Author's Note: Another big thank you to WarriorOfSpectra not only for his character, Omniscience, but also The Night's Legacy Prophecy, which he provided for this chapter.

Chapter Twenty Eight

"If Qibli's right," Winter said, and almost instantly regretted it. He pointed a claw in the SandWing's face. "Shut up! I said if you're right… then that means we need to find out what happened to Jerboa and her enchanted items."

Kinkajou's eyes were wide, her long, thin tail sweeping from side to side along the cave floor. "Did she really make something that could kill Darkstalker? The sword from on high?"

"We won't know that until we find out," said Qibli.

They'd all gathered in Winter's cave to discuss what they'd discovered yesterday evening. They crowded around the map Turtle had made a few days ago on the floor. A few candles had been lit to give them plenty of reading light. Peril sat by the entrance, careful not to touch anything - though Winter still kept an eye on her. He didn't want her accidentally burning his favourite furs.

Turtle, who sat between Kinkajou and Qibli, ran a claw over the map. He studied it closely; as if, should he look hard enough, he would find something he missed before. "Stonemover said she disappeared from the Sand Kingdom around the time Darkstalker went crazy."

"Great," Peril said sarcastically. "That only leaves two thousand years of history and six other kingdoms to comb through."

He clenched his jaw but chose to ignore her. "I could ask my sister to have the scouts bring back history scrolls. Maybe there might be some mention of her somewhere."

"I say," Qibli said, pointing to the Kingdom of Sand on the map, "that our best bet is to go to the SandWing royal treasury. If any animus objects are still around, they're there. That's where Scarlet got her dreamvisitor, after all."

Winter snorted. "Yes, I'm sure Blister would be happy to invite us over for a cup of tea!"

"What makes you think they're even there?" asked Kinkajou, tilting her head. "Wouldn't Blister have used it if she had a weapon capable of killing an animus?"

"Maybe she didn't know what she was looking at," said Qibli.

"And you do?" Winter quirked a brow at him skeptically. "You, who doesn't even know what it is you're looking for?"

The SandWing scowled, shoving him with his wing. "I know it's a sword!"

"Oh brilliant, let's pick up every sword in the SandWing Fortress on the hopes ONE of them might be magical -"

A paw smacked him on the end of the nose. Winter blinked, shocked. He looked over, slack jawed, to realise it was Kinkajou who had hit him. Turtle bit his tongue to stop himself from laughing. The feisty RainWing gave him a hard look. "Shush your mush. That's not helping."

"Are we really going to do this?" asked Peril in a small voice. "Go out on our own?"

"The Dragons of Destiny don't have a plan," said Qibli. "If we're going to get Moon back, we need to find our own answers."

"We didn't say we'd given up."

The Jade Winglet spun at the voice. Turtle thought his scales would leap off his body. Qibli hurried to stash the map under his flank, out of sight. Kinkajou turned a bright shade of luminous green. In the entrance to Winter's cave stood Tsunami. Turtle tried to study her face, wondering how much she'd overheard. But she didn't look angry. In fact, she looked resigned. His older sister strolled into the large dwelling, and revealed that the other members of the Dragons of Destiny were following right behind her. Peril had vacated the cave in order to give them room, and now hovered in the hallway, looking from once face to another curiously.

Winter fumbled for an excuse to explain their actions. "Oh, um, we… err, that is -"

"Weweren'tplanninganythingweswear!" Kinkajou burst, panicked.

Glory rolled her eyes and sighed. "Very convincing."

"We wanted to see you," said Sunny, stepping forward. "All of you."

Qibli frowned. "About what?"

"Has something happened?" asked Turtle, looking to his sister. Tsunami's face was usually very expressive, subtlety wasn't her strong suit, so he could often read her mood like an open scroll. But today, her face remained rather calm and blank, if anything she just looked tired. Turtle didn't know whether to find this reassuring or alarming.

"I'm sure a lot of you are aware of the situation," said Glory. The young SeaWing was rendered a little speechless in her presence, her tone and posture radiated the regal heir of a true monarch. "The other Queens are on the verge of restarting this war, and it is vital we prevent that from happening."

Though Starflight's sightless eyes were blindfolded, he still managed to turn his head in the general direction of the Jade Winglet when he spoke. "The Queens each have their own grievances and Morrowseer will capitalise on this until he breaks apart our alliances. He knows our unity will eventually defeat him and Blister."

"Dragons, both royal and commoner, look to us with hope," said Clay. "If we have any chance of stopping this war for good, we can't fail them."

"But we can't do it on our own," Sunny admitted, her wings drooping a little. "And I know you want to get Moon back, and so do we. We're hoping that in the missions to come, we might find some trace of her out there."

"What missions?" asked Peril.

"Like Sunny said," said Tsunami, "we can't hold these alliances on our own. We want send our finest into the field to help curb the rise in intertribal violence - yes, Glory, that was a big word, and yes, Starflight, I know what it means, get over it."

Clay tried to smother a smile at his siblings' antics, but wasn't very successful. "So we're sending you."

"Us?" Said several members of the Jade Winglet at once.

"Now?" said Winter and Qibli.

"Not right now," assured Glory. "But we'll need you in various different ways in the future. Winter will be the only one who can get us into the Ice Kingdom to negotiate with Glacier. Qibli, you have eyes and ears all over the Sand Kingdom."

Sunny met their gazes in turn, and Turtle felt unexpected warmth in his chest when he realised she was looking upon each of them with pride. "All of you have talents and qualifications we're going to need."

"But…" Turtle suddenly felt hot and flushed all over. His stomach ached like he'd descended two thousand feet below the ocean surface too quickly. "We can't… we're not the Dragons of prophecy. You don't need us."

"We need everyone." Tsunami's brows lowered, her expression grave. "This war cannot be allowed to restart. Winter, you've led dragons into battle. How many soldiers under your command have you lost?"

Everyone turned to stare at the IceWing. It was easy for them to forget that Winter, their pompous and arrogant but well meaning friend, had also been a commander in the IceWing army. Out of all of them, he'd seen the most active service. The prince lowered his head, his eyes going distant and glossy as he lost himself to memories. When he spoke, his voice was quiet. "... ten."

"If you help us," said Starflight gently, "we can stop more pointless deaths like those."

The Jade Winglet all looked to one another, torn. They each knew what was being asked of them but they couldn't deny that the war effort needed them. It would mean putting off rescuing Moon, which distressed them, but on the other talon they had confirmed that she wasn't in any immediate danger. What made it worse, was the knowledge that they didn't have a direct plan to get Moon back, just a long-shot lead that was just as likely to turn up nothing. And if Moon were here, she would want them to help stop the war, stop the carnage, stop her father, over saving her.

With a heavy heart, they turned back to the Dragons of Destiny and nodded. "All right." Winter said. "We'll do what you ask."

The Dragons of Destiny thanked them, and then each made to leave. Sunny helped lead Starflight out into the hall. Clay paused to exchange a few words with Peril. Glory busily bustled her way out, already planning out the first missions. But Tsunami lingered longer. She met her brother's gaze and gestured for him to follow with a jerk of her head.

"Turtle? May I speak with you a moment?" she called.

He already knew what she wanted to discuss and it made his stomach twist anxiously. Dutifully, he followed her out of Winter's cave and into the hallway. Giving Peril a wide berth, he chanced a glance up at her. She diverted her attention from Clay for a fraction of a second to watch him. The now familiar pain in her eyes made Turtle's brain spin with confusion. But just as quickly, she turned away and he followed Tsunami further down the tunnel. She led him to an exit that opened onto a ledge on the outside of the mountain. They gazed out onto the forested landscape far below; the wind had picked up overnight, making the trees sway dangerously, their newly sprouting leaves almost ripped away. Turtle wondered if another spring storm was closing in.

"Okay," Tsunami said at last. "I want to start by saying that I really, really wish I didn't have to do this."

"Oh. So you came to a decision?" Turtle asked.

"Yes." She scratched her neck, her claws drifting to the old scar just below her gills on her right side. "I've been thinking about it non-stop since you told me. It wasn't an easy decision to make. I can't help but think about what this might do to you, to your soul. I don't want to lose you, Turtle."

"You won't." Though the promise was meant to reassure her, Turtle felt like he was trying to convince himself. He'd cast a lot of spells in his life, mostly little things, things other dragons might find pathetically simple. But for all that, he didn't think he felt any different to how he usually was. That had to count for something? "I take it this means you want to use my magic?"

"I don't think we can get away with not using it," Tsunami's voice was filled with regret. "But don't worry. It'll only be for little things, I promise. Maybe something to help the RainWings stay undetected when camouflaged, or something that'll heal our soldiers. We'll try to use your magic for good things, for helping dragons."

Only when he felt his shoulders relax did Turtle realise he'd been tensing them. He'd been worried Tsunami would ask something big of him, a world-changing, war-ending spell. He wasn't a hero, he couldn't stop the war by himself. But this? This felt manageable. "That sounds like something I can do."

His sister smiled and then threw her wings around him. She squeezed him so tight he thought he couldn't breathe. "You're possibly one of the bravest idiots I've ever met."

"Considering the kind of dragons you know," he wheezed, "I highly doubt that."

"I'm serious, squid-brain." She grinned at him as she pulled back. "Now go and be really brave and sort out that."

Turtle followed her gaze to see Clay and Peril walking by in the tunnel behind them. Peril had noticed them before Clay did, and when she caught Turtle watching her back, she quickly looked away. He knew what Tsunami meant, but Turtle was not one for confrontation. He liked to stay unnoticed and let any danger glance right over him. That was why he always made sure his enchanted stick was still in his pouch every night before he went to sleep and every morning when he awoke - and checked it again at every meal. But Peril was meant to be his friend, yet their dynamic hadn't been right since the ambush, maybe even before that. And he could no longer afford to put it off until later. Peril would likely be sent on missions in the near future, and when she was gone it would be too late for him to fix this.

Nodding, he waited until Tsunami left, calling out to Clay for him to follow her. The MudWing and SkyWing exchanged goodbyes, Peril watching him leave with a sense of longing in her eyes. She reached out to touch him but refrained at the last moment. She didn't even look at Turtle as she turned around and headed back up the tunnel.

"Come on," she said curtly. "The others still want to see us."

He followed her silently back towards Winter's cave. Peril didn't speak and neither did he, trying to find some way to break the tension. But she didn't even look in his direction, keeping her focus squarely on the cave entrance up ahead. Before Turtle could untangle his fumbling mind, they were already back amongst the others.

"So this means it'll take us longer to find Jerboa…" Kinkajou was saying, her large ears slack with hopelessness, "and then longer than that to free Moon?"

There was a pause, and then Qibli stoutly said, "No."

"No?" Peril echoed.

"I said what I said," he shrugged and gave that easy roguish smile that made it seem as if he had all the answers in the world. "This won't stop us. We're going to use this opportunity. The Dragons of Destiny are going to be sending us all over the continent. What better way to scour for clues of Jerboa? We'll cover more ground this way."

"Not just her, either." Winter chimed in, expression brightening as he twigged on to Qibli's plan. "Think about it. Fathom and Clearsight went missing too. We could search for clues about them as well. And other Kingdoms must've had trading with the NightWings. We could even find clues to help narrow down where the Lost City of Night is!"

"Makes sense." Turtle nodded. "We won't find any answers in Jade Mountain."

Kinkajou's scales were shifting through all different sorts of colours, from excited pink-and-yellow, to worried blue-green. "But we'll be thousands of miles apart. And we won't know when we'll see each other again. If we find anything, how'll we communicate?"

That was a good point. The magical seashell was the obvious answer; they hadn't accidentally enchanted it to only work on Moon, it was just that she was the only one they'd used it on. If Turtle was remembering the spell correctly, it would work on anyone. But with only one shell, only one of them could take it, limiting their communication. If they had more -

Turtle could've hit himself for being so dense! Excitedly, he reached into the pouch around his neck and brought out the three interlocking wooden pieces. He dropped them on the floor, his friends crowding round to watch. Making sure his stick was still safe inside the pouch, he closed it tight and then began to assemble the pieces. They fit together like parts of a puzzle to form a bowl. Winter was the one who looked the most perplexed.

"I made this when I was young," he explained. "Having thirty brothers means you're always fighting for food at the table. So I enchanted this to multiply whatever I put in it."

Kinkajou looked intrigued at such an idea, Winter still looked confused. Qibli wasn't fast enough to hide the way he winced in disappointment. "That's such a… Turtle spell."

As if he could feel the heat, Turtle glanced up, and noticed that Peril was scowling.

"Who's got the seashell?" he asked to distract himself. Winter immediately got up and retrieved it from its hiding place amongst his bed of furs. Carefully taking it from him, the SeaWing placed it into the bowl and said, "Twice as many, please."

The Seashell vibrated for a fraction of a second, and then there was a loud POP! And then suddenly there were two identical Seashells sitting in the bowl. Every spot of colour, every curve and every grain was exactly the same. And Turtle knew that even the enchantment on the original shell had been replicated. For a moment, he actually felt pride at the idea that something he'd created had been useful for once.

He looked up, and nearly giggled when he noticed that everyone was staring at him, their jaws hanging open. Winter tried to speak. "D-Did you just…?!"

Turtle leaned down and spoke the words again to the bowl. Two Seashells became four. Taking three out he said the words again and his total score of magical seashells came to five at last. He started handing them out to his friends one by one. "Now we can all take one wherever we go. Whatever we find, we can tell the others."

"That's brilliant!" Kinkajou cried, bouncing on the spot. She cradled her seashell in her talons, as if it were the most precious thing in all the world. Turtle felt his heart do a somersault.

Winter and Qibli were ecstatic, and already had their heads together, planning for the weeks ahead. Putting one shell in his pouch, Turtle picked up the last one and turned to Peril. With a small, hopeful smile, he held the last one out to her. She hesitated, her expression communicating clearly that she didn't know how to respond to all this. She was perhaps just as easy to read as Tsunami sometimes. Slowly, she reached out and carefully took hold of the shell, avoiding her claws touching Turtle. Before either of them could do anything, the shell turned black under her heat and then shattered. They watched, helpless, as the tiny flakes fell to the floor.

Peril clenched her talon into a fist, her expression stormy. "Just as I thought."

With a hiss of steam out of her nostrils and flaring off her wings, she whirled around and stormed out of the cave. Kinkajou leapt out of her way. Turtle stood frozen for a moment, before his mind conjured a mental image of Tsunami kicking him in the flank. He jolted to his feet and ran after her. In the tunnel she was already twenty paces ahead and he had to jog to catch up with her.

"Leave me alone, Turtle," she snapped over her shoulder. "I'm not in the mood!"

"That's hardly new," he muttered. "Peril, please tell me what's wrong."

"Why don't you cast a magic spell to tell you? Or how about you enchant a pin to point you towards what's wrong? Or how about a scroll to read out all the things I'm mad about. I think that might be a long list, though!"

"So this is all because I'm an animus-"

"No, it's not because of that you dolt!" she shouted, spinning on the spot to glare down at him. He skidded to a halt to avoid crashing into her. They stood, nose to nose, only a few inches separating them. Turtle swallowed any complaints about the heat so close to his sensitive scales. "I admit that I'm not that good when it comes to friend-things, I don't know most of the rules, or what to do or not to do. But even I know that you've been a bad friend!"

"A bad friend?!" he asked, incredulous.

"Are you that dense?" she hissed. "The entire time you've known me, you've had magical powers that can let you do anything you want, and you didn't ONCE think to try and fix me?!"

All the frustration left him in one quick gasp. "Fix you?"

"Yes! I can't touch anything without destroying it. I couldn't even save Moon or Kinkajou because I was too scared of killing them with just one accidental touch. I can't even smell a flower without cooking it, Turtle! You knew that all along and you didn't think once to try and use your magic on me?"

"No one knew back then-"

"Oh, but since it's all come out, let's just spend loads of magic on maps and seashells and bowls but let's not help our friends!" She smashed her tail into the wall of the tunnel. Small pebbles flew out, black and smoking. Turtle yelped and leapt back to avoid them.

He heard a sniffle, and snapped his head towards the sound, alarmed. At first, he couldn't understand what he was seeing. Peril sat, her wings and tail pressed in tightly, her shoulders hunched and her head low. Her chest quaked in a rhythm of two quick gasps in and one sharp breath out. Though he had to squint to confirm it, Turtle was certain that… steam was coming out of Peril's eyes…

And then it hit him like a hammerhead shark. Peril was crying. And yet, she wasn't even allowed that basic necessity. Her scales were so hot that her tears evaporated the moment she shed them. Even so, she was trying, desperately and heartbreakingly, to be able to do one thing as everyone else would. But to no avail.

"Peril…" Turtle said softly. He wanted to reach out to touch her, comfort her. "I…"

"You were my best friend." Her voice was as small and uncertain as a dragonet's. "You were the only dragon other than Clay that treated me like I was normal. But you still didn't want to help me."

More proof that Turtle was no hero. That even when he'd thought he was doing what was necessary to keep his secret safe, he'd obliviously let his friend suffer. And then all this time since she'd learned about his powers, he'd not wanted to face the truth. Turtle didn't know what he wanted to do, only that he wished he could take away Peril's pain, no matter the cost.

"Peril, I'm so sorry." He laid himself on the tunnel floor and inched closer to her. He reached out a talon towards hers, stretching his claws as close to her as he could physically get before the heat became too much. Peril glanced up, her blue eyes meeting his. "I should've seen how much you were suffering. I should've realised how much this would mean to you. And yes, I'm a terrible friend for not doing anything about this sooner. You have every right to be angry with me and maybe you'll be angry with me for a really long time. But I just want you to know that I'm sorry, and that even if you never want to forgive me, that's okay. I'll still be here for when you're ready."

She watched him, eyes large and glistening. Her sniffling turned into little hiccups. Withdrawing slowly, Turtle sat back up and reached into his pouch. Slowly, he brought out a brass bracelet made from two sliding rings. The two rings could be twisted, to match up to different patterns on the outside. He'd been wanting to give this to Kinkajou, when he finally worked up the courage to confess to her how he felt. Because of that, he was a little reluctant to let it go. But this was important too.

"And, if it means that much to you…" he said. "I can always enchant something now…?"

Peril stared at the bracelet for a very long time. She swallowed thickly, and then asked. "Why not before?"

"Because I never thought there was anything wrong with you. You were just you." He held up the bracelet, and it glinted in the light. "So… what'll it be?"

The afternoon wore on, and the rainforest floor was beginning to grow uncomfortably humid. Morrowseer was thankful that the cool shade provided within his office helped to keep out the worst of it. Unfortunately, the insects were still a problem. He'd lost count of the amount of times he'd swatted at mosquitos trying to make a tasty meal out of him. He tried to remind himself that as soon as the builders could make a permanent residence of stone and mortar, then these problems would sort themselves out. It was hard to believe that the RainWings used to live out in the open with all the parasites and the animals. What primitives.

He'd been staring at the same reports for the last two hours. All of them bringing him news of what the other queens were up to. Occasionally he'd look to his map on the wall in order to gain a mental image of where all the pieces lay. He had to come up with every scenario his enemies would make and strategise his next moves accordingly. The next few weeks would be crucial.

A knock on his door broke his focus momentarily. "Enter." he called.

The door opened, and the errand dragonet poked his head around it. "Deathbringer is here, sir."

"Very good," said Morrowseer, standing from behind his desk and straightening his spine. "Send him in."

The errand ducked back out of sight for ten seconds, before opening the door fully and escorting in the assassin. Deathbringer glanced around at Morrowseer's dwelling, his thoughts perfectly clear on his face. Morrowseer wanted to smack him until he either died or would show more respect. The errand bowed deeply to Morrowseer before heading out the door. Deathbringer watched him go, his eyes shifting between the dragonet and Morrowseer.

"That dragonet has a very misguided sense of hero-worship," he muttered. "You summoned me, O esteemed regent?"

"I have an assignment for you."

Deathbringer's face dropped and threw his wings down like a petulant hatchling. "If I have to round up Scarlet one more time-"

Morrowseer's voice was vicious and rasping with his barely restrained hate. "Do me a favour and shut up. Your opinion means next to nothing to me or anyone else, so do us a kindness by keeping it to yourself." He was absurdly pleased to see that Deathbringer looked a little hurt by his remarks before composing himself. Morrowseer afforded himself a grin and then held up the parchment with all the mission details. "And besides, I'm sending you out to do your actual job."

"Oh?" Deathbringer asked, his tone more subdued. "Who's the target?"

"A thorn that's been under my scales since the day she hatched." He threw the scroll, and Deathbringer caught it deftly. "We need the rebellion divided. Killing one of its leaders will do the trick."

The assassin's eyes narrowed as he studied the scroll's contents. "And how am I supposed to get to her? They're all protected behind that magical shield."

"In the coming weeks she'll need to leave eventually. I'm sure you can find a way. And in the event that the difficulty of the job keeps you away for several months - well, all the better."

"Why go after one in particular? If you want the rebellion leaders dead, why not have me kill them all?"

"If the opportunity arises, then by all means, kill them. But I don't want to see scale nor tail of you until that particular one is dead." He squared up in front of the younger male, his huge muscular chest and shoulders dwarfing his opponent. "Am I making myself clear?"

For the first time, Deathbringer actually glared up at him with hate. "Crystal."

"Good," he sneered. "Now get out."

Wrenching the door open, Deathbringer flung himself out into the humid, noisy jungle. The door slammed closed behind him, almost with enough force to make the hut rattle. Morrowseer smirked to himself. It was petty, he knew that, but he couldn't help himself from reveling in the satisfaction of showing the assassin exactly where he stood in Morrowseer's esteem.

Sitting back behind his desk, Morrowseer decided to put away the reports for now. He could make no further progress on them today. All he would achieve for his efforts would be a headache. He needed to see his wife. The past few nights had been rather lonely for him, and he was desperate for decent company. It would be difficult, and he knew it would more than likely end with Secretkeeper tearfully begging him to release her or telling him how wrong he was for doing what was right for their tribe. But he still wanted to try and convince her to see reason. Even after all this time, and all the pain and hardship they'd suffered; when it came down to it, Morrowseer was still willing to try and make his marriage work.

There was another knock at the door, disturbing his thoughts. But before he could bid the announcer entrance or denial, the door was flung open and in came Mastermind, scrolls stuffed under each wing and clutched in one arm. He half fell into the office, dropping his load onto Morrowseer's desk. The bigger NightWing felt his eye twitch but held his tongue.

"I managed to compile everything we have about the Darkstalker," Mastermind said breathlessly, adjusting the spectacles on his snout. "Scrolls we managed to save before the volcano's eruption, some of them very old indeed. It's quite an extensive list. If you wish, I can give you a run down of each individual scroll, and the authenticity of their-"

"No," said Morrowseer, picking up the first scroll and glancing over it, curiously. "That will be all."

Mastermind paused, momentarily thrown, but soon carried on. "Perhaps, you'd be more interested in my theories surrounding the Darkstalker's sudden appearance? After reading through these texts, I have a hypothesis on how-"

"I said," gold eyes jumped to Mastermind's, a flash of teeth his last warning. "That will be all."

Wings trembling, frightened, Mastermind hurried out of the hut and slammed the door closed behind him. Grunting, Morrowseer bent over his desk in order to study the texts that had been given to him. The scientist was correct: there was quite the extensive collection here. Most were study papers or collections of folklore or just random texts where the Darkstalker was mentioned in passing. But others were historical texts, official records that had been classified with the Queen's seal. These were obvious by the fact that they were made from extra thick parchment that was treated with an ointment to stop the ink from fading and helped preserve the scroll. Only incredibly important documents were given such treatment.

Immediately, Morrowseer dismissed the scrolls that contained the superstitions and the folklore. He wasn't interested in fairytales or exaggerated nonsense. No, he needed as much of the actual truth as he could get. So he instead focused on the historical texts.

Starting at the beginning, he came across the research from the Eugenics Program. Or, as much of it as he had available. What he had in front of him was largely incomplete. More than likely the rest of it had either not been preserved properly or had been lost between the exodus and the volcano. Yet from what he could see, Morrowseer was fascinated. His tribal ancestors had been obsessed with creating the perfect NightWing that would usher in an age of NightWing dominance across the continent. Their ideas were inspired, but with hindsight he could see where they might have fallen in their hubris.

He even managed to come across a copy of the prophecy that started it all.

The Night's Legacy Prophecy, from Omniscience, circa 550 AS

I see her, the Queen of Night, over two thousand years from now, I see her fear, so many paths she must course through…

So near the end of this humble seer's life, I see the choices laid before her and what is to come of them…

In one of these choices, I see the dragon who hatches on a night blessed with three full moons…

This dragon, hailing from the strongest and wisest bloodlines within the tribe, will carve a legacy that shall influence the fate of both the tribe and the entire continent…

This legacy will be felt for generations, with the tribe of Night at its centre…

And what this legacy shall be, hinges on your decision, and yours alone.

My parting question: how will you seize it?

Morrowseer frowned as he set the scroll down. That was a very odd prophecy, not at all as the old scrolls said. Most NightWing prophecies were spoken in rhyme and verse, usually beyond the speaker's control. But Omniscience had spoken his prophecies as if in conversation. It made Morrowseer doubt his authenticity. Well. It was a prophecy made in the last few years of Omniscience's life. Perhaps the old bag-of-bones had gone senile, and some weak Queen further down the line had thought to give any significance to her existence by clinging to any vague jumble of words.

The first real mention of the Darkstalker that he could find, one that referenced him from within his own time, was an assessment document. It was an evaluation of the Darkstalker's training and potential for the war against the IceWings. Morrowseer read it eagerly.

First Moon of Summer, 3013 AS

As a specimen, Darkstalker shows incredible promise for all that the Program desires of him. His skill with telepathy and foresight is hitherto unmatched as of now. Through his animus ability, we can confirm the trait is genetic, as it was passed from father to son. (Further research needs to be done over the course of the next century as to whether being born under three moons has enhanced the magical ability in any way). There were certain setbacks during his formative years. Temperament was fiercely stubborn and he liked to question authority, with Keepers reporting a vindictive streak. These traits have since been trained out of him to the best of our ability. Methods previously employed on other candidates in the Program hold no sway over him. Physical punishments only cause more defiance. Attempting to form attachments and controlling him through manipulated affection proved useless. Darkstalker cares for very few individuals, namely those he interacts with on a daily basis such as his mother and sister and the SeaWing animus that stays in their household. Should a contingency be deemed necessary, this official recommends using these individuals against Darkstalker. Over the course of his training, he has proved himself to have a high tolerance for pain and a tenacity to defy any order if only himself is implicated. A threat to those he cares for, however, will move him.

His combat training has been a resounding success. Darkstalker's cunning and intellect, whilst making him difficult to control, allows him to easily get the upper talon in battle. We also have reason to believe he is able to use his animus magic very quickly and effectively, even when under stressful circumstances. All these things are attributed to the success of the Program. The shame of his state as a male is disheartening, but Her Majesty's prerogative to breed him into the royal family is a sound theory.

In the meantime, it is this official's recommendation to approve Darkstalker for the war effort. Now we shall see if our efforts paid off.

Further documents gave a detailed list of Darkstalker's specific line of breeding, showcasing the physical traits that his keepers wanted to encourage. Remembering the Darkstalker as he'd appeared erupting from the earth, Morrowseer could believe some of what this list claimed. Even when nothing but scales and bones, the Darkstalker had been an impressive specimen to behold. The next scroll he found was a report of some of the animus' actions during the war. The historians had confirmed Darkstalker was personally responsible for the death of 22 IceWings without his magic. And the reports of what he did accomplish with his magic made Morrowseer's head spin. It was no wonder the hybrid had acquired a fearsome reputation. To his enemies, Darkstalker was cruel and held little to no mercy. One report claimed Darkstalker had used magic to have an IceWing's bones break one by one over the course of a few hours.

With every new fragment of information that he found, Morrowseer became more and more convinced that the Darkstalker was the perfect weapon. His magical capabilities had been unmatched by any animus since, and his ferocity meant that he wouldn't be soft against the tribe's enemies. He had been bred for this purpose, after all. It would be criminal to let such potential go to waste.

Yet Morrowseer was no fool as to have starstruck fantasies about an animus bowing to his whim and not expect any risks. So he read on. There were several historical scrolls that spoke about the events of Darkstalker's treachery in graphic detail. Even Morrowseer was quietly disturbed by what he discovered. The Darkstalker was cunning and inventive. He'd done what no one had thought possible… and it had terrified the tribe to such a degree that they had fled their ancestral home, abandoned their kingdom, left in a mass exodus with no plan to ever return. That fact was not something to overlook.

There were one or two reports that mentioned great interest in a NightWing female called Clearsight. She'd once been a peasant with a stunningly accurate gift of foresight, stronger even than Darkstalker's. She'd apparently whored her way to the Queen's court, as the reports mentioned her having a secret affair with Darkstalker that they suspected in hindsight had been going on for some time. When the Queen discovered this, she'd ordered for Clearsight's assassination, which started the events that spiraled into the animus' betrayal. After the exodus, Clearsight had been wanted for questioning. She'd been involved with Darkstalker, and had even been accompanying him when he committed his treason. But in the chaos of her lover's tyrannical takeover and then the battle against Fathom, she'd disappeared. The NightWings had gone in search of her, wanting her to answer for her role in those terrible events. A year after the exodus, a few search parties had been sent to cautiously hunt her down, along with Fathom. But whilst Fathom had been sighted in the months after the exodus, only to eventually fade from memory, Clearsight had completely disappeared altogether. Her fate forever remained unknown.

Morrowseer picked up one scroll that had one of the Queen's seals on it. Breaking it, he carefully unrolled the parchment and began to read:

Harvest Moon, 3018 AS

Her Majesty, Queen Celestial of the NightWings, deems I pen this for the records, so that no monarch hereafter should repeat the mistakes of her forebears.

Our tribe soon celebrates two years on this island, our sanctuary. And yet, we now face a threat to our existence. Whiteout, the hybrid and last remaining member of her accursed line, was permitted to breed, and now her single egg has hatched. Her Majesty wishes for the decision of her council to be recorded directly. They were in talks for four hours.

It has been decided that the Eugenics Program was a mistake. The monstrosity that was the Darkstalker almost spelled the doom of our entire tribe and the fallout of it will be felt for generations. Considering that the fate of the Darkstalker remains unknown at this time, we have deemed it necessary to remove all traces of our existence and our current whereabouts from the continent. In the event that the Darkstalker is still out there, we must take every precaution to reduce the likelihood of him finding us. And what's more, the Queen herself wishes to prevent the chance of a threat like him from arising again. So it has been decided that our tribe will slowly phase out the tradition of moon-hatchings. This will likely take decades or possibly even centuries to reach full effectiveness throughout the entire population, but this is what the Queen has decreed and so it shall be.

The ringleaders of the Program took most of the blame after the exodus. All of them were executed, both as a means to satisfy the public unrest, but also to eradicate any living evidence of the Program itself. However, at the time of these executions, Whiteout was spared on the advice of several of the Queen's councilors. She was the Darkstalker's sister, and could easily be a threat waiting to strike, as it is unknown how embroiled in the Darkstalker's treacherous plan she was. However, her lacking mental state nullifies any sinister motives one might suspect of her. And what's more, it was deemed that the animus gene is too valuable to throw away.

Whiteout was permitted to breed with her chosen mate, Thoughtful. It was suspected his lowborn, inferior bloodline would help to dilute the damage done by the Program. A few hours ago, their dragonet hatched. A son: Glassreader. The Queen's seer claims he has the animus gift. Queen Celestial and her Council have only recently come to a conclusion about what to do to prevent another disaster.

It has been decided that it will be too dangerous to leave the dragonet with his mother. She could poison him against the tribe, have him wreak vengeance for her family. And what's more, the Darkstalker had been left with his own mother, despite all the advice against such an action, and as a result his upbringing hadn't been monitored closely enough. So Glassreader will be taken into the custody of the crown, to be cared for and monitored by the Queen's most trusted servants. Should he prove to be anything like his uncle, they are under strict instructions to terminate.

As for Whiteout and Thoughtful, the Queen deems that they have served their purpose. Assassins are being sent as I write this to slit their throats whilst they sleep.

Hopefully, this will mean a brighter future for us all.

Morrowseer could understand the logic behind these decisions. If he'd been in that situation he would've done the same. A second scroll had been closely attached to this one, and upon opening it, he realised it was a follow on.

Last Moon of Winter, 3020 AS

A solution to the animus problem has presented itself before the Queen. Sentinel, one of the guardians of the tribe animus, Glassreader, has come forward with interesting news. Over the course of his time monitoring the young animus, he claims to have been quietly conditioning the dragonet. He has been convinced that his magic is an unreliable prevention of the natural world, that he will more than likely cause harm if his power remains unchecked.

So in response, Glassreader has enacted a curse: that he and all animus dragons related to him, will not be able to perform a single spell unless given specific permission by the guardian - in this case, Sentinel, whom the dragonet trusts implicitly. This duty will pass from Sentinel to his dragonets and their dragonets thereafter, and so on and so forth. This will ensure a safety net that will help to prevent further abuse of animus magic. The Queen has appointed that Sentinel and his descendants hereafter shall never go without - they have just made themselves invaluable to the tribe, after all.

Further observation is needed to see how this all plays out.

Dropping the scroll, Morrowseer went back to the list he'd come across earlier. He traced the family trees and followed the genetic lines to be sure his hunch was correct. The reward was almost immediate. It confirmed that Glassreader was indeed a direct ancestor to Stonemover, and Morrowseer himself was a descendant of Sentinel.

Growing up, he'd always resented the duty that had been passed down to him from his father. It was a sentence that meant he would never earn his place, never achieve more in life. His father had been content to live an easy life with no ambition. Morrowseer was not. Stonemover had been the first animus in three generations, and with his low self esteem and fear of his power, it had been easy to convince him that they were friends. Once Stonemover gave Morrowseer what he wanted, he'd dropped the façade faster than Burn had dropped the SkyWing egg. That was when he'd decided to use his intellect to move up the ranks, to earn his seat at Battlewinner's ear. He'd still been responsible for Stonemover, of course. But he wouldn't be chained to that duty exclusively.

And now, O how fate was a mischievous thing. The responsibility he'd loathed as an adolescent was now his key to achieving his ultimate goals.

It all made perfect sense. As two mindreaders, Darkstalker and Moonwatcher had heard each other telepathically, and through that link, Moon had given him permission to cast a spell that would release him from his prison. How long they'd been communicating previously, Morrowseer wasn't sure. But it had to be a while, considering the Darkstalker had almost immediately swooped in to rescue her. It was obvious he cared for her to some degree. He thought back to the assessment scroll. Everything had lined up so perfectly. Darkstalker was out there, with the perfect leverage to use against him. And as of right now, the threat he posed was minimal, considering that his magic was restrained and at Moonwatcher's mercy…

… and Morrowseer's.

The moons were already in the sky by the time Clay finally managed to make it back to his cave. He'd been so busy all day he'd hardly had time to eat. How could any of the others function on an empty stomach? Oh well. He'd gotten at least a little food before bed. Now, with his stomach full, he could fall into a nice, heavy sleep. The worries and anxieties could wait until tomorrow.

He half contemplated going to Sunny or Tsunami's cave. He didn't feel right sleeping alone most nights, unless he was properly exhausted. Perhaps it was the MudWing in him. Though he hadn't been brought up amongst his own kind, he knew that MudWings were very family-oriented. Siblings ate together, slept together, lived together all day and all night. It was why he felt so close with the other dragonets of destiny, that he saw them as his brother and sisters, even though they were not related by blood. But Glory wasn't fond of others touching her all the time. And Starflight shared his quarters with Fatespeaker. Tsunami allowed him to sleep beside her on occasion, but he knew she was self-conscious about recurring nightmares. Sunny would always welcome him if he needed it, but he knew she'd gone to bed early and didn't want to disturb her.

Before he could turn into his cave, he noticed a now familiar SkyWing making her way towards him. She was grinning from ear to ear and Clay felt his chest grow warm.

"Hey, Peril," he greeted. Usually, she was enthusiastic to talk to him, so when she stopped in front of him, silent and apprehensive, he got worried. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," she whispered shakily. Slowly, she inched her tail forward and twined it around his. Her chin wobbled, and Clay's concern grew when her saw tears escape down her cheeks. But then she turned to him with perhaps the biggest smile he'd ever seen. "Everything's perfect."

It took him a moment, his brain thoroughly confused. But then it dawned on him. He couldn't feel any unnatural heat emanating off of her. Yes, his scales were fireproof, but he still felt her heat, his flesh would still hiss at the contact. Yet Peril now felt no different than anyone else. His eyes went impossibly wide. "Wait a-"

"Just between us?" she asked, taking one of his talons between hers. He noticed a brass bracelet of twisting rings on her wrist. Her claws were shaking. "Please?"

This was so concerning. What had Peril done to make her firescales go away? Had she hurt herself? And yet, the sheer overwhelming joy in her eyes rendered him silent. Tsunami often teased him for being dense and tactless, but even he could see how much this meant to Peril. So he smiled, and pulled her in for a hug. As she wept tears of joy, he whispered: "Sure."

A/N: Only one more chapter to go and then Part 2 is finished! Woooooooo!

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