Chapter Twenty Five

It all started when they were only two, when they had their first vision of her. They saw the futures where she was their mate, the mother of their dragonets. They saw peaceful lives lived in happiness. That she was the one who helped them to decipher the interweaving threads of the future. They knew they needed her, as their visions told them that Whiteout was in danger somehow, but they couldn't see it clearly. But she could.

Clearsight.

Was it possible to know someone's name before you'd ever heard it, because a vision told you it? Was it possible to love someone before even meeting them because you saw a vision informing you of the love you would share? Perhaps that was the problem, right from the beginning.

They met her in the flesh later then they would have liked. They wanted to find her immediately, but knew that it would lead down some bad paths. So they waited. And when they were four, they finally met her. She came to the school, a year younger than them, and it was all they could do not to burst with joy. Fathom had teased them about their behaviour for weeks after. Of course, she'd known exactly who they were, for she had the gift as well, even stronger than them. But no one else knew, and she didn't want it to be known yet.

Thus had begun the slowly growing, but secret, love affair. Neither of them fully understood why they needed to keep it a secret, but their visions told them that very bad things would happen if they were discovered. So they kept it to small looks across the hallway, secret meetings in unwatched places, and using Fathom as a messenger when in public. It wasn't until a few months later that they understood the danger their visions forwarned them of.

Queen Vigilance, ever spiteful and coveting, summoned Mother one night and told her of her plans. Mother had returned, a little disquiet. Everyone had looked over at her worriedly when she stood just inside the door, shellshocked. Reading the news in her mind, they had fallen silent in shock. And Mother numbly recited what she'd been told.

"The tribe animus is male, and therefore not what was promised…" she'd said. "So he will instead give his gifts onto someone more deserving."

"Who?" Arctic asked.

"When he comes of age at seven, he will marry Princess Celestial. Hopefully, his daughter, the future queen, will be blessed with the animus gift. It will be her who shall be the tribe's saviour."

They finally burst in outrage. "I won't do it! I don't love her - it is my power, they can't take it away!"

"You will do as you're told!" Arctic snapped.

They looked to mother helplessly, but she seemed just as lost. "This is an order. The directive of the program."

They vowed to themselves that this would never come true. They would not marry the princess. They would not have their lives controlled forever. And they also swore that no one would know of Clearsight, for if the Queen found out she would surely do something awful.

For Clearsight was lowborn. She was close to the bottom of the social hierarchy, never meant to achieve much of anything, the same as her parents before her. If she was found to be courting anyone above her station, she would've been penalised, let alone the tribe's prize first animus that the queen now had an investment in keeping to herself. The right thing to do would have been to stop seeing Clearsight altogether, to protect her. But they loved her, and they saw visions of how everything would change and they would be able to marry her openly. That future promised too much good for them to give up on it.

So instead, they and Clearsight had to sneak behind the backs of their superiors, just to steal a moment together. They had to pretend to be no more than acquaintances from school when in public. They defied all of society every day just to be together.

The memory faded out, and a new one took its place.

Queen Vigilance paced back and forth across her throne room angrily. Allknowing, the Queen's personal seer, had quickly vacated the room. They stood to the shadows behind the Queen's throne, one of their keepers in tow. They had arrived to update the queen on the progress of her little project. Now five, Mother claimed it would still be another year before they were sent to the front lines to join the war. But they'd heard inside the Queen's mind. She was impatient and greedy at all times.

And the war was not going well. The IceWings were managing to keep up with the NightWing forces and were even advancing. Allknowing's predictions of the future were less than helpful. Being thrice-moonborn, one would think the Queen might call on them to decipher the possible futures. But she didn't want to assign them too much power at court, and they also feigned inferiority to experienced females. Less complications that way.

But now, Allknowing had been dealt with. Now, it was time to make their move.

"Razortooth!" the Queen bellowed. A butler hurried down from the balconies to bow before the queen. With a twirl of her wings, she advanced up the dias and lounged upon her throne. "I am in need of a new personal seer. Find me one. Immediately."

Clutching onto a nail they'd picked up earlier, they allowed their magic to flow through their bones and thought very hard: I enchant this nail so that whenever I hold it, my words will be extremely convincing to Queen Vigilance. Let her hear my words and believe them completely.

They stepped forward out of the shadows. "If I may, Your Majesty?"

They sensed their Keeper go to pull him back, hissing at his impertinence. But the Queen lifted a single talon, eyeing him. "Let the halfbreed speak."

Anger made their teeth clench at the slur. But they smoothed the anger for better use later. "The NightWing school is full of promising young talent. This new generation of seers has produced some of the strongest in living memory."

"And why should I employ dragonets?" the Queen sneered, even if her mind was already ticking over his words, as the spell directed her to. "My palace is not a nursery."

"One student already shows great promise. Clearsight. Fathom knows her better than I, but he assures me that not only is she top of her class, but that her predictions of the future outstrip most adults who've been deciphering their visions for decades. What's more, her visions aren't bogged down by obscure rhyme and metaphor. Very to the point."

Vigilance sat in thought for a moment. "You realise that if she does not perform as you promise…"

"I will take the punishment." It was an easy promise to make. Clearsight would not disappoint.

"So will she." The Queen promised darkly.

Of course, everything went off without a hitch. Clearsight impressed the Queen with her abilities, and so she was appointed to the position of royal seer. Thus, she and her family status were uplifted. They were now highborns, only a rank below nobility. This meant that they could be seen together and not have to constantly watch for eyes on their every move. Socialising together was now acceptable with her change in rank. Obviously, they still could not be open about their relationship.

But that would change very soon.

When they were almost seven, and the date for their marriage to Celestial loomed ever closer, they again 'convinced' the queen to postpone the wedding until after the war was won. They planned for when that day eventually came, to convince the queen to completely annul the engagement altogether in favour of them marrying their true love, Clearsight.

But things didn't work out that way.

The memory shifted, travelling forward through time.

"Honestly, I don't know why you're so upset," they grumbled. "I'd thought you'd be happy."

Clearsight huffed and Fathom winced, knowing that sooner or later she would explode with frustration. The three of them sat atop a hill overlooking the city, the twinkling lights of the stars reflecting the candleglow of a thousand windows in the cliffside homes below.

"You want me to be happy about this?" Clearsight asked, as if such a request was completely inappropriate.

They laid down and folded their front talons over the other. "I'm no longer getting married to that spineless bimbo of a princess. You should be glad."

Fathom pulled a face. "To be clear, the Queen only said the marriage has been postponed."

"Which you orchestrated," Clearsight accused. "Whenever you're home, she hardly ever lets you leave her side. You have more sway than the entire court. Did you put a spell on her, Darkstalker?"

"You accuse me of that with no proof?" they said tightly with frustration. Honestly, why weren't they seeing the positive side to this?

"Listener told me she heard the Queen's thoughts change direction the moment you entered the room."

"And of course, you would believe her over me."

Fathom, always the one to try and settle disputes, said gently, "So you didn't enchant the Queen to listen to you?"

They shifted their wings a little. "I might've… encouraged her to consider what I say. But I didn't make her into a thrall." Clearsight closed her eyes and looked so disappointed, they felt the instant need to defend themselves from her criticism. "Clearsight, if I hadn't, I would've been marrying Celestial in a week - I'm seven now, that was always the plan. You were miserable at the thought of that. It's better to delay it so that we can slowly convince the queen to outright annul it."

"But this isn't really a delay, is it?" she said darkly. She gave him a strange look with her violet eyes that made him know she was peering into the future. "You told the queen to delay the wedding until the end of the war. We all know that you could end this war with a snap of your claws if you really wanted to."

They stood, tail lashing. "Every time I bring up ending the war for good with magic, the pair of you talk me out of it! Now you're punishing me because I haven't stopped the war?"

"But Darkstalker," said Fathom, "you like the fighting."

"Don't be ridiculous," they snorted. "You think I enjoy watching my fellow NightWings die by the dozens out on the front lines?"

Clearsight looked lost and tired and sad. "No. But you do enjoy showing off how good you are at fighting. How your magic can be used so well."

"They went through a lot of trouble to breed me this way," they said stiffly. "I might as well get some enjoyment out of it."

"You love the adulation they give you, and you love the attention of the queen. So you don't mind if the war carries on."

"Haven't I done enough for our tribe? The Amulet of Concealment, the shield that protects us from IceWings. Don't those prove that what I'm doing is to help?" they splayed their talons helplessly. "You are both condemning me for fighting where I had no option to refuse. It's alright for the both of you; you're pacifists, you've never been called on to fight."

Fathom had the sense of shame to look away. "We're not trying to make out you're a bad dragon, Darkstalker. We're just worried."

"My visions are getting worse," Clearsight admitted quietly. "The paths to our happy ending are becoming thinner."

Counting to ten in their head, they tried not to feel the now-familiar sting, the anger and hurt her words caused. "Clearsight, you promised not to focus on the dark futures too much. You can't judge me for things I haven't done yet."

"I know, I'm sorry." And they knew she truly meant it.

Guilt gnawed at their stomach. This was meant to be a happy evening, and instead it had turned into fighting. That had happened a lot recently. Clearsight was always so worried and Fathom constantly fretted over their use of magic. When they tried to convince them both that it was all for the right reasons, they wouldn't listen, and Fathom became agitated whenever they mentioned him helping them end the war.

"I don't want to prolong the fighting," he offered them. "I just… I just needed time to come up with a better solution."

Clearsight sighed and came over to them. Wrapping her wings around them, she gave them a short, sweet hug. They wanted to return it, but her words still stung. When she disengaged from them, she gave them the smallest hint of a smile. "Why don't we all go home? Whiteout is dying to see you."

Despite how much they wanted to see their sister, the idea of going home cast a shadow over their lightening mood. "Arctic will still be awake. I'd rather not run into him right now."

Fathom nodded. "He has been a little more agitated since he heard the news of you and Foeslayer returning home."

"I don't want to hear his thoughts go around the same circles of self loathing and projection," they growled. "Do you know what I found last time I was home? Arctic had been receiving messages from Diamond."

Fathom gasped. Clearsight clapped her talons over her snout. "If he's discovered, that alone would be treason!"

"What did the message say?"

They grit their teeth just remembering the words. "Diamond has issued a bounty. If Arctic brings her both Whiteout's head and mine - literally - she will forgive him and allow him back to his previous position in the Ice Kingdom. She also warned him that she has extended the bounty to all who will take it. A dragon's weight in gold and silver for our deaths."

An unlucky rock found its way into their palm. Their claws squeezed around it to vent their anger. There was a loud crack, and the rock crumbled into dust.

Clearsight put a talon on their shoulder. "Arctic's not seriously considering it, is he?"

"No. The only decent thing I can associate with him is that he would never do that to Whiteout."

"Or you," Fathom said. "Arctic isn't the best dragon, but he wouldn't do that to you either."

Poor Fathom, who naively believed the best in everyone. He wasn't inside Arctic's mind like they were. They heard all the nasty little whispers in Arctic's head, the doubts and the frustrations and the sorrow that all stewed together inside one festering soul that was slowly coming apart at the seams.

"He might not," they agreed reluctantly. "But he still hates me for fighting in a war his mother started. Because he knows I'll be the one to finish it."

The calm memory of the night on the hill dissolved like ink in water and they were plunged into chaos.

The sun beat down ferociously upon their back, making their skull pound and adding to the cacophony of roars in their ears. Someone dove past them, the passing wind shoving into them. A flash of heat from someone's fire glanced over their scales. A spray of blood nearly splattered them.

They flew fast and hard over the hills that dissolved into the desert. Scores of dragons swarmed all around them, all semblance of order gone. It was a free for all now. Clearsight had received a sudden vision warning of the enemy pressing upon their borders. Diamond knew her troops wouldn't make it past the shield - she'd found that out the hard way. Instead, she wanted to corner them, knowing they relied on trade with Kingdoms like the Rainforest. The warning had allowed the Queen to rally her troops, and now Mother was leading the charge.

But as they'd cleared the mountains, the IceWings were right there. There'd been no time to form a battle plan. The telepaths tried to keep some semblance of order within their own troops, but even that was dashed as the IceWings hounded their lines relentlessly.

They flew high and fast above it all, trying to find a good vantage point. One IceWing recognised him - which wasn't that hard as they were quite distinct from other NightWings. He came charging through the sky, frostbreath already shooting out of their jaws, serrated talons at the ready. It was easy to dodge around the attack. Their agility and strength was magnificent and unmatched. The IceWing warrior came shooting past them, eyes filled with hate and disgust. He tried to swipe his claws across their throat, but they caught the offending limb and with a quick and practised wrench snapped the wrist bone in two places. The IceWing howled and tried to beat his wings around their head to get them off. They kicked at his ribs, knocking the air from his lungs, wrapping their tail around his to stop the spikes slicing them open. With one last effort, the IceWing let loose another shot of frostbreath that hit their neck.

The pain was immense, but after a moment, their indestructible scales brushed off any damage and they were left without a mark. The IceWing's eyes went wide in dawning terror. Snarling, they smacked the back of their fist into the IceWing's snout. Blue blood spurted from a broken nose. A quick end would solve this -

Something slammed into their back, winding them and sending them tumbling down several feet. Getting their wings under control, they spun to face the enemy that had dared -

It was a little IceWing, probably no more than four or five years old. Her crystal blue eyes were wide and her mind was screaming with terror. This was her first battle. Her family was poor and that was her big brother they'd almost killed, and she didn't want to fight but she knew she couldn't watch her brother die. She was helping him, trying to support him to fly back to camp, even though her strength wasn't that great. They watched her go, listened to her frightened mind. It would be so easy to kill them both, but they didn't. Something about it made their stomachs turn. So they pretended to be disoriented for a moment, and not notice the pair leave.

Back on their mission, they rose again above the aerial battlefield. Mother's defence squad would soon win the battle in their favour, but their job was to deal attacks through magical means with devastating effect. They had to win the battle for everyone. Reading the minds of the IceWings below, they tried to discern what enchantments Diamond had given them. Since they'd let loose their powers on her soldiers, that had given her free reign to also respond in kind. Clearsight could predict most of her decisions, but not all. So if they could figure out what spells she'd given her soldiers today, they could cast a spell to work around those limitations.

As they searched and contemplated the needed spell, their mind kept ticking back to that little IceWing, willing to do anything to save her brother. It made them think of the dilemmas back home. Of Fathom and Clearsight. Fathom was so lost after Indigo's disappearance, his heart bleeding in a way that made their spirit heavy with growing guilt. But it had been an accident! It wasn't their fault. Yet the thought of that IceWing, willing to do anything to save her brother; they couldn't help but compare. Would she keep secrets from her brother if it meant his happiness? Would Fathom understand if they came clean with the truth? Though they weren't blood brothers, they had grown up together. But lately, the divide between their ideals was growing larger and larger. And Clearsight was of no help at all. She was constantly throwing herself in the future, worrying over the bad paths and judging the present for it. Their relationship was suffering because of it. They loved her, but it was getting harder to -

So wrapped up in their own world, so distracted, they didn't realise what was happening until it was too late.

"DARKSTALKER!" screamed Mother. What-?

Mother slammed into their side, pushing them out of the way. They spun, trying to get back to her. They could feel her fear, her love that made her willing to do anything to protect them. Foeslayer was above them, occupying the space in the clouds they had been. Her talon was still reaching for them -

A white diamond-tipped spear erupted out through her chest. Red blood spurted into the air, several drops splattering their face. Mother's eyes went wide, and she looked down. Her shaking talon reached for the spear, wrapping her claws around its shaft. Her eyes darted to her son, and she smiled weakly, blood spilling from her mouth at the same moment as a tear fell from her eye. They were in her mind as she projected onto them everything in her heart. The door she had always kept tightly closed was finally let loose and out of it poured all the love in all the world, the pride, the joy, the sheer wonder she felt for her son. And how sorry she was that it had to end this way.

The world stopped turning. Air ceased to exist. All feeling left their body.

And then the spear retracted with a sickening CRUNCH. Mother's eyes rolled into the back of her head and they felt the moment where mind, her emotion, her voice, vanished into nothingness. One moment it was there, and then the next: POP, and it was gone from the world. Foeslayer fell from the sky.

"NOOOO!" They screamed and dove to catch her. They cast spell after spell, watched mother's body be physically healed, stop its downward momentum towards the ground, but still her mind and soul did not come back. They were screaming, tears were running down their face.

Down on the ground, miles below, boulders and entire dunes of condensed sand floated into the air and shot upwards to smash into anyone unfortunate enough to be between them and mother's body. They had to get to her. Pain was splitting them apart and it was all their fault! They'd all killed mother! They'd all fought in this stupid war! They hadn't told mother they'd made themselves indestructible and immortal, so of course she would throw herself into danger to protect them!

But then talons seized hold of them, dark wings beating around their head. "Stop this now!" someone was shouting at them. All around, IceWings and NightWings alike were being hit by the deadly projectiles their magic was hurtling into the skies.

"Get off me!" they shouted hoarsely, fighting to get free.

IceWings surrounded mother's body, taking hold of her limbs and starting to carry her away, knowing Diamond would want her corpse as proof. One of them had the red-tipped spear. It was the same warrior that had attacked them earlier, the same one they had just spared for the sake of their sister. That's when they figured out Diamond's latest spell in his mind: amulets worn by specific healers at their camp that would heal all her troops instantly of any injury.

The warrior glanced back at them as they helped to carry mother away. He smirked.

"STOP!" they screamed. A wave of energy rolled off of them, blasting back all the NightWings trying to subdue them. They went to take after the IceWings, claws at the ready, a spell forming in their mind. One that would kill them - no, maim them - no, just hold them suspended until they could get to them and rip them apart for-!

Something clobbered them over the head, and the world went instantly dark.

When they came too, they were in the palace. The Queen punished them for their lack of discipline and use of magic on their fellow troops. Positions of rank were stripped from them temporarily as punishment and they were forced to remain in the palace until they remembered their place and were deemed fit to return to the front lines. Clearsight and Fathom stayed with them throughout, holding them as they wept and grieved. From the reports she brought from home, Arctic was beside himself with grief and Whiteout hadn't stopped crying.

In the midst of their sorrow, they laid awake at night in their bed and cried into the pillow. All they could think was how unnecessary mother's death had been. All they could remember was her undying love and pride in them, even as she faded out of existence. And all they could do to comfort themselves in the dark, was to swear revenge.

The tears were uncontrollable, but the memories were almost over.

Eight months after Foeslayer's death, and they were only just starting to get a full day's sleep. The grieving had been intense and horrible, and somewhere deep down, it still bubbled, waiting for a time to erupt. A horrible and dark rage had consumed their thoughts, pushing them to be more vicious than they ever had been before. When the Queen asked for spells to make weapons of devastation, they no longer hesitated. They were hurting, and they wanted everyone to hurt with them.

Clearsight had been the one to pull them out of it. She talked them through their emotions, made them understand the implications of their actions. When all in the palace was quiet, she would sneak to their room in order to hold them until sundown. She was the one who taught them how to smile again.

She had also been the one to talk them into attending this farce.

The Queen was celebrating her jubilee, of forty three years on the throne. Five nights worth of activities were planned for all NightWings to enjoy, including theatrical performances, sporting events, showcases and festivals. Tonight, the first night of the celebrations, whilst the public enjoyed parties in the streets, the Palace was hosting a masquerade ball for all of the nobility to attend.

The staff had truly outdone themselves. Vigilance loved any reason to throw a ball, and so the sight of the ballroom had become quite monotonous to them. But not tonight. Diamonds seemed to sparkle out of every surface, and all manner of coloured banners were strung across the ceiling. Music constantly flowed through the air, and they couldn't help but hum along to the perfect melodies and intriguing harmonies. The ballroom was also filled with dragons, each wearing different styles of masks or otherwise coverings to hide their identity. Due to the sheer mass of bodies, it was quite easy to lose track of who was who. But that could not be said for all the guests.

Even when wearing a silver mask, and matching jewelry and finery, they weren't exactly concealed. With their distinctive twisting horns and tall stature, they were easy to pick out. As was the Queen easy to spot, with her mask and silk a striking blood red. Whiteout flitted about the ballroom, Fathom at her side. Instead of wearing a mask, she had instead chosen to paint both their faces in surprisingly intricate patterns of blue. She was the most beautiful dragon at the ball, a fact that rubbed the nobles the wrong way as they eyed her and her "defectiveness" with clear distaste. It made them smirk. They had insisted on inviting Whiteout, giving her a chance to enjoy the life she should never have been shunned from. Fathom had been good enough to accompany her and make sure she was alright. Arctic had also been invited (by the Queen's request, not theirs) but he had declined, he hadn't been seen out in public at all since Mother died.

But that didn't matter to them. What mattered, was the one across the ballroom, eyeing them through an enchanted mask.

"I thought I'd find you skulking off to the side," said a voice. They turned, holding back a sneer as Princess Celestial came strutting up beside them, her mask bone white, and the lace she'd hung between her horns a pale cream. "Mother says we should be seen dancing together."

They glanced subtly to the other side of the room, and noticed Vigilance watching them. She had started to exceed the limits of their control, growing more paranoid and argumentative as of late. More than once, she'd pressed the issue of their upcoming marriage to the princess. They repressed a growl.

"And you are a good daughter, are you not, Your Grace?" they replied, not bothering to hide their bored tone. "You do as you're bid exactly to the letter. The Queen must be so proud."

The princess eyed him. "Until I challenge her for the throne, I might as well be amicable."

"Then I'd hurry up and get on with it if I were you, and put us all out of our misery." they grumbled. Shooting back the rest of their wine, they set the glass down on a nearby table. Without waiting for their supposed bride-to-be, they stalked forwards towards the dance floor. "Let's get this over with."

Her anger was palpable in her mind - it was unwise to speak so brazenly towards her. But they cared very little for what she thought. They just wanted some way to make this evening go by easier. Crowds of dancers parted for them and their princess, and they took up position in the centre. The music played, and they danced side by side with the princess. Eyes watched them from every angle, the whispers of minds echoed about them, wondering if this was the future Queen and consort that performed before them. They wanted to snap that there was no way on earth for that to be a reality! But they bit their tongue and played the part, only doing what was necessary and nothing more. Vigilance was pacified now that they and Celestial had made a good show, so when the music came to a stop, the princess nodded her head and exited the dancefloor graciously.

They lingered as the music started once again. They stayed there for two more dances, dancing with random partners that were brave enough to approach. And then, as the second ended and the music paused before the third dance began, there she was!

She wore a mask of gold, with gold trim adorning her modest necklace and bracelets. She smiled, and though everyone else wouldn't know her, they could see the violet shade of her eyes through the mask and instantly felt their heart be at peace. The nerve to dance with them in front of everyone made her nervous and giddy at the same time. But they already knew she'd checked the futures to be sure that this was fine, otherwise she never would have agreed to this plan.

They'd enchanted her mask so that when she wore it, no one but them would be able to recognise her. She would appear as a random NightWing of the court, a nobody, and the spell would influence everyone around her to forget her almost as soon as they took their eyes away.

The music began again, and as if pulled by strings, they took up the position of the dance and began. They led Clearsight across the ballroom, wings and tails brushing intricately, necks curving and legs side stepping at the perfect moments. Music crescendoed around the pair of them and the rest of the world fell away, until only the two of them existed in this moment.

"It's a beautiful party," she said softly beside their ear.

"Indeed," they couldn't help but give a goofy grin. "You know, I always wanted a party just like this for my own hatchingday."

Clearsight snorted. "Oh, I'll be sure to book the ballroom out just for you! I'm sure no one will have any objections."

"I'm the NightWing animus," they said in an exaggerated cocky tone. "Why shouldn't there be special exceptions just for me?"

She laughed, leaning into them. The night carried on and the stole a few more dances together. And the music played, and they wanted to commit it to memory so as to never forget this moment where everything felt right with the world again.

But sadly, that was the beginning of the end.

One last memory was still to be played, to finish this tragic tale.

Perhaps it had been their actions at the ball that had finally tipped Vigilance off. Maybe the spell hadn't been foolproof after all, or maybe Vigilance was just that cunning that she'd somehow figured it out. For she learned of the secret love affair between them and Clearsight, and as they had always feared, she took swift and deadly action.

They had been going about their regular business, accompanying Fathom around the stalls of the festival. Whiteout had decided to stay in the tent that held the glass sculptures a while back, to talk with a male named Thoughtful. A quick read of the future told them that he would be good for their sister. But as they had been making their way through the plaza, they had been struck by a sudden and urgent vision.

Clearsight, being dragged away by royal guards, to be executed somewhere quickly and quietly on the Queen's orders. Such rage had filled them, Fathom had even become aware that something was off with them. How dare Vigilance do this?! No! They wouldn't allow it - no one would ever take dragons from them again! This was the last straw!

Leaping into the air, they shot towards the castle, with Fathom following, yelling behind them. They didn't hear, didn't slow. They shot straight over the walls and dove for one of the courtyards. There, they found what their visions had promised - Vigilance and Allknowing stood in the centre of the gardens, and several guards surrounding Clearsight. With a roar, they burst onto the scene, landing with all their weight onto one guard, snapping his spine instantly. They turned and clawed at a second's face, blinding him, before shoving him away. The third tried to swipe at their throat, but of course her talons just glanced off their impenetrable scales. They grabbed hold of her head and smashed it into the ground. Behind them, they knew Fathom and Clearsight were beating off the last few guards but more were on their way. There was little time.

But time enough to do what they should've done years ago.

"You!" They snarled as they locked eyes with Vigilance. She stared back, frightened but desperate to hide it. Allknowing cowered behind her. They stalked forward, the proclamation to challenge for the throne ready on their tongue -

"Darkstalker, no!" Clearsight yelled. She slammed into their side, wrapping her arms around their shoulders and trying to hoist them into the air. About the walls, more guards were starting to pour in. If they didn't leave now, Fathom and Clearsight would be killed.

With a roar of rage, they turned around and pushed Fathom and Clearsight into the air. They flew as fast as they could, ducking and weaving out of the reaching talons of the guards that tried to grab them. Through sheer luck and only two murmured spells, they managed to evade their pursuers and lose them long enough to hide in a side alley in the city below the Castle. All three of them stood still a moment, panting from the sudden exertion.

And then Clearsight turned around and slammed into them. She pushed their body into the ground, her talons pressing down on their shoulders. "Liar!"

"Clearsight-!" Both they and Fathom said in unison, shocked.

"Allknowing came to the Queen, told her that you were planning on killing her! That you planned to steal the throne." Clearsight hissed. "She told her about us!"

"I wouldn't have, had she not tried to hurt you!" they argued.

"Really?" tears stung the corners of her eyes. "Because it seems to me like you've been preparing for this fight. You made yourself invulnerable, didn't you, Darkstalker? That's why you never come back from battles with even a scratch."

They had no comeback to that, no way to explain it.

"And once you've made yourself invulnerable, it's only a short jump to immortality. Unless…" and her eyes went far away as she propelled herself into the future. And it was only then that they noticed she didn't have her earrings on! When she came back, she scrambled away from them in horror. "What have you done…?"

Fathom seemed to understand what she implied, and his eyes widened. "Darkstalker…"

Slowly, they rolled to their feet, expression thunderous, hurt by their rejection. "I did what I had to."

"Did that include enchanting me?" Clearsight spat, her voice breaking.

"What?!" Fathom cried. "Darkstalker, you didn't!"

"You were constantly looking into the bad futures on purpose, Clearsight," they snapped. "Everything I did, every choice I made, you pecked at me to go down the paths you desired."

"To get us to our happy future!"

"And in the same breath take away my choice! My choice to choose my future, what I wanted out of life. You promised to stay in the present with me, to judge me for who I am now, yet you constantly broke that promise."

"So you decided to take away my gift? You forced me to only see the good futures. Was it so I wouldn't see what you were doing? So that I wouldn't be able to stop you?"

"And why shouldn't I be King?" they yelled. "I am the most powerful dragon in all the NightWing tribe - in all of Pyrrhia! Why shouldn't I use my gifts to lead our tribe into greatness? Vigilance is a tyrant that will never be satisfied! Isn't it better that I deal with her now and repair the damage she's done to us all?"

Fathom shook his head. "Your powers shouldn't be used like that. To gain power like that. It's unnatural-"

"Oh Fathom, do shut up!" they snapped at the SeaWing. "You wouldn't know the first thing about power - you spend your entire life scurrying away from the mere thought of it!"

"At least I don't play with dragons like they're toys!"

That honestly struck something inside them. "It wasn't like that… I never…"

And perhaps things might've turned out different if the three of them had stayed in that alley and talked things out. But in that moment, a vision struck them and Clearsight. A terrible vision, of Arctic stealing Whiteout, of the pair fleeing north across the sands… towards the Kingdom of Ice.

Fury made their talons shake. A constant noise vibrated in the air, hurting their ears, and then they realised it was them, growling.

"Darkstalker," Clearsight begged quietly, "please-"

Too late. Leaping into the air, they raced north after their father and sister. This would not happen - they refused to let him get away with this!

As the final memory receded, Darkstalker released Moon's talon, and slowly let his own arm sink to the floor. He was numb, spent from having to relive it all over again. He'd thought he'd dealt with all of it, but that had still felt so real and fresh, it was like it never went away. So many emotions were building inside of him, but he clamped down on it, refusing to let it manifest. He was a blank slate, not even his mind could be reached if Moon tried.

She watched him, green eyes wide with pity, the corners stained red from her tears. "Oh, Darkstalker," she whispered and laid herself by his side and wrapped her wings around him to embrace him. He leaned into her touch, but still refused to let the dam burst. Or else they'd both drown.

He couldn't look directly into her face, not after witnessing those memories again. Ever since he'd woken up, he'd done his best to not think of her. Even when showing Moon the memories, he'd done his best not to focus so much on Clearsight, just her build and eye colour. He was too shaken to confront that yet.

The smaller NightWing allowed the silence to grow for a few moments. And then, he heard her quietly ask: "What happened after that?"

He let out a long exhale through his nose. "Arctic was consumed by grief. When mother died, he lost his only tether to the NightWings. He kidnapped Whiteout and planned to betray our entire tribe - he would give Diamond all our secrets, give her a way to destroy us all, in exchange for Whiteout's life and mother's body. What he planned to do with it… I don't know. But we (Clearsight, Fathom and I) stopped him before he could do any of that."

"And… that was how you killed him?"

Another deep breath. "Yes."

"Did you plan on ever releasing Clearsight from that spell?" she asked in a wary voice.

"Yes," he said. "When we'd achieved our happy ending and the worst moments were behind us. I didn't want her to have to see what I'd need to do to get us there, have her worry constantly over my soul. I had visions of being one of the greatest monarchs of all time, Moon. I saw the age of peace and prosperity I would bring. She saw these visions too. Clearsight knew those futures existed… but she also saw the ones where I turned towards evil, destroying instead of protecting. She didn't believe me that I could avoid those paths."

He stared at the floor, trying to quell the sorrow and anger he felt at even thinking about her. A dainty talon reached out for his and gave his claws a gentle squeeze. Cautiously, Darkstalker peered into Moon's mind, to gauge her reaction to all this. Of course, he couldn't read her private thoughts thanks to her earring, but he could still feel her general emotions. There was no disgust or horror, just an infinite well of sympathy.

"In the end, I guess she didn't believe in me at all," he heard himself say. "I wonder what happened to her…"

Had she moved away with the rest of the tribe? Had she instead gone to some far off corner of the continent? Had she decided to marry Fathom instead? In the end, it didn't matter. She was dead, her bones now dust, the last traces of her gone from the world.

Clearsight was dead.

Clearsight… was dead.

In two years, he still had not confronted that simple fact. Clearsight was gone. Fathom had turned on him. Mother was murdered. Father betrayed him. Even Whiteout had faded from existence.

There was no one left for him. He was truly alone.

"Um, excuse me, Moon," he said, his voice thick with unshed tears. "But I think I need to be alone for a little while."

As quickly as his shaky legs could carry him, he left her side and wandered through the castle. Sunrise wasn't far, but he didn't feel even the tiniest hint of sleep. In fact, he wanted to avoid it. Ever since returning to the Kingdom of Night, he'd not been able to sleep at all without constant nightmares of everything he'd lost. And now it was all piling up around him. At each corner he turned and saw a new corridor filled with destruction, he was reminded again and again that he was adrift in the sea of time.

Their faces refused to leave him be. Whiteout, Mother, Fathom, Clearsight… he'd lost them all. And the last thing he could remember of each of them were tainted with unhappiness. Mother dying in front of him. Whiteout crying quietly on the stage beside him. Fathom, writhing in pain and anger and disappointment as they fought each other. And Clearsight…

"You couldn't just be happy with me? You couldn't let me try to make things better for everyone?!"

"I want to, Darkstalker… but what you're doing…"

"They deserved it! After everything they did to me, every abuse I have suffered, why am I not allowed justice?!"

"Vengeance is not justice. And this is not love. Maybe it never was."

That had been her last words right before she'd put the bracelet on him, and he'd fallen into the enchanted sleep. When he'd woken up, he'd tried calling to her, searching the futures for her… but she was nowhere to be found. She was gone, she'd left him.

A weight was crushing in on Darkstalker's chest, making it difficult to breathe. All the memories were consuming him, eating him alive from the inside out, and he didn't know how much more he could take. He'd accepted this deal with Moon because he'd thought it would be a sure way to earn her trust, to help her understand him. But now he regretted it deeply. Telling the story of Clearsight had opened up a thousand wounds from which he bled sorrow and heartache that was swallowing him up.

Blinking, he found himself in front of the door. The door he had earlier forbid Moon from entering. It was the one thing he wasn't ready for anyone else to face. It was the last remnants of his old world. Opening the door, they stepped inside the room that felt far too small. It had felt small back when he'd first been assigned it upon moving into the Castle at the Queen's behest. Now, with his greater stature, it felt almost claustrophobic.

But here were the memories he'd hoped had been saved. A desk cluttered with inkpots that had long since gone dry, and scrolls filled with notes and calculations on spells and war-plans. Shelves on the wall were filled with seemingly random objects. The little mechanical contraptions he'd tinkered with when bored. The little scavenger doll Whiteout had given him so that he wouldn't be lonely in the castle. And the music box he'd bought when he was only eighteen months old, with a coin mother had given him as a reward for doing chores around the house. He hadn't known what possessed to buy it, it had been a broken, rundown antique being sold off for parts. But he'd taken it home and repaired it, and then used his magic so that it would never fall apart again. It always made such beautiful music. That night at the ball, the musicians had played the same tune as the box. It was the melody that always turned over and over inside his head.

And there, on the far wall, was the painting of Clearsight. He'd done it in school as part of a project. It wasn't that good, and some of the proportions were off, but he'd loved it. Two thousands years hadn't been kind to the portrait, even though this closet of a room had no windows for the sunlight to eat at it. It was faded and cracked, but he could still make out her image within the canvas.

She looked exactly like Moon.

There were a few differences, of course. Clearsight had had amethyst eyes, whereas Moon's were the green of sparkling emeralds. Moon had the silver teardrop scales by her eyes where Clearsight hadn't. But the resemblance between the two was staggering. It had shocked him when he'd first seen Moon in the flesh, almost called her by another name. He'd thought he'd gotten used to it, but after tonight, he couldn't shake it out of his head.

"How could you do this, Clearsight," Darkstalker whispered, reaching out a talon to gently stroke the face of the dragoness in the painting. "How could you leave me, expect me to move on, and yet haunt me with your likeness in the one friend I have in this world?" And then his brows drew down in anger. "Or did you not ever want me to wake up?"

In the corner of the room lay his old bed. He had barely fit it back in the day, let alone now. Slowly taking hold of the sheet, he stood on his back legs and draped it over the portrait. It hurt too much to see it. These thoughts hurt too much to think them. But he couldn't put them off. He was stuck in a labyrinth of agony that had no end.

"You can't leave me in this world alone, Clearsight," he told her, his touch lingering on the covered painting. "I need you back… I will have you back!"

Some part of his mind was sounding an alarm, but it was almost as if all his emotions had been poisoned with a paralysis toxin. He was so emotionally spent, he couldn't feel anything anymore. And all voices of rational thought were closed behind a glass door, so that he was running purely on impulse. It was like watching himself move in a dream. And he watched himself crawl through the many passages of the castle until he sank below it and went deep into the dungeons. His body knew exactly where to go - he'd been down this route often enough in the last few days.

In a cell in the furthest, darkest dungeon, where no one would ever hear cries or screams, where not even telepaths could reach this far below, sat his prisoner. Rusty but strong manacles and chains secured her to the far wall, a small bloodied plate beside her showed she'd eaten. Her cracked, dusty coloured scales had started to accumulate filth from the dungeon floor, and her eyes were rimmed with shadows.

The SandWing thief (who only referred to herself as Picker) had never escaped that night. It was an unfortunate lie that he'd had to tell Moon, but there was no other way. He'd caught her in the mountains and brought her here, the perfect subject for him to glean information from.

On a table by the cell door, just out of her reach, lay the Amulet of Concealment. It glinted gold and red in the dim light of a torch Darkstalker had left out. It oozed an aura of anticipation, knowing it's master was near. The Amulet had been created originally to placate Vigilance's want for more flashy spells in the war. She wanted spells that would kill an entire IceWing platoon. Clearsight and Fathom had argued against it. This had been the compromise. An Amulet that would allow spies and assassins to assume the guise of any tribe they wished. But Darkstalker was no fool, and knew that sooner or later, if he were not careful, then his own enchantments would be used against him. When he'd officially begun to craft animus-touched objects for the queen, all his enchanted items had had a secret secondary spell placed upon them that would only work for him. A fail safe, a master key only he could wield.

The one placed upon the Amulet? So that when he ordered it, the dragon wearing the amulet would transform, physically, mentally and emotionally, into a complete other dragon. Usually, the Amulet only allowed the wearer to transform into what they would look like had they been born to another tribe. But over the past two dawns, Darkstalker had used the Amulet on Picker, transforming her into the different queens of Pyrrhia. When he ordered it to transform her into Queen Coral, for example, she completely became her, with all her memories and personality quirks the same as the "real" version. It had been a great way for him to keep up with all the latest news around the continent.

He picked up the Amulet, feeling its weight in his large, bony talon. At the scrape of the gold chain against the wood, Picker cracked open her eyes. She stared up at his shadow through the bars of her cell. "The master comes," she whispered hoarsely.

She'd taken to calling him that, he'd certainly never asked her to. Perhaps she did it in an effort to appease him so he would let her go. All her slave-like devotion did was creep him out.

"I'm sorry for these appalling conditions, Picker," he said in a flat voice void of emotion. "But with any luck, this will be the last dawn you spend in this cell."

He opened the cell door and made his way slowly towards her, his feet dragging. Claws clutched the Amulet to his chest, its weight seeming to grow heavier as it neared its prey. Picker tried to stand, one leg splinted and bandaged. Her crazed eyes looked eager. "Anything the master wishes, I will do!"

Did she really want to please him or was she so addicted to the feel of gold touching her scales she would do anything to have the Amulet placed upon her. It didn't matter either way. Joints stiff, Darkstalker held up the Amulet and slipped it over Picker's head and slid it into place around her neck. He poked the large ruby at its centre with one wickedly long claw. "Become Clearsight."

Picker suddenly coughed, her breathing ragged. Her sandy scales darkened, black veins snaking across her form to try to transform her to the colour of shadows. Her eyes flickered from yellow to violet. It seemed that the transformation was taking hold of her, but then the SandWing doubled over, coughing violently, legs trembling and all her appendages going thin, veins popping out all across her body. Blood poured from the corners of her mouth and instantly turned to dust. She was dying.

Darkstalker surged forward and touched the Amulet once again. "Stop!" and then he wrenched the Amulet off her. Instantly, Picker returned to normal and flopped onto the floor, exhausted. He pushed a nearby bowl of water towards her, making her drink. When she had at least taken a few sips, he let her be.

There was always the possibility that this wouldn't work. Rumour had it that animus magic could do anything aside from two things: time travel and bring back the dead. Had even the Amulet's enchantment pushed the boundaries of these rules? He'd ordered it to become Clearsight, and since she was dead, it had tried to mimic that state.

Or… perhaps there was another reason, some dark corner of his mind whispered to him. It brought up the conversation he'd had with Moon last night, that NightWings used to believe in reincarnation, that a soul destined for greatness would come back to fulfill the life destiny had meant for them.

Was that why Moon looked like Clearsight? Was she…?

He was moving before he knew what he was doing. Once again that numbness had taken hold of him. A part of his mind was screaming at him, demanding he stop, but it felt like that other part was in control now, this desire to end his torment would not be stopped, and so shut down all rational thought he possessed.

The sun was up as he found his way towards Moon's rooms. Silent as a shadow, he crept into her chambers, and found her asleep within the newly refurbished bed they had worked on hours earlier. She lay curled up and peaceful, head laid daintily on her crossed talons.

He stood over her bed, and all at once seemed to come back to himself as he held the Amulet of Concealment in one talon. His eyes flickered between it and Moon. How at rest she looked, completely trusting, feeling entirely safe within these walls. And here he was, contemplating whether or not he should turn her into Clearsight, paralysed with indecision.

He loved Clearsight, he'd loved her since he was a dragonet, his whole future had been centred around her and since she'd left him he'd felt so lost and alone. The ache inside him felt like it was cracking him open, wider and wider without her. Yet at the same time, he still felt so angry at what she'd done. It wasn't because she had thwarted his plans, it was the fact that she had sent him into a future where he was completely isolated and with no one to guide him, and everything he'd ever known and loved ripped away until he almost didn't know who he was himself anymore. And for that, he couldn't forgive her.

The desperate want inside of him to have her back was almost suffocating him. The idea of having that love back with him and to not be alone anymore was too tempting. Yet to do that, he would have to put this Amulet onto Moon and… what if it didn't work? What if what happened to Picker also happened to Moon? He would never forgive himself if he hurt her. But then, what if it did work? To replace Moon with Clearsight, forever, would effectively mean "killing" Moon. The very idea made him feel sick. He cared about Moon so much. In his life he had cared genuinely for very few dragons, and Moon had driven herself into his heart so irretrievably he was willing to do anything to please her, to see her thrive and grow. He loved the way she made him laugh, was eternally grateful to her for being the first friend he'd had in two thousand years, the one who had made his isolation bearable. She was the one where, despite everything she'd learned of him thus far, was still willing to see good in him, to believe in him.

The Amulet fell from his claws and clacked against the floor. The air rushed out of his lungs in one powerful, quiet half-sob. Tears fell from his eyes as his brain finally caught up with itself. Of course he couldn't do it, how could he have ever possibly considered it in the first place?! Quietly, he knelt by Moon's bedside and hung over her. Gently as could be, he pressed his forehead to hers and closed his eyes, letting his tears wash away the sin he'd almost committed.

"Forgive me," he whispered. And then, with no noise, he swept up the Amulet and fled her chambers, unknowing of the tears he had left on her bedside, or how her eyes fluttered open to find only the emptiness and droplets soaking her sheets.

Darkstalker moved through the castle as fast as he could. Guilt poisoned his soul. He couldn't stand the sight of anything that reminded him of this dreadful night. Thankfully, the painting was already covered. He ran to his chambers and stuffed the Amulet into a desk draw that still had a working lock. He planned to leave the accursed thing there forever if he must!

Next, he hurried down to the dungeons and, unconcerned if the prisoner saw his tear-streaked face, threw open her cell door and snapped off her chains. "Go," he told her. "Leave now. By sunset I don't want you anywhere near this Kingdom."

He expected her to leave in a hurry, to stand and limp away as fast as she could. But instead, Picker crowded at his talons like an accolade before her high-priest. Her eyes were wide and filled with awe. "Master cannot send me out into the unforgiving lands now! Tell me what to do, tell me how best to serve you, master, and I will! Promise!"

Perhaps her time living alone and then in these dungeons had made her a little soft in the head. He backed up out of the cell but she eagerly followed. In his hasty attempt to be rid of her, Darkstalker said, "Fine! Just leave. Leave the Night Kingdom and, um, spy for me. Go out into the world and learn what you can - anything important. I don't care what. Just go."

"Yes, master!" she cried happily. "Thank you, master!"

And then she hopped away, singing a merry off-key tune that echoed amidst the vast walls of the dungeons.

Author's Note: Sorry this was a really long chapter! I hope they don't regularly become this long, hahaha, but I hope you all enjoyed it anyway :) Poor Darkstalker, my traumatized baby xD

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