Oh boy! 2 chapters back to back!

Keep your seatbelts on lads!

The status of the ducks being mine has not changed between the last chapter and this one, so they're not mine T-T

Enjoy!

"Dewey!"

He awoke with a sharp gasp.

It was silent. He was floating in a never-ending darkness, almost like floating through a starless space. It wasn't warm, but it wasn't cold either. He also couldn't feel anything.

"Wh…what happened….?" Dewey murmured to himself. His thoughts were scrambled and muddled. He didn't know where he was nor how he got there, but all he knew was that he had to get out of there.

There was suddenly a small flash of light in his periphery. He quickly focused his eyes in the direction the spark had come from. Had it just been his imagination? He waited to see if the spark shone again. It did not. "H-hello?" He called out hesitantly. He did not expect any sound to be produced from his voice and was surprised when his shout echoed loudly and over a thousand times in the nothingness. It made his head hurt.

"...ey!" A small shout came back from somewhere. The tiny spark shown again, if only barely.

Afraid to feel pain by shouting out again, Dewey whispered loudly, "Can anyone hear me?" A feedback of soft whispers answered his question.

"De..ey!" The voice called again. The spark grew in size but quickly vanished. Somehow, he knew he had to go there. With a racing heart, Dewey made a swimming motion to try to reach where the spark was. It did not appear as if her were going anywhere at first, but the spark slowly increased in size. He called out softly again and got a response. He continued swimming towards the source until it suddenly engulfed his entire being. He squeezed his eyes shut as he was blinded by light.

The blue shirted duckling felt his webbed feet step onto solid ground. His eyes no longer hurt through his eyelids, so he slowly opened one. Photons bombarded the inside of his visual organ, forcing the eyelid to shut once again. It was too bright and white. A couple of seconds passed by before he cracked an eyelid open. It no longer hurt his eyes, but he still had to squint. He was met with an empty white void. There was literally nothing in there. Dewey didn't know which one he preferred more, the empty black void or this empty white void. At least there he could see his own hands and body.

"Hello?" He tried again. No voice called back out to him this time. Well, there didn't appear to be a way out of where he was, so he began to walk.

"Dewey!" A voice from the right called out. It sounded desperate. The middle triplet whipped his head quickly to find the source of the voice. Behind him, he found Louie.

Louie.

He suddenly remembered everything. From the adventure, to the moon, to Louie, to Huey…

"LOUIE!" Dewey screamed and lunged at his baby triplet in a tight embrace. He gave a small sob when his arms didn't go through his brother and actually made contact. "Louie, you're…we…..we're dead, aren't we?"

A slight pain in his chest suddenly flowed outwards to the rest of his body and he cringed slightly. He released Louie and took a few steps back. When it was over, he inspected his chest. It was fine. He also took notice that he wasn't wearing his space suit. Neither was Louie. He was standing there in his green hoodie, giving Dewey a worried look.

"We aren't dead, Dewey. But I found mom. She….she's here," Louie said in a solemn tone. The middle triplet's mouth went dry. What did he mean by that they weren't dead? And their mom was actually found?

The youngest triplet grasped his brother's hand and began walking rapidly. "She needs help. And I can't do it alone." Dewey furrowed his brows at that. He didn't understand what was going on. After a few moments of walking into what seemed nowhere, a figure began to come into view. Someone was sitting and leaning against a single, and only, rock. A thick, glowing rod was sticking out of its chest.

Dewey freed himself from Louie's grip as fell to the ground in pain. His heart throbbed wildly.

"Dewey!" Louie cried out. "What's wrong?!" Dewey hissed in response. The pain was subduing but his heart was still pounding.

"Ugh….d-don't worry," He managed to say. He shakily looked back up at the figure. There she was. Della. Sitting with her head leaned back against the rock, eyes closed, and her chest moving up and down with each breath.

"M….mom?" Dewey whispered. Louie offered to help him back up and Dewey gratefully accepted. Together, the ducklings walked over to where Della sat. Upon closer inspection, the blue shirted duckling could see how exhausted she looked, almost ill.

"Mom?" He tried again, a little louder this time. Said figure weakly turned to look at the duckling. The eyes that glanced up to look at him were dull. Heavy bags laid under her eyes. The determination she always had in his visions and dreams was gone, replaced with great exhaustion, immense sadness, and intense pain. But she still looked young, almost like an exact replica of their Uncle Donald. When she noticed her other child, her eyes glossed over but no tears were produced. Her beak tilted the slightest bit upwards.

"Dewey.." She whispered sadly.

Said duckling swallowed thickly. "W-why….how….." He asked, unsure of what to say. This was not how he imagined their meeting to be. His eyes flickered to the spear in her chest, which flickered a dull blue. He attempted to grab the end and pull it out, but Louie stopped him.

"No, Dewey, we can't!" The youngest triplet replied with a wavering voice. He showed the middle triplet his hands, which appeared to be scorched. "I t-tried to do what you were to do, but it only hurt me, and I think it hurt mom too."

Dewey's eyes darted between his brother and mom in a helpless way. "But we have to do something! Anything! Or do you just want us give up? Watch her fade away like this or die or whatever else exists after this place we are in?"

"There is nothing we CAN do, Dewford!" Louie snapped. Dewey was taken aback a little. Louie never called him by his full name. Ever. Only Huey would. "I tried the only thing we could do but of course the spear has a way to protect itself. Remember. The spear will stop at nothing until it claims the life of its victim."

"But WE were its first victims a long time ago! So why is it that it is taking mom's life rather than attacking us now? Why didn't it come back for us? How is it that we are alive but not alive? I don't understand…." He gave an exasperated sigh and turned to Della. "Why can't we just help you? Why did you have to come all this way? Just…..why?"

Louie had no answers for him. He was just as confused on the first couple of questions Dewey had. He also wanted to know about the last. Without a word he, too, turned to look at his mother. Seeing that they wanted answers, Della glanced back at them sadly. "After I left Earth, I couldn't allow it to go back. And I realized the moon was too close to the planet. So, I had to go far away, as far as my rocket would take me. And this is where I crash landed. It was still not far enough, and if I wasn't careful, it would go back to you. But upon seeing this wasn't just any moon, I remembered something I had read before on how to stop it. It was only considered a myth, as no one would ever dare do it." She weakly looked at the rod. "But I gave it a try, seeing that I was in the right location. It appears it's been working, and I've been acting like a seal for the past 10 years. That's why you can't remove it without being hurt. I'm sealing it so that it won't hurt anyone else." Her voice cracked slightly. "Eventually….I came to realize why I lasted so long. This artifact has one major flaw: if it harms someone other than the intended target, its power gets drained, very slowly, but it still does. I've been involuntarily feeding off its power. It's very weak now, and sooner or later it will just be an empty husk of its former self. Then I will be free."

"Then….you can come home?" Dewey asked hopefully. She hesitated, looking to the side, before a pained expression fell on her face.

"I…..I don't think…I'll be able to. Once my temporary energy source is depleted, I don't think my body will resist. It's not normal for anyone to survive 10 years without doing the essential things needed to live. Only your Uncle Scrooge would be able to pull something off like that.

"As for why you two are here, I have no idea. Quite honestly, I have no idea when I even became secluded here. Louie told me he was attacked by some spear. I'm guessing it noticed your presence and made a weak copy of itself to attack you and kill you, but because it was not at its full power, you're not completely dead?" She shook her head a little. "I really don't know."

No one said anything for a few moments until Della gave a short laugh.

"I never wanted any of you to have come to this dangerous place. But at the same time, I was longing to see you. To see all three of you. There were times I would close my eyes and I could imagine how your lies must be. All three of you living in the houseboat with Donald, maybe even in a small house. There was even one time I thought I could see you all playing soccer outside with a girl your age. You all looked so happy. So energetic. And I thought to myself how much I wanted to be there. But that was just selfish to think such thoughts."

Dewey recalled the shadowy figure he once saw the one time Webby knocked him out cold. He was about to comment on that until he noticed his mother looking at one and then the other, silent tears falling from her face. She weakly grasped both their hands into hers.

"In all honesty though, I really am glad I got to see the both of you….He did such a great job in raising you three." She said softly. Her lids partially closed but she wore a large smile on her face. "My goofball of a brother actually managed to do something right, heh." Her smile shredded into a pained grimace. The light on the spear was now barely a faint glow. "Please, take care of him for me and tell him how much I love him. Take care of Huey—"

"Stop….." Dewey muttered. Both pairs of eyes flashed towards the middle triplet in surprise. He was shaking violently. "Please….stop. Y-you're not going to die, and you're not going to stay here. We came….ALL….this way for you, and it won't be fruitless. One way or another, we WILL take you back home. We WILL wake up and see you everyday….we WI…LL go on adventures.….w-with you….we WILL….." A this point Dewey realized just how much he was sobbing into Della's hand, said appendage pressed against his cheek. "We c-can't lose you….please…Why…did you have to do this…?"

With the minimal strength she had, the duckling's mother pulled both her children as close as possible. "I did this..for all of you…..because I love you all. I'm so, so glad I got to see how big my boys have become. You are all so brave….I wish….I could have….." Her grip on their hands was became slack.

"M-mom?" Louie cried.

"Tell uncle Scrooge…..I forgive him…..and give him…." She pulled out a rounded object from her pocket and placed it into Dewey's palm. It appeared to be just a normal stone, but it was abnormally smooth. A sudden image of a young Della skipping stones with a younger looking Scrooge appeared in his mind. He blinked and it was gone.

"Tell him, thank you…." Her arm heavily fell to her side and she closed her eyes, though her breathing was still heavy.

"S-she doesn't have much time left!" Louie shouted, tears still falling like a waterfall. He shook his mother to get her to open her eyes, but she did not. Dewey simply stared with wide eyes. There was no way this was happening. They made it this far and they were this close to saving her. He had to do something to save her. Anything. His eyes fell upon the cursed treasure. It was growing even dimmer by the second. Just how many lives had it claimed? How many of the poor, greedy beings did it betray with its beauty? Something began to burn in his chest, not of pain, but of anger.

His eyes darted to Della's face. It was anything but peaceful, despite her deep breathing and closed eyes. Just how much had his mother suffered for having had to leave them all behind for their safety? For her selfless act? Definitely much more than a numerical number could ever be calculated. She deserved to see everyone. She deserved to go home.

Her face was going slack. He wouldn't allow it.

There had been several instances in his life where Dewey dreamed of being a superhero. To have cool powers and save Duckberg every night. Kind of in the way the character Darkwing Duck would in the TV show Launchpad showed them one time, except of course, with powers, because no powers was rather lame. He wouldn't do it for the money, but rather for the fame, to be recognized as a true hero. Had he known that he would attempt to be a hero without actually trying to be a hero for his family in a heartbeat as an ordinary duckling, he would have scoffed back then. However now, it didn't seem so silly after all.

In a rage, Dewey grabbed the spear piercing her chest. His insides began to painfully burn but he still gripped onto the spear like a life depended on it, and literally, it did. With a harsh cry, he used all the strength he could muster to pull the spear that was plunged into the person he loved. He stumbled backwards a few steps as he struggled to hold the spear. No matter how much his body told him to let go, he didn't.

He forced his eyes open when he heard a cry of shock come from his brother. A small, weak gasp accompanied the cry. She was still alive, and there was still time to save her.

Louie took a step towards him.

"N-no!" Dewey shouted. The spear lunged forward, trying to get back at Della. The duckling was pulled forwards a bit. "I can't….let it get back to her…"

"What are you doing?!" Louie shrieked. He attempted to take another step forward but the white void tilted the slightest bit, sending the duckling stumbling backwards. Dewey glanced at his mother, doing his best to ignore the burning pain. She was awake, weak looking, but awake. The world vibrated.

"M-mom…there's nothing more that I want than to go home with you. I want to wake up everyday knowing you're there, knowing we were able to save you. I want to go to adventures with you, a-and everyone! I want you to make up with Uncle Scrooge, and I want you to….augh!" The spear had lunged again. "I want you to see Huey…..and most importantly, I want you to see Uncle Donald." The mention of Donald's name brought fresh tears to her eyes. The white world began to deform. He could see very faint outlines of the crystalline ice of the moon. He turned his attention to his "younger" brother and gave a sad smile. "And I want to continue getting in trouble with you, Louie, to fight, to laugh, and to go on adventures with you too."

"Not if you keep holding the spear forever!" Louie cried out, successfully taking steps towards his triplet brother. "It's going to finish you off like it should have done a long time ago! Please let go!" Dewey shook his head vigorously. He was losing his grip and his vision had dark spots flowing in and out. One last tug and the spear would fly right off his hands, most likely back to his mother, and he doubted she would survive that.

"We will find another way!" Louie pleaded staring at Dewey with glossy eyes. Dewey struggled a bit as the spear wiggled in his hands, then looked at Louie with a sad smile.

"We are triplets, there is a 33% chance I was the very first one it started to kill….B-but just in case….." With a heavy grunt he turned the spear tip to face him. "Please look after them for me…"

He had to admit that it was stupid and had no idea if it would even work. Maybe it was because he wasn't thinking straight. Maybe it was the influence of the spear, but with another harsh cry, he plunged it right through his own heart.

"DEWE—" Were the last words Dewey heard that Della and Louie shouted in unison before the now-transparent world vanished along with his two family members. He was now alone in a different white void.

"Gyahh…." He cried softly and clenched his eyes tight. The pain was once again becoming unbearable. His actions of stabbing himself had surprised him greatly, and despite the pain, it just felt like something he had to do. The power coursed through his body. It was icy and weak, but still enough to send him to his knees. It was so cold.

He felt so alone.

Gasping, he fell forwards on his hands. The pain was becoming unbearable, but he couldn't let it overcome him. He had to be strong and finish it off, no matter what. But the pain. He wanted it to stop.

Now it was hot. It was so, so hot. Clawing at the floor he lowered his head to the ground and pressed his cheek against the pure ground. It was cool to the touch, but it quickly warmed up. For the briefest moment he couldn't remember why he had committed such an action. For what reason?

He rolled over onto his side, and slowly rolled onto his back. With all his might he tried to pry the treasure from his chest, but it wouldn't budge. His webbed feet slapped the ground in a futile attempt as he tried once more to remove the spear. Nothing.

Suddenly, a voice appeared out of nowhere. Dewey opened his eyes and noticed that the void was no longer empty. Instead, he was in an unfamiliar desert. Strangers crowded around an open fire. Confused, the duckling did his best to focus on them. One of them, a falcon like figure, began to speak, but not to him. In fact, they didn't appear to notice he was there. Was he hallucinating? Dewey couldn't make out the words he was saying, but shortly after, he saw them meet their untimely end thanks to a particular treasure. He gasped and squeezed his eyes shut to block out the horrifying image. What was worse was that he had felt the pain course through his body. His fingers twitched maddeningly as he tried to rid himself of the pain. Once it subdued, he opened his eyes once again. This time, he was in some damp, dark cave. He spotted someone a couple of feet away with the spear in their hands and his eyes widened, knowing what to expect. He shut his eyes again before anything happened, but the pain radiated through his skull this time.

Image after image. Scene after scene. He watched strangers meet the same fate, in different and creative ways. Even when he couldn't stand to watch anymore, the images still flashed through his mind, along with the pain. Sweat fell from his feathers. It was so hot.

"STO-OP!" he screamed to no one when he couldn't take it anymore. He was shivering and lying in a puddle of tears and sweat. When no more images and pain came, he tried to open his eyes. He found that he couldn't. All he knew was that it was so cold. His breathing was very slow and labored.

P-please….no more… he groaned mentally.

Warm hands came and scooped him up. A voice rung painfully loud in his head. "I-I TOLD YOU! I TOLD YOU IT WAS DANGEROUS! IT'S KILLING YOUR GREAT NEPHEWS AND WILL GO FOR THE REST OF US NEXT! YOU JUST COULD'NT LISTEN TO ME, COULD YOU?"

"STOP!" He shouted again. It was quiet once more. He opened his eyes.

It was white again.

He gritted his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut as he made the effort to get back on his knees. When he succeeded he looked up. People were there, yes. But this time, he recognized them. It was his family, looking very happy. And in the middle of them, he stood, just as joyful as them.

Of course, how could he almost forget. He was doing it for THEM.

He mumbled something, slowly stumbling over his own limbs on all four's as he tried to reach the smiling family. They looked so, so happy. He just wanted to be there. However, they all appeared to get further and further away the closer he tried to get. He picked up his pace and tripped over his right leg. He landed on the end of the rod and it drove the spear further in. He cried out in pain and once again rolled onto his side. Salty water squeezed out of his eyes.

Breathing heavily, he glanced once again at the family. Slowly but surely, he could see them fading away. He was so tired. Everything hurt. It was hot and cold at the same time. So then, he had been the first of the three brothers to have been affected by the treasure, hadn't he? That meant he was truly dying, wasn't he? Yes. His energy was being drained away at a rapid pace. His hopes of even getting back to his family were diminishing at a rapid pace. The image of his family was diminishing at a rapid pace.

If he was gone, wouldn't the spear just go back and finish off his family? No. it was too weak, and Dewey's power wasn't enough.

Good.

His eyelids were closing and he couldn't stop them. The happy family turned to look at him, and they gave him the sweetest of smiles he had ever seen his family show.

At least they would be safe. That's what mattered most.

He tried to flash them a smile back, but the pain and exhaustion were too much. Before he knew it, his eyes had completely shut.

….

…..

….

No.

NO.

He forced his eyes to snap back open. Della, his brothers, his uncles, Webby. Launchpad. Beakely. They were all still there, faint, but still there, and they were watching him. But he wasn't there with them, he was here.

He made a promise that he would find his mother. He promised that they would all go back home, and that NO ONE would be gone. He still had that promise to complete.

And they needed him.

Something cracked. He yelped as a new, intense pain pulled him from his thoughts. His feathers were soaked. Breathing intensely, he glanced down at the spear. The smallest of tiniest cracks was on the surface near. The icy feeling through his body returned, and looking up once more, he noticed the image of his family became sharper.

Yes.

That's right.

He wasn't going to die here. He still had to return back to his uncle Donald, give him the biggest of hugs, and watch him smile purely at the return of his sister. He had to get back to Louie and watch all those internet videos he promised his younger triplet he would watch with him while lounging around lazily, sipping on cans and cans of PEP. He had to get back to his uncle Scrooge and listen to him complain of how lazy of a duo he and Louie would be, and then go on another adventurous adventure with him.

CRACK!

Dewey forced himself on his knees once more. Knees wobbling, he managed to get up on his own two feet. Slowly and steadily he made his way towards the smiling family. Non-existent wind started to blow from somewhere, but the blue-shirted duckling didn't care. All he knew was that he had to reach them, because he was going to go back to Launchpad, watch all seasons of his favorite TV show with him, and learn the beauty of piloting and crashing. He was going to play extreme soccer of death with Webby and sink in the ball pit at Funzo's Funzone with her and try one of her favorite weird food combinations. He was going to eat Mrs. Beakley's delicious cooking and actually help her clean up his own messes. And he made a mental promise to listen to Huey's scientific explanations on the discoveries he made from the exotic ice he found and accompany him to any Junior Woodchuck things he had.

Another CRACK! almost sent him tumbling down once more but he stood his ground. He was so close. The howl of the wind was almost deafening at this point and it was getting hard to breathe. He couldn't give up now, because most importantly, he was going to share all those experiences with everyone back at HOME, in Duckberg and enjoy the sweet, misty, and salty air.

CRACK!

It's what he knew was going to happen.

CRACK!

It's what was GOING to happen.

Like a wobbly toddler walking towards arms of safety, he made one last effort and outstretched his hands as far as he could. Webby's, Huey's, Louie's Scrooge's, Donald's, Beakley's, Della's, and Launchpad's hands all latched onto whatever part of him they could and pulled him towards them just as a sharp shattering sound resonated through Dewey's ears. Multiple voices incomprehensibly shouted out in appreciation, and a bright white light engulfed his form.

He rolled onto solid ground and was launched into a coughing fit. A cold and wet substance escaped his beak and splattered on the ground and was quickly absorbed by the exotic ground.

His coughing ceased once no more of the freezing blue substance came out. Shivering, he moved to lay on his back and he slowly looked around. He was in some sort of cave he didn't recognize. No, wait. He did. It was the same cave that had once been beautiful, only now no water flowed, the sculptures and the rock structures were destroyed in pieces, and it was very dark, save for a few blue specks of light lazily floating around.

A hand unconsciously flew to his chest. There was no wound nor rip in his clothing to be seen, but he realized the source of the blue specks were coming from his chest. Odd. It was then he realized he wasn't wearing his suit to breathe, yet he was breathing fine without it. Double odd.

Wait.

Still lying on the ground, he looked to his left. He was relieved to see everyone in one piece. Scrooge, Webby, and Huey all near the entrance of the cave, while Della and Louie were closer to him. They all, too, were not wearing their space suits but were breathing just fine, even snoring. They were sleeping.

Dewey stared at them for the slightest bit more, then grinned giddily. His giddy smile soon turned to a small chuckle. Eventually, into genuine laughter. The laughter resonated all throughout the cave and several Dewey's laughed back with him. Gosh it felt so good to finally be able to truly laugh.

Once he calmed down, he adjusted himself to a comfortable position and watched the small orbs of light float freely upwards. They gave a nice glow on the walls, some even bumping off the wall before continuing their journey upwards. It was at the ceiling where they phased through and disappeared. They were free.

Everything that had just transpired flashed through the duckling's mind. It made him exhausted. Before he knew it, he was already dozing off. But right before he did, he heard sounds of everyone stirring and groaning of how sore they were and asking what in the world was going on. He smiled.

They finally did it.

It was safe.

He was safe.

Everyone was finally safe.

Yeuuuup! That does it! Seatbelts are safe to be taken off now, though if you wish to keep them on you can do so. Just one more chapter to go to nicely conclude this story. It's already written and will most likely be uploaded tomorrow! :D

Just how many times did I have Dewey fall unconscious from head injury or of sleep in this story? XD I just realized that hahah!

Can you believe I began to jot down ideas for this chapter and the previous chapter in June 2018 and have been working on them ever since?

Now I'm off to watch the newest episode of Ducktales and then will head to sleep cause it's very late/very early here haha! See you guys in less than 24 hours!