I squinted at the runes, growling under my breath. Ignitus chuckled, looking down at the books with me. "You know, it'd help you learn if you looked more at the younger age level books. You can hardly learn from these."

"Yes," Volteer strode in. Perfect. "It is indeed true that a gradual raise in level will aid your appraisal capacity of figures quicker than throwing yourself right into the height of literature in itself. Your progress already is simply astounding as is."

I'd already looked at one of the 'younger reader's' books, "I am not reading about some lost puppy. Ignitus, what's this word?"

He squinted at it, "That's 'quagmire.' It's no wonder you don't hear it, I've hardly heard it in common conversation."

"What's it mean?"

Volteer sighed, "It can either be a description of the environment of a wetland, swamp, such as surrounds this temple, or a sticky situation, a situation with many dead-ends and no way forward, a dangerous tim-"

I snorted, interrupting, "Sounds like my life, then, now doesn't it?"

"Yes, Volteer," Ignitus sighed, chuckling, shaking his head, "I'm sure she gets it. Now, you said you would help Cyril revitalize those scrolls."

Volteer grumbled and went off. I went back to glaring at the aged book. It was nothing like the few words that had been put to figures for the village. They'd take a sharp stick and carve the symbol for "danger," or "private," when necessary in the mushroom-trunks. If carved at the right depth the glowing sap would shine through, but not leak, causing the notification to glow bright amethyst. I used to have a blast sketching on the things when I was younger. If done right, it didn't hurt the plants and the drawings would last, glowing, as long as the mushroom-trees still stood.

I was determined to learn the dragon's way with writing. There could be a point where I would need it.

A thudding of footfalls broke my concentration and Cyril walked in grumpily, helping Myst along.

"She awoke and asked me to take her to you and, being the apparent hand-servant I seem to be considered here, I brought her here."

I sighed and trotted over, resting a wing on Myst's shoulders so she could navigate.

Cyril walked away in a huff, as usual. He didn't approve of Myst, lowering my opinion of him even more. As far as I can fathom, in the old days dragons with disabilities had servants to help, and he felt he was assuming the role of one by helping the blind Myst.

I sat down, Myst sitting beside me.

"You should ignore him," I sighed, looking at her, "He's just irritable about getting his claws dusty."

Myst didn't seem to notice, she was crying a little, tears spilling from her off-white eyes. "Cynder… I woke up today! The sun woke me up!"

…What was that supposed to mean? "Uh… What?"

"Cyn!" She was sobbing now, slipping her forepaws around my shoulders and pressing her head to my neck, "…The light woke me up!"

"What's wro-?" my eyes widened, blinking several times, "-oh!"

I closed my eyes, and then opened them. They were getting wet yet again.

I didn't care.

I wrapped myself around Myst, wings all but engulfing everything but her head on my shoulder and her tail twitching back and forth, peeking from under one wing. I pressed my cheek to her forehead, not caring that one of her tiny, blunt back-blades pressed into my cheek.

I heard Ignitus get up and leave, but was all but oblivious to it.

"It's working," Myst's tears of joy fell to my shoulder, creating tiny streaks of dampness, just as mine were upon her head, "It's really working…"

Warmth budded in my chest, sweet relief flooding my veins. I was crying shamelessly, staining my obsidian cheeks.

My baby would see again…

…

Her wings were wrapped all around me, her cheek warm and comforting on my forehead… Like mom, she felt like mom had. My paws didn't feel the hard points of back-blades on her back like mom had, and she was so much smaller.

But the warmth was the same, the beautiful, comforting warmth. It flowed from her, her familiar smell wrapping around me like a blanket, like home…

She was home to me, the only home I knew any more. Not this cold, stone place I couldn't even see. No matter how many times she described it to me, it didn't seem beautiful; nothing compared to the island that was probably now naught but a burned scar on the land.

I miss it; when the blue sea mirrored the starry sky at night and the reflected dots of light skimmed and danced like fireflies in the tide. Where the wind carried the whispers of the sea to sing us to sleep, the leaves of ivy dancing that'd tickle your tail be it to close to the cave opening. Friends, their parents, elders…

I hadn't really believed they could be gone until my parents were too… I never took death seriously before that. The sea kept us safe, sung us to sleep. When I was little I'd thought nothing bad could reach over the water to grasp us, not even death. I was being naïve, and any belief I had in a safe haven had been torn from me by fiery claws…

It was gone, all of it, and I pushed it away and tried to lock it away in the back of my mind as I'd been forced to learn to. It was the only way I could cope.

When had my tears turned to those of pain rather than joy?

My past still haunts me, all of me; my body by scars, my sight and soul with the seemingly eternal blackness… It was all nothing but dark. There were two shades of dark now, a barely perceptible difference when I looked towards the light.

I moved my head to look at Cynder, a slightly darker blob in an only barely perceptible shade of lighter dark. "Cyn…"

We drew slightly apart, and the warm strength of her paw rested on my shoulder, "Why are you sad?"

She could tell. In the short time I'd known her I hadn't been able to hide a thing.

"Cyn… The scars… Do they stay forever?"

A sigh, wind from her exhale playing across my face, "Yes, Myst. If there's one thing I've learned about scars, it's that they never fade. They stay the same size forever."

I looked down. Must be one of our shadows because it's the darker shade of black…

The paw slipped off my shoulder, brushing to my chin and lifting it. There were two spots of the lighter dark on Cynder, lighter than anything else… Her eyes?

"But you know what? Scars don't grow either, but guess what does grow?"

I just blinked. Another barely perceptible sheen under the other spots… Was she grinning?

"…What?"

Her paw moved again, my head staying straight without the support, and pressed to my chest, where my heart beat deep in my chest.

"We do."

(A/N

First of all, there's a new Legend of Cynder out! A spin-off crossover from right after this chapter, I suggest taking a look if you like this. It involves dumping Cyn in the KH-verse, and even if you aren't knowledgeable in Kindom Hearts, neither is she! So she's even more confused than you are and if I do my job right, it should be explained to you as it is to her. And if you are a KH fan I think you might enjoy seeing how the characters react to her… She and Riku have particularly low opinions of each other, funny because they're two of my three favourite videogame characters of all time. So feel free to go check it out!

Secondly, this pov change came as a surprize to me more than anyone, I wasn't expecting it until Myst all but tackled me with the idea. Myst probably isn't going to have lot from her point of view, but if you like it, tell me and I'll certainly think about adding more.

Ooh dear, there I go with the author-note length again, by!