Chapter Thirty Seven

Blister couldn't believe her eyes. Couldn't believe her ears. Her stronghold, the place she had thought to be impenetrable, the fortress she had micromanaged in order to be sure that no one could come in or out without her knowledge… breached. The courtyard was teeming with soldiers, each battling this disaster in different ways. Shouts rang out into the darkness. Somewhere, a bell was ringing. Smoke poisoned the air. At least the fires had now been wrestled under control. The rubble from the explosion was still being cleared. The upper half of an entire tower had been destroyed; the explosion had weakened the integrity of the structure, and the fires had weakened the beams further until all the rest of it came crumbling down. The walls of the palace were now stained with soot. Around her, SandWings worked tirelessly to try and sort through the chaos. Their lungs protested against the smoke in severe wracking coughs. Blister refused to give even an inch of herself, keeping her breathing calm, her head held high. Composure was the only thing she had left, to stand firm in the face of this catastrophe. She could show no one else her fury, could not give them the chance to anticipate her next move.

It felt like a violation. This was her palace, the very heart of her authority, and someone had come here and humiliated her for the world to see. Quiet fury made Blister burn from the inside out, the heat so incredible she thought her scales would blacken and flake away. Her mind was spinning to think through the scenarios. Who did this? How had they managed to slip past the guards? Did the guards allow them to get in? Were they all working against her? Could none of them be trusted?

"Your Majesty!" a soldier landed on her right. He bowed swiftly, but his eyes were wide in terror. "Err, the perpetrators - they, um, they seem to have… escaped?"

"How many?" Had Ruby finally gotten her act together and sent a squad to do this? The dragon-flame-cactus bomb was proof enough. Or had it been Glacier acting on behalf of the spineless Blaze?

"Our warriors reported there were only three," said the soldier. "A SeaWing, a RainWing and a Sand-"

Turning on her heel, Blister flung out her wing, the thick wrist and knuckle smashed into the soldier's jaw. His head snapped to the side. She lashed out with her claws, sinking them into his throat. Red blood spurted up her arm. The soldier spluttered and only managed one feeble attempt to push her off, before the barb on her tail drove into his side. The soldier froze, eyes bulging and mouth hanging open with silent pain as her venom worked to set each of his nerves ablaze, to make him rot from the inside out. With a wrench of her wrist, she tore out his throat. His body fell to the sand, the pool of his blood turning it black.

Casting aside the offensive organ in her talon, Blister stalked across the courtyard. She knew exactly who had attacked her palace. Those brats from the siege on Jade Mountain! Though many different tribes had joined the rebellion in disgusting 'harmony', they still all preferred to stay close to their own tribes. But not that bunch. They always worked together, Blister had had her spies keep an eye on their activities across Pyrrhia in the last few weeks - they were easy to identify. But she'd thought the situation was in hand! How had they been allowed to come here, to attack her?!

"You two!" she pointed to two guards, exhausted by a block they'd just moved, covered in ash. They jumped to attention, horrified when the saw the gore on her talon. "With me!"

They fell behind her as she took to the air, winging her way south. Whilst it had been months since she'd gone through the magical tunnel to the Rainforest, she'd kept a secret map of its location in her chambers (the two guards who'd accompanied her that night had since wound up dead). With luck, the dunes wouldn't have hidden it from view, and she would soon been storming into the dark depths. Morrowseer had a lot to answer for!

The first thing Qibli was aware of was the sound of distant waves, as consciousness slowly came back to him. The next thing he focused on, was the feeling of comfort and warmth. His brain became more aware, and memories filtered in. Blister's palace… the soldiers… the sandstorm… His eyes snapped open, his brain rushing to take in everything in a mad dash. Wooden walls, a weaved straw rug underneath him, a large thatched roof overhead. Sunlight was peaking through all the little cracks in the wooden planks and thatchwork, and Qibli's internal clock told him it was somewhere around midday. Though he tried to shift position, he was soon halted. His wrists and ankles were bound in rope, his wings tied to his torso. But his jaw hadn't been restrained. Flimsily made cushions and furs were piled in one corner, a table with candles on another. A hammock made of palm leaves hung from the tall ceiling, and a single door led to a room he couldn't see. This was no prison cell, he concluded, as it had too many comforts and personal touches - like the little wooden carvings dotted around the walls of the hut, each depicting a different tribe. Something heavy leaned against his side, almost making Qibli leap out of his skin. It was Turtle, sound asleep, and Kinkajou on the other side of the SeaWing. Both of them were bound similarly to Qibli, but otherwise they looked perfectly fine.

Now that his mind had had a chance to calm and assess the situation, Qibli could analyse and determine his next course of action. There was no immediate danger, he realised, despite being tied up. He was in someone's home, and his friends had not been separated from him. And he could escape at any moment, as his "captor" had not muzzled either him or the others. They could easily bite through the rope, or he and Kinkajou could use their fire and venom to free themselves. So whoever put them here was either incredibly stupid or up to something else.

"At least she got you too," the voice was flat and haughty and grin-inducingly familiar. Qibli looked to the other side of the hut, to a corner he hadn't inspected before now - Winter lay, bound as he was, yet still managed to look so dashingly laid back, as if he chose to be in this spot but was annoyed all the same. "Now I don't feel quite so pathetic."

"Winter!" Qibli couldn't help but feel relief and joy. "When we didn't hear from you, we thought you were still in the Ice Kingdom."

"I got a promising lead and left. It was only supposed to be a small diversion but…" the IceWing held up his bound wrists and rolled his eyes.

"How long have you been here?"

"A day… I think?" he frowned, the simmering anger clear in his blue eyes. "I've been kept unconscious except to be watered and fed. How did you end up here?"

"Oh, you know, the usual. Broke into Blister's palace to steal stuff, ended up blowing it up and then we got swept away in a magical sand hurricane."

Winter narrowed his eyes, his lip curling in that pompous aristocratic way that only he could perfect. "You know, sometimes I hate it when your ridiculousness makes me question my own sanity."

"Awwwwww! You love me!"

"If you two lovebirds are quite finished?" said a voice.

The door Qibli had noted earlier opened. Through it, stepped out a large, old female SandWing. She was tall and long necked, her scales a rather pale yellow, with tanned triangular patterns on the underside of her wings. She was skinny, but muscular in the shoulders. She wore a pale pink seashell on a chord around her neck, her only decoration. The female's face was worn with frown wrinkles. Her dark eyes were cold, guarded, as if her mind was tracing all over Qibli, trying to figure him out as much as he was doing to her.

Qibli shoved his elbow into Turtle's ribs, making the SeaWing snort mid-snore and jolt awake. As he tried to get up, he inadvertently pushed Kinkajou, who had been laying on him, waking her as well. Turtle blinked his big eyes and looked around sluggishly, as if his brain was slow to start up. "Errrrr, what's going on? Wha- Winter?!"

Kinkajou's big ears flipped up to attention, on high alert much quicker than Turtle. "Winter! How d-" She paused, looking down at her tied talons. Instantly she began to struggle, straining against the binds. "Uh-uh, nobody puts me in chains! Not again!"

"Apologies," rumbled the voice of the big female. "But it was a necessary precaution."

"HOW is this necessary?!" the RainWing spat.

"To be sure you wouldn't hurt yourself. Or me."

"Despite current circumstances," Qibli said quickly before Kinkajou could hiss a furious retort. "We promise we're not in the habit of attacking dragons as soon as we wake up. Mind if we stretch our legs, at least?"

The female SandWing's dark eyes darted from face to face. Her frown lines deepened. But after a moment, she gave a heavy sigh. From a belt strapped around her thigh, she pulled out a knife and cut all her prisoners free. Kinkajou immediately flung herself up to the roof, coiling her prehensile tail around one of the beams to anchor herself in place. Qibli was shocked at her severe reaction to capture. But then he remembered that she'd been taken by the NightWings years ago and been held prisoner for weeks. Shame churned in his stomach at having forgotten her trauma, at trivialising it.

"Who are you?" Turtle asked when the older female cut him free.

"The dragon I came here to find." said Winter, rubbing his sore wrists. "I discovered a diary belonging to Queen Diamond, it said that she helped Jerboa the SandWing animus escape the war to this location. I'm guessing this is her descendant."

The older SandWing shrugged. "Almost correct. I'm actually her daughter. Jerboa the 2nd."

"What?!" Qibli exclaimed.

Winter snorted, though equally shocked. "But that's impossible!"

"That would make you around two thousand years old! How're you alive?!" Kinkajou demanded.

Jerboa sat heavily, her claws digging into the floor. "A mother's love and a poorly worded spell results in accidental immortality. And nothing I've tried can undo it."

Turtle darked to take a step forward, his wings shivering - whether with fright or hope, was unknown. "So… you're an animus too?"

A look passed over Jerboa's face, as if someone had just told her the oldest, unfunniest joke in the world. "Unfortunately."

Something inside Qibli took great offence at that dismissive statement. The dragon could do anything with her power and she was ashamed of it like some sulking adolescent? He tried to brush away these thoughts, to focus. "You're an animus, yet you're satisfied to stay stuck in the middle of nowhere? And you've just been left alone for thousands of years?"

"Waiting to trap completely innocent dragons and chain them up for no good reason!" chimed Kinkajou hotly.

Jerboa cocked a brow at her. "You did blow up the palace."

"For completely good reasons!"

"And no," Jerboa answered Qibli, "the IceWings are not keeping me here. Each Queen has graciously allowed me to stay here undisturbed for as long as I need. I want to stay out of Pyrrhian politics - a lesson my mother learned the hard way. Better my powers not be used at all, rather than used for purposes other than my own."

Turtle was quiet, looking at his talons thoughtfully.

"So why did you help us?" asked Qibli. "We would've been captured or killed had it not been for you. How did you even know we needed help?"

"I… was given reliable information."

"But nobody except Thorn and the Outclaws knew we were going to blow up the palace-"

"Does it matter how I knew?" Jerboa interrupted shortly. "What should matter is that I helped you at all."

"But why?" asked Winter, stalking back and forth across the small width of the hut, his tail spikes rattling with his growing apprehension.

"Because I've been told that to help you will be for the benefit of a lot of dragons," Jerboa's jaw flexed. Qibli recognised it - his sister Rattlesnake always did the same thing when she grew frustrated.

"Help us in what, exactly?" Qibli pushed.

"By the moons, can we drop this act? I know everything. The Darkstalker has returned after two thousand years. He's unstoppable and you four idiots think you can find a way to stop him."

Winter bristled. "You think we're idiotic for trying to stop a potential disaster from one of the most powerful dragons that has ever lived?"

"If you were told to help us," everyone was surprised when it was Turtle who spoke up. "Then why haven't you done so sooner?"

Jerboa looked away quickly, and Qibli's spine shivered a little, a sixth sense warning him she was lying. "We all have our time to shine. If I'd acted sooner, it might've thrown off future plans. But when I found this one-" she gestured with her barbed tail at Winter, "-skulking outside my hut, I knew the time was now."

"How do you know about Darkstalker?" asked Qibli.

Kinkajou hung from her tail, her face upside down but her eyes wide with sudden excitement. "Was it from a prophecy? That's how we know a lot of things! Wait - I got it! You were alive when Clearsight was. That means she must've told you! She was the best Seer that ever was - she told you about us!"

"That's stupid," Winter shook his head. "Just because they were alive at the same point doesn't mean they ever knew each other. You don't know everyone in the world who's been alive the same time you have."

"I know everyone in the Rebellion by name." said the RainWing with a mischievous grin.

Winter stared at her, mouth agape. Qibli could almost see his mind zipping between disbelieving her incredible statement or being flawed by the fact that it was most likely true. "Th-that's not the same!"

Jerboa groaned, drawing attention back to her. "It's times like these that remind me why I never wanted dragonets…"

"Kinkajou has a point, though," said Qibli. "If you really are that old, you must've been alive around the time of Darkstalker."

"Indeed. I was little more than a hatchling. But I was there, the day the City of Night fell."

That got everyone's attention. To think, all of their searching for all these weeks, and they now finally had a real lead! Winter stepped closer to Jerboa, his whole demeanour changing from aggression to attentiveness in a split second. "Did you or your mother have any dealings with Darkstalker?"

"No, thank the moons."

Turtle tapped his chin thoughtfully. "We were told that in a war between Ice and Night, wasn't it more than coincidence that the SandWings weren't caught in the crossfire. Did your mother keep Darkstalker at bay?"

Qibli was kind of impressed at Turtle for recalling Stonemover's words so well. "How did your mother protect your tribe?"

"By not getting involved with the war," Jerboa said. "My mother was the court animus for Queen Scorpion, two thousand years ago. Some of the most famous SandWing artefacts were made by her - it was what made her the Queen's favourite. But a Queen's love is fickle, and when my mother's reputation began to outshine that of Scorpion's, she saw her as less of a pet and more of a rival. The war distracted her, as both sides paid Scorpion handsomely so that they could use the desert as their battle grounds. Such an influx of wealth would make any Queen happy. But it was not to last. The final straw came when Queen Scorpion was faced with an inheritance crisis of her own. She'd lost all of her true-born daughters and granddaughters to either challenges or battles, and she was too old to have any more dragonets of her own. Her sons, however, had spent their lives sowing their royal seeds across the desert sands. And they had not been diligent in remembering who'd they'd mated or when. Soon dragonesses from across the Kingdom began showing up, claiming to be the bastards of Scorpion's idiot sons. I have no doubt some of them were legitimate, but others took this as their opportunity to gain a new life, and how could their claim be disproven?"

"Scorpion had no way to tell who was telling the truth," Turtle nodded along vigorously, and Qibli realised that he'd probably read this history somewhere in one of his scrolls. "If this was the Kingdom of the Sea, it would be easy. All SeaWings of royal blood carry the swirl patterns on our wings."

"Sadly, we don't have that," Jerboa shrugged. "Scorpion was getting old, and knew that if she died with no true successor, there would be civil war. Her court would divide themselves, each side picking a favourite "potential" heir. Her pride would not allow the chance of a clever, lying commoner to succeed her. So she came to my mother, commanded her to enchant a device that would allow her to know who was a rightful heir, and who was a pretender. By that point, all good relations between my mother and the Queen were nonexistent. My mother wanted one last hurrah. So she created the Eye of Onyx. She presented it to Scorpion and her assembled court, claimed it would discern between two candidates the one which was right for the throne. To demonstrate, two of Scorpion's "granddaughters" fought for the Eye, only for the Eye's magic to reduce them both to ash. Scorpion believed that meant the Eye would be able to whittle out who was really of royal blood or not, and proclaimed from that moment on, that in challenges for the throne, the pair would fight for the Eye of Onyx, and whosoever won would be the undisputed Queen of the SandWings. In truth, my mother had worded her spell so that the Eye cared not for royal blood, it would simply choose between the contestants whomever was more suited for the job."

Winter looked like he was about to have a heart attack. "But that would decimate the true royal bloodline!"

"If they were unfit to rule, then they should not have the opportunity to do so," Jerboa shot back derisively.

"Was Jerboa discovered?" asked Kinkajou.

"We didn't wait to find out. Scorpion had her favourites amongst her questionable brood. Sooner or later, one or all of them might've fallen to the Eye. If that happened, Scorpion's wrath would not have listened to reason, so whilst the Queen celebrated this supposed victory, my mother took me and a few supplies, and fled. That was when the NightWings found us."

Somewhere outside, a seagull gave a loud, shrill call, making Qibli jump. Winter gave him an odd look.

"They must've been spying on the Palace. Whether to just keep an eye on Scorpion or to approach my mother at some point, I don't know. All I remember is us trying to escape into the desert, and being surrounded by NightWings. They gave my mother a deal - they offered her protection from Scorpion, and in exchange Queen Vigilance wanted my mother to help protect her from Darkstalker. She'd become quite paranoid, and suspected him of coveting her throne."

"Well," Winter mumbled, "on that she was correct."

"But," Jerboa's voice became quieter, the frown lines on her face seeming to fade, to reveal a hint of what she might've been in her younger years. "When we arrived at the Night Kingdom, the chaos had already begun. Darkstalker had just murdered his father and the Queen. Dragons were running, flying, screaming. They were desperate to escape, but Darkstalker wouldn't let them. Then there was the battle between-"

"Wait a minute!" interrupted Kinkajou. "You were there, in the city?! That means you must know where it is!"

"I wasn't even a few months old," Jerboa snapped. "Most of what I'm telling you I only know through what my mother told me. I don't remember many details… but I do remember, when the battle was over, my mother and I found the SeaWing, Fathom. He was hurt, and we helped him to escape."

Turtle's eyes went wide. "You met Fathom?"

"Did he say anything about the battle?" pressed Winter. "How did he beat Darkstalker?"

"He didn't beat him," Jerboa chortled as if the IceWing had said the most ridiculous sentence ever spoken. "Darkstalker made himself immortal and invulnerable. There was no beating him."

"Then maybe his magic was stronger," Turtle said, hope and desperation radiated out of him in equal measure. He threw himself before Jerboa, opening his talons to her as if she were a deity that would grant his life-long prayer. "I'm an animus, but I'm useless. You've been doing this for so long, you could teach me!"

Kinkajou slithered down from the rafters, and gently put her wing over Turtle's shoulders. "You're not useless, Turtle."

"Yes I am," he bit his lip, tears stinging the corner of his eyes. "Qibli always comes up with the better spells - mine are always so small and no good when we really need them. Look what happened back in Blister's Fortress. I didn't save us. We went looking for magic and couldn't find anything. Qibli's write, I'm just a silly dragonet."

As all of Turtle's anxieties were laid bare, Qibli felt his ears burn. Winter looked at him, a look that Qibli couldn't really decipher; and that made him feel hurt. He realised with embarrassment a moment later, that he didn't feel contrite because of the way his comments had made Turtle feel, but because he'd been caught out doing so. That wrong burned him. It proved he was not a good dragon, not a good friend. He wanted to go to Turtle, to beg his forgiveness.

The SeaWing turned to Jerboa again. "Teach me how to be a better animus, how to do what Fathom did!"

For the first time, the female SandWing looked on with no scorn or jaded risignment. Instead, she looked as if she pitied Turtle. "That's not how it works. All animus magic is equal. Think of it like… water. Two streams sit side by side, with equal depth and width, the same amount of water runs in each; not a drop more or less. The streams get one dragon each to oversee them, to plot their course. One might be direct and have the stream go in simple ways to its destination. The other might be cunning, and have his stream curve and dip to gather momentum so that the water gains more force." She paused and reached out a talon, as if to touch Turtle, but stopped just short of him. Had all her years alone robbed her of knowing how to empathise? In the end, she lowered her talon, and sighed. "Even though I'm two thousand years your senior, you still have the same raw power as I. The superior animus will be the one who is the quicker thinker, the one who words his spells first and in such a way that they cannot be easily subverted. It all depends on your imagination and conviction."

"And how does that help us against Darkstalker?" Qibli said, trying to redirect the conversation back to the task at claw.

"I don't know." Jerboa shrugged. "The stories say he has no physical weaknesses, his invulnerability made by his magic. And I have never encountered anything of this world that can stop animus magic. I'd suggest you'd start there."

Qibli stared in mounting outrage. "Are you kidding? You know what we're up against, you know how to help us (supposedly). And you want to tell us to look for something 'not of this world'. What're we meant to do, go to the land of the dead? Ask the Great Dragon for some divine miracle?!"

"Do you not think that there are things which you cannot understand, and yet which are; that some dragons see things that others cannot? But there are things old and new which must not be contemplated by mortal eyes?" said Jerboa. *

"More riddles," Winter huffed. "That's just great."

Qibli's sides were heaving. All this had been for nothing! "Well, thank you, Jerboa. Thank you for saving us and for being so utterly useless otherwise."

"Qibli!" Kinkajou hissed reproachfully.

Jerboa's eyes grew cold like black ice. "What is it you want from me, Qibli? To ride into battle against Darkstalker? To throw away my life?"

"If you really wanted to help, then yes! I'm sick of being pushed from pillar to post, and never getting any real answers."

"Then get out of my house and go to Fathom's Sanctuary!"

They all grew silent as Jerboa's shout shook the house. The planks groaned, and the wind rustled the thatched roof. Outside, the waves gave a mighty crash as the tide swept in. Qibli felt confused - what had she just said?

"What…" Turtle stuttered over his words, his tail curling in on itself out of anxiety. "What do you mean, 'go to Fathom's Sanctuary'? Do you know what happened to him?"

There was a long uncomfortable pause, Jerboa seemed just as surprised as everyone else by her outburst. She cleared her throat and reached into a large clay jar. Pulling out a roasted scorpion, she plucked off its tail and popped it into her mouth. "For a short while, he stayed here with us. Clearsight even came to see him."

Kinkajou stuck her tongue out at Winter. "Told you!"

"She was too far gone with grief," said Jerboa as she plucked out a second scorpion. "She'd been with Darkstalker for years. She felt guilty for her part in the tragedy, and wanted to leave Pyrrhia for good. She disappeared into the west. After that, Fathom went south, to the coast of the rainforest, and took all his secrets with him." She said this with a bitter twist to her mouth. There were bad feelings there, Qibli realised. Something had happened that made the memory of Fathom somehow painful. "If there are any answers out there as to how to beat Darkstalker, I'd say they're be in Fathom's sanctuary."

"Can you show us the way?" Turtle asked.

Jerboa nodded and went to her table filled with candles. On it, was a map of Pyrrhia. With Turtle and Kinkajou watching over her shoulder, she showed them the way. Qibli stayed back, too embarrassed by his brash words. Something shiny caught his eye, and he realised it was Winter waving his tail to get his attention. The IceWing glared at him and motioned with his head at Jerboa. If this were any other time, Qibli might've laughed his tail off, that Winter, of all dragons, was telling Qibli how to behave appropriately.

"I'll see if any of my traps have caught us any fish for supper," Jerboa mumbled as she stood. She wouldn't look at any of them as she turned and went to the door.

As she passed him, Qibli set his talon on her forearm. Jerboa gave the ever so subtlest of growls. Qibli flattened his ears and ducked his head; he knew he deserved that. "I'm sorry for what I said. Thank you for helping us. I mean it this time."

"I've done my part, I told you what I should. Shows what good that's done me." Jerboa said, shrugging him off. "You can rest up for tonight, but in the morning I want you all gone."

Peril sat, stiff and frozen despite the summer heat. She didn't want to be here, she told herself. Everyone kept giving her sidelong stares, over a dozen dragons and the only friendly face was Clay's. Ruby had called for a meeting of all her high councillors. They were all bringing in reports. Of course, Ruby wasn't happy that Peril and Clay hadn't immediately fixed her Scarlet-problem, which set the mood for the entire meeting. One by one, the Councillors each gave a report on their respective duties, whether it be the state of the coffers or news from the hatchery etc. Sat quietly in front of a low burning fire in the great hearth of the banquet hall, Ruby didn't say much as each Councillor spoke.

Peril chose to sit herself at the edge of the room. Her claws worried at her bracelet, trying to get it free - it was still stuck. As she tried to get herself out of this situation as stealthily as possible, Peril knew she must act as if she still had her Firescales. She wasn't an idiot; she knew that the fear of her firescales was the only thing that made her untouchable. So long as other dragons thought they might lose a talon if they dared to strike her, she was safe. And it was why she was starting to panic that she still couldn't get the damn bracelet off!

"More reports coming in, My Queen." said an old SkyWing male, his jowls sagged and his once maroon scales were now faded. He reminded Peril a lot of Osprey. "There's growing discontent amongst the grunt soldiers. They're frustrated at our lack of progress. More are speaking up in support of Scarlet."

A dragon twice Peril's age hissed. "We should make examples of them!"

"Our top priority should be finding where Scarlet is and dealing with her!" said a female general.

"And what do we do in the meantime?" barked someone else. "Just allow these murmurs of rebellion to fester?"

Clay tried wade in, to ease the rising tensions. "I don't think-"

But no one listened to him. "Maybe we should have these traitors chained on top of the pillars of the arena."

"Councillors," Ruby's voice was not stern or angry, yet its effect was still like that of a whip slicing through straw. Everyone grew silent as the Queen turned to face them, finally. "Whilst your concern for the stability of my Kingdom is appreciated, I believe we should focus on giving more rewards to those who speak out in my favour. We should incentivise loyalty."

"Indeed, Your Majesty," nodded the Osprey-like dragon. "But if we do nothing to curb this threat, very soon words of discontent will become acts against us."

"Are they not even allowed their own opinions?" the words flew out of Peril's mouth before she even knew what she was saying.

Everyone stopped, turned to her and stared. Their facial expressions ranged from outraged to comically confused. Peril tried to not show that she was as shocked as they were by her outburst. Why had she said that? Was it because she couldn't get Chameleon's words from yesterday out of her head? But wasn't at least some of it true? Ruby was creating division, yet she wanted to punish dragons for speaking their mind when she claimed to be so enlightened? Even Clay was looking at her, confused.

"What did you say?" Ruby's voice was so tightly controlled, it came out as little more than a whispered growl.

Well, there was no turning back now, Peril told herself, and tried to recall all the points her father had made. "You're punishing dragons for not liking the way you're running things. That sounds like something Scarlet would do. If that's how things are going to be, you might as well go all the way. At least these dragons will know where they stand."

Clay hurried to her side, gripping her shoulder, his eyes bright with worry. "Peril, what are you doing?"

She had to make him understand - it wasn't as bad as it sounded! "I'm just pointing out that Scarlet had clear rules for her subjects - if you broke the rules, you got punished. It was harsh, but at least we all knew where the line was." She turned to Ruby, who's tail was barely controlled, lashing back and forth behind her. "Look at the way you've treated me. You ask for my help and still hate me. If this is any indication about how you run your kingdom, I don't blame these rebels for turning to the other side."

The silence that filled that room was enough to suffocate, so quiet one could hear a canary's footsteps. Peril felt the weight of her words drag her down, like someone had taken away her wings, mid-flight. She turned from dragon to dragon, hoping that at least one of them - any of them - might offer some understanding. But all she was met with was hard, cold stares. Ruby was practically shaking with rage.

"I knew it. I knew you were in support of Scarlet!" the Queen thundered. She unfurled her large wings, beating them as she stalked towards Peril. The wind she generated almost snuffed out the fire in the hearth. Peril backed away from her, even though she knew Ruby would never try to touch her for fear of her condition. But the look of murder in the Queen's eyes was frightening, and Peril had no doubt that if Ruby knew Peril was vulnerable, she would've attacked in that moment. "My mother's dog, always ready to bark at her command. I was right all along: you cannot be trusted. I would have you executed right now if I didn't know it would likely cause the death of my own guards. Get out! You're banished from the Sky Kingdom, from this day until the end of the Sun! Go!"

Peril was speechless - she couldn't be serious?! This was supposed to be her chance to fix everything. Had she wasted that opportunity? No! Not yet, surely! Ruby growled and snapped her teeth, a warning of her wavering patience. Desperately, Peril looked to Clay - her dearest Clay, he would support her. But even he was looking at her as if he couldn't understand her. As if she were a stranger. That look broke something small and precious inside of Peril. Tears welled in her eyes, and she spun and fled. She ran to the nearest opening into the great darkening blue sky, and threw herself through it. Tears were streaming down her face as she unfurled her wings and soared away.

The night came swiftly, slinking across Pyrrhia like the velvety embrace of a mother's wing over her tired hatchlings. Gone were the damp nights of spring. With midsummer only a few days away, even at night, the air was hot and humid and any breeze was welcome. Stuck in her cell, Secretkeeper hated these nights most of all. The rainforest was always warm, but summer made it almost unbearable, as the trees and her four-walls blocked out any relief of a breeze. There was a single crack between the planks of wood that made up her prison, and some nights, when the humidity became too unbearable, she would press her cheek against it just to feel even the slightest breath of cool air. Tonight was such a night. Her chains rattled noisily, the old sores on her wrists and ankles wailing their old songs of complaint.

A groan came from the cell next door, and the sound of a body turning over could be heard. Secretkeeper heard the flop of a wing hitting the floor. Ah. So her new, mysterious neighbour was just as uncomfortable as she was. He'd been brought in yesterday, but Secretkeeper hadn't managed to get a good look through the bars. He'd hardly spoken at all, though Secretkeeper wasn't one to reach out to introduce herself. Her tribe had shunned her and left her to rot for the past two years. She wasn't about to act nice because one of them wound up in a cell beside her.

There was a whisper of a footfall, making her ears perk up. Just beneath her cell door was a gap from the ground, only an inch high. It was only enough for Secretkeeper to see the shadow of the prison guard that was cast by his torchlight. As she watched, she saw his shadow move a little. And then she heard the murmur of his low voice, and then someone replied just as quietly. Secretkeeper tried to move herself closer, as quietly as her noisy manacles would allow. But the chains stopped her just short and no matter how she strained her ears, she could not make out the whispered words clearly.

The shadow on the floor moved away, and the torchlight went with it. Secretkeeper had been kept in a state of perpetual twilight for so long, that the onslaught of pure darkness left her almost completely blind. She heard the creek of her cell door, and felt the presence of another. It wasn't Morrowseer, he never used this type of secrecy when he visited, and it definitely didn't smell like him. Secretkeeper backed away from the shadow, pressing herself into a corner, eyes wide, trying to catch even a glimmer of a shape in the darkness.

"Are you to be my executioner?" she whispered. She had often contemplated whether or not it would be better to end her existence rather than continue this solitary confinement. It had been so long since she'd last used her wings, she doubted they would even bear her weight in the air. But now that she was confronted with the very real possibility, Secretkeeper felt frightened. All she could think was Moonwatcher, I need to see Moonwatcher one last time.

"Not tonight," said a quiet, female voice. From beneath a the ruffle of fabric, came a piercing green light. Secretkeeper gasped and hid her stinging eyes. She blinked several times, trying to adjust, but it hurt. A glass jar was placed upon the floor in the middle of the cell, a bunch of fireflies fluttering inside, creating the light-source. A dragoness stood before the cowering Secretkeeper, shrouded in a black cloak. Pulling down the hood, the stranger revealed herself. Violet eyes, and a string of small diamonds wound around her horns. Queen Greatness. "I cannot stay long, the guard will only abandon his post for a short while."

Secretkeeper was so stunned she couldn't articulate her shock, and just answered. "I'm surprised he even allowed you in here. My husband only guards me with some of his most loyal zealots." Why was the Queen here? In all her years, Secretkeeper had never really met Greatness, not even when she'd been kept as an attendant to Battlewinner. The two only knew about each other thanks to others. What would drive the Queen to come in secret to speak to the lowly prisoner?

"This one owes me a favour, seeing as I helped his wife save his egg from the volcano," said Greatness. She looked to Secretkeeper, and there was a shining desperate panic in her eyes that startled the older female. "That was what I came to speak to you about. I want to know how you did it."

"Did what, Your Grace?"

"Moon's egg. She has the powers of old, she is what us NightWings should be. You laid her egg in this rainforest and she hatched here. But if it were that simple, our newest dragonets would also be showing the signs. At first, I thought any taint of the volcano had poisoned us. But the latest three dragonets were all laid and hatched in this rainforest and none of them have the gifts. Do I have it wrong? Is it something that comes later, long after the hatching?"

"No." Secretkeeper felt an old melancholy seize hold of her heart as she remembered those innocent days. When she'd been so certain she was doing the right thing, to save her unborn dragonet. When she'd sneak away to see her hatchling in the dead of night, and how those moments had transformed her life with love and joy, to have a living child in her arms. And in the same moment, she almost cursed the gifts Moon had been given, for it was those remarkable gifts that had been the reason for their separation, for Morrowseer's cruelty towards their miracle daughter. "With Moon it was obvious she had the gifts from the moment she came out of the egg."

"Then what did you do?" Greatness asked. "I have done everything Morrowseer has said - directed the mothers to eat healthily, kept our eggs safe in the vault-"

"The vault?"

"Yes. These are the first completely healthy NightWing hatchlings in four generations. They must be protected at all costs. And the ventilation and warmth in the vault are always perfectly managed."

The pieces fit together so perfectly, and yet Secretkeeper couldn't comprehend the image it was trying to tell. For Morrowseer knew exactly what had given Moon her gifts. That NightWing eggs that hatch under full moons will be granted the old powers. She knew he was aware of this truth, because she'd told him. She'd figured it out when she'd found Moon's egg, turned silver from the moonlight, and how she'd come out of the egg seeming to understand her mother's intentions if she thought them hard enough. When Morrowseer had apprehended them, he'd interrogated her and she'd told him everything. So why was he telling Greatness to keep the tribe's eggs underground, away from the moonlight? Why keep the knowledge of the moon-hatchings to himself? Was it to keep Moon special? For if she remained the only one in the tribe with their signature abilities, that made her a precious resource they couldn't forsake. Or was all this some way to stroke his own ego? Moon was his daughter, and she was the only one with powers, so that would lend a mystical authority to his bloodline, his word. Or was there something else Secretkeeper was missing in all this? Did this have something to do with Morrowseer's mysterious plans he hinted to her months ago? The plans that somehow involved the Darkstalker?

"I just…" Greatness continued, her claws worrying at a fraying piece of thread on her cloak. "I thought that if we had more dragonets with the old gifts, then within a few years they would be old enough to help the tribe. We wouldn't need to waste so many resources on recapturing Moonwatcher."

"Morrowseer is still after her?" Secretkeepr asked, trying to keep her tone from sounding too desperate.

"He has our scouts throwing themselves all over Pyrrhia looking for her or her outer-tribe associates. I don't know why - she was taken by the Darkstalker, she is as good as dead."

"No she's not." Every instinct inside Secretkeeper screamed at the idea of her precious daughter dead. Some instinct deep inside, the instinct that had warned her that her birthing was coming, the same instinct that had whispered that her egg was hatching, it told her now with full certainty that her daughter was still alive. And she clung to that hope as fiercely as a SeaWing clinging to water. "Morrowseer wouldn't be wasting his time if there was even a chance she was dead."

Greatness frowned. "I don't think Morrowseer can claim to be of any sound mind these days. He has us performing the oddest taks - constructing great chains, extracting RainWing venom, randomising our patrols and constantly changing decisions on our army's movements. His behaviour is erratic, never still or dependable. He has Mastermind working himself to the bone on experiments on different materials. And he shares none of his plans with me."

"But you're the Queen," Secretkeeper said, confused. She knew her husband could be intimidating and conniving, but from what she knew of most royalty, they always over exerted their control on their tribe with dominance. To see Greatness be so un-confrontational… it went against what Secretkeeper expected of a Queen.

"It feels like every day, that title becomes more and more hollow," Greatness murmured, beneath her cloak, her wings drooped as if to say those words out loud had diminished her further. "Morrowseer is planning something. He's waiting for something. I just don't know what. I don't even know why I'm telling you this. You betrayed us all. Twice."

"And I would do it a thousand times more," Sectrekeeper said with all the gravity and authority she could muster. "For the same reason that guard out there just betrayed his commander. For the love of a child. We'd do anything to protect them, anything to make the world right for them. Perhaps if your mother had had the chance, she never would've left you at the mercy of my husband."

Greatness stared at Secretkeeper as if she had just laid out some grand, unspoken secret of the universe. Secretkeeper knew the former Queen and Princess had not had a warm relationship. But Battlewinner had still loved her daughter, despite being frustrated with her shortcomings. Even if Secretkeeper knew Battlewinner would never have made the sacrifices she had for the love of her child, it was a worthy lie to tell. Greatness' eyes shone in the slim light of the fireflies; she was touched by the idea that her mother might've cared about her enough to have stopped Morrowseer if she could.

There was a tap on the cell-door. The guard had returned - their time was up. Greatness looked back to Secretkeeper, somehow torn if she should say something else. A thank you? A farewell? A promise to return? Secretkeeper turned her back on the queen and laid down, making the decision easy for her. There was no point in pretending this brief interlude to her isolation was anything more than a fluke. The green light was moved away and soon vanished, leaving Secretkeeper once again in her constant twilight. She heard the cell-door open and close, and the isolation was resumed.

Winter waited until the dead of night crept in and he could hear the snores of his friends. It had been a rather awkward evening. Jerboa only spoke when necessary, and avoided them as much as possible. She'd fed them a fish stew (Kinkajou declined in favour of a coconut or two) and let them sleep in the main room of her hut. She'd closed herself off into her mysterious back room long before sunset. Winter felt awkward, as if they'd burned a bridge to a potentially powerful ally. Jerboa could've been an incredible asset to have in this war and against Darkstalker. Now, thanks to Qibli's outburst, they were lucky she hasn't banished them immediately.

It had all happened so suddenly. Winter wasn't quite sure what had set Qibli off like that, but it wasn't normal. The male SandWing had hardly spoken since. He was laid close to Winter, sleeping deeply. The IceWing was tempted to wake him, to question what was going with him to make him act so oddly. Winter knew he wasn't as good at reading others the same way Qibli did, but his friend was always open with his motivations. To be cut off from those intentions now, it made him feel adrift.

The urge to speak to someone, to hear a voice in the dark, grew like an itch he couldn't scratch. Carefully, he reached into his pack that Jerboa had returned to him, and took our the Seashell. Tucking himself under his wing for a semblance of privacy, Winter huddled around the shell.

"Contact Moonwatcher," he whispered. "Moon?"

"Oh!" gasped a voice, and Winter felt warmth flood every bone in his body to hear her voice. "Winter? Is that you? Oh! It's been so long, where have you been? Is everything alright? Did something-"

"Shh!" he hissed, clamping his talons around the shell as if he could literally smother it. He waited for three heartbeats. When his friends' breathing didn't change, he relaxed. "The others are asleep. And don't worry, we're all okay - I think. I'm sorry. It's been a while since we last spoke."

"It's been weeks since any of you have contacted me."

He winced. Had it really been that long? Guilt made his stomach churn. He couldn't imagine how Moon must've felt; alone in the Night Kingdom with only Darkstalker for company, waiting on her friends to keep in contact but they never did. "For that, I'm sorry. The war has kept us all busy; we've all been all over Pyrrhia trying to keep the rebellion together."

"Sounds like quite the adventure." There was now a smile in her voice.

"It is." He wanted to tell her everything; about Peril tracking down Scarlet, Qibli and the others blowing up Blister's palace, and now meeting Jerboa! The words built up in his throat, wanting to rush out of him like a crumbling glacier. But, as it always seemed, there was no time. "We've… we've also been looking for you. Or at least, any scrap of information we can about Darkstalker and the lost city. I was getting paranoid. I didn't want to risk Darkstalker catching on."

"He doesn't know about these conversations," Moon was trying to assure him, but there was a hint of frustration, that she was tired of having to keep stating this. "And I honestly don't believe it would bother him even if he knew."

Something in Winter's gut told him otherwise; he couldn't imagine a dragon like Darkstalker not minding being taken by surprise. "Still… it almost feels sacred to have something this private. Something not even someone like him can touch."

"I guess I can understand that. So what made you contact me tonight?"

"Well, after all these months, we've got a real lead. We could find the lost city, or even find out what Darkstalker's really up to! And before you say it, I know you want to believe the good in him, but I want to understand the full story from all sides. Only then will I make my decision on whether we can really trust him. And in the morning, we're going to find the next piece of the puzzle. So I… suppose I just wanted to hear your voice. Remind myself of what I'm really fighting for."

There was a pause, so long that Winter thought the connection had been severed. But then he heard Moon's voice - did she sound a little teary? "That has to be the sweetest thing you've ever said to me."

"Don't tell the others. I have a brooding cactus-head reputation to uphold, afterall."

She laughed. "How're the others?"

"Peril's off in the Sky Kingdom causing who-knows-what kind of mischief. Turtle is treading water, so to speak. But I think Kinkajou is helping him through it. Qibli is the same moron he always has been."

"Which means he's doing great and you're glad he's safe."

"Are you sure you can't read my mind through this thing?"

"And how are you, Winter?" she asked.

"I…" Now, the words stopped. He couldn't just say I'm fine, but… "I saw my family. My father. My mother. They were… the same as they've always been."

"I am sorry, Winter." And he knew she really meant it. Her voice wrapped around his spirit, comforting him as if she'd enfolded him in her wings. "They were always frightened by your tenacity."

"Really?"

"Yes. I could see it in your memories. You always tried your hardest to impress them, to be a model IceWing, and yet still be truthful to your heart. Their minds had been bent to the Circles long ago, and couldn't fathom how you managed to exist in spite of them. Even if they don't appreciate you for that, I do. If you weren't the way you are, Glacier would never have recognised how special you are and sent you to Jade Mountain."

Emotion welled inside Winter, so fierce and strong, he thought he would fly apart. Had it really been so long since he last saw her, flying off into the horizon in the arms of that monster? That memory and the present moment to be so completely at odds with each other. Was she still as beautiful as he remembered? Those sparkling green eyes and starlight scales? The idea of finding her at last, of seeing her, touching her again, it made him smile so hard it hurt. He was thankful she couldn't see.

His ear pricked as he heard a rustle. Stiffening, Winter deepened his breathing and did his best to appear asleep. He peeked out from underneath his wing. Dusty, pale yellow talons crept across the hut towards the front door. It had to be Jerboa, as Winter could still feel Qibli's warmth at his back. He watched her as she made her way to the door, clutching the shell necklace around her neck, wincing as she went. She opened the door as quietly as possible, and slipped into the night. Something inside him told he had to go after her, now. "Moon, I'll talk to you soon. Take care." He cut the connection quickly and elbowed his neighbouring sleeper. "Qibli! Psst! Qibli, wake up!"

The drake grumbled. "Five more minutes…"

"By the Great Dragon," uncurling from under his wing, Winter quickly leaned over and shot frost breath on the floor by Qibli's side. The ice quickly travelled, touching his hide, and making the SandWing startle at the sudden chill. Winter grabbed hold of him to silence him. "Shhh! It's Jerboa. She's acting weird - well, weirder than normal. I don't trust her."

He pointed where she'd gone. Qibli's eyes narrowed, and Winter could see his mind trying to figure it all out. Finally, the SandWing nodded, and whispered, "Then what're we waiting for?"

The pair crept out of the hut, trying to remain as quiet as possible. As they stepped outside, they noticed Jerboa's tracks in the sand. They crept to the edge of her hut, and peeked around the corner. Their prey hadn't wandered far. Jerboa stood in the shallow water that lapped gently around her ankles. She stood with her eyes closed, her expression resigned. She seemed to be bracing herself for something. In a tight fist, she clutched the shell necklace and slowly removed it from her neck.

The moment the chord left her flesh, a shimmer seemed to pass over her scales. Winter's eyes widened as he watched Jerboa seem to become… less. All at once, six of her claws vanished, the barb at the end of her tail was gone, so had one ear. All of these bodily losses looked like old wounds, stumps that had healed long ago. But one wound was fresh… Jerboa's hind left foot was gone, as if severed at the ankle, blood seeping into the ocean surf. Slowly she lowered her trembling leg into the salt water. A strangled cry escaped her as the water lapped at the bloody injury, before she clamped her teeth together to try and stay quiet. The males watched her try to wash her wound, but her obvious pain was humbling, to see the quiet tears creep out from the corners of her eyes.

"Three moons…" Winter whispered, horrified. What had done this, he wondered. What could've left her so maimed? Why didn't she just heal herself, instead of using that shell as a glamour?

"Next time you try to spy," called out Jerboa, wiping her eyes with the back of her talon, "don't gasp in horror. It gives you away."

Winter and Qibli froze and looked at each other. They'd been caught. What now? Qibli shrugged, though it was obvious he was trying to think of some way out of this. Jerboa waded out of the ocean, replacing her necklace back around her throat. Her scales shimmered once more, and all her missing extremities returned. Winter watched closely, trying to see if he could spot the fakes. But her tail barb, foot and claws - even her ear - all moved as if they were real. With no other option, the two drakes crept out from their hiding spot, shame-faced. They met Jerboa on the beach, and Winter felt like he was back in the circles being criticised by a commander - her black eyes were unreadable and unforgiving.

"Well?" she demanded in a deceptively calm voice. She sat heavily. "Spit it out. I haven't got all night."

The two males looked to each other, and Winter hesitatingly asked: "Why the glamour? What did this to you?"

"I would prefer it if strangers not come across my home at all, but if they must, I would like them to not see me as little more than a corpse dragging myself around." She laughed humorlessly. With a claw, she tapped on the shell necklace with a loud 'clack'. "This is what happens when a mother takes her final revenge."

"Your mother?" Qibli frowned. "But she loved you, she made you immortal."

"Ha! My mother loved the idea of me," Jerboa shook her head, and she abruptly looked exhausted. "She created me from nothing, do you know that? She felt broody, and so took a chicken's egg and transformed it into her own dragon-egg. After I hatched, there was too much chaos for her to focus on what she wanted me to be but once we got here… she got to play with me all she liked. For centuries, she kept me like a little doll, rewriting my personality, regressing my age, changing my memories, to try and create the perfect daughter. And whenever I exceeded the parameters of her desires or became too old for her liking, she would put me back to a hatchling so she could 'start fresh'. And to make sure no one could take away her favourite toy, she made it so that old age or injury couldn't kill me. All in the name of love. That is how she made me immortal."

Something inside of Winter recognised the misery, frustration and emptiness of yearning for a parent's love that'll never return that affection. "Your mother didn't just pass on peacefully, did she?"

"No." She smiled, but it teetered on the edge of a grimace. "She's forever frozen in a block of magical ice beneath my house. About three hundred years ago, I finally managed to outwit her. Took me years, of asking for spells that appeared harmless or inconsequential. I froze her, and gave myself her magic - to better protect myself. But right before she succumbed, she cursed me. That for every spell I cast, I lost something in return. And this is why magic shouldn't be trifled with. All magic comes with a price."

"It's not the magic," said Qibli, a kind of fierce desperation in his voice and expression. "Magic didn't do this to you, your mother did. It's about the dragon wielding it that makes the difference."

"If my mother never had magic to begin with, I wouldn't have had to exist as a prisoner here! A part of me was always aware of every time she rewrote me, changed me, but unable to wake up - not until the end."

"And she was insane!" the younger SandWing argued. Winter was shocked by his frantic conviction. "If a good dragon had your mother's magic then none-"

"I had a good dragon, I had Fathom!" Jerboa shouted, angry and hurt. "He was good and kind. Mother wanted both him and Clearsight to stay with us. That was when the evil started. After Clearsight left, mother wanted Fathom, to steal his magic. I guess he learned something after dealing with Darkstalker, as none of mother's spells would work on him. But she managed to physically imprison him. I helped him get out, and he tried to rescue me, but mother already had her magic claws in me. She only had to snap her claws and I'd be right back to her side. Fathom had to leave me. That's how I know that the dragon behind the magic doesn't matter. In the wrong talons, that power is too much. It's better if no one has it."

"Hypocrite!" Qibli yelled, tears in his eyes. Winter tried to touch him, hold him back, but he was shaken off. "You say that whilst having all the power in the universe at your claw-tips. You can't decide for the whole world who should and should not have that power!"

"And look at those who have had it!" Jerboa threw open her wings, flinging sand to either side of her. "Albatross, Darkstalker, Diamond, my mother! All of them did awful things with their magic. If that power had been taken away from them, then half of the awful things they did would never have happened. So many tragedies could've been averted."

"If you really feel that way," Winter put in quickly, "then why not do so now? Use your power to take away Darkstalker's."

Jerboa paused, her mind tripping to consider the question, halting her emotional tirade. "I can't. He's made himself invulnerable to other animus spells."

"How do you know? Did Clearsight tell you that as well?" Though Qibli had calmed a little, there was still an accusation in his voice. At first, Winter thought he was just being an ass, but realised quickly that it was because Qibli never bought the lie that Clearsight had told Jerboa to expect them. Thinking back on it, Winter recalled that back in the hut, when Kinkajou had made the claim that it must've been Clearsight who warned her about the Jade Winglet, Jerboa had neither confirmed nor denied it.

"She never told me anything," Jerboa agree with a slight smirk in Qibli's direction, as if conceding to him catching her out. "The very first spell I ever cast cost me a claw, thanks to my mother's curse. I wanted to know why, so I made a scroll that would answer any question I asked (which cost me a toe). It explained my mother's spell. When I found Winter snooping around my hut, I quizzed it for answers. It told me of Darkstalker's return, how he captured your friend, and your mission. It told me you would attack the palace and warned me when you were in danger. From that information, I decided to help you. Casting the spell to save you and your friends from Blister's soldiers cost me a foot."

Winter glanced down at the foot that should be missing, but was enchanted to look and feel as if it were still there. Qibli's eyes also drifted that way, and Winter could tell he was remembering the same image: of Jerboa trying to treat her injury in the ocean, causing herself severe pain. All of it a sacrifice to save them. He hung his head in shame. "Sorry. I am grateful for your sacrifice."

"I don't want your gratitude. I did what I could so you and the others could have the greatest chance of success."

"Could your scroll tell us where to find Moon and Darkstalker?" Winter asked. "We need to know if he's truly evil or not, and if so, how we can kill him."

"You don't think I've already posed those same questions?" Jerboa arched a brow, as if questioning Winter's intellect. "I meant what I said earlier: Darkstalker has enchanted his scales so that they cannot be pierced, made his bones unbreakable, made himself unable to age physically or mentally, and made it so that no direct spell from any animus will do him harm. A thousand years ago, he made it so that the Night Kingdom was shielded, both physically and magically - not even my scroll could tell me where the city was first built. He's cunning and thinks of nearly every contingency. He's paranoid and desperate to not fail again."

The two males exchanged a look. "Fail? At what?"

"Obtaining that which we all strive for - a happily ever after," Jerboa sighed wistfully, staring up at the moons. "Something that will make all of life's miseries worthwhile."

"That doesn't tell us if he's dangerous," said Qibli.

"Of course he's dangerous. But I think you mean to ask: is he evil? And to that, the scroll has no answer. Right now, Darkstalker's fate hangs in the balance. Either he will choose to be better than his previous mistakes, or he will be forced to the brink of insanity and despair. If that happens, then there's no hope for anyone."

The ambiguity of that answer made Winter nervous. "Which outcome is most likely?"

"I don't know," Jerboa shrugged, and began to slowly walk back towards her hut. "The scroll only tells the truth, it can't predict the future. All it told me was that you'd need to go to Fathom's Sanctuary, that the answers you're looking for are there."

So Fathom's Sanctuary truly was their only lead? That was where they would finally acquire the answers they needed? Qibli seemed to pluck up his courage, to call out to the female before she could disappear into her hut. "What will you do, Jerboa? We could really use you."

"No. The world doesn't need another old, bitter animus to muddle things up. Instead, we should look to those who are due to inherit the future - for it's one that they will sculpt for themselves." She twisted her long neck to look over her shoulder at them, and was it a trick of the moonlight, or was there a slight smile hinting at the corners of her lips? "As for me, I think my time in Pyrrhia is over. Once you leave here, I'm going to wherever the winds take me. At least out there I'll have a better chance of my power not being used against me, the way they might be should things take a turn for the worst."

"One last thing, Jerboa," Winter asked. "What is it that will seal Darkstalker's fate, one way or another?"

The female snorted. "Isn't it obvious? Your friend Moon, of course."

A/N: * = Paraphrasing from Bram Stoker