Chapter Twenty Six

As they had been instructed, Blister's forces steadily moved north through the Kingdom of Sand, to regions that had previously been unobtainable to them thanks to the IceWing blockade. Despite their Queen's orders, they still pushed on cautiously, expecting a trap or heavy resistance, at least. And yet, as they pushed onward, they found entire camps abandoned, oases left undefended. Even all the way to the tundra territory was empty of any IceWings. The SandWing soldiers couldn't quite believe it… yet they weren't going to look a gift viper in the mouth.

Within those first few hours, they managed to sow chaos amongst the oases and small villages that had previously defied Blister's rule. They brought swift punishment onto both guilty and random individuals in order to make a spectacle of them. These dragons needed to be taught a lesson. Where once they had bowed beneath the supposed protection of the IceWings, now they had been left as sacrifices to appease Blister's forces. Long before the sun travelled across the sky, the sands were stained red with blood.

And yet in the Deep Palace, they knew nothing of the horrors inflicted on the other side of the continent. They had problems of their own.

Queen Coral soon received the news of Moorhen's and the MudWings' advances onto her territory, and subsequently flew into a righteous rage. Her phosphorescent scales shone a little too brightly than was necessary as she communicated her orders. She wanted her brother to gather her troops in order to defend their coastal regions. If Moorhen wanted the coast, then she wouldn't take them without a fight.

Anemone and her sister, Auklet, watched their mother go back and forth across the throne room. They sat beside the SeaWing throne, a beautiful sculpture made to resemble a gigantic clam, adorned with polished aragonite, emeralds and pearls. Auklet boredly played with baubles attached to the end of her harness, whilst Anemone was glad she wasn't in one. It had been easy to convince her mother (thanks in no small part to a simple secret spell) that only the youngest daughter of the queen should be harnessed to her. That left Anemone to be blessedly free. Not that there was much to do with that freedom, her mother watched her every move like a shark.

The princess sighed, trying to hold back her obvious boredom, but also her frustration. She'd already tried to offer her magic to her mother's cause, only to be immediately shot down and coddled. Her mother didn't want her anywhere near danger, but she also thought Anemone not knowledgeable enough to wield her power. In all truth, the princess was insulted. Years of her life being told she was the tribe's saviour, that she was special, that she was oh-so-important felt wasted when she offered to be of service but was continuously rejected.

A few years ago, she wouldn't have been given much of a choice but to help. But since Tsunami had come, and they'd discovered Princess Orca's secret animus powers and how it had been destroying their family, Queen Coral had avoided the subject of magic at any cost. She didn't want Anemone to go down that same path, but couldn't she see that Anemone was nothing like Orca? She was one of the few surviving princesses, she was the animus, surely that meant she must have some purpose, some grand destiny to fulfill. So it stood to reason that she would never turn out like Orca.

Glancing up at the throne of the SeaWings, Anemone lost herself in thought. Her mother was now afraid of animus magic and would prefer it if Anemone shut it off forever. But who could deny the beauty in this power? How could they keep her soul caged like this?

Wistfully, she thought of the mysterious NightWing animus, the one they called Darkstalker. Since they'd received the letter from the Dragons of Destiny, Anemone hadn't been able to stop thinking about him. Was he like her? Would he understand her plight if she told him? If what held her back was a lack of knowledge, then surely he could teach her more about their powers?

As Coral continued her tirade, Anemone lost herself in imaginings of learning a craft under someone like the Darkstalker. Someone who was a lot like herself.

Winter marched through the tunnels, attempting to keep his hopes down for the meeting ahead. The others of the Jade Winglet were meant to meet him here, but they weren't on time and he couldn't wait. All the while, he attempted to keep himself calm, he'd learned already that anger would get him nowhere. He had to approach this diplomatically. Or, at least, as much as he was able to.

As he rounded the corner, he heard voices up ahead. The Dragons of Destiny were gathered in Queen Glory's sleeping cave for this meeting, and by the sound of it, they were in the middle of an altercation. Despite the sense of urgency that had bubbled in Winter's stomach a few seconds ago, he stopped to listen.

"We'll need to send word to Ruby immediately," said Starflight, a little flustered. "She'll need our assurances that we can solve this mess."

"Forget that," snapped Tsunami, "we need to send messages to all the queens, immediately! All of them need to calm down for half a minute and let us sort this out."

"And by us 'sorting this out'," came the voice of Queen Glory, her voice quiet and cold. "Do you mean sending my RainWings out into the field? Were you going to inform me first before you did so?"

Tsunami gave a loud sigh. "Glory, I said I was sorry. It was only a suggestion, I didn't mean to take them out to battle right this minute. Even I know they wouldn't last a second!"

"Oh, because we're RainWings and so far beneath all the rest of you?!"

"Whoa-whoa!" That deep but gentle voice was definitely Clay. "No one's saying that, Glory. You know none of us think that."

"We think the RainWings are wonderful," piped up Sunny. Ah, so they were all gathered here in one spot, Winter thought. Good. "You're wonderful, always have been."

"As scouts and spies," Clay continued eagerly, "the RainWings have proven themselves. Their camouflage and speed are unmatched."

There was a pregnant pause that Glory eventually had to break. "But they wouldn't win in a fight." It wasn't a question, as if even she knew the truth of the statement.

"Your venom is formidable," said Starflight. "But RainWings are built thin and lightweight, evolved for moving between tightly packed trees with ease. In a straight out fight? Even with battle training, they would be disadvantaged."

"I'm the one who's been training those RainWings," said Tsunami in a quiet voice. "I know how good they are. I'd never discredit them just for being who they are."

Winter couldn't help but think back to when he'd first arrived at Jade Mountain, how he'd put down the RainWings, and every other tribe for that matter, just because they were different. They were not IceWings, so that made them inferior. That was what he'd always been taught, a truth ingrained into his bones. But now he looked at his friends and acknowledged that they each had their uses, could do things that were beyond him. He tried to pinpoint the exact moment when his mindset changed, but could find no such memory.

There was another short silence. And then, Glory said, "I know. I'm sorry, Tsunami."

"Oh wow," Sunny giggled. "I think that's a first! We must remember to write this down in the calendar!"

Glory snorted. "Sometimes you guys make it very easy to hate you."

"Yeah," Clay said happily. "But then we also make it very easy for you to love us."

"I'm just so frustrated," admitted the Queen in a rare moment of vulnerability. "There's no easy solution to any of this. It's not like we can snap our claws and just make things better…"

The others seemed to laugh, but Tsunimai's seemed to be absent. Peeking around the corner to see into the cave, Winter spotted her a little apart from the others. Her gaze was distant, her expression contemplative. What had made her thoughts so heavy so abruptly?

Deciding that he had heard enough, Winter straightened his posture, cleared his throat loudly, and entered the cave. The five older dragons froze where they stood and turned towards him. They each looked a little surprised, but quickly mastered their expressions. All that is, except Clay, of course, who couldn't stop himself wincing. Like he knew why Winter had come.

"Oh, Prince Winter," said Sunny brightly as if she were completely clueless. "Can we help you?"

"I don't want to interrupt," he said, and he meant it. Something about the way they all supported each other and stood by one another made Winter feel like he was a leech invading upon something he shouldn't. He couldn't help but wonder what his life might've been like if Icicle or his parents had shown this level of support. "But I came to receive an update on the plan to get Moonwatcher back. You asked for a couple of days and I've given you that."

"Winter, we have been a bit busy," Starflight said, holding up a collection of letters and notes in a pile in front of his claws. He wasn't facing Winter directly, his blindfolded head turned in his general direction.

"Yes, I understand that, but -"

Clay winced again. "And we still have no information about where to start looking."

"I know, but-"

"And Darkstalker hasn't resurfaced," said Tsunami. "So… unfortunately… we have no choice but to focus on more important matters."

"And what about Moon?" Winter's temper snapped like the peaks of a mountain unleashing an avalanche. "Is she not important? Is her safety not important? Just because Darkstalker hasn't shown himself yet, doesn't mean he isn't doing something! And the longer we wait, by the time he does make his move, it will be too late!"

"We understand that," said Glory evenly, and Winter could've sworn an inflection of sympathy entered her voice. "And believe me, if there was something we could do, we would! But as of right now, we have nothing to work with and a whole continent full of problems to sort out first. So I am sorry, but until we know more, we just have to wait."

He stood frozen, helpless. This was what it would always circle back to. They didn't know anything. They had no clue where to start looking. There was simply more important things to do first. Winter felt like he was in a glass box, screaming, but no one could hear him.

"Winter," said Sunny as she came up beside him. "We promise, we're trying our best to -"

She reached out a wing to brush his. But her flesh was so hot and sudden it felt like a flash of molten iron against his scales. He flinched away from her with a soft hiss.

"Very well then." He stared at them each in turn, letting them know how disappointed he was through his eyes alone. "I'll do it myself."

With a whirl of his glittering wings, he spun on his ankles and stormed out of the cave. Behind him, one of the dragons of destiny called out to him, but their efforts were futile. Winter felt too angry, too hopeless, too lost! There never seemed to be a way forward, every little answer he thought he found ultimately meant nothing in the search for his missing friend.

Lost in his own despair, he almost didn't see Qibli and Turtle as they rounded the next bend. Winter nearly tripped over his own talons in his haste to not trample them. The other two lept back half a step, eyes wide as they realised it was him.

"Winter?" asked Qibli, brows furrowed with concern. "Where're you going?"

"Anywhere." Winter muttered as he pushed past them to continue his march.

The SandWing leapt in front of him, holding out his wings and talons to try and block his path. "Wait a minute, what happened?"

"They won't do anything!" Winter burst. "None of them. The Queens are close to tearing each other apart and the war is escalating and they have no plan to find Moon because nobody knows anything about the stupid NightWing Kingdom, so we're all just useless!"

The words had tumbled out of him so fast he was breathless. Finally spent, he stood there, sides heaving, and the creeping sensation of failure encased him. There was a touch on his shoulder, and he glanced down. Turtle gave him a small smile; nothing big and bright and cheery, just simple and warm.

"Well," came Qibli's voice thoughtfully, and the other two turned to regard him. "Maybe... we need to ask a NightWing these questions?"

Turtle frowned. "What do you mean?"

Qibli led the way through the mountain, down tunnels and past caves that Winter had not explored before. The way became dark and rocky floor was more uneven, less smoothed from the stamp of many talons over time. Not many dragons ever came this way it seemed. The further they went, Winter felt his brow fall lower. His spines rattled nervously.

"I don't think we'll get in trouble for this," Qibli explained as they went. "I'm not entirely sure if this is a big need-to-know-basis secret."

"What're you talking about?" Winter asked irritably, hissing when his back foot accidentally stubbed a protruding rock.

"Sunny and I found this old dragon living down here when we first came to Jade Mountain, a NightWing. Stop!" he spun and pointed a claw in the IceWing's face. "Get that look off your face right now. Don't worry. He defected from the NightWing tribe years and years ago, he's had no contact with them since. He's stayed here - crippled himself to do it."

Winter swatted at the offending claw and they carried on. Behind him, he heard Turtle give a little sharp gasp as he realised something. "He's an animus, isn't he? The one that put up the barrier?"

"So Icicle was right," said Winter. "They DO have magic."

"Had." Qibli corrected with a shrug. "Stonemover's Sunny's father, and she didn't want to risk his soul with too many enchantments. Besides, Moon was the only one who could give him permission to perform spells. We kind of kept him a secret just in case spies in the rebellion found out about him."

"This… is a lot of information to process in thirty seconds."

Finally, they came to a large cave entrance. Soft candlelight glowed from within, bathing the trio as they cautiously stepped inside. Winter held his breath, but he wasn't quite sure what he had been expecting. He certainly hadn't thought to find the candles all around, the piles of scrolls to one side, the rugs and furs that made the scene look positively cozy. But he definitely hadn't been expecting the dragon that lay on the far side of the cave. He was large, if a little skinny. His back legs and tail seemed to just lay there in a floppy, unresponsive way. The black wings had been mangled, the spine crippled at a terrible angle. From above, there came a horrible screech that made Winter and Turtle startle. A bird glared down at them from her nest. Awakened by the noise, the NightWing opened his eyes slowly, and looked upon his visitors tiredly.

"Ahhhh… Sunny's friend." said the dragon that must be Stonemover. His voice was slow and gravelled, like he was the personification of shifting rocks. "Quibble, was it?"

"Qibli, but close enough," said the SandWing cheerily. He waved a wing at the others. "Stonemover, these are my friends, Prince Winter and Prince Turtle."

The NightWing fixed his haggard gaze upon Winter and the first flicker of emotion passed through them. Winter felt his spines bristle with impending violence. He met the other dragon's stare. He could see the instant distrust between them, could feel the centuries of hate mounting in both of them, whispering in their ears not to trust the other, that this was a threat that must be neutralised.

"It's, um, nice to meet you, Stonemover," Turtle's voice seemed to break the spell, and Winter shook his head. "We were wondering if we could ask you some questions?"

"Questions?" Stonemover echoed as he glanced at the SeaWing.

Winter stepped forward. "It's about our friend, Moon. She was taken by the Darkstalker-"

At the mere mention of the name, Stonemover scooted back as much as he was able. His face slackened with horror and he trembled all over. His crippled wings have a sickening clack-and-shake. Despite his age, despite his power, he was reduced to a frightened hatchling in moments.

Qibli leaned over to whisper in Winter's ear. "Sorry, I should've warned you. He didn't have the best reaction when Sunny told him about the DS."

"If he has her," Stonemover's slow voice tried to wail but it came out as more of a moan, "you will never find her! She is gone."

"Err, we don't think so," Turtle said gently, his phosphorescent scales lighting up in an instinctual way that seemed to be soothing in the mesmerising way they glowed along his body. "We have reason to believe she's still alive, and we'd like your help."

"My… help?" said Stonemover. He held out his talons, palms up. "My power is not mine. I am of no use."

"It's not what you can do, that we want, it's what you know," explained Winter. "Where is the NightWing Kingdom?"

"Gone."

Qibli shook his head. "No, not the volcano. The other Kingdom of Night, the kingdom the NightWings abandoned to find the island."

"Also gone."

That sense of hopelessness started to creep up Winter's spine again. "You don't know where it is?"

"No NightWing alive knows where it is. It was meant to stay that way." Absently, Stonemover reached for a scroll from the pile, worrying at the edges of it with his claws. "When we left… we destroyed all records of it. We wanted to forget. We feared that he would be waiting for us… if we dared return."

"Then how're we supposed to find it?!"

"You shouldn't want to find it." Stonemover corrected sternly. "Only doom awaits there. Doom and the Darkstalker."

"He was beaten once before, he could be beaten again." argued Qibli.

"You are too young. You do not know the stories." Stonemover paused, eyes darting around the cave as if to be sure no ghosts would hear him. Then, he attempted to drag himself towards them, stretching his neck to reach them, so he could whisper. "Darkstalker is more than you could imagine. He was no mere accident… he was the progeny of years of planning… the work of generations..."

Winter felt a shiver race across his wings, like someone had walked over his grave. Once again, Stonemover stared into his eyes, but this time, something urgent passed through their connected gazes. It felt like the animus was pleading with him… attempting to communicate something beyond words…

Qibli snorted, and Winter felt himself shaken out of the trance once again. "Couldn't have been that great. I mean, Fathom beat him. Who's to say we can't?"

"Is there a way to stop him?" asked Turtle. "Was there some trick Fathom used?"

Stonemover thought about it for a moment. "I… don't know…" was his frustratingly drawn out answer. "The stories say Darkstalker began his tyrant reign when he killed his father and then the Queen. Fathom tried to stop him. Their famous battle raged across the sky… it gave everyone else the time to escape."

"So no one knows exactly how Fathom stopped him? Was he just that powerful?"

"What if Fathom's gift ran in his family?" Winter found himself asking. He tried not to look at Turtle, to not give it away any more than he already had. "Would another SeaWing animus be able to stop Darkstalker now?"

Twisting his neck, Stonemover craned to look over Turtle. The SeaWing prince seemed to wilt under the intensity of his gaze, like he wanted to be invisible at a moment's notice. There was a rumble that Winter almost mistook for a growl, until he realised it was just a large deep breathe that rattled in Stonemover's throat like he needed to cough.

"I would hope… that no SeaWing would possess the curse. Magic always comes… with a price." His brows pinched with slight pain as he withdrew from them, back to his original comfy spot. "Besides… it doesn't work that way."

Qibli stepped forward, not willing to let the matter drop just yet. "Well, what about other animus dragons? Could they stop Darkstalker?"

"There were a few… in his time." Stonemover tapped a claw on the ground in thought. "Albatross was killed when he was young. But Jerboa…"

"Who?" Winter asked.

"I read about her!" said Turtle. "She was one of the first SandWing animus dragons. She made most of the famous SandWing artefacts for Queen Scorpion."

Stonemover nodded. "Indeed… Her power kept her tribe safe."

"From Darkstalker?" Qibli and Winter asked at the same time. The IceWing didn't bother to glance at his companion. He already knew he was grinning from ear to ear and ready to tease him.

"In a war between Ice and Night…" said Stonemover, "why weren't the SandWings caught in the crossfire?"

Qibli thumped a heavy talon on Winter's shoulder. The IceWing was about to brush him off, but his friend insistently turned him and Turtle so that they could huddle together. In an excited whisper, he said: "Maybe that's what we need to find - the tale of the brother lost, the sword from on high. Maybe those are Jerboa's things that can stop Darkstalker!"

Winter caught on quickly and could've hugged the SandWing for his brilliant brain. But of course, he would never admit that out loud. Instead, he spun back to Stonemover, the same excited energy infecting him too. "Do you know anything else about her?"

"What happened to her?" chimed in Turtle.

Stonemover settled himself down, resting his chin on his talons, his eyes already drooping shut. "There's not much to tell… She disappeared from history, right at the time the NightWings left. Where she went… no one knows."

Clouds were billowing over the moons tonight, obscuring the stars. They'd come rushing in from the ocean around sunset, and Moon felt the foreboding in their heavy darkness. She'd wanted to hunt early, to be back inside the safety of the castle walls before the weather turned nasty. For nearly an hour, she'd waited for Darkstalker, had even called out to his mind a few times, but he didn't answer. With little choice, Moon went out and caught a large hare for her breakfast. But even in the short time she'd been out, the wind had battered her. The weather had only gotten worse as the night went on, though not a single drop of rain was unleashed. Now, only two hours till dawn, she wondered if the weather would beat itself against the castle during the day whilst she slept. Hopefully, tomorrow night would be better.

Wandering through the castle, Moon tried to give herself simply tasks to occupy herself. Little things, like tidying away cobwebs or tearing down rotten tapestries helped her to focus. That way she wouldn't be able to recognise her loneliness.

Darkstalker had been absent all night long. She'd not seen a glimpse of his shadow nor received any message from him since yesterday. Moon guilty fiddled with her silver earring. Had she pushed him too far yesterday? After he'd shown her his memories of Clearsight, he'd seemed very upset. She wanted to go and comfort him, apologise for demanding too much or crossing his boundaries, but she didn't know where to find him. So instead, she was left to haunt the castle aimlessly, alone.

What made her loneliness worse was the idea that she'd awoken tonight expecting some contact from her friends via their magical messenger shell. Since its invention, they'd contacted her every night. But tonight they hadn't, and she couldn't help but wonder why.

There was no use thinking in circles to make herself feel worse, she told herself. So, why not spend her night doing something useful? Darkstalker had said he'd wanted to carry on restoring the palace so that it was liveable. Their work yesterday had already made a considerable improvement, so why not carry on their work now. Of course, Moon had no magic to make the big changes, but she could still do something.

She came across an enormous room that she quickly deduced must've been some kind of office or study. A very lavish looking one, if the faded rug and ornate decorations of carved animals on the walls, or enormous fireplace across from the desk were anything to go by. Moon immediately set to work on clearing it out. Sweeping the floor, pulling down cobwebs, rooting out vines and other growth that had come in through a broken pane in the window. She even set about cleaning the rug, but quickly gathered that it might be a waste of time.

Finally, she came to the old desk. It was a beautiful piece of craftsmanship. Every inch of it was detailed with some kind of carving, whether that be of roses with wicked thorns or a scene that looked vaguely like the city-scape outside. It was also very large; Moon felt like a hatchling when she sat in the old, stuffy chair behind the desk. She immediately went to make things clean. Throwing out dried ink pots or pieces of parchment that had worn away into almost nothing. As she pulled open the top draw on the right hand side, there was a small thunk as something obstructed the opening. With a strong jerk of her arm, Moon forced it open.

A piece of thin wood fell out of the top to land in the draw, a bunch of scrolls falling with it. Bending down to see inside, Moon realised that there had been a false top, a secret compartment. Intrigued, she carefully collected up the documents that had been hidden away. They were old, but their hiding place had offered them great protection from the elements for the most part. They were surprisingly well preserved, enough that Moon could even read the writing.

From the first few lines on the first scroll, Moon realised that these documents, this desk, this office, had belonged to the Queen of the NightWings. This had been her official study where she'd conducted business and seen to matters of state that needed to be signed in private. Excited for what she might discover of the past, Moon read on eagerly.

That excitement quickly vanished as she read the first scroll. It was a copy of orders Queen Vigilance was sending out to her troops on the front lines in the war. Her contempt for the IceWings was obvious in her words, but also came through her impatience, her demands for news. There was a list of details of what she wanted Darkstalker to do, the spells she wanted him to cast. Moon felt her mouth go dry but tried to rationalise that he'd had no choice. These were direct orders from his queen, and they'd been at war. It brought little comfort.

By looking at the date on the second scroll, Moon could cross reference it with the memories Darkstalker had shared with her, and realised that this was a written account of a conversation Vigilance had had with Darkstalker soon after Foeslayer's death. She'd been unkind, to say the least. It was clear that he was grieving the loss of his mother, and Vigilance's paranoia was blatantly obvious. She callously tried to order Darkstalker to come up with bigger, scarier spells, using his grief to fuel him. When that didn't work right away, she moved on to threatening the lives of Arctic and Whiteout.

Moon threw the scrolls away, loathing this queen more and more with every line she read.

But then the third scroll froze her blood in her veins. It was a warrant for Darkstalker's immediate arrest and execution. A note at the bottom of the page drew Moon's attention: 'Our dream has failed. We end this foolish plan now.' Plan? What did that mean?

The last document made Moon frown as she tried to discern what she was looking at. It was a list of names and the dates of their birth, with notes by each - good wings, unrivalled naturally acquired strength, most intelligent of the year group. This list went back more than two hundred years before Darkstalker's time. But as she read on, Moon saw these names being paired up with others, and the offspring they produced, with more notes and more precisely monitored breeding. And that's when it occurred to her. This was a breeding list. This was a breeding program. These dragons were being specifically selected in order to be entered into this mysterious 'Program' their training and lives controlled and their dragonets monitored and added to the research. All records were kept of each dragon's pedigree, like animals. Down towards the bottom came the names, Prudence and then Foeslayer.

Moon knew what she would find next, but she didn't want to see it. Her heart was pounding in her chest. She felt like she would be sick. But she was compelled to read on. The correct genes have all been gathered in order to create the perfect specimen. All that remains is animus magic, and we shall have crafted the ultimate dragon - the ultimate weapon. Prince Arctic of the IceWings is the only suitable candidate at this time. Though it is feared cross-breeding outside the tribe might dilute our work, it is a risk that must be taken. Anything for the cause. For the Program. For the tribe.

And then, set two years later: Two offspring, one female, Whiteout, and one male, Darkstalker. The male was born under three full moons. They shall be monitored and enfolded into the Program. Finally, our end goal has been accomplished. The program was a success. Continental domination is now within our grasp.

All the pieces fell into place. Why Darkstalker was treated the way he was. The memories he'd avoided her seeing. Even how Vigilance had wanted him to marry her daughter to "breed it into the royal family".

He'd known. He'd known all along. Rage coursed through Moon's veins, so hot and bright, she thought for a moment she was on fire. Tears streamed down her face. She screamed.