control the caravan taxes.”
           She took one of the Milk Fruits and, with a practiced slice, opened it clean in half. Thick, creamy liquid oozed from the center, its scent a cross between honey and sap.
           “You know,” she added, handing one half to Cacti, “these fruits come from a carnivorous plant. The tree can actually trap and digest an entire dragon if it’s hungry enough.”
           Cacti stared at the fruit in her claws. “That’s creepy.”


Page 141 (Cacti)

The sunlight poured in through the high, leafy window, scattering golden dust through the air. Whenever it touched the RainWing’s scales, they shimmered with a warm blend of tangerine and goldenrod, like melted mangoes in midmorning light. Cacti couldn’t help but stare a little, it was like watching sunrise drip across her scales.
           That had to be why Dandelion hadn’t moved from that sunlit spot in the kitchenette since they arrived. The pile of tools and ingredients near the windowsill now made perfect sense. Everything was arranged around the beam of sunlight, as though she were cooking inside it. It was her little sun-time during breakfast.
           Dandelion worked silently, pouring the boiling water through the coffee grounds with methodical care. Then again. Then again. She filtered it three times. Her frills barely moved, but Cacti could feel the concentration rolling off her like heat waves.
           The RainWing hesitated at the cupboard, talons hovering between a shelf of mismatched mugs, then glanced quickly back at Cacti. A small pause, a breath. She pulled out two mugs painted with soft flower petals and poured the rich, steaming brew into both. It wasn’t clear if she chose them just because they matched the moment… or if she wanted to impress her.
           She offered one cup out with a careful talon. Cacti took it, cautious but steady. It was hot, hot enough that Dandelion had to shift her grip, huffing at the steam with pursed snout. But to Cacti, it was almost comforting. Barely a tickle compared to the midday heat of the Scorpion Den.
           The smell hit first. Bitter and bold, but with something soft beneath it, like roasted sugar or sun-dried fruit. She sipped. And froze.
           The taste bloomed across her tongue. Earthy, warm, slightly sweet, like cactus fruit dried over a fire. It flooded her chest like a rising wave, then snapped through her nerves like a spark. Her scales flushed brighter, a subtle sheen of pinkish gold beneath her usual sandstone color. Then she gulped the whole cup down. Dandelion’s eyes widened.
           “Whoa—careful!” she said, stepping back, frills twitching into lavender before flickering back to orange-yellow. “It’s hot, you know.”
           Cacti set the mug down with a satisfied sigh. “Not as hot as the desert,” she said, licking a drop of coffee from the corner of her mouth. “You ever drink from a well that’s been cooking in the sun all day? That’s hot. This is just… nostalgic.”
           “Oh. Right. SandWing.” Dandelion blinked, almost wistfully, and nudged her own cup. She barely managed a sip before putting it down, defeated. “I don’t know how you do it. My tongue’s still in protest.”
           Her shoulders slumped a little, like she knew she’d never finish it before the council meeting. She looked regretfully at the cup, then pushed off from the windowsill. “Come on, we should head to the council room. I bet everyone’s already there.”
           “Sure,” Cacti said brightly, following her. As they left the kitchenette, she watched Dandelion flick her tail back to twist the doorknob shut. That long, prehensile RainWing tail was impressive, graceful, efficient, almost elegant. Cacti glanced at her own barbed tail and smirked to herself.


Page 142 (Dandelion)

It wasn’t a long walk through the hallways, though the twisting turns and polished stone floors made it feel longer than it really was. Everything was too clean here. Too bland. Not a single hanging vine or burst of flowers, just brownish ceilings, reddish bricks and angry thoughts. This definitely wasn’t the RainWing forest.
           All she could smell was burning coal and old smoke, the scent of fire pits and molten stone baked into the walls. It clung to her scales like soot. She missed the perfume of orchids, the spice of ripe fruit, the misty dew that made everything in the rainforest shimmer.
           Still, she couldn’t complain too much. Her job often dragged her across Pyrrhia: the cracked deserts of the Sand Kingdom, the frostbitten plains of the Ice Kingdom, the endless storms over the sea. She’d learned to tolerate the extremes. But between the frigid tundra and blistering heat, she honestly wasn’t sure which was worse.
           Cacti, though? Somehow unbothered. The SandWing had downed her boiling-hot coffee like it was morning dew. Dandelion had barely managed three sips before surrendering to the burn.
           After one final corridor, they arrived at the council’s main chamber. The doors towered above them, carved obsidian shaped into rippling wings. Golden letters spelled out: “Queen of Peace’s Council Hall.” At least this room had some charm.
           The walls were decorated with symbols and offerings from every tribe: frosted glass shards from the IceWings, carved clay tiles from the MudWings, woven ferns and blooming starblossoms from the RainWings, their soft scent cutting through the coal-heavy air.
           Inside, five dragons were already gathered in a loose half-circle, chatting idly. None of them were buried under scrolls today, thank the moons. The Talons of Peace had ordered a slow morning, no politics until after the ceremony. But everyone still has to show up at the meetinh.
           “You two made it just in time,” said Verglas with a faint nod of relief. He didn’t even have to ask why they were late, he already knew the sweet scent of coffee beans and milk fruit still clung to her talons. “Cacti! Welcome to the council.”
           Helonias waved brightly at them, Bluefin offered a polite, if tired, smile. Thunder gave her that look again, half smug, half charming, and her scales flushed a bright orange before settling back into a soft mango-yellow. She hated that.
           Simmer stepped forward next, holding a small golden box. He looked reluctant, bitter even, like the box held something too valuable to give away. His frills drooped. The others looked just as solemn. Even Dandelion felt a quiet pang in her chest as Verglas reached out to take it.
           The IceWing opened it carefully. Inside was a golden tail ring, gleaming under the council light. It was engraved with the sigils of the Sand Kingdom, sunbursts and scorpions, carved with the elegance of animus-touched precision.
Protective runes spiraled around the band in careful loops, ensuring authenticity, warding off forgery. It would shimmer faintly whenever another dragon came near, broadcasting: This dragon speaks for her tribe.
           Verglas turned to Cacti. “Lift your tail, please.” She obeyed silently.
           “Do you swear an oath,” Verglas said, his voice firm and echoing, “to serve your tribe and represent it in the name of peace?”
           “I swear,” Cacti replied, voice steady. Verglas slid the ring onto her barbed tail. It shimmered once, then tightened slightly, settling into place like it had always belonged there.
           The weight tugged on her tail for a heartbeat. Then it stopped. Now she matched the rest of them.


Page 143 (Verglas)

They all lifted their tails to admire one another’s rings, each one a symbol of their tribe’s voice in the Queen’s council. Cacti blinked, only now realizing they all had one.
           “I didn’t know we had these,” she said, raising her tail slightly to inspect the golden ring now fitted neatly against her barbed tip. Dandelion’s ring gleamed with a soft pink-gold luster. Helonias wore one in burnished copper. Verglas’s own was a pearlescent silver, like frost catching sunlight.
           Bluefin held hers out proudly, letting the light catch its cool shimmer. “Can you believe it? They know how to color gold without animus magic,” she said with wonder, running a talon along the bluish sheen, which shimmered with ocean wave carvings.
           “It is animus-touched,” Verglas clarified, tone gentle but firm. “For safety and authenticity. They’re theft-proof, enchanted to respond only to their owner and trackable by magic if stolen.” He hoped he’d said the ceremonial oath correctly, the enchantment only activated if the wording was precise. But the moment he placed the ring on Cacti’s tail, it glowed faintly. So it worked. That was all that mattered.
           Before he could continue, a soft voice behind him cut through the room like silk. “Are you all finished with your ceremonial sparkle party?”
           They turned in unison. Queen Nebula stood just inside the doorway, calm and amused, her pale horns catching the sunlight from the tall eastern windows. Not a single dragon, not one of the seven council members had heard her enter. Not the door. Not the guards who now flanked her on either side.
           Verglas quickly straightened his posture and subtly guided Cacti to mirror the gesture. The guards gave one slow nod before exiting and shutting the heavy gold-trimmed doors behind them.
           Behind the Queen, a wheeled cart rolled forward, its nest lined with silken mosses and seashells. Four hybrid dragonets cooed and chirped inside, bundled in little woven shawls. Princess Seapearl was curled quietly in the back corner, watching her sisters with a blank, unreadable expression. The rest tumbled over one another, occasionally nipping or flicking tails in tiny games only hatchlings understood.
           “Good morning, Your Majesty,” Verglas said smoothly, dipping his snout. “And good morning to Your Smaller Majesties as well.”
           Nebula gave a regal hum as she pushed the cart toward the great rectangular council table, white marble edged in gold, pearls arranged like constellations across its polished surface. The sunlight from the tall eastern windows bathed the table in gentle warmth. Beyond the glass, the Diamond Delta Spray river sparkled in the morning light, and SkyWing patrols soared in the hazy distance.
           At her side, King Scorch paced slowly, guiding a smaller basket that clinked with jars and cloth pouches. He reached down to offer a tiny blueberry to one of the dragonets, who latched onto his talon with glee.
           The council members began to sit, each one in their chair modeled after their homeland. Verglas eased into the jagged seat of translucent ice. Dandelion into the coiled vines of a blooming branch. Bluefin onto her shell-studded coral seat. Helonias curled into a cushion of damp clay and moss. Thunder slouched across polished obsidian.
           Cacti hesitated. Seven chairs, seven tribes. She glanced around, then chose the one chair left unoccupied: a sandstone throne smoothed and polished by wind. The SandWing sigil was carved at its base. She settled in, still a bit stiff, but she was here now.


Page 144 (Nebula)

The seven dragons eased into their chairs, the quiet rustle of wings and scrape of stone echoing through the chamber. Helonias grunted softly as she nudged her clay seat away from the sunlight spilling across the council table. Nebula watched with barely veiled distaste as the MudWing’s tail kicked an empty teacup beneath the marble, so typically careless and always leaving things underfoot like it’s a swamp.
           Across the table, Dandelion was already shuffling her chair into a sunbeam. Nebula’s gaze flicked toward the RainWing with something between annoyance and resignation. As always, the ambassador was chasing the sun as it crawled west, slowly dragging her chair across the room over the course of the meeting. And if Nebula dared to call her out for it, Dandelion would immediately wilt into some over-dramatic sighing mess, mopey, apologetic, and impossible to take seriously for the rest of the day. Let her have her sunspot, Nebula thought with a flick of her tail. It keeps her quiet.
           The Queen of Peace rose, sleek and radiant as the light caught her lavender-blue scales. Her voice rang through the chamber like a bell dipped in venom.
           “As you might have guessed,” she began, her tone airy but unmistakably firm, “we won’t be wasting this meeting with the usual political droning.”
           She gave a graceful flick of her claws, and a servant stepped forward with a tray of skewered meat. Nebula plucked one without looking and began tearing pieces off, casually tossing the chunks into the nest of dragonets at her side.
           Sandstone bit Aurora’s wing. Hurricane shoved Sandstone with a squawk. Seapearl huddled in her corner, quiet as always, until Nebula tossed her a piece directly. Predictably, all three sisters scrambled toward her.
           “Thanks to the Talons of Peace,” she continued, hurling the rest of the meat into the nest without care. A few pieces bounced off the edge, one landing squarely on King Scorch’s shoulder. His eye twitched, but he said nothing.
           Nebula’s eyes narrowed slightly in amusement as she stepped fully into the light near her throne, her scales glowing brighter, almost opalescent, her pink-violet pupils catching on every twitch and shift in the room.
           Her gaze finally locked onto Cacti, who was still awkwardly adjusting her seat. The newly carved sandstone throne creaked softly beneath her.
           “And now,” Nebula announced with a flourish of sarcasm that shimmered like heat off stone, “I would like to generously waste a few moments of our sacred time welcoming our new SandWing advisor—Cacti.”
           A brief, polite clatter of claws on marble followed. Simmer, however, didn’t clap. His jaw tightened. His wings rustled with restrained indignation. His tail curled under his chair.
           Nebula shot him a sharp, poisonous glare, one refined over years of sitting on thrones that no one expected her to survive. Simmer flinched, letting out a thin puff of smoke. Bluefin nudged his wing gently, her orange bioluminescent freckles pulsing with subtle worry.
           “Simmer,” Nebula said sweetly, her claws tapping the marble, “if you’re about to ask me again about your little boyfriend, I’ll have your rotting corpse thrown to the skywings as a sky-offering.”
           The room fell quiet. Her eyes never left him. “You should be grateful I haven’t already sent word to Queen Crimson about your repugnant relationship.”
           Simmer’s nostrils flared. Bluefin didn’t look up. Nebula turned back to Cacti, her expression unreadable. She didn’t know what had really happened to Tumbleweed. Not exactly. He’d been around since she was barely more than a hatchling, but he was gone now for some reason and couldn't care less. What did matter… was whether Cacti had any shred of competency.


Page 145 (Verglas)

“Simmer will *not* be the next council leader,” Nebula said flatly. Her star-speckled wings caught the sunlight filtering through the eastern windows. The faint shimmer of royal SeaWing pattern ran along her membrane. She brushed a barbel back with calculated grace, though her tone dripped with disdain.
           Across the table, Simmer bristled. His claws clenched, smoke curling from his nostrils in low, frustrated gusts. Verglas flicked his tail once, nudging Simmer’s tail under the table in quiet warning. The elder SkyWing shot him a sharp look, confused. Verglas only shook his head slightly.
           Simmer exhaled a final billow of smoke, then fell silent. Nebula didn’t look at him again.
           Nebula's sharp lavender gaze swept across the table instead. Helonias immediately shrank back into her seat, clearly hoping not to be noticed. Dandelion’s wings twitched with eager anticipation, but even she seemed to know Nebula wouldn’t pick a RainWing. Thunder, typical, offered a smug grin, but Nebula’s eyes slid right past him.
           Instead, her glare landed squarely on Verglas. He felt his throat tighten.
           “Since Simmer is far too old—and clearly too sentimental—to take on such a role,” Nebula continued with a velvet-laced edge, “Verglas will assume the title of Council Leader.”
           His ice-spiked frills drooped. Seven years at the most prestigious academy in the Ice Kingdom. Three years of diplomacy work across the continent. He thought he might eventually be considered a leader, but not like this.
           Not now. Not when Simmer had practically raised him into the role. He’d always thought he’d be the one to step aside when Simmer was honored. But something had shifted in Nebula. Something since… Tumbleweed.
           Simmer didn’t argue. He just turned his head away, his expression unreadable, avoiding both Nebula’s glare and Cacti’s worried glance. He curled his smoke against his chest and stared at the floor.
           Verglas looked at him with a quiet, helpless sorrow. He almost wanted to refuse, almost. But Nebula turned to him again with that infuriating smirk.
           “He seems competent,” she added airily, “and marginally more aesthetically pleasing, at least.”
           Before Verglas could say anything, a knock echoed at the chamber doors.
           “I hope I’m not too late to meet my new SandWing advisor!” came a high, excited voice. The doors creaked open and Queen Ventifact swept in like a desert breeze, bright and beaming. Nebula’s jaw tightened immediately.
           “Oh! Hi, Nebula! How’s Cacti? Do you want to—”
           “My dear SandWing queen,” Nebula said with a smile so cold it could freeze lava, “perhaps we continue this reunion at the banquet, where there’s room for enthusiasm.”
           “But I—” Ventifact began, then paused. Her gaze flicked to Cacti and softened. She smiled. “All right. I’ll see you there.” Her guards bowed and gently steered her out of the chamber. Nebula turned without another word.
           “Council meeting dismissed,” she said, her voice sharp as a closing scroll. Her personal guards began filing in to escort the members out.
           Verglas rose first, still rattled. His glance slid to Cacti, who looked stunned, rightfully so. She hadn’t even been properly introduced. He opened his mouth to speak, to object. But Nebula beat him to it.
           “There’s no need for a formal introduction,” she said, waving him off. “If anyone is curious about Cacti’s background, they can read the scroll in the archives like everyone else.” She flicked her tail. The conversation was over.


Page 146 (Cacti)

Queen Nebula swept out of the council chamber like a storm cloud, cold and swift. King Scorch didn’t spare any of them a glance, just silently pushed the hatchling cart behind her. The doors slammed shut with a deep, echoing thud that made Cacti flinch.
           She was left standing in the silence that followed, heart tight in her chest. Even Simmer hadn’t looked her way. The meeting, her introduction, had ended, not with applause or recognition, but with a name. Tumbleweed. The moment he was mentioned, it was like the whole room decided she didn’t belong.
           Cacti slowly stepped down from her sandstone chair, her claws clicking softly on the polished floor. She didn’t feel proud for having sat in it. She felt like she’d been borrowing something that didn’t belong to her.
           Dandelion and Helonias cast her a quick glance. Then they turned to each other, whispering. Were they talking about her? About how she was just a replacement? About how pathetic it was that even her glasses resembled his? She wanted to tear those thoughts off but it was probably true.
           “It’s okay,” said a soft voice nearby. Bluefin approached gently, brushing Cacti’s wing with her own. “It’s not your fault.”
           Cacti wasn’t sure what Bluefin meant, Tumbleweed’s absence? The awkward council session? Or all of it? She appreciated the attempt at comfort, but something about the way Bluefin avoided her eyes made her unsure if the SeaWing really believed her own words.
           “Introductions are terrifying anyway,” Bluefin added, trying for cheerfulness. Her bioluminescent stripes flickered in a soft orange as she smiled. “You dodged a dart, honestly.”
           Cacti gave a small, tight nod. It was easier than saying she felt like she’d been the dart.
           Across the room, Thunder had joined Dandelion and Helonias. They were still murmuring, but their tones had shifted, calmer, maybe a little more serious. Were they reminiscing? Whispering about how hard it was to replace Tumbleweed? How awkward it was to pretend the new SandWing wasn’t trying to fill his shadow?
           “I have something to tell you,” Cacti said quietly. “It’s about Tumbleweed.”
           Bluefin stiffened. Her stripes dimmed a shade. “Cacti… You don’t have to—”
           “I do.” Cacti glanced around cautiously. “I think I know where he is.”
           That got her attention. Bluefin looked sharply at her, then toward Simmer, who was still deep in conversation with Verglas, his back turned to them.
           “Are you serious?” Bluefin whispered, lowering her voice further. “You really—?”
           “I remember,” Cacti said, her voice tight. “From a dream. But it’s not fading, not like dreams usually do. I still see it. I feel it. Like a memory.”
           Bluefin hesitated, clearly torn. She looked again toward Simmer, her expression clouded.
           “Not yet,” she said at last. “Don’t tell him. Not now.”
           “Why?” Cacti asked, though she already felt the answer forming.
           “Because he’s not ready to hear it,” Bluefin murmured. “Not from you. Not yet.”


Page 147 (Bluefin)

Bluefin cast a glance toward the sealed council doors, then smiled sweetly at Cacti, too sweet, probably, but enough to avoid suspicion.
           The guards opened the doors as they approached, bowing without question. She guided Cacti with a flick of her tail into the open hallway, keeping her posture relaxed, still smiling like they were chatting about something silly. Just two representatives sharing a mid-morning stroll.
           After a few wingbeats, they reached a quieter stretch of the palace, a corridor lined with sunlit arches and hanging ivy, the floor a polished swath of  marble and woven red carpet. The only sound was the soft whisper of leaves in the breeze and the faint clicking of claws on stone. Bluefin’s smile faded as soon as they were alone.
           “So,” she said, her voice low, “this dream of yours… You really think it means something?”
           Cacti nodded once, hesitant. Bluefin studied her. “I mean—Tumbleweed’s been missing for moons. The council’s combed every registry, map, report, and whisper on the continent. And you think you know where he is… from a dream?”
           Ehere was a pause. Then:
“Yeah,” Cacti said softly. “I saw him.”
           But that was it. No details. Just silence.
           Bluefin didn’t know what answer she was expecting. She wasn’t usually the kind of dragon to believe in superstition, not the ‘pray to the moons’ or ‘don’t eat watermelon seeds’ kind of RainWing. But a part of her wanted to believe. Needed to. Tumbleweed had been gone for too long with nothing but echoes left behind. And now this SandWing, his supposed replacement, was looking at her like she’d seen a ghost.
           Cacti’s expression was raw, unreadable. Not guilt, exactly. Not quite sadness. It was closer to dread.
She wasn’t making this up.
           Bluefin could tell. It was in her eyes. The quiet way she moved this morning, the way she kept flinching at the shadows, like they might reach for her. This wasn’t some clumsy lie to earn sympathy.
           She softened her voice. “Okay. Then tell me more. About the dream. What made it feel… different?”
           Cacti hesitated, scanning the corridor again, as if the walls themselves might start whispering. “I woke up inside it,” she said. Her voice had dropped to a whisper. “Like—woke up inside the dream. It wasn’t like sleeping. It felt real.”
           That sent a shiver down Bluefin’s spine. Cacti’s eyes flicked nervously toward the darker end of the corridor. “I was in the SkyWing palace. But it wasn’t how it looks now, it was when it was still the arena.”
           Bluefin blinked. “The arena? From before the war?”
           She hadn’t expected that. Dreams were supposed to be strange, sure, but they usually pulled from memory. This one felt like history. Or worse, like prophecy.
           The two of them stood there, quiet now, hidden in the shadowed curve of the hall. Light didn’t quite reach this far. It curled back, uncertain. Even the air felt stiller here, like it was listening.
           Neither dragon noticed the subtle ripple in the stone behind them.
Or the soft, quiet hum beneath the marble. Something else was in the hallway. Watching. The Parasite listened. And waited.


Page 148 (Nebula)

Far in the southeast wing of the SkyWing palace, sunlight spilled across the outer halls like molten gold. Glass mosaics of ancient SkyWing queens, dragons soaring over mountain peaks, and firebreathers locked in flight shimmered along the windows, catching and fracturing the morning light.
           Outside, vines crept neatly across the stonework, newly trimmed and groomed under Crimson’s recent orders. The palace hadn’t looked this pristine in moons, not even on her last hatchday.
           Nebula barely noticed. She sat rigid beneath one of the tall archways, her wings motionless, her thoughts louder than the world around her.
           King Scorch bristled. The King of Peace. IceWing trail, SandWing tail, SkyWing horns, and a stubborn MudWing heart, held his talons away from the hatchlings who now gnawed curiously at his claws. His voice, however, was anything but calm.
           “How are you so sure that killed our son?” he demanded, his voice low. “Everything about him screams suspicious. And yet you let him walk away without a single scale singed?”
           Nebula didn’t answer immediately. Her eyes drifted toward the stained glass, where the sky stretched beyond the frame. Outside, a flock of starfinches darted between the towers. A few SkyWing guards circled in the air, sweeping through the peaks on morning patrol. It should’ve calmed her. It didn’t.
           “He could be running away with our prince now,” Scorch pressed. She flinched at that. His presence still lingered in her mind, unnervingly unnatural. A thing she had hoped never to see again. The prophecy whispered to her, clung to her even now like a veil she couldn’t lift.
           *It might be true…* she thought, more to herself than to him. *The prophecy… it might be unraveling after all.*
           “No.” Her voice sharpened. “No. The prophecy is dead. I don't have a royal-blood-thirsty prince. It never lived.”
           But doubt hung in her throat like ash. Because of the prophecy, she lost Foreshadowing, leaving her only memories and scribbled warnings, hidden between thousands of their love letters. His death was enough for her to be convinced it was real.
           “If he’s alive,” she said. “then I hope he finds his way back to you. Not for revenge… but because you were his father.”
           Scorch exhaled sharply, his tail lashing behind him. The princesses in the nest fell silent, watching their parents roar and hiss at each other.
           “What if you’re the reason it happens?” he snarled. “What if ordering his killing is the very thing that sets the prophecy in motion? Your beloved Foreshadowing wrote of a massacre, didn’t he? You never told me the whole thing—”
           “Say one more word about Foreshadowing,” Nebula snapped, “and I’ll have your tongue sliced out and fed to your little IceWing sweetheart.”
           “I already have five heirs,” she said coldly. Her voice didn’t rise, but it cut like obsidian. Her eyes narrowed, pupils slitting.  “I don’t need you.”
           Scorch recoiled, his wings half-raised, a soft growl building in his throat. Then, mercifully, or not, the moment shattered.
           “Hi again!” chirped Queen Ventifact behind them, breezing into the hall with the force of a sandstorm and the tone of a sunrise.


Page 149 (Ventifact)

The hallway fell still the moment Queen Ventifact stepped in. Nebula and Scorch both turned to her with expressions like she'd just walked in on a private argument, which, from the look of the Scorch’s barbed tail and Nebula’s flared wings, she very much had.
           Nebula's eyes narrowed ever so slightly as she shifted, placing her glittering star-flecked wings between the hatchlings and Ventifact’s curious gaze. Scorch, with a low huff, began nudging the cart of little ones away, clearly dismissed.
           “Queen Ventifact,” Nebula said coolly, “I believe your place is at the banquet table.”
           Ventifact blinked, trying not to let her disappointment show. She’d only gotten a fleeting glance at the princesses, barely enough to tell them apart, but perhaps they’d be at the banquet as well. Nebula’s tone, however, left no room for further peeking.
           “If you wish to greet my daughters, you’ll do so when they’re in the banquet.” Nebula added, voice flat as polished marble.
           The SandWing queen offered a sheepish smile, rubbing the ridge of her sail in embarrassment. Twice now she’d interrupted Nebula, once at the council, now here, and she was starting to worry she’d become known as that queen. The overeager one. The immature one. The one who never knew when to be quiet.
           “O-of course,” she stammered. “I’ll head there now. Just thought… I’d say hi… again...”
           Nebula sighed, barely audibly, and turned down the northeast corridor. Her tail flicked once, an ambiguous motion that could have been a silent invitation… or a veiled expression of annoyance. Ventifact couldn’t tell. But she followed anyway, padding a respectful distance behind.
           She wished Nebula would say something. Anything.
           Before, Tumbleweed would’ve done all the talking, her clever, calm advisor who always knew what words to say, what not to say, and how to keep Nebula’s moods from burning bridges. Without him, she felt adrift. Unmoored. Overwhelmed by scrollwork, schedules, and diplomatic niceties she barely understood. And worse… she missed him.
           She fiddled with the snake scarf wrapped around her neck, biting back the feeling that maybe she was too small for this crown. Maybe she wasn’t ready. But there was one thing she needed to know.
           “By the way…” Ventifact said softly, voice barely above a whisper. Nebula didn’t respond. The silence stretched long and sharp. She hesitated, then cleared her throat, straightened her spine, and forced the words out before she could talk herself down. “Has anyone found where Tumbleweed is?”
           Nebula stopped mid-stride. Her wings didn’t flare, but her jaw twitched, just enough to be noticed. When she turned her head slightly, the expression on her face wasn’t anger but exhaustion. She had heard this question too many times today.
           Ventifact shrank back instinctively, her frill folding as her confidence evaporated.
           “I advise you,” she said, venom laced in every syllable, “to take your throne and your duty as seriously as your title demands, Queen Ventifact. You cannot keep chasing ghosts while the world keeps spinning.”


Page 150 (Nebula)

After several interruptions, Queen Ventifact had finally fallen quiet.
           Nebula glanced back once to see the SandWing queen trailing behind her, gaze fixed on the marble tiles like they held the answers to her self-worth. Perhaps the sting of her rebuke would finally crack Ventifact’s ridiculous dependency on that vanished advisor.
           She could have said far worse, should have, but saved it for the next time the SandWing queen stumbled out of line. The crown wasn’t a toy, and Ventifact needed to learn how to wear it without a crutch.
           They passed beneath an archway into the open daylight, stepping into the grand SkyWing Garden, a space that had once been Scarlet’s arena, and later Ruby’s infirmary. Now it flourished with carefully tended flora, transformed into a sanctuary of peace and diplomacy. Clusters of edelweiss, sky lupine, alpine jasmine, ghost orchids, and pale mountain poppies bloomed in well-placed beds across the stone terraces.
           RainWings and SkyWings fluttered above, adjusting the canopy of woven vines and hanging blossoms like they were tuning the sunlight itself.
           The garden buzzed with nobles and royals who had witnessed the hatching. And of course, the Talons of Peace strutted about like they’d single-talonedly created the dragonets themselves. Guards flanked her and Ventifact as they wove through the winding paths toward the queens’ table at the heart of the arena, once a place of slaughter, now a crown of greenery, stone, and glass.
           Statues had replaced prisoners in the towers surrounding the garden: solemn stone figures of Gill and Fjord, watching the celebration in eternal silence. Above, the towers linked by high rope bridges and flowering arches led to a central ring where a great canopy of blooming vines hung like the beating heart of the Summer Palace, if the Summer Palace had ever been this pristine.
           Nebula inhaled. At least this part of the day wasn’t a total disappointment.
           At the center of the garden sat several grand banquet tables, polished to a gleam and arranged in a circle beneath the canopy. Nobles murmured in soft voices, waitstaff in crisp uniforms moved like shadows between chairs, and the scent of sizzling seafood and spiced fruit filled the air. She caught a glimpse of Scorch seated near his brothers, his jaw tense, his daughters nestled in a smaller nest-cart behind him. Further along, his father sat hunched beside his entourage, whispering something into a goblet rimmed with salt.
           “Oh, Queen Nebula,” Queen Seashell greeted, rising elegantly from her seat, her scales glowing faintly with bioluminescent congratulations in Aquatic. “And Queen Ventifact, lovely to see you both.”
           “Good morning, Queen Nebula,” said Lilypad with careful courtesy, gently brushing a platter of still-sizzling eelfruit skewers to the side as she made space.
           “Congratulations on your new heirs,” Crimson said coolly, her tone more ceremonial than celebratory. Her claws curled around a golden goblet crusted with rubies, an echo of her chestpiece. “We’re honored to have my palace host such a momentous occasion.”


Page 151 (Nebula)

Nebula inclined her head, but said nothing just yet. The servers swept in, lifting the end of her silken cloak and easing her into the center seat reserved for her among the seven thrones. Each one was carved to reflect the tribe it represented: her own was adorned with pearl-inlaid moonstone and carved silver wings.
           Ventifact sat to her right, fussed into place by her general, Quicksand, who looked positively exhausted by the task. The SandWing queen tried to smile as she adjusted her snake scarf but seemed unsure if she was even allowed to speak again.
           “You haven’t missed anything,” said Frazil from across the table, picking up a trio of snow kelp rolls, deepwater shrimp nigiri, and orchid-wrapped pearl rice with glimmering jade chopsticks.
           “We were just praising Seashell’s sushi,” she added with a sharp grin.
           “Prepared right here in the SkyWing palace,” Seashell said smugly, flashing a smile toward Crimson. “Who knew your kitchens were so… versatile?”
           Crimson offered a restrained smile and took a slow sip from her goblet. “It’s not the fire that ruins a dish,” she said, “it’s the talons using it.”
           The queens chuckled politely, though Nebula’s mind was elsewhere. Her daughters. Her prophecy. And the annoying problems left behind by Tumbleweed’s absence.
           With a sharp snap of her talons, Queen Nebula signaled to Scorch. He approached silently, pushing the cart-nest forward with their four hatchlings bundled inside, the wheels creaking against the smooth stone.
           One by one, the princesses scrambled from the blankets and toddled toward the banquet table, wide-eyed at the gleaming platters of fresh fruit, roasted prey, and glittering desserts. Several queens straightened in their seats, their gazes sharp, none of them trusted what little claws might grab or chew next.
           Seapearl lagged behind, still curled in the corner of the nest. Only when her father nudged her gently with his talon did she uncoil and slip out, wings dragging slightly as she padded after her sisters, eyes downcast.
           At the table’s far end, Queen Rosemary and Queen Dreamcatcher were seated, uncomfortably close. The NightWing monarch lounged with a knowing smirk, her smoky black frills twitching every time her neighbor exhaled. Dreamcatcher, by contrast, sat rigid, her RainWing scales flashing faint streaks of red before settling into a dappled mix of leafy green and fruit-flesh pink, like a dragonfruit caught mid-blush.
           “So,” Frazil began lightly, the silver facets of her crown shimmering beneath the filtered light cascading through the canopy. Aurora, the tiny Night-IceWing hybrid, had wandered over to her and was nibbling inquisitively at the queen’s wristbands with wide, glittering eyes. Frazil chuckled and gently tapped her claws on the little hatchling’s head. “What happened to your only son, Nebula?”
           A murmur ran through the table. Nebula’s expression did not change, though her tail twitched faintly beside her chair.
           “Mm, yes,” Lilypad added, delicately stirring the tomato bisque in front of her. The bowl steamed, thick and aromatic, drawing the attention of Sandstone, who waddled up with determined little sniffs. She placed a tiny paw on Lilypad’s talons and stared at the soup like it was a treasure hoard. “I want another glance of the hatchling that had the look of all seven tribes”

 

 

Chapter 3: Chapter A - Foreshadowing

Summary:

due to popular demand this will be written in advance

Chapter Text

TEMPORARY CPVER ART

 

Page a1 (Swift)

Shadows of the drifting leaves swayed in the night, slowly dancing as the billowing clouds cleared to the west. Two dark dragons slipped through the birch forest as if they were in a hurry. The rabbits darted into the bushes, and the birds took off in a flurry of wings as the two rushed by.
           The starry night sky had two radiant full moons, Perception and Imperial, shining at their brightest, while Oracle was a small waxing crescent on the eastern horizon. Fireflies swayed across the forest floor, their glow dimmed due to the moon's brightness. A cool breeze drifted through the birch trees, rustling their pale leaves like whispers in the dark. Shadows of twisting branches stretched across the mossy ground, shifting as the clouds passed lazily overhead. Somewhere in the distance, an owl hooted, its call echoing through the stillness of the night.
           Swift raced through the forest, trying his best to reach Soulwind up the hill. The ground went from mossy to hard rock, with boulders blocking his way. He had to be both quick and careful, his talons clutched a starry egg, its surface warm against his scales, it was near hatching as it shook faintly under his claws.
           His wings ached from the relentless beat of his flight, and the branches whipping against his muzzle made it even harder to see. The burning pain at his legs and chest, from countless scratches and bruises, was enough to slow him down, but he refused to stop. He was running out of time until the peak of the brightest night, and the egg was about to hatch at any time.
           "Come on! Faster!" Soulwind's voice cutting through the trees, she dove up through the tree branches, scouting for anyone following them, then she signaled and landed back somewhere up the hill.
           Swift pushed himself harder, but his claws snagged against a fallen branch. He stumbled, nearly toppling over, but caught his balance just in time, cradling the egg closer to his chest.
           "I'm coming!" he called back, weaving through the thick undergrowth. He considered flying, but the dense canopy above was a tangle of thorny branches, too dangerous for his already battered wings. Instead, he forced himself forward, scrambling up the incline. The flickering light beyond the leaves guided him, the glow of the moons breaking through the treetops.
           At last, he emerged onto an open ledge, where the land jutted sharply over the vast forest below. Jagged boulders surrounded the rocky outcrop, forming a precarious shelter. Soulwind stood at the edge, scanning the horizon, his wings half-spread in anticipation. He turned sharply and signaled Swift forward.
           Swift climbed the last few feet over the uneven terrain, his muscles burning with exhaustion. Soulwind had already prepared a small, makeshift nest, lined with moss and soft feathers, waiting for the egg. Without hesitation, Swift gently placed it inside, exhaling in relief.
           "Is everything ready?" he asked, still catching his breath.
           "Yeah," Soulwind murmured, eyes fixed on the distant treeline. "We're just on time."


Page a2 (Soulwind)

She placed some flat, glimmering rocks around the nest, which was sprinkled with moon charms she had crafted herself. Delicate trinkets made of silver-threaded petals and tiny bone beads, hoping they would boost the chance her dragonet would inherit NightWing powers.
           She looked up to the sky, basking in the moonlight's glow as the clouds drifted away to make room for the twin full moons. They gleamed so brightly in the sky, it felt like dawn had come early, even though it was the heart of night. She carefully adjusted the nest, ensuring the egg wouldn't roll or fall out of place.
           Swift gave her a cuddle before gently placing the starry egg into her talons. She lowered it into the nest with care and reverence, then bowed her head to the glowing moons above. Beside her, she nudged Swift with her snout, encouraging him to do the same. He hesitated for a moment, then slowly bowed as well, wings folded close. *Oh Oracle and Perception... Please bless our dragonet with your clarity and foresight.*
           "What powers do you think our little one will have?" Swift asked suddenly, hunching over her shoulders and wrapping his wings around her.
           She hadn't really thought about it in depth. Foresight sounded impressive, but terrifying. She didn't want her dragonet to live haunted by futures they couldn't change. Mind reading? That was just as risky. Hearing everyone's thoughts, every fear and lie, could easily twist a young mind. She glanced at the two full moons above, glowing like twin eyes. Two moons meant two powers. That much was likely. But would they be blessings or burdens?
           "Hmm. I don't know. Hopefully it's something useful—something our dragonet can use for the good of others," she said, her voice uncertain. How could any of these powers be useful without endangering her child's peace? She'd have to keep a close eye, but not too close. She didn't want to smother them.
           "Let's just hope our dragonet handles it well." she added quietly, eyes lingering on the egg, now shimmering softly in the moonlight.
           Swift wrapped his tail around the rocks surrounding the nest and slumped his wings down to the mossy floor, eyeing the egg and the two full moons curiously. He squinted, brow furrowed, as if something was wrong with the sky. Soulwind noticed his expression and followed his gaze upward.
           From what she could see, nothing was unusual. The moons were just as bright and majestic as ever, casting silver-blue hues across the forest.
           "Soulwind... have you seen something different about the two full moons?" he asked quietly. She took another glance, narrowing her eyes at the twin orbs slowly drifting across the sky. They looked the same, brilliant and calm.
           "No, I don't see anything..." she muttered, tilting her head in mild confusion.
           "The moons got a little dim," Swift whispered, but before either of them could make sense of it, a loud crack snapped their attention back to the nest. The egg had fractured. A small, dark paw punched through the star-speckled shell.
           Soulwind and Swift gasped and immediately leaned closer, their hearts pounding. The egg was hatching.


Page a3 (Swift)

Slowly, he realized that the moons were getting dimmer and dimmer. Soulwind noticed too, and together they stared at the sky, wings curled protectively around the hatchling's egg. The light that once bathed their nest in silver faded, and an uneasy stillness settled over the forest.
           Then, a shadow began to form around the darkened moons—first Perception darkened, and then Oracle followed suit, swallowed by something ink-black and ginormous.
           Nightjars and crows began to fly away frantically, flapping in wild circles as if trying to flee the sky itself. The animals around the nest stirred with unease, foxes barked in panic, owls abandoned their trees, and the usual nighttime chorus of crickets fell silent. Even the wind seemed to hush. As if the moons themselves were vanishing from the sky.
           "Swift, look at the moons!" The two NightWings stared. as the sky shifted before their eyes, forgetting to protect the egg, forgot the nest, the wind, even the ground beneath them as both of their heads tilted toward the sky
           The moons were changing.
           At first, they glowed orange, like full harvest moons just peeking over the horizon. But then, slowly, steadily, they deepened into a blood-shot red. One by one. Perception first, then Oracle.
           Now both moons burned crimson, casting a haunting red hue across the clearing. The forest looked drenched in war-paint, shadows growing longer and darker beneath the glowing sky. The air felt thick, like it was holding its breath.
           "What's happening?!" Soulwind whispered sharply, her eyes wide and reflecting the red sky. Swift also had no idea what was happening, was the world ending, or was this some kind of omen? The whole sky was getting even more redder, even the distant horizon bled the same color. The trees, the mossy stones, the ferns, they were all tinted crimson, as if the world had slipped into a dream or a nightmare.
           He racked his brain, trying to remember where he'd seen this before. Maybe in the dusty scrolls of the NightWing libraries, or during a half-forgotten lesson at Jade Mountain Academy. Yes, a lunar eclipse. That's what this was. But... this was two moons. A double lunar eclipse.
           He had never heard of that happening before. He didn't even think it was possible. And suddenly, his heart clenched. The blood moon's powers are unknown. Unpredictable. Likely dangerous, even. Almost nothing was recorded about them, and what little was recorded sounded more like myths than facts.
           Now he wasn't hoping for powerful gifts or even rare abilities. He just hoped... their dragonet wouldn't get any powers at all.
           Both of them snapped back at the egg. The hatchling was there staring at them, it's red glowing eyes were blinking at them.
           "He hatched!!" Soulwind's voice rang out, full of joy and relief. She rushed forward, gently brushing away the shards of eggshell clinging to the hatchling's snout, wiping the thick egg fluid from his scales.
           The dragonet gave a tiny sneeze and blinked up at her with wide, curious eyes. Soulwind froze. There, just beside his right eye, was a glimmer of silver. A single teardrop-shaped scale, gleaming against the darker shade of his scales.


Page a4 (Soulwind)

The moon darkened once more, casting a brief shadow over the clearing, before slowly returning to its usual pearly, iridescent silver glow in the sky. The hatchling tumbled out of its egg with a soft plop, stumbling clumsily across the nest before wobbling toward the edge where its parents waited.
           Swift immediately reached his talons out. The hatchling paused, sniffed them curiously, then let out a small chirp and sat comfortably on top of his claws with a squeaky little huff. He smiled, gently lifting the dragonet and handing it to Soulwind.
           She cradled the hatchling against her chest. Its tiny paws latched onto her scales, holding tight like it never wanted to let go. Its wide eyes stared up at her, bright and searching, and a sudden warmth flooded through her chest, like a small flame of peace glowing from within.
           It gave a soft purr. Without thinking, she wrapped her right wing around both Swift and the hatchling. Swift followed suit, curling his wings around her. The two of them leaned their heads together, eyes misty.
           After so many tries, so much doubt and grief and moments where they nearly gave up. They had finally done it. Their dragonet was here. But beneath the joy, a quiet fear lingered.
           Now, they had to find out what the blood moon had done to their child. It was clear the strange celestial event had changed something. And the timing, it happened the exact moment their son hatched. Soulwind clutched the dragonet closer, cradling him protectively in her talons. Her eyes lingered on the small, shimmering silver scale shaped like a teardrop near his right eye.
           She gently brushed her talon against it, just to make sure it wasn’t some leftover fragment of eggshell. But it didn’t come off. It was part of him, etched in his scales like a mark from the moons themselves. The hatchling made a soft cooing noise, pawing at her talons before climbing eagerly toward her neck.
           Swift's eyes locked with hers, and for the first time, she realized something strange, the hatchling'e eyes weren’t like hers, which were a faded cherry red. Nor were they like Swift’s, which were a faded tangerine-orange. No, their son’s eyes were a deep, saturated red, glowing faintly like embers.
           “That’s… not normal,” she whispered. Leaning closer to Swift's ears, gazing up to the moons once again “What did those bloody moons do to our son?”
           Swift leaned forward, his snout close to the hatchling’s face, a flicker of awe and dread crossing his expression.
           “He has NightWing powers,” he murmured, petting the hatchling which it closed its eyes and purred but when he stopped his son tried to catch his talons
           “Yeah, but what power is it?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Swift didn’t answer right away. His eyes were locked on their hatchling, but the tension in his face said more than words. He was just as lost, just as unsure. Both of them were thinking the same thing. Is this something to celebrate or fear
           Soulwind’s claws curled instinctively around the dragonet. “Is it even something good?” she asked again, more to herself this time.


Page a5 (Swift)

The little one let out a soft chirp, nuzzling against her chest like nothing in the world could be wrong. But that only made her worry more. Something had changed during the blood moon. And whatever power their son has they had no way of knowing if it was a gift. or a curse.
           “Let’s talk about it later,” Soulwind said softly, her voice low with worry.
           She pressed the dragonet tighter against her chest as it squirmed and reached its tiny claws toward her face, as if trying to grab something only it could see. Soulwind blinked, confused. What was he reaching for? There was nothing there. She gently pulled him down and cradled him again, holding him firmly this time.
           “Come on,” she murmured. “Let’s go before anyone sees us.” Without waiting for Swift’s reply, she opened her wings and prepared to launch into the night sky, her mind still reeling with questions she wasn’t ready to face.
           He nodded silently, it was better for them to keep moving for the safety of their moon-born hatchling. Soulwind glanced around, scanning the trees and jagged rocks ahead. Their long shadows stretched out like reaching claws across the clearing as the two moons dipped lower, almost kissing the edge of the sea on the horizon. The sky was dimming into that strange gray-blue just before dawn.
           Both of them opened their wings in sync, the faint rustle of their membranes barely louder than the crashing waves below. They broke into a sprint, talons pounding against the soft earth before leaping off the cliff's edge. The wind caught their wings and lifted them high above the shoreline, the sea glittering like scattered silver beneath them.
           They soared quietly over the ocean bordering the Night Kingdom, gliding with the currents, careful not to leave a sound behind.
           Swift glanced back once, his heart tightening. If anyone, any cruel, power-hungry dragon, had seen the red moons or their son's hatching, they might try something. To steal him. To use him.
           He swallowed hard. The thought was unbearable. Beside him, Soulwind flew in complete silence, her posture tense. She felt it too. They had to keep him safe. No matter what.
           “We should hide quickly,” he said, gliding beside Soulwind just close enough to glance at their hatchling. The little dragonet was wide-eyed, completely mesmerized by the shimmering sea below, where moonlight danced like fireflies over the dark waves.
           “I know a hidden cave somewhere,” Swift continued. “I used to go there when I was an adolescent.”
           He wasn’t sure if the cave was still abandoned, or if someone else had found it, but he remembered how he and his friends used to cover the entrance with palm fronds and fallen branches before sneaking off again. It had been their secret spot for years.
           Soulwind gave him a sideways look, then smiled. “A sneaky teenager, huh?” she chuckled softly, adjusting her wings to catch an updraft. “Should’ve guessed.”
           “Haha! I'm Swift after all.” he said, letting out a low chuckle. He flapped his wings with a playful burst of wind and circled around Soulwind in a wide arc, his tail flicking through the air as he dipped beneath her, then rose beside her again with a grin.


Page a6 (Pyrrhia)

He woke up lying on cold grass, leaves bristling as a breeze swept by. Dew clung to his scales. It felt like he had fallen out of sleep and landed here, as if tossed from a bed or ripped from a dream. The library was gone. The warmth, the Parasite, all of it.
           His eyes widened in fear. He sat up quickly, breathing fast as he scanned the shadowy forest around him, tall trees rose like statues in every direction, their branches curling overhead in a canopy that filtered the moonlight into faint, flickering beams. Everything was quiet. Too quiet.
           “Mama?” he called out, his voice small. “Where are you?”
           The forest wrapped around him like a wet cloak, its silence almost suffocating. A twig snapped behind him, he jerked his head around, but there was nothing. Just movement in the ferns, maybe a fox or something worse. His legs folded beneath him and he shrank low to the ground, instinct guiding him. Something pressed against his side. He looked down and saw a book.
           Without thinking, he grabbed it. Owls passed overhead, their wings silent, their eyes catching the starlight. Crickets chirped in the underbrush. He pressed the book against his chest like it could ward off the dark.
           “Mr Foreshadowing? Mama?” he whispered again. Nothing. Only the slow creak of trees and the rustle of something slithering through leaves. His ears drooped. He was alone. The wind curled around him and he suddenly felt like an abandoned dragonet, left behind by his mother.
           In the corner of his vision, he thought he saw movement, two glinting eyes, but it vanished when he turned. A low whimper escaped him. He hugged the book tighter and stumbled toward the brightest part of the forest, toward the moonlight.
           Maybe something was waiting for him there. Maybe he’d find safety. The starry sky opened up above, and he paused, staring at it. It reminded him of Abyss, the dark space between stars, the ache of memory, the empty places that looked beautiful from far away. His chest ached. He didn’t understand it, but it made him want to cry.
           Above him, two moons shone: the week moon, crisp and close, and the month moon, rounder and duller, still bright but less intense. It was a clear night. The stars glittered like frost. He kept walking, just to keep moving, just to not think too hard, when suddenly, a few dragons flew by.
           He flinched. The dragons glided closer. Their body was dark and large, large enough to devour him.
           “Papa! I don’t want to be here anymore!” he cried out, voice shaking.
           He ran. He didn’t know where. Just away. Something was behind him, it had to be. He ran harder, book clutched to his chest, his feet tripping over rocks and moss. The forest blurred past.
           He stumbled on a root, fell forward, and tumbled down a steep slope, the world spinning around him. He hit the bottom hard, dirt and leaves in his mouth, landing in a shallow hollow surrounded by jagged cliffs and roots.
           The moons looked down, it felt cold and uncaring. He curled up at the base of the hollow, trembling. Tears welled up in his eyes and he couldn’t stop them. He sobbed quietly into his claws, clutching the book like it was the only real thing left in the world.


Page a7 (Soulwind)

Wind breezed through their wings as they glided over the broken hills, cracked earth and old, dry trees clinging to the cliffs like ghosts of a kingdom that once lived in shadow. The land still bore scars from a time long past. Though the erosion had slowed after Darkstalker’s defeat, the damage was already done. The Night Kingdom had splintered.
           Entire valleys collapsed. Half of their ancestral land had vanished into the sea. But at least they had reclaimed what remained. At least their dragons no longer had to live under ash clouds and starvation.
           “So... how do we know someone won’t stumble into our cave?” Soulwind asked quietly, eyes narrowed as she scanned the landscape. Below, something tan and swift darted across the broken terrain, maybe a deer, maybe something else. She didn’t like this. They were too exposed.
           “Don’t worry,” Swift said, banking left to catch a smoother stream of wind. His wings tilted as he rose slightly, catching an updraft. “This peninsula’s been degrading for some millennia. You’d have to know exactly where to look.”
           He flew lower to point it out, clusters of fissured land stretched below, the stone split like old parchment, crumbling around the roots of blackened trees. “There are dozens of caves out here, it would be like finding a needle in a hay stack. Ours is buried under vines and stone. It’d be hard to find even if they were trying.”
           She didn’t answer right away. Just stared ahead. The truth sat heavy between them.
           It had been nearly 800 years since the Night Kingdom fell, and still, it was recovering. Now ruled by a RainWing queen, NightWings were barely autonomous. Every birth had to be documented. Every moonborn was registered. And those born under rare celestial alignments, especially blood moons, were seen as dangerous.
           “I’m sorry we have to find a new home,” Swift said quietly. He hadn’t stopped flying, but his tone sank lower. “We left everything. Our parents’ home. All our things. We ran with nothing but fear.”
           He paused, then added with a glance her way, “But it’s not just me. I know you’re afraid too. Maybe more than I am.”
           Soulwind lowered her gaze, the wind flattening her crest. “I’m not just fear,” she admitted. “I don't know what they’d do to him if they found out. Blood moon or not, he’s a moonborn. And undocumented.”
           She landed first, gliding down toward a narrow ledge where ivy and wild moss covered most of the rock. The entrance to their hidden cave was nearly invisible beneath it all. She pulled the vines aside with care. “You were reading Moonwatcher’s story again,” she added softly, “so... I knew. I knew you were thinking about it.”
           Swift landed beside her, his shoulders tense. What they had done was illegal. Unforgivable to the Queen. Even among the few remaining NightWings who still practiced their old traditions, this would be seen as betrayal. They hadn’t just hidden a dragonet, they’d hidden a moonborn, possibly a seer. Possibly worse.


Page a8 (Swift)

The vines sizzled, curling inward as their edges blackened. Charred twigs dropped to the mossy stone, and smoke billowed upward. Swift quickly beat his wings toward the rising plume, pushing it sideways, keeping it from curling too high, from forming a signal that might give away their hideout. Leaves crackled, and pebbles dislodged from the arch above, pattering quietly on the damp ground.
           Then he noticed something strange. There was a narrow path ahead, pressed through the hanging vines, wide enough to suggest someone had pushed through. Not a deer. Not a bear. The prints were too broad, the trail too clean. This wasn’t prey’s movement. It was deliberate and Dragon-sized.
           The fire sputtered out when it reached a section of damp leaves and moss-covered roots. It hissed quietly, extinguished in silence.
           “Hold on...” Swift muttered. He picked up a dry branch tucked near the cave’s mouth, wrapped the end in some coarse bark and brittle grass, and lit it carefully with a spark of flame. The makeshift torch flared orange, casting twitching shadows on the walls.
           Behind him, Soulwind held the dragonet tightly. He reached for the firelight with stubby claws, red eyes reflecting its glow with curiosity—but she gently pulled him back, shielding his eyes and cradling his head with her wing. He whimpered softly.
           “Stay still,” Swift said in a low voice, then looked back at her. “Someone’s been here. Recently.”
           He stepped cautiously into the cave, holding the torch low. He moved over slick stone and past stalagmites that jutted from the ground like dragon teeth. Droplets plinked steadily from the ceiling, echoing into the deeper dark. He stepped over an old vine that had been crushed and found faint claw marks in the dirt, not fresh, but not old either. The dust hadn’t settled yet.
         “Swift?” Soulwind whispered, shifting her grip on the dragonet. The hatchling stopped squirming. His red eyes locked onto the darkness beyond Swift, wide and unblinking. He whimpered again, then ducked under her elbow, trembling.
           “Shh.” Swift hissed, They all went silent. The only sounds were water dripping from the ceiling and the soft thrum of the wind rustling the leaves outside. Somewhere deep within the forest, a hollow cry echoed across the treetops, like something ancient calling through the moons.
           “Just... keep our child safe, no matter what,” he whispered, voice strained. And then something moved. A shape shifted at the far end of the cave.
           He reacted instantly, hurling the torch forward. It tumbled through the dark, trailing fire as it bounced across the stone. It lit the far side of the cave with a flickering blaze. Soulwind instinctively tugged the hatchling close and spread her wings to shield him. Swift lowered his body, ready to pounce.
           And then the flame revealed a figure. An old, middle-aged dragon stepped forward slowly, orange eyes catching the firelight. He wasn’t cloaked. He wasn’t armed holdding a rolled-up scroll in one claw.
           “Dad?” Swift asked in disbelief, the torch landed in a shallow puddle and hissed out with a puff of steam. Swift rushed over, snatched it up, and quickly dried it with a sharp breath of flame. He grabbed more dry bark from above, stuffed between cracks in the stone ceiling, and lit the torch again. “What are you doing here?”
           “Looking for you,” Tremor replied, voice low and hoarse. He stepped toward the charred remnants of the first torch, then looked past Swift to Soulwind, and froze. His gaze locked on the hatchling nestled against her chest. “Oh,” Tremor said.


Page a9 (Tremor)

Tremor stared at the hatchling again. He looked into those strange, gleaming red eyes, eyes that somehow carried a piece of his own, and a flicker of his son's. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. A dragonet. His grandson. That made him a grandfather now. He blinked, still processing it.
           He knew how hard it had been for Swift and Soulwind. Their infertility wasn’t a secret. They had tried for years. And now, suddenly, here was a living, breathing dragonet curled up in Soulwind’s arms, and they hadn’t said a word. Not for months. Maybe a year.
           He had expected to be the first to know. He had expected tears of joy, a letter, a firelit conversation under the stars. Instead, he’d found them hiding in the cliffs, cloaked in vines and paranoia.
           “Congratulations... but why didn’t you tell me?” Tremor asked at last, his voice soft.
           He slid the scroll back into the holder strapped against his back, though the questions still swirled in his mind. Why were they here? Why were they hiding? Why was this dragonet marked with a silver tear-shaped scale beneath his eye? His gaze flicked toward the child again. A silver scale. A moonborn mark.
           He tilted his head slowly, his tail curling in unease. The dragonet couldn’t be more than a few hours old, hatchling-soft, barely able to speak, let alone fly. The two moons were full a few hours ago, that means one thing.
           “A silver scale,” he murmured. “Is he moonborn? Did you...?”
           Swift’s shoulders tensed. “I’m sorry we didn’t tell you, Dad,” he said, eyes downcast. But his voice didn’t carry guilt, just sadness. Sad that the surprise had been ruined, that the moment hadn’t gone as he imagined. “We wanted it to be a surprise.”
           Tremor sighed heavily. An undocumented moonborn hatchling. That was dangerous, illegal, even. It meant they’d hidden the egg. No registration with the Talons of Peace. No approval from Queen Dreamcatcher. If the RainWing monarch, Queen Rosemary, found out... They’d be lucky to stay out of prison.
           He couldn’t understand how they’d even pulled it off. Moonborn eggs were locked down, monitored by the tribe, and forbidden without special dispensation. And Soulwind and Swift were a recorded couple, on the books. He remembered the officials saying they were infertile. That alone had likely kept them off the watchlist. But it had also meant no one had expected them to succeed.
           And now they would be fugitives if they found out.
           Soulwind avoided his eyes, looking down with a mix of shame and tenderness. Then, without a word, she gently placed the hatchling into Swift’s arms. Swift held the dragonet out toward his father.
           Tremor leaned forward. The glow of the fire flickered across the child’s face. The silver tear-shaped scale shimmered faintly. And the eyes... the eyes were wrong. Deep, red, almost glowing in the dark. Not the warm red of a SkyWing. This was something else. Like staring into a blood moon.
           Tremor’s snout wrinkled “His eyes... that’s a strange red. Does he have a name yet?”
           Swift and Soulwind looked at each other, startled. Their wings shifted. Their faces went still. It hit Tremor like a quiet slap. They hadn’t even named him. “I don’t think so...”


Page a10 (Tremor)

The hatchling looked up at Tremor with eyes so red they almost glowed. It unsettled him. Moonborns weren’t supposed to have eyes like that. And the hatchling wasn’t looking directly into his eyes, it was staring just above his forehead.
           Tremor squinted his eyes for a better look. Was it staring at his worn, grainy, brownish horns? The dragonet reached a tiny claw toward them. He backed up slightly, uncertain.
           Swift smiled at the moment and gently passed the hatchling into Tremor’s reluctant claws. He hesitated, unsure how to hold something so small and fragile. But he had no real choice. He sighed inwardly and softened his expression, replacing his usual gruffness with a crooked smile. The hatchling smiled back, which startled him even more.
           Soulwind leaned against Swift, wrapping her star-flecked wings around his side. “We did have some names in mind,” she said warmly.
           Swift blinked, caught off-guard by the implication that she’d decided without him. He tilted his head, clearly confused. Tremor raised a brow, sensing the storm brewing behind Soulwind’s gentle tone.
           The couple clearly had different visions, not just for their dragonet’s name, but perhaps for how they’d raise him, too. Tremor sighed internally. He hadn’t expected to be babysitting one hatchling and two indecisive parents.
           “I think Castshadow would be a good name,” Soulwind added with a confident nod.
           Swift uncurled from her wings and turned to her, utterly betrayed. “What?” he blurted. “We agreed on Foreseer!”
           Tremor said nothing. It wasn’t his dragonet, after all. The name should be their choice. But the hatchling, still nestled in his arms, was far more interested in something above his head than the growing disagreement. Its tiny talons kept reaching between his horns, as if trying to touch something invisible there.
           What is it seeing? he wondered. A speck of moss? A glint in his scale? Or something else entirely? He gently pulled the hatchling down from his face, unsettled by how it kept looking past everyone.
           Swift’s wings drooped slightly as he looked at Soulwind, voice softening. “Please, I thought we agreed on Foreseer…” There was a tired hope in his eyes.
           Tremor had seen enough. He watched the two of them fumble through the first hour of parenthood, already clashing like rookery dragons with mismatched eggs. He glanced down at the hatchling and thought for a moment. Then, carefully, he set the little dragonet down on the mossy floor. The hatchling stared up at him briefly before getting distracted by a nearby trickle of water.
           “Why not both?” Tremor finally said. “Call him Foreshadowing.”
Swift and Soulwind turned to him. Soulwind blinked. Swift tilted his head.
           “It’s got what you both want,” Tremor added.
           They both looked at the hatchling again, who was now pawing at a small patch of moonlight on the cave floor. The light touched the silver scale under his eye. A shimmer of something ancient and unknown passed between them in silence.
           “Foreshadowing,” Soulwind echoed softly.
           “…Yeah,” Swift finally said, smiling despite himself. “That… that actually feels right.”


Page a11 (Pyrrhia)

A few moments later, he woke up, caked in mud and shivering from the cold, but thankfully not bruised or bloodied. No fresh wounds, at least. Though his wings ached with phantom pain, and his shoulders throbbed as if they’d been dislocated, he was intact. The book lay beside him, half-submerged in a shallow puddle.
           His heart seized. He scrambled to it despite the shooting pain in his joints, limping, dragging himself through the wet earth. He snatched the book with his teeth and shook it. Droplets flew out, but the cover was still dry. The pages didn’t stick, the ink wasn’t smudged, it was perfectly preserved, as if water simply refused to touch it.
           He exhaled in relief. At least that wasn’t broken. Then he heard voices, somewhere above him.
           “Well, you two stay put,” a dragon called out from up the cliff. The voice was distant, but real. The valley around him was dark, tangled with vines and thick with fog. It felt like the forest had teeth, watching him, waiting. Even strangers were safer than this.
           He bit the book again and started to climb. The cliff was slippery, moss-covered and wet. He nearly slipped several times, catching himself on roots and crags, the dislocated ache screaming in his wings. But he made it. “I'm heading back home to get our stuff,” the old voice said again, much closer now.
           “Excuse me, sir—!” he called, his voice hoarse. A talon appeared at the top of the cliff. Pyrrhia gathered all his strength and leapt. He landed just in time to see an old NightWing, his horns dulled and weathered. The old dragon sprinted toward the edge. Pyrrhia opened his mouth to shout again. “Can you help me find—”
           But the NightWing spread his wings and flew off, never once glancing his way. Pyrrhia stood there, stunned. *Did… did he not see me? Or hear me?*
           He turned. There was a cave opening nearby, surrounded by ivy and vines. Two NightWings were there, clearing the entrance. One was a red-orange dragoness carefully pulling the vines aside, without burning them, Pyrrhia noticed, confused. Why weren’t they using fire?
           “Ma’am—sir!” he called again, louder this time. But no one turned. The orange dragoness continued pulling vines, humming softly.
           Then something moved, a small dragonet darted toward him. Pyrrhia gasped and jumped out of the way, but the dragonet didn’t react. It ran straight past him to the cliff’s edge, where the cherry-eyed NightWing from before was planting a sapling.
           “I’ll plant these saplings at the edge,” the cherry-eyed dragon said gently. The dragonet ran between his horns and pawed at the air happily. “That way our cave is hidden.”
           Pyrrhia backed away, confused and hurt. He curled around the book next to the tiny sapling and watched as the NightWing family disappeared into the cave, still chatting, still unaware of him.
           He was alone again. Clutching the book to his chest, his voice cracking. “Book… do something. I wanna go home…”
           He closed his eyes one more time and slept.


Page a12 (Pyrrhia)

He didn’t expect to sleep in a dream. But eventually, his mind went numb, sinking into some timeless quiet. It wasn’t sleep in the real sense. More like being tucked beneath layers of fog until thought stopped altogether.
           When he opened his eyes again, everything was brighter. The clouds were thinner, and sunlight trickled down from a sleepy sky. He blinked against the light and sat up slowly, dead grass and tangled roots slipping off his scales like he’d been buried.
           Had he been lying there for months? No… it felt like just a nap. Just a moment.
           From the corner of his eye, he spotted the same NightWing dragonet from before, the one with the unusually red eyes, trotting up with a small watering can clutched in his jaw. Pyrrhia didn’t move. Maybe if he stayed still, the dragonet would notice him this time.
           But like before, the dragonet passed through him. Not a glance. Not a flicker of recognition.
           He crouched low as the dragonet began watering a row of saplings, most of them already waist-high. He brushed more of the dried weeds and soil off his back. How long was I asleep? The ground had practically grown over him. This place… it wasn’t just a memory. It was playing time.
           He stared harder at the dragonet. His glimmering red eyes, his careful, happy movements, the way he tilted the can just right to avoid overwatering the roots. Then it hit him. *Foreshadowing. It’s him.*
           He looked down at the book still clutched in his claws, at the cover. That was the dragon he’d been searching for all along. This hatchling. This red-eyed NightWing. The one his mother loved so much.
           Heart pounding, Pyrrhia stood and approached slowly. He glanced at the sapling he’d slept near, it had grown up taller than his shoulder. Time had moved forward a lot. The dream had carried him with it. He reached out, desperate. “Excuse me... you’re Foreshadowing, right?”
           No answer. Foreshadowing kept watering the flowers, tiny yellow blooms now peeked between the roots. Dandelions, or something like them. He carefully adjusted the stem of a purple bud leaning too far into the sunlight.
           Pyrrhia felt a lump rise in his throat. Still can’t hear me. These weren’t real dragons. Just echoes. Memories. And he was a ghost in someone else’s life.
           He wrapped his arms around the book, pressing it to his chest like it was a heartbeat. And something shifted in him. As if through the book’s paper-thin skin, he knew. Knew the dragoness from before was named Soulwind. Knew the cherry-eyed dragon planting vines was Swift. Foreshadowing’s parents.
           But how? He can’t even read it the book. No one said their names aloud. And yet, just holding the book filled him with facts that settled into place like stones in a pond.
           “Foreshadowing! Lunch is ready!” Swift called out in the distance. The watering can spilled onto the grass as Foreshadowing perked up.
           “Coming!” The dragonet scampered toward the cliffside den, happy and hungry. His parents waited for him just outside, their wings outstretched to wrap him up in warmth.
           They looked… content. Complete. Pyrrhia stood in the shadow of the saplings, watching. The warmth of their moment only made the cold inside him feel sharper. He clutched the book tighter. Bitterness curled behind his teeth.


Page a13 (Foreshadowing)

He was still enjoying watering the plants, especially the spruce saplings. When he heard Swift call out for lunch. He hadn’t expected it to be done so soon. Maybe that was why he wasn’t allowed near the kitchen.
           In his rush, he hadn’t even bothered to set the watering can down properly, and now it had tipped over, soaking the grass and leaving a small puddle in the dirt. Well, at least some of the plants got watered.
           He opened his wings, bracing himself, hopefully he wouldn’t mess up flying this time. He flapped hard and zipped toward the cave, aiming straight for his mother’s shoulder. He landed with a bit of a wobble, but she didn’t scold him.
           “You watered the plants today?” she asked with a smile.
           “Yeah!” He exclaimed proudly.
           “You’re doing a good job,” Soulwind said proudly.
           He breathed out a tiny sigh of relief. She hadn’t noticed the spilled watering can behind the bushes, or the fact that he’d barely watered one-fourth of the plants around the cave entrance.
           He carefully climbed her neck and nestled between her worn horns, tapping gently at the faint floating numbers and letters that sometimes hovered there, little glittering shapes only he could see.
           “We didn’t even have to ask,” his dad added with a warm hum in her throat.
           Just then, Swift came over and plucked him playfully off Soulwind’s head. He yelped in laughter, twisting midair as his father spun him gently before setting him down and booping his snout with his claw. Foreshadowing giggled and tried to pounce back but got scooped up again.
           The wind danced through the spruce branches and rustled the leaves in soft waves. A few bats stirred in the shadows of the cliffs, and the distant call of a hawk echoed across the valley. The forest hummed with hidden life, as if the trees were listening.
           “Because of that…” Swift said, lifting an eyebrow with a grin, “your mom and I have a surprise.”
           “A surprise?!” he gasped, eyes lighting up. “What kind?!”
           His heart thumped. He hoped it was what he’d been dreaming of for weeks. *Grandpa Tremor’s finally coming*
           It had been so boring lately. No visitors. No other dragonets. Just plants, chores, and the occasional story. If Grandpa was visiting, that meant real conversations, loud laughs, maybe even a new gift from another kingdom. *Oh moons, please let it be Grandpa.*
           They walked together into the cave, which looked much cleaner than usual. The door was made of RainWing-style leaves tied together with jungle string; tugging the string would lift the whole curtain of foliage. Soulwind had decorated the entrance with twining NightBloom flowers and star-shaped forest daisies.
           Swift returned from the kitchen holding a steaming pot with ornate gold patterns only used for special occasions. “Grandpa will be visiting for the weekend,” he announced with a grin.
           Foreshadowing’s eyes widened. His wings flared with joy. His stomach growled. The scent of spiced roots and river fish filled the air.
           He was going to see Grandpa Tremor. And today was already the best day of his life.


Page a14 (Foreshadowing)

Inside, the cave was cozy and alive with color. Hanging on the walls were paintings from across Pyrrhia, scenes of glowing mushroom forests, towering SandWing spires, underwater coral temples, and peaceful meadows from the SkyWing highlands.
           All of them were gifts from Grandpa Tremor, who often traveled as a peace emissary for the Talons of Peace. He never came home empty-taloned.
           There was a jar of golden dust from a SandWing sandstorm, a wind chime made of SeaWing shell glass that sang when the breeze passed through the cave, a carved RainWing flute shaped like a toucan’s beak, and a tapestry from the Ice Kingdom stitched with shimmering SilkWing threads. It hung against the stone wall like a frozen window into snow.
           Foreshadowing used to sit beneath those treasures for hours, imagining the wind of the desert, the silence of the deep sea, the strange colors of a rainforest night. He dreamed of seeing it all for himself one day.
           “I wonder what Grandpa will bring home this time,” he blurted out before he could stop himself.
           He immediately regretted saying it aloud. That was supposed to stay in his head. He scrambled to fix it before it sounded too selfish. “I mean—I'm glad Grandpa’s coming!”
           From behind the kitchen counter, his parents paused. Swift and Soulwind exchanged a glance that made his scales heat up a little. Their expressions shifted, trying to figure out whether he was happy to see Tremor, or just eager for another souvenir. Soulwind’s snout lifted slightly in mock surprise, while Swift gave a low chuckle.
           Swift turned back to the counter and took out a few ceramic bowls from the warm storage niche in the wall. “Careful, they're hot,” he muttered as he placed them on the dinner table. The scent of herbs and root broth filled the room.
           Foreshadowing sat down on one of the soft moss pillows while his dad poured the steaming soup into their bowls, the silver ladle clinking gently against the rim. The broth shimmered with pieces of smoked meat and floating jungle herbs.
           “I hope it’s something from the distant kingdoms,” Swift said with a grin, fully aware of how strict Soulwind could be.
           She narrowed her eyes and nudged him with her tail under the table. “You’d better hope it’s not poisonous,” she said playfully.
           Foreshadowing giggled and looked around the cave again. Now that he thought about it… there weren’t many Pantalan souvenirs in the house. Just a few dusty HiveWing trinkets that didn’t even sparkle, and a dull-looking LeafWing carving of a fern. Nothing like the glowing flamesilk threads he’d seen in books.
           “Maybe… maybe he’ll bring a real Flamesilk!” Foreshadowing said excitedly, eyes wide.
           “Very unlikely—and dangerous,” Soulwind cut in sharply, her tone switching in an instant. Of course. No dangerous artifacts were ever allowed in the house. She speared a piece of soft root vegetable from the soup and held it up to his snout. “Your dad has a phobia of spider webs.”
           “No, I do not!” Swift said with a snort, nearly spilling his own bowl. Foreshadowing slurped down a mouthful, watching his parents squabble. He liked seeing them like this. They never got mad for long.
           “Maybe Tremor will bring something from the Sky Kingdom,” Soulwind said, steering the conversation back. “We don’t have much from here, do we?” She turned her gaze to Foreshadowing. “Right?”
           He was in the middle of gulping down a hot piece of root when she asked. His eyes went wide. He quickly set the bowl down and burped into his claw, nodding awkwardly. “Yeah! Sky Kingdom sounds cool!”


Page a15 (Swift)

The broth churned and steamed gently in the bowls. Swift inhaled the scent—earthy, herbal, slightly bitter. Maybe he used too much rockroot basil, or boiled the thunder tubers too long. He wasn’t sure.
           He tried hard to follow Soulwind’s recipe exactly. After all, this was the test. With her soon to leave for an important posting at the NightWing palace, the responsibility of caring for Foreshadowing would fall entirely on him.
           “If you can’t even replicate a soup,” she’d told him half-joking, half-serious, “how can I trust you’ll look after our son?”
           He glanced at Foreshadowing, who seemed not to care who cooked the meal. The dragonet was busy slurping noisily, tail wagging slightly as he licked broth from the corners of his snout. That was a good sign.
           Swift turned to Soulwind. She lifted her spoon with practiced elegance, gave the bowl a brief glance, then took a cautious sip.
           He froze. His heart thumped. Sweat gathered beneath his wings. Too much basil? Not enough salt? Should I have crushed the garlic more? He nearly coughed just thinking about it. She swallowed. Blinked. Then gave a small nod. “It’s… fine.”
           Swift exhaled hard. “Thanks,” he muttered with a grin, a little too relieved. He wiped the back of his neck with a wingclaw.
           Foreshadowing had already moved on. In the corner of the room, he was drawing, crayons scattered across the moss carpet, tiny figures sketched across a scrap of bark-paper. Probably a map of somewhere imaginary, with mountains, treasure, and a scribbly version of Tremor.
           Swift watched him for a moment, a tightness building in his chest. He didn’t know how to break the news to Foreshadowing, that they’d be leaving the cave soon, that they’d be moving to the palace. No more hiding. No more pretending to be a simple NightWing family now that Soulwind would be a personal servant to Queen Peace herself.
           Well, no one would suspect a thing. Not with his silver scale near his eye dyed black with inkleaf paste. No one would guess he was Moonborn. Or worse, Blood Moonborn. But would he be happy? Or would this place feel like the only home he ever knew?
           Just then, a voice boomed from the entrance. “Dinner noodle stick!”
           “Is that…?” Swift blinked. His ears perked. Soulwind immediately began clearing the table, wiping quickly and stacking bowls.
         “That’s Tremor’s nonsense code,” Swift said, half-smiling. “He always yells a weird phrase when he arrives unannounced.”
           “Grandpa!!” Foreshadowing yelped with delight. Crayons flew everywhere as he scrambled to his feet, about to run.
           Swift caught him gently in one forearm before he could knock over everything. “Whoa, careful!” he laughed. The dragonet was bouncing excitedly in his grasp.
           Swift balanced him on his back and zipped across the cave, hurriedly stuffing pots and scattered cutlery into the cupboards. “Let’s make it look like we were expecting him.”
           He pulled the vine-string, and the leaf-door curled upward. Standing outside, in a cloak dusted with frost and carrying a pack full of clinking oddities, was Tremor.
           “Father,” Swift said, slightly breathless. “You came early.”
           Tremor raised an eye ridge. “What? You weren’t expecting me? Is the house a mess?”
           “No—not at all!” Swift said too quickly. He hoped Tremor wouldn’t notice the half-hidden bowls, or the fact that he hadn’t been invited to the broth lunch they just finished.


Page a16 (Foreshadowing)

Tremor stepped fully inside, brushing some moss from his shoulders as he scanned the cozy room. His gaze landed briefly on the scattered crayons before his eyes lit up with amusement.
           “Looks like someone’s been busy drawing dragons again,” he said warmly.
           “Grandpa!” Foreshadowing cried out, springing off his father's back and barreling into Tremor’s forelegs. The old NightWing bent down and gave him a ruffle between the horns, chuckling.
           It felt good and reassuring to see him again after so many long, boring weeks. But that comfort only lasted a few seconds.
           Foreshadowing’s eyes flicked upward, instinctively, toward the space between Tremor’s horns. The numbers were still there, as they always were, but now, they were shorter. Smaller. And steadily ticking down.
           His smile faded. 19318. Below the number, a strange word hovered in soft silver letters: Stroke.
           He didn’t know what it meant. But he knew it wasn’t good. The lower the number, the worse he felt. It made his chest feel tight, like someone had pressed a stone against his ribs.
           He turned his gaze quickly to his mother. Soulwind’s number was still long: 887455689, the words Cardiac Arrest beneath it. His father, Swift, had 1443951127 and something called Tuberculosis.
           He didn’t understand the words. But something inside him was scared to ask. When he brought it up, muttering about the “numbers in the air,” his parents would look at each other and pretend not to hear. Sometimes they’d smile, but it felt like they were faking it.
           ‘Special,’ his mother once said to him when he asked about the floating red things above between their horns. The only explanation to it was: ‘You’re just… special.’ He didn’t feel special, he didn't want to feel alienated. He felt like he could see something he shouldn’t.
           “Well,” Tremor grinned, pulling him up and swinging him into a hug. “Aren’t you a full-grown cave-bouncer now! Let’s see what kind of trouble you’ve been getting into.”
           He glanced toward Swift with a knowing smirk, as if suggesting Foreshadowing had inherited his father’s mischief. Swift rolled his eyes, already checking the kitchen for any forgotten mess. Soulwind pretended not to notice as she wiped down the last of the counter with a damp cloth.
           Foreshadowing tried to laugh, but his eyes crept back to the numbers. 19305. 19304. 19303.
           They didn’t stop. They never did. And the closer they got to zero, the more something in his belly curled into a cold, anxious knot.
           He slumped quietly in the corner near his drawing papers, crayons scattered around him. Tremor and Swift exchanged greetings, Swift offered a mug of warm pine-bark tea while Tremor removed his travel gear, but Foreshadowing wasn’t listening anymore.
           He just sat there, eyes fixed on that shrinking number above his grandfather’s snout. What happens when it reaches zero? He didn’t want to know. But he was starting to think he would find out, whether he wanted to or not.


Page a18 (Tremor)

The NightWing couple babbled about their new and important job, chatting about better food and living conditions. They even touched on the political shift now that the Queen of Peace had laid and hatched a new heir: Princess Nebula. She was said to be a tribrid, bearing royal blood from the NightWing, RainWing, and SeaWing families.
           Though Tremor hadn’t seen the new princess himself, she wasn’t allowed to meet unauthorized dragons, only Queen Whitelily could decide who earned that privilege. And now, one of them was Soulwind, who had been granted the rare right to see the next heir to Whitelily.
           Her new job came with tight restrictions. She wasn’t allowed to look away from the newly hatched royal or leave the palace alone. She was basically stuck. Tremor glanced at Foreshadowing, who was still drawing furiously with a red crayon.
           He smiled, but quickly masked his face, wondering if Foreshadowing would even accept leaving this place. Then he turned back to Swift and Soulwind, who were now talking about what life was like in the living quarters.
           “Do you think they’ll give us a better place to sleep?” Swift asked curiously.
           “Maybe? I hope so.” Soulwind giggled, lifting her chin thoughtfully. “Maybe our bed will be made out of fine SilkWing silk!”

           Tremor let out a smug breath. He knew the Queen of Peace wasn’t going to offer luxury to hatchling caretakers. Soulwind and her little family might only get a cramped room. They might even have to return to the old rental house near the NightWing palace. It would be more dangerous for an undocumented moonborn like his grandson. He didn’t want to think of it, until he noticed the box in his talons. He had forgotten the gift.
           Foreshadowing, was probably gritting his teeth from anticipation. Maybe that's why he had been drawing so intensely, to soothe the excitement. But if Tremor didn’t say something soon, he’d probably burst like last time.
           “Oh—I almost forgot!” Tremor declared, placing the box loudly on the dinner table. “I brought a gift from the Sky Kingdom!”
           Foreshadowing startled. He actually flinched like he hadn’t expected it. Was he thinking about something else? Something darker? For a moment, he looked both shocked and worried, but then forced a weary smile and darted toward the table, wings flapping anxiously.
           “Oo! What is it?” Foreshadowing asked breathlessly. His flying wasn’t perfect, he bumped against the edge of the table. “I bet it’s a sword!”
           “Maybe it’s a mini SkyWing statue!” Swift suggested, catching his son before he tumbled over the box.
           “It’s obviously a SkyWing painting,” Soulwind said confidently, squinting at the wooden box. The whole family leaned in for a closer look, eyes wide with curiosity. But Tremor just smiled. He knew they were all wrong.
           He slowly opened the box, the small NightWing dragonet patted his talons in excitement. He used his worn-out claws to unscrew the bolts holding the box together, he wasn't cautious and Soulwind was already deducing it wasn’t something fragile based on the look of her snout


Page a19 (Soulwind)

Tremor crouched over the wooden box, claws clicking softly as he unlatched the tiny metal bolts at each corner. One by one, they fell aside, until the lid gave way with a dusty creak. Inside lay a statue, smooth, weighty, and definitely expensive.
           She leaned in for a closer look. The carving shimmered faintly in the afternoon light. It was chiseled from pale, freshly polished stone, likely a durable marble quarried from the northern cliffs of the Claws of the Clouds.
           She could tell by the grain and the faint shimmer along the ridges, details only a dragon obsessed with rocks might care about. But it definitely confirmed what she already suspected.
           Only a noble from the Sky Kingdom would send something this refined. Or afford it.
           She didn’t pick it up right away. Instead, she studied the figure from a distance, eyeing the sharp, regal angles of the carved dragon’s snout, the narrow ears tipped with fluted ridges, though one ear was chipped clean off, probably from age.
           The spines down her neck were long and jagged, crown like. Jewelry was carved along her arms and neck, and draped across her shoulders, too much to be practical, too ornate to be anything but ceremonial.
           It had to be a SkyWing queen from the post-War era. Maybe even one of the queens who came after Darkstalker’s fall.
           She blinked. Gold jewelry. Gemmed plates. Thin, proud expression. This was either a very specific queen… or they really haven’t changed much in generations.
           “Wow,” Swift said. Soulwind tilted her head. He wasn’t even looking at the statue.
           “What?” she asked, smirking.
           “That face,” he said. “You still do the geologist thing. Like you’re undressing the rock with your brain.”
           She flicked her tail, a little flustered. “It’s just what I do,” she muttered, folding her wings. “You only noticed now?”
           Swift grinned. “I still won. I guessed it was a SkyWing statue before you said a word.”
           “Well, actually,” Tremor said, squinting. He arched a skeptical expression as if Swift had just celebrated too early. He reached down and gently lifting the statue from the box, claws curling around its base, “this statue isn’t the gift.”
           Foreshadowing was still curled up beside Soulwind, unusually quiet. His gaze wasn’t fixed on the statue, he was watching Tremor. Thinking, probably. Or distracted by something no one else could see.
           “The real gift,” Tremor said, tapping the base of the statue with one talon, “is hidden inside.”
           Swift groaned dramatically and slumped over the table. “Aww, come on. We don’t get to keep it?”
           “You think I’m rich enough to be handing out priceless SkyWing heirlooms?” Tremor snorted. “Please. This thing’s borrowed.”
           With a soft click, he slid a thin panel from the base, revealing something tucked neatly beneath a false bottom. It gleamed faintly, coppery and scorched.
           Soulwind leaned closer, eyes narrowing. “Is that…?”
           “A piece of Peril’s scale,” Tremor confirmed. He held it up gently between two claws. The shard shimmered like it had just fallen off her body, still warm from her fire. “It was hidden in this statue and I was the only one to know.”


Page a20 (Swift)

“A relic,” Soulwind murmured, turning the framed scale over in her talons. The edges shimmered faintly with heat-scars, its copper-orange hue catching the dim cave light. Even cooled, it still felt dangerous, like it was waiting to ignite again. “From one of the most famous firescale SkyWing in history.”
           “The one who saved the Dragonets of Destiny,” Tremor said, though his tone held more wariness than awe. He carefully slid the scale back into its hidden compartment in the statue’s base and locked the panel shut. “Right, little one?”
           Foreshadowing had gone quiet. He was still curled in the corner of the table, but his eyes were locked on Tremor, not quite at him, but just above his head. Soulwind noticed first and frowned.
           “Yeah!” Foreshadowing suddenly blurted, as if snapping out of a trance. “She’s the one that had a crush on Clay, right?”
           Swift blinked. “Wait—why do you even know that?” He looked toward Soulwind, almost accusingly, but she held up her claws innocently. Swift shot a baffled glance at his father. “You seriously told him that part?” he asked. “He’s barely out of the egg.”
           Tremor shrugged with a smirk. “It’s not my fault your bedtime stories were government-approved.”
           Swift rolled his eyes. When he was Foreshadowing’s age, anything even remotely romantic had been scrubbed clean from the scrolls. Took him years to even understand what attraction was, let alone be allowed to show it. And now his son was growing up in a house where they casually joked about SkyWing crushes like it was a normal part of storytelling.
           “Well, at least it’s not as sad as having to move out.” He froze. The words had slipped out before he could bite them back. He caught his breath too late, eyes wide as Soulwind and Tremor slowly turned to look at him. Foreshadowing's ears perked up. Swift scrambled. “I—I mean, move out this statue. I don’t think it’ll fit in the cart! Hah.”
           He laughed too hard and too quickly. Soulwind immediately grabbed his wing with a practiced “You’re done now” look and began escorting him toward the living room.
           Tremor offered Foreshadowing a soft, weary smile. He hoped the dragonet hadn’t picked up on it, hadn’t realized this would likely be the last gift Tremor would ever bring to this cave. Once they moved into the palace, there’d be rules. Restrictions. Regulations on what you could bring. What you could show. And Moonborns weren’t supposed to have sentimental clutter.
           “Why don’t you keep drawing for a while?” Tremor said gently, reaching into his satchel. He pulled out a brand-new set of oil pastels, the kind that were hard to find and harder to afford. The ones Foreshadowing had been using were stubby and wax-worn, barely holding color.
           “These are just for you,” he said. “You can use them while we grown-ups talk about boring grown-up things.”
           Foreshadowing took the crayons wordlessly. He wasn’t smiling. He wasn’t really looking at Tremor at all, just above him again, silent and unnerved. Tremor didn’t ask. His grandson was likely too afraid of the answer.

 

 

 

 

Chapter 4: Guide for non-WoF readers + Extra content

Notes:

This chapter contains:

• Map
• Prophecy
• Dragon guide
• Extra art
• Soon to use excerpts

Chapter Text

 


MAP

 

My fanfic's Pyrrhia - Map - (Scroll ver)

Redrawn from Mike Schley's map art

The ████████'s phrophecy

███████ ███ █████████ █████
A forsaken prince █████ ████
████ ███ ██ ███ ████████ ███ █████
█████ ████ ██ ████████

███ wounds ████ fester
████ ████ █ short life
Clawing out ██ ███ ██ █ ███████
██████ ███ █████ a monster hatches

One of Queen Nebula's male dragonet,
Will cause a royal massacre.
No mercy in the tongue of the dragonet,
As hatred will only conquer

█████ █████ ████ ███ ██ ███
████ █████ War ██ Famine
█████ Deceit ████████ Death
Will befall Pyrrhia

██ █████ ██ ███
██ ████ ██████, no tribe is safe.
█████ ██████ █████ ███████
███ ███ ███ █████████ ████

Time intervals

Guide to Pyrrhia's dragons
(By the Parasite)

Mudwings

 

(Pyrrhia) - Fanfic Guide (MudWings)

 

MudWing Overview

  • Alternate Names: Swamp dragons or mud dragons (to humans).
  • Location: North of the rain kingdom
  • Current Ruler: Queen Lilypad, descendant of Moorhen

Physical Description

  • Scales: Known for their tough, earthy-colored scales in shades of brown, amber, and orange.
  • Distinctive Features: Flat, broad heads, curved horns, and large, muscular bodies based on crocodilian traits.
  • Eyes and Snouts:
    • Eyes can be brown, gold, amber, or hazel, often with yellow rings around the pupils.
    • Nostrils are placed on top of the snout, allowing MudWings to lay submerged in mud.
  • Unique Markings: Some individuals have dappled or speckled scale patterns.

Diet and Eating Habits

  • Omnivorous Diet: Known for a hearty appetite; willing to eat both plant and animal foods.
  • Common Prey: Swamp creatures such as crocodiles, water birds, and even hippos, water buffalo, and elephants.
  • Agriculture: Some MudWings raise livestock like cows to supplement their diet.
  • Specialty Dish: MudWings prepare frozen cream with melon as a unique dessert treat.

Abilities and Strengths

  • Breath-Holding: Can hold their breath for up to an hour, making them well-suited to swamp life.
  • Camouflage in Mud: Excellent at blending into muddy environments, aiding in both hunting and resting.
  • Fire Immunity (Blood-Red Eggs):
    • MudWings hatching from rare blood-red eggs possess scales resistant to fire, although they can still feel heat.
    • This immunity is limited to external burns; deep or internal wounds still require regular healing.

Society and Family Structure

  • Social Structure:

    • Organized in sibling groups, led by a “Bigwings” (the first-born dragonet), who serves as the caretaker and leader.
    • Each sibling may have specific roles within the group, such as healer, treasurer, or gatherer.
    • “Unsibs”: Orphaned MudWings or those separated from their sibling groups can join existing groups or form new ones.
  • Lifestyle:

    • MudWings live communally in mud bunkhouses with wide, open tops for ventilation.
    • They frequently nap in mud pools and have a laid-back, family-oriented lifestyle.
  • Reproduction and Hatching:

    • Breeding occurs monthly, and parents do not raise offspring. Eggs are laid in protected bunkhouses and hatch independently.
    • The first dragonet to hatch helps its siblings emerge and becomes the “Bigwings.”

Names and Cultural Beliefs

  • Naming Conventions: Names are inspired by swamp flora and fauna (e.g., Reed, Crane, Pheasant) or earthy tones (e.g., Umber, Ochre).
  • Royalty and Queenship:
    • Succession is peaceful, with no history of sibling challenges for the throne.
    • The oldest sibling or “Bigwings” traditionally leads, and the most senior females are likely candidates for queenship.

Trivia

  • Perception: Often stereotyped as “simple” by other tribes, although MudWings are deeply knowledgeable about their history.
  • Community Values: Highly family-oriented, with strong bonds between siblings, which is reflected in their social structure.
  • Historical Background: The MudWing tribe has experienced relatively few conflicts compared to other Pyrrhian tribes, contributing to their reputation as peaceful.

SandWing Overview

  • Alternate Names: Sand dragons or desert dragons (to humans).
  • Location: dwell in the Kingdom of Sand, a vast desert along the west coast and near the center of Pyrrhia.
  • Current Ruler: Queen Ventifact (Descendant of Blister, Burn, Blaze and Oasis

Physical Description

  • Scale Colors: Typically pale yellow, pale gold, white-gold, or light yellow-brown, allowing them to blend seamlessly with desert sand.
  • Distinctive Features:
    • Scorpion-like barbed tail with venom, which develops by around age three.
    • Black, forked tongue, obsidian-black eyes, and a small spike on the nose and below the ears.
    • A ridge or sail running from their snout to about three-quarters down the tail.
  • Markings: Scales may feature various patterns like black diamonds, brown speckles, freckles, or triangles.

Diet and Cuisine

  • Desert-Dwelling Diet: SandWings are light eaters, consuming creatures like camels, lizards, and desert rodents.
  • Prepared Foods: Known for cooking meals, including roasted scorpions, date cookies, dried figs, and camel shish-kebabs.
  • Beverages: Favorites include coffee, camel milk, cactus cider, agave nectar, and cinnamon milk.

Abilities and Adaptations

  • Heat Adaptation: Built for hot, arid conditions, SandWings can endure desert heat and are skilled at long flights across barren landscapes.
  • Fire and Camouflage: Capable of breathing fire and blending in with the desert sands.
  • Venomous Tail:
    • The barbed tail has deadly venom that can kill a full-grown dragon; effects depend on proximity to vital organs.
    • Brightsting cactus is the known cure for SandWing venom.

Animus Magic

  • Animus Dragons: Rare within the SandWing tribe. Notable animus dragons include Jerboa and Jerboa III.
  • Enchanted Artifacts: The Eye of Onyx, enchanted to dust unworthy SandWing throne-seekers, is a notable animus-touched object.

Society and Culture

  • Living Arrangements:

    • The kingdom is sparse, with most SandWings residing near oases or living alone to avoid conflict.
    • The Scorpion Den is a hub for merchants and assassins, reflecting the tribe's reputation for adaptability and survival.
  • Social Roles:

    • Common professions include merchants, assassins, gardeners, kitchen staff, teachers, and soldiers.
    • Duties often involve desert-specific tasks, like tending brightsting cacti or clearing dragonbite viper dens.
  • Tail Management: Young SandWings are taught tail control to avoid accidental poisoning; practice is frequent, and mishaps are common among dragonets.

  • Traditions and Stereotypes:

    • Known for full moon festivals, surprising musical talent, and a reputation as “sly outlaws.”
    • Other tribes often see SandWings as crafty and prone to betrayal, though this is a stereotype rather than a trait.

Names and Pets

  • Naming Conventions: Names are inspired by desert elements (Oasis, Horizon), flora and fauna (Meerkat, Agave), and heat/fire (Burn, Kindle).
  • Pet Keeping: Common pets include armadillos, coyotes, and snakes.

Trivia

  • Claustrophobia: Most SandWings are uncomfortable in enclosed spaces.
  • Reputation and Intrigue:
    • SandWings often roam in caravans and enjoy games with tiny bones.
    • Once poor, they may have looted the lost city of night following the NightWings' exodus.

 

Guide (skywings)

SkyWing Overview

  • Alternate Names: Mountain dragons, sky dragons, or fire dragons (to humans).
  • Location: Reside in the mountains on the "wing" of Pyrrhia.
  • Current Ruler: Queen Crimson, descendant of Scarlet, Ruby, and Cliff.

Description

  • General Appearance:

    • Based on traditional Western dragons.
    • Scales: Red, crimson, orange, or yellow; described as "jewel-hard."
    • Eyes: Typically yellow, orange, or amber; exceptions include Peril and Sky.
    • Wings: Largest wings among all dragon tribes.
    • Head Features:
      • Long, thin snouts with a nose spike and an additional horn on the jaw.
      • Long, curved horns on their heads.
    • Eggs: Pale red, orange, or red-gold in color.

Diet

  • Primary Diet:
    • Scavengers(very illegal in present day), mountain goats, chicken, foxes, deer, bobcats, cows, pigs, sheep, rodents, cougars, squirrels, rabbits, and birds of prey.
    • Roasted seagulls.
  • Agriculture: SkyWings grow their own crops.

Abilities

  • Flight:

    • Fastest flying dragon tribe due to large wings and high endurance.
    • Built for long-distance flying with notable stamina.
    • Dragonets learn to fly young.
  • Fire:

    • Capable of breathing fire, powerful fighters.
    • Can hold fire to achieve maximum temperature (similar to NightWings).
    • Some SkyWings have a condition called
      firescales:
      • Firescales: Extremely hot scales that burn anything flammable on contact.
      • Immune to IceWing frostbreath, which causes temporary numbness if hit.
      • Rain evaporates upon contact with firescales.
      • Occurs in twin dragonets where one absorbs more "fire," leaving the other fireless and sickly.
      • SkyWing law mandates execution for firescales dragonets due to their dangerous nature.
  • Animus Magic:

    • SkyWings had animus dragons in the past but killed them due to the danger they posed.
    • Animus dragons have been absent for centuries.

Society

  • Personality and Values:

    • Stereotypically grumpy and aggressive; seen as militaristic and fond of violence.
    • Value entertainment, such as gladiatorial combat, during wartime.
    • Enjoy music performed by orchestras, especially during celebrations.
    • Enjoy dancing, singing, and wing-clapping at parties.
    • Tolerate few “dangerous differences”; animus and firescales dragons are executed.
  • Traditions and Social Structure:

    • Wingery:
      • Place for young dragonets to grow and play, including areas for practicing flight.
    • Family Structure:
      • Loose family ties; not all SkyWings seek partners, instead using a breeding program organized by the queen.
      • Weddings: Quiet, involving ritual words spoken while flying. During Scarlet’s rule, weddings involved arena fights.
    • Burial:
      • Deceased dragons are wrapped in white cloth or silk and offered to the sky for seven days, then burned.
      • Ceremony allows the dragon’s spirit to reincarnate as a SkyWing.
      • Held in a cave near the peak of Jade Mountain.
  • SkyWing Arena:

    • Originally for parades, art shows, and beauty contests.
    • Converted by Queen Scarlet into a gladiatorial arena for entertainment.
    • Prisoners fought for freedom but would be pitted against Scarlet’s champion before reaching enough victories.
    • Converted into a hospital by Queen Ruby post-war.
  • Clash of Claws Tournament:

    • Held every seven years, where SkyWings competed in a weeklong event to prove their skills.
    • Winners earned fame, glory, and a seat at the queen's advisory table.

Trivia

  • Hearing: Sharper when flying.
  • Reputation:
    • Once referred to as "the friendly tribe" sarcastically in Darkstalker’s time.
  • Behavior:
    • Make a unique hissing sound before breathing fire; used as both a threat and a respectful signal.
  • Preferences:
    • Prefer living high in mountain peaks, valuing height in their kingdom.


Guide (seawings)

SeaWing Overview

  • Alternate Names: Often called sea dragons or ocean dragons by humans.
  • Primary Habitat: Kingdom of the Sea, an expansive underwater realm in Pyrrhia.
  • Current Ruler: Queen Seashell, (Descendant of Queen Coral, Anemone, Tsunami, Auklet, Turtle and Gill)

Physical Description

  • General Appearance:

    • Body Shape: Compact with streamlined bodies designed for swimming; short legs and long, muscular tails aid in swift underwater movement.
    • Unique Features: Curved horns, forked or non-forked tongues, and two barbels below the jaw.
    • Webbed Talons: Talons have hooked claws for gripping and webbed spines from neck to tail.
  • Scale Colors:

    • Common Shades: Blues and greens like aquamarine, indigo, and blue-green.
    • Rare Variations: Pink-hued scales or wings and intricate black spirals (e.g., on dragons like Nautilus).
    • Appearance in Sunlight: Scales appear like glossy gemstones, shimmering like emeralds and sapphires.
  • Bioluminescent Stripes:

    • Purpose: Used for underwater communication (Aquatic language) and attraction.
    • Royal Markings: Royal family members have glowing spirals and starburst patterns on wing undersides, while non-royals have simpler starburst designs.
  • Eyes: Generally blue or green in color.

  • Eggs: SeaWing eggs are green or blue, and heavier closer to hatching.

Dietary Habits

  • Primary Diet:
    • Raw fish is a staple, along with marine life such as squid, whales, octopi, turtles, crabs, and sea snails. Lower-class SeaWings eat eels, sometimes insultingly referred to as a “lower” food choice.
  • Special Dishes:
    • Celebrations: Raw tuna wrapped in seaweed and stuffed with fish eggs, served on hatching days.
    • For Guests: SeaWings often prepare soups, stews, or roasted seagull when hosting other tribes.
    • Historic Feasts: Previously enjoyed coconut rice, tuna rolls, and a mango-lime drink.
  • Food Restrictions:
    • Dolphins: Banned due to Queen Coral’s belief in a distant relation to dragons, or to prevent any accidental harm to Princess Anemone, whose colors resemble a dolphin’s.

Abilities

  • Swimming and Underwater Abilities:

    • Breathing: Gills located on the necks allow underwater respiration.
    • Night Vision: Exceptional, allowing clear underwater vision.
    • Swimming Strength: Webbed talons and strong tails provide powerful swimming and wave-generating abilities.
  • Bioluminescence:

    • Glow Control: Each stripe can be individually controlled to signal specific meanings, forming words in Aquatic.
    • Communication and Attraction: Bioluminescence aids in silent communication and attracting mates underwater.
  • Vulnerability to Dehydration:

    • Dehydration Effect: SeaWings deprived of water may go mad, becoming unaware of their actions. This rare state was notably observed in Gill, who suffered severe dehydration.
  • Animus Magic:

    • Hereditary Trait: Found in the royal bloodline, though use is now banned following the Royal SeaWing Massacre.
    • Control: Queens strictly monitor animus dragons to prevent abuse, making animus use forbidden in the Kingdom.

Society

  • Social Structure and Duties:

    • Palace Roles: Many SeaWings work within the palace, including jobs in pearl diving, weaving, carving, hunting, gardening, and childcare.
    • Council Meetings: Queen Coral leads council meetings to discuss tribal affairs, with council members often from the royal family.
  • Cultural Traits:

    • Known for intelligence and an appreciation for the arts, SeaWings are seen as a peaceful yet deeply strategic tribe.
    • Many SeaWings enjoy the ocean’s beauty and participate in traditional arts like carving, weaving, and literature.
  • Pets and Decor:

    • SeaWings keep marine pets such as seahorses, cuttlefish, and bobtail squid, along with decorative animals like luminescent jellyfish for visual appeal.
  • Literature:

    • Queen Coral is an avid writer, whose scrolls are standard reading in schools, though their quality is debated among the tribe.

Naming Traditions

  • Names Derived from the Sea:
    • Names commonly reference oceanic elements, creatures, or colors, such as Coral, Turtle, or Cerulean.
    • Other Inspiration Sources:
      • Jewels: Names can also be derived from gemstones, such as Sapphire and Pearl.
      • Oceanic Phenomena: Includes names like Tsunami, Ripple, and Whirlpool.

Trivia

  • Legends and Myths: One legend tells of an abandoned SeaWing dragonet raised by orcas.
  • Scientific Awareness: Knowledge of water’s conductivity is evident in their prison setup to prevent escapes.
  • Preferred Foods: SeaWings would likely enjoy sushi the most, given their aquatic diet and preference for raw fish.
  • Bioluminescence Count: On average, SeaWings have about 180 bioluminescent scales, allowing intricate communication patterns.


RainWing Overview

  • Alternate Names: Known as rainforest dragons by humans.
  • Primary Habitat: The Rainforest Kingdom on Pyrrhia, where they cohabit with the NightWings.
  • Current Ruler: Queen Rosemary, who leads a tribe known for their pacifist beliefs and their avoidance of the War

Physical Description

  • General Appearance:

    • Body Shape: Long, graceful bodies with curved horns, ear ruffs, and prehensile tails, suited for rainforest living. Tails are used to climb, swing, and hang from branches.
    • Unique Features: They flare their ruffs when threatened, similar to how other dragons might extend their wings.
    • Chameleon-like Scales: Small, round scales that shift color to reflect emotions or surroundings, aiding in camouflage.
  • Scale Colors:

    • Emotional Colors: Scales can reflect emotions, becoming bright when happy, red when angry, etc.
    • Camouflage Ability: RainWings can blend into their surroundings, making them nearly invisible. This skill is developed from a young age through games like hide-and-seek.
    • Default Color: Most have a preferred ‘default’ color when they are relaxed or neutral.
  • Eyes: Change colors with scales but are commonly green, yellow, brown, or blue.

  • Eggs: RainWing eggs are pale and smooth, developing color-shifting scales while still in the egg.

Dietary Habits

  • Primary Diet:

    • Fruits: RainWings primarily eat fruit and rainforest plants. Favorite fruits include mangoes, papayas, and bananas.
    • Occasional Meat: Some may eat rainforest animals like monkeys, though sloths are avoided due to their pet status within the tribe.
    • Sunlight as Sustenance: Sunlight provides them with energy, lessening the need for food and enhancing their moods.
  • Food Restrictions:

    • No Sloths: Sloths are protected pets, and it is frowned upon to eat them.

Abilities

  • Physical Abilities:

    • Prehensile Tails: Perfect for climbing and swinging through trees.
    • Venomous Fangs: Long fangs capable of shooting black, corrosive venom, which can cause serious harm if it contacts blood or eyes.
    • Camouflage: Their scales can reflect surroundings with fine detail, becoming nearly invisible in the rainforest.
  • Sunlight Absorption:

    • Energy Source: Sunlight provides energy and affects scale brightness. Suntime, or midday naps in sunlight, are essential for their mood and health.
    • Mood Regulation: Sunlight lifts their spirits, while lack of it can make scales duller and affect abilities like venom production.
  • Color Manipulation:

    • Emotional Influence: Scales may involuntarily show strong emotions but can be controlled with practice.
    • High Detail: Skilled RainWings can create patterns on their scales, mimicking other tribes if desired.

Society

  • Lifestyle and Beliefs:

    • Peaceful Society: RainWings live a relaxed, content lifestyle with easy access to food and little involvement in tribal conflicts.
    • Suntime Ritual: Suntime is a social event, during which RainWings rest and absorb sunlight.
    • Perceived by Others: Seen by other tribes as lazy, calm, and non-aggressive.
  • Royal Challenge:

    • Selection Process: A peaceful challenge to select the next queen, traditionally involving contests or peaceful trials rather than combat.
    • Turn-Taking: Before Queen Glory’s reign, queens took turns ruling each month.
  • Unique Pets:

    • Sloths: RainWings keep sloths as cherished pets, forming bonds when a sloth chooses a dragon during suntime.
  • Decorations and Tools:

    • Flower Decorations: Instead of jewels, RainWings decorate themselves with rainforest flowers.
    • Blowguns: Use blowguns with sleeping darts coated in tree-frog poison for games and defense.
  • Communal Childcare:

    • Raising Dragonets: Dragonets are raised collectively, learning to camouflage, use venom, and navigate rainforest trees.
    • Oral Storytelling: Stories, legends, and histories are passed down orally rather than in writing.

History

  • Ancient Times:

    • Warrior Culture: In ancient times, RainWings were more aggressive, with libraries, an assassin program, and a more militaristic society. They engaged in conflicts with MudWings and SkyWings over territory and had spies and merchants across tribes.
    • Transition to Peace: Under Queen Jacaranda’s rule, the RainWings adopted their current pacifistic lifestyle, focusing on peaceful interactions and bonding with rainforest wildlife.
  • Modern Innovations:

    • Guarding the Forest: After Queen Glory’s reforms, RainWings began patrols to monitor and protect their forest. They’ve recently begun experimenting with written records.

Name

  • Themes: Names reflect the rainforest’s beauty, inspired by local plants (Kinkajou, Tamarin), fruits (Mango, Coconut), and positive descriptors (Magnificent, Dazzling).
  • Reused Names: A cycling list of names, with names reused throughout history as the list restarts after reaching the end.

Trivia

  • Accents: RainWings have a unique accent due to isolation, given an Australian accent in audiobooks.
  • Special Bond with Sunlight: RainWings judge time by the sun’s position, as sunlight is a crucial part of their lives.
  • Mysterious Ancestry: RainWings are related to LeafWings, and some have even traveled to Pantala.
  • Cultural Change: They’ve shifted from an ancient, combative culture to one of beauty, harmony, and pacifism.






IceWing Overview

  • Also Known As: Ice Dragons, Arctic Dragons (by humans)
  • Habitat: Ice Kingdom at the "head" of Pyrrhia
  • Current Queen: Frazil

Physical Description

  • Scales: Range from silvery-gray to pale blue, white, and purple; blend into icy surroundings
  • Eyes: Dark blue, sky blue, icy blue, or stormy gray
  • Tongue & Blood: Forked blue tongue; dark blue blood
  • Body Shape: Narrow, diamond-shaped head; spiked back and tail; lean, with whip-like tails ending in icicle-shaped spines
  • Unique Features: Serrated claws for ice-gripping; sometimes freckles or markings on faces/wings

Behaviors

  • Emotions: Neck spikes ruffle when upset
  • Social Sophistication: Prideful, structured; seen as arrogant by other tribes
  • Customs: Parties, talent shows, and community competitions
  • Cleanliness: Polished scales maintained via snow rolling or cold-water swims
  • Traditions: Myth of the Great Ice Dragon, village bards as revered storytellers

Diet

  • Preferred Foods: Reindeer, whales, polar bears, penguins, seals, fish
  • Lower-Class Meals: Seals obtained from enchanted ice holes (gift of subsistence)
  • Event Feasts: Elaborate dishes (e.g., polar bear meat, crab soup, shark heart)
  • Other Foods: Ice cream, popsicles made with fruit juice
  • Consumption Style: Often raw, cold dishes are common

Abilities

  • Resilience: Can endure subzero temperatures and bright light
  • Frostbreath: A freezing exhalation, causes frostbite; appears as sparkling smoke, can incapacitate or cause limb loss
  • Limitations: Weakened by heat; frostbreath blocked if body temperature is raised
  • Physical Strengths: Serrated claws (10x sharper), sharp eyesight, chilling scales
  • Mind Clarity: Hard to read mentally, especially in groups

Animus Magic

  • History: Most animus dragons once belonged to IceWings
  • Rules: Animus dragons used magic once at a gift ceremony; rule-breaking animus dragons include Queen Diamond
  • End of Animus Line: Last animus, Arctic, left tribe, leading to belief that NightWings stole their magic

Society

  • Hierarchy: Organized into seven Circles, First Circle is highest rank
  • Coming of Age: Circle determined at age seven, impacts entire life
  • Royal Court: Queen’s daily duty to adjust ranks on ranking wall (gift of order)
  • Behavior: Strict, with emphasis on strength and discipline
  • Royal Challenges: Frequent battles for the throne in arenas

Unique Customs

  • Diamond Trial: A ritual for rank-switching; two dragonets fight a frozen NightWing and each other; trial defunct after Hope’s escape
  • Frozen Heads Tradition: Formerly displayed frozen royal heads on palace walls; discontinued
  • Rural IceWings: Villages outside palace are less status-obsessed, named with descriptive phrases; scrolls on sealskin circulate via roaming librarians

Naming Conventions

  • Prior to Queen Snowfall: Names chosen by highest-ranking parent, approved by queen
  • Name Inspirations: Ice formations, arctic animals, polar weather, blue/white gemstones, cold seasons

Trivia

  • Unique Accent: High-pitched with deeper undertones
  • Color Sensitivity: Dislike for bright colors common; may be chromophobic
  • Mirror Signals: Use polished scales to send mirror signals by reflecting sunlight
  • Scent Limitations: Weaker sense of smell in crowded or warmer environments



 

 

NightWing Overview

  • Tribe Name: NightWings (also called "night dragons" by humans)
  • Current Habitat: Rainforest Kingdom (lower southeast of Pyrrhia) alongside RainWings
  • Rulership: Queen Dreamcatcher, though the actual power lies with the RainWing Queen due to Glory's constitution.
  • Personality Traits: Known for their secrecy, intelligence, and often arrogant nature, which they believe asserts their superiority.

Physical Appearance

  • General Coloration:
    • Scales are typically black, but some have hues of dark green, blue, purple, or dull gray.
    • Underbellies may be silver, white, gray, deep blue, purple, or dark green.
    • Silver scales along their necks and wings give the illusion of stars, forming unique genetic patterns.
  • Eyes: Dark colors like black, dark blue, brown, purple, or dark green.
  • Unique Features:
    • Straight horns, forked black tongues.
    • Some NightWings possess silver teardrop scales near their eyes, signifying mind-reading or empathic abilities.
  • Egg Appearance:
    • Eggs touched by moonlight appear polished silver; those without exposure remain deep ebony.

Abilities

  • Natural Abilities:
    • Fire Breathing - Standard for most NightWings.
    • Shadow Melding - Can blend into the night sky or shadows due to their dark scales and wing patterns.
    • Bacterial Bite - Carries harmful bacteria in their mouths, poisoning prey with a single bite.
    • Night Vision - Excellent night vision, though not as effective in total darkness as SeaWings.
  • Special Abilities (Moon-Dependent):
    • NightWings hatched under one full moon may have mind-reading or prophecy.
    • Those hatched under two moons have both powers.
    • Under three moons, both abilities are significantly stronger.
  • Animus Magic:
    • NightWing animus powers are genetic, not moon-dependent. Descended from Whiteout, NightWing animus dragons were believed to use their powers for the tribe's benefit.

Powers in Depth

  • Mind-Reading:
    • NightWings with this power can hear immediate thoughts, emotions, and fragmented images from others.
    • Mind-readers communicate mentally with one another and may block the visions of prophets.
    • Mind-readers born under a blood moon can project thoughts to all dragons, not only other mind-readers.
  • Prophecy (Seers):
    • NightWings with prophetic powers receive flashes or visions of the future, sometimes in spoken prophetic form.
    • Powerful prophets can follow timelines and foresee specific disasters under a blood moon.
    • When delivering prophecies, a NightWing’s eyes glow, and their voice becomes low and eerie.

Diet

  • On the Volcanic Island:
    • Mostly carrion, often poisoned prey with bacterial bites and returned once the animal died.
    • Limited diet led to once-weekly meals, causing malnutrition.
  • In the Rainforest Kingdom:
    • Expanded diet to include fruits, vegetables, and meat.
    • Exceptions: Sloths (reserved for RainWings).
  • Historic Diet (Darkstalker’s Time):
    • Consumed hawks, fish, bears, squirrels, rattlesnakes, wolves, and even cheese.
    • Practiced cooking methods, such as roasting nuts and baking bear meat.

Culture and Society

  • Current Era Adjustments:
    • Adjusting to life under RainWing rulership with some bitterness.
    • Still mysterious, often eerie in interactions, with ongoing cultural loyalty and pride.
  • Volcanic Island Era:
    • Emphasized secrecy and power, training dragonets to lie about abilities.
    • Dragonets weren’t allowed off-island until age ten and discouraged from forming close bonds to avoid leaking tribal secrets.
    • Socialization was highly sarcastic, with a focus on loyalty and obedience.
  • Ancient NightWing Society (Darkstalker’s Era):
    • Lived in cliffside homes, with higher-ranking dragons in upper levels.
    • Valued knowledge, reading, and had a strong cultural library.
    • Known for wide trade networks, intertribal relations, and artistic contributions.
  • Pre-Darkstalker Era:
    • Created written Dragon language, sharing it with other tribes.
    • Focused on medicine, developing techniques shared across Pyrrhia.
    • Early NightWing nests were crafted stone bowls, lined with black fur for insulation and comfort.

History

  • NightWing-IceWing Feud:
    • The long-standing feud dates back to the legend of Foeslayer and Arctic, known as the NightWing-IceWing War.
    • This feud is currently on pause as of "Darkness of Dragons."
  • Relations with Other Tribes:
    • Historically strong in diplomacy and trade, but relations have varied, especially with changing territories.

Names

  • Naming Conventions:
    • Often reflect personality (e.g., Thoughtful), roles (e.g., Mastermind, Deathbringer), appearance (e.g., Bigtail, Strongwings), or powers (e.g., Fatespeaker, Mindreader).
    • Other names are night-themed, like Eclipse, Moonwatcher, or Starflight.

Trivia

  • NightWings speak with British accents in audiobooks, though this isn’t canon.
  • NightWings can hang from ceilings like bats, a behavior illustrated in graphic novels.
  • In ancient times, young dragonets received scrolls with varied subjects, such as myths and geography.
  • Humans consider NightWings among the least dangerous dragon tribes, likely due to their secretive nature.