9

Just as the shining powder of Seer's wings had drifted away into nothingness, so too did her question. She waited for some time in a posture of polite attention before clearing her throat and reiterating. "What is your name?"

But my response was unchanged.

The white antennae atop Seer's head twitched. "You have a name, yes?" she asked.

Silence.

"You have a voice. Yes?" she added.

I said nothing and only watched her: the glare of her color; the flicker of her fur.

A black bubble percolated from my chest and Seer tracked its listless course.

"I have not seen an injury of that sort before. How did you come to suffer it?"

I had no answer.

Another twitch of Seer's antennae. "Do you require help? If so, then you must tell me."

Speak up, I cannot help you if you do not.

But another reticent moment passed us by.

Seer unclasped her wings and gave them a fitful flap. The bubble caught in the ensuing gust and floated off. "Clearly, you are not the talkative sort. But that wound must be no great danger if you don't feel the need to discuss it."

She draped one of her four wings over her lap and began to brush at it with a furred arm. The wing's resplendence only heightened as the dirt and stray blades of grass fell away. "I am open to other matters if you would rather we speak of something else. Have you journeyed far to reach this place? I imagine it was no easy task for you, being wingless."

But I had no story with which to regale her.

Seer's antennae twitched a third time, almost violently. She took a puff of breath. "Very well, then." Her voice shifted with a sly lilt. "If you will not answer my questions, then I am forced to speculate. Should I err in my guesses, then it is your onus to correct me, wouldn't you agree? From that shabby attire and muddy nail, I assume that you must be some vagabond Knight on a precipitous quest. You must not be a very skilled one, considering that you required rescuing." She paused, and the facets of her eyes gleamed like glass.

But I did not defend myself. I had no corrections to offer.

"And to think I was that rescuer," she continued, a little louder, "a feeble moth. It would be quite mortifying if I were to return to the Kingdom and spread news of this assumption. If I am not amended, then I might stain a certain vagabond's honor."

Yet still, I did not speak.

"Why, if the Knights of the King's court learned of this event, then you would have no hope of ever joining them."

I maintained a stillness that rivaled the stone of the earth.

Seer huffed and pulled down another wing to preen. "You are imperturbable if nothing else. Perhaps that will be your title if you ever ascend to the rank of the Five Greats. 'Imperturbable…'" And she waited for me to fill the gap.

But I did not.

Seer completed her cleaning with a shrug and cloaked herself in her wings once more. "But truly now, do you have no words for yourself? I have been about this assignment for many weeks now, and I am loath to find my only company in all this time to be mute. Come now, speak. King knows that I've indulged in far too many one-sided conversations already. If you require some promise of secrecy about today's… incident, then I will gladly give it, so long as you share a chat or two."

Seer's desire snatched at me but found no purchase, like a clumsy claw grasping at a curved carapace. I remained as unresponsive as ever. For I could not—and never would—speak.

"Fine, then," Seer said. "Cling to your silence if that is what you wish. It suits you well enough." She turned away from me and gazed down into the crater to watch the Hopper's slow progress back into its den.

With no threat before it, the Hopper was now devoid of that predatory energy that had propelled it. The tips of its legs etched sinuous marks into the ground as it dragged itself along.

Seer rose from her cross-legged position and padded over to the crater's edge, her wings trailing behind like an imperial cape. "I must admit that it was rather startling to see you challenge the Matron in the way that you did. Your lone charge was brave, larva, but also foolish. Did you hope to slay the most ancient Hopper in this land unassisted?"

With a lethargic sort of grace, Seer leaned out over the crater to better see. "If so, then I have some harsh words for whomever set you on this quest." She beckoned to me. "Stand up if you can. And come here. I will tell you of this creature that you were tasked with destroying."

I stood, and though my usual strength had long since wilted, I tottered to Seer's side.

"Do you see the pain in the Matron's step?" Seer asked with a downward nod. "It is much like your own. But while you are hindered by only one wound, the Matron is hindered by dozens. Her scars are the product of many lifetimes-worth of struggle. And as a result of that, she will soon die, even without the cruel assistance you had intended to offer her. Be it minutes, days, or weeks, I cannot say, but the end encroaches upon this mighty being."

Though she made no move to hint at it, Seer's dark, featureless eyes seemed to fixate on me. "My purpose in being here is to witness the Matron's death. To chronicle her. And from her passage, to recover what would otherwise be eternally lost. You should know that I did indeed rescue you from the Matron, but I also rescue her from you. For the Matron's many years of toil, she has earned a peaceful end. I ask that you allow her to pass at her own measure, and not upon the end of a nail."

The Hopper's flagging trudge came to a halt before a deep cleft bisecting the crater floor. The Hopper considered the gap and shuffled from side to side, alternately tensing and relaxing its body, as if readying to leap yet thinking better of it. In the Hopper's earlier advance, that very obstacle had been no impediment.

"Is your silence a sign of agreement?" Seer asked. "Do you pledge a Knightly vow not to quarrel with the Matron?"

I offered neither agreement nor denial.

Seer chuckled. "So, it is settled."

The Hopper adjusted one final time before tightening like a spring and launching into the air, but its trajectory was poor and its strength insufficient. The Hopper struck the side of the cleft and tumbled in an earth-cracking discord. After a moment of stilling dust, the Hopper teetered upright and ascended the shallower slope of the cleft back to its original position. Slowly, painfully, the Hopper's scar-streaked legs folded beneath its stomach and the creature settled to the ground. The journey home was abandoned, and with a heaving breath—audible even from this distance—the Hopper rested its head upon a nearby rock and surrendered to sleep.

Seer let out her own sigh and also sat. A biting wave of air made her shiver, and she wrapped her wings more tightly. "Join me, won't you?" She patted the ground beside her. "My talk of long-sought company was not facetious. It is lonely observing the passage of a life."

This new task was within my means, so I capitulated. I sat down, the nail returning to my lap, and my arms falling limp within my cloak.

"Thank you, larva. You are kind to indulge the whims of this silly moth." Seer set her gaze at a point somewhere beyond the slumbering Hopper, and quiet enveloped us like a shell of ash.

High above the canopy loomed a gray rampart of clouds. The winds sheared and tore at it to reveal fleeting glimpses of the night sky beyond, but like water cut by a nail, the clouds reformed in an endless recurrence. For one perfect second, stars and spiraling comets emerged from the roil to scintillate upon a disc of black.

"I was taught not to dwell," Seer murmured, reclaiming my attention. Her gaze was still set upon the Hopper. "On death, I mean. All are taken in their due turn, it is the way of things. To spend one's time considering death is to waste it. But, of late, I have had time in abundance, more than enough for wasting. It seems that death has seeped its way into my musings, and it does not wish to leave." She shook slightly, scattering ruby dust into the wind. "So that you know, I've no fear of death. All moths know that the sanctity of memory transcends that sort of trifling thing. So long as memory remains, nothing ever truly dies. Yet…" Seer tightened herself into a ball. "I am afraid."

Do not fear. Your King and his Royal Knights are here to protect you.

Although no wind disturbed her fur, Seer shivered a second time. "The affliction. If you come from the Kingdom as I suspect, then you must know of it. You must have witnessed its ravages, just as I have." She shrank further into herself. "The affliction brings with it a different sort of death: a death of the mind. It is a far crueler end than one brought about by nail or claw or time. There is no sanctity in it… No transcendence…"

She tore her eyes from the crater and rounded on me. "Please, I understand that you do not care for chatter, but you must have some news of the Kingdom. In the weeks that I have spent waiting for the Matron's passage, not one word has come to me. What has happened in my absence? Does the affliction worsen? Has it claimed the last of my tribe?"

Seer's questions came and went like a river rushing around a stone. She held my gaze, but I had no news to give.

"If you refuse to speak," Seer said, "then do you at least carry a scroll? A shell? Anything?" She held out a claw to receive whatever I might offer.

But there was no such parcel, and I made no move to suggest otherwise.

The ivory fur about Seer's neck bristled. "If you cannot speak, then can you at least write?" She snatched up a twig and pointed to a sandy patch on the ground. With a hasty stroke, she inscribed a rune, and then passed me the twig. "Write," she whispered. "Please."

Words are ever a toil, thus, this medium shall instead enable our rapport.

I slid a long, horizontal line over the sand, until the twig snapped beneath the pressure.

Seer gasped in pain, as if she herself had been that twig. "You are impossible! Is this some nightmare sent to torment me?" She shot to her feet and began to pace. Her claws wrung one another beneath her trembling wings.

After a wobbly circuit through the sand, Seer composed herself and came to a stop. "I had hoped it would remain unnecessary, but I carry with me a tool that might allow us to converse despite your missing voice. The customs of my tribe demand your consent before I may use it, but…" Her head hung wearily. "You would not offer it."

Seer stared in the direction of the Kingdom, as if she could peer through the miles of foliage and stone like an open window. "But that cannot be helped. I must know!" She sat back down beside me and rummaged beneath her wings. "Allow me to explain, and then perhaps you will not begrudge me for using this tool."

Her wings parted to reveal a silken satchel, bound shut by a knotted cord. She worked the knot as she spoke. "My tribe has served as caretaker of this tool since the earliest age. Some think it to be a gift given to us by the dream itself, while others believe our ancestors forged it with a craft long since forgotten. I do not pretend to know its origins, but I do know that it is powerful—and that it is the most prized possession of all moth-kind. Now that my teacher has passed away and I have ascended to her place as Elder, the responsibility of wielding this tool falls to me." She unraveled the knot and sunk a claw into the satchel's confines. But as she glanced up at me, she froze.

Seer's antennae flattened. Her wings formed a curtain over the satchel. And her voice grew icy. "You doubt me. I see it in your look, even though you try to hide it. You think me no Elder at all! I am 'too young', correct? You wouldn't be the first to voice that opinion—if you ever deigned to actually speak." My reflection danced across her glaring, spheroid eyes. "It may be true that the passage of time has yet to purple my wings or cloud my sight, but I am still an Elder. I have earned that title, and I would not be here, holding this most sacred instrument, if that were not true!"

I refuted nothing. A wind-tossed leaf landed atop my head.

Seer held the stare for a long while—and I returned it. But her intensity bled away with the passing seconds. She looked away. "That wasn't a reaction fit for an Elder, was it? Forgive me for presuming. Let us continue."

With another scattering of ruby, Seer swept the curtain of her wings aside to reveal the tool. She cradled it in her claws as if the slightest pressure might shatter it.

The tool was a thin ring of some woven material, ebony-black and of a quality that blurred the line between silk and steel. A pattern wove through the gap in its center, resembling a blossoming flower or a shining star. Attached to the ring's base was a simple grip like the hilt of a nail.

Carefully, Seer lifted the ring by its grip and held it out for my appraisal. "As is the tendency of ancient things, this tool has borne many names, but I have always known it as the 'Dream Nail'. For those trained in its use, the Dream Nail is a key into the realm of dreams, a net by which to gather Essence, and a looking glass into the innermost thoughts of the mind."

As if stirred to life by Seer's words, the Dream Nail flickered with a pale light. The spectral image of a blade manifested above the disc, and for an instant, the Dream Nail embodied its name. But Seer flinched away, dropping it to her lap with a thud. The blade winked out of existence and the glowing ring dulled back to black. She quickly picked it up again, even more delicately this time, and inspected it for any damage. After a moment, she let out a relieved breath and returned the Dream Nail to the pedestal of her claw.

"My teacher told me much about the Dream Nail before… Before she passed away. And though my schooling was not technically completed, I have learned more than enough." Seer leaned forward. "In order to perceive your thoughts, I must cut you with the Dream Nail. But do not worry. It will caue no harm—in either body or mind. When wielded properly, the Dream Nail is no malefic instrument."

She paused to consider something. "You are aware of Essence, are you not? It is common knowledge among my tribe, but that may not be the case within the Kingdom."

I gave no assent.

Seer nodded. "Very well, I will elaborate. To quote my teacher: 'Essence is the precious fragments of light that dreams are made of.'"

I displayed no sign of comprehension, and Seer's shoulders bobbed with a half-chuckle.

"But that is not much of an explanation, is it? I always told her such." She shook the thought aside. "Well, do you know of Soul: the substance synonymous with life? It and Essence are not so different. Just as Soul is the earthly fundament that animates the body, Essence is the ethereal fundament that animates the mind. In the simplest sense, one might call Essence the root of consciousness. When bound within a living shell, Essence enables thought, memory, and dreams. And when that living shell dies, then its Essence disperses back into the world, just as its Soul does."

She stood and lifted the Dream Nail like a lit torch. "So, do you see? The Dream Nail holds the power to peer into the Essence within your shell, allowing me access to your hidden thoughts and memories."

Seer extended a claw. "Is that enough to allay your fears? I dearly wish to know of the Kingdom's condition, and this is the only means left to me. Please, if you trust me then take my claw and rise. That will be all the consent that I need."

At her frail command, I reached out, and she hoisted me to my feet.

"Excellent!" Seer released me and took a step back. She assumed the clumsy approximation of a warrior's stance, and the Dream Nail was once again engulfed in light, as if a flock of Lumaflies had alighted upon it. There came the sound of chimes as the Dream Nail's apparitional blade erupted into being. But this time, Seer did not shy away. She dug in her feet and took a deep breath.

"Let us begin with something simple. Introductions are easy enough. I have already given my name, now all you need to do is contemplate your own. Hold your name in the forefront of your thoughts and remain still. This will not hurt, I promise you that much."

My name…

But Seer's decree carried no weight. Just as her earlier order to speak had been ineffectual, so too was this. Like a climber's claw on a cliff of smooth marble.

My name…

The Dream Nail swept down with exaggerated slowness, so much so that if it had been a true nail it would have lacked the momentum to even cut my shell. The concentrated light that composed its blade passed through my mask, temporarily stealing my sight. There was a resonant thrumming deep within me, but no thought—no Essence—seeped to the surface.

As Seer retracted the Dream Nail, she looked down and turned the glowing disk from side to side. "Strange. It seems that I have not quite mastered this instrument. I could not fathom your thoughts." She gave the Dream Nail an experimental swing through the air. "Allow me to try again, we must both increase our focus."

Without pause, the Dream Nail descended a second time, fast enough to be considered a slash.

Again, a flare of light, a thrumming within my shell, and then nothing.

Seer's voice tightened. "I don't understand. When the Dream Nail brushes against a mind, it never fails to sing, no matter how small that mind might be. Yet here, it sees no Essence within you… No thoughts. How can this be?"

A cacophonous sound—one that grew closer by the second—issued from beyond the wall of foliage ringing the crater. It was the snapping of vines and the crunch of trampled underbrush. Seer unfurled her wings with a snap, and the incandescence of the Dream Nail vanished back into the silken satchel.

She shot out a claw and snatched my arm. "Something comes. Make ready! I will—"

But a round, lustrous thing exploded out of the greenery. A shower of torn leaves obscured it briefly, but the distinctive shape and the flash of silver were unmistakable.

Ogrim.

The Great Knight skidded to a halt a few paces from the crater's edge. He battled against his own momentum and barely avoided toppling. Once stabilized, he readied his claws and scanned the clearing. The pain was audible in his heaving.

At the sight of Seer, Ogrim cocked his head, and his claws lowered a fraction. "A moth?" He asked. "What are—" but the words caught as he spied me.

"Little Knight?" Ogrim whispered. He shook his head as if to banish delusion and looked again. "Little Knight. Indeed, it is true, you live!"

In a fashion that more resembled a stagger than a run, Ogrim approached. "I beseech forgiveness," he panted. "I could not dispute Dryya's command in time."

For Ogrim's first few steps, a stiff tenacity held him upright, but that drained away like water through a perforated basin. His stagger became a lurch, and his lurch a shuffle. He halted a few paces away and hunched over. No matter how hard he labored, his breath would not return to him.

Seer released her grip upon me. Her wings fell like reams of silk, and the white of her arms pressed tightly against the pink of her stomach. She swallowed against the lump in her throat. "Great… Knight? Great Knight Ogrim? Why are you here? Why are you injured?"

Myriad wounds decorated Ogrim's body, and not merely those that had been inflicted by Dryya. The dignity of his shell was sullied by acid burns, dents, and bite marks. His claws were still a ruin, most of their blade-sharp chitin having already been stripped away by Dryya's nail.

Though Ogrim nearly tripled Seer's size, he struggled to meet her gaze. "Indeed," he said between gasps. "I am sorry, but—" he groaned. "—but I have no time for questions. Can you fly with—those pretty wings?"

Seer looked to her shoulders, as if surprised to find the wings draping them. "Yes, I can, Great Knight. But why?"

Like a wasting plant, Ogrim sank to his knees. The act of lifting his head became too much, and he let it droop. "Dryya comes. Take the Little Knight. Fly far from here. Find the King. Stop for no one." His limbs spasmed and he crumpled to the ground.

"Great Knight!" Seer exclaimed. "Great Knight!" She knelt beside him and her claws hovered over his body, not quite touching. "What has happened? Why must I fly? What has the Fierce Knight to do with this?!"

"Go," Ogrim whispered, before the last of his energy faded and he lost consciousness.

Seer shouted several more futile questions before her voice grew hoarse. She overcame whatever imaginary barrier separated her from Ogrim and pressed her claws against his chest, trying to rouse him with a shove.

But he did not stir.

Seer wavered to her feet and looked from me to Ogrim and back again in quick succession. Her breathing came as a strangled whine, high and fast. "You know one another? He spoke to you as if—as if—" She looked to the foliage encircling the crater. Ogrim's advance had carved a makeshift tunnel through the greenery, the entrance of which gaped with shadow like an open mouth. "He was fleeing. From some beast?" She took a step back and her whole body quaked. "Are we in danger? A danger too grievous for even a Great Knight?"

But just like the questions she had offered Ogrim, these too went unanswered.

"Speak, larva!" Seer cried. "For King's sake, speak, I do not understand!"

She waited one entire second for her plea's inevitable failure before wheeling back toward the prone Knight. The Dream Nail seemed almost to materialize in her grip, and she raised it with both claws over her head. Its blade chimed into existence, and she readied to bring it down.

"Great Knight! Before I fly and leave you to this fate, I must know the truth! Forgive this insolence, Please!"

The Dream Nail descended, trailing ghostly hoops of light. Yet as it neared, a voice boomed out of the foliage.

"HALT!"

Seer jerked to a stop, as if a rival nail had repelled her.

With a glint of metal, Fierce Knight Dryya emerged out of the dark.