In case a few of you couldn't tell, Wormhole is Morrowseer's new name because the Voidwings' element is - put simply - space.

The Nullwings are the ones who name their dragonets things like Fierceteeth and Wisdom and such.

The next morning, all of the Dragonets lined up a few dragon-lengths from the entrance tunnel. As the boulder slammed back into place and a dragon with scales of obsidian-purple and as mean-looking as a snake glared down at them, Cyclone felt a twinge of an emotion that rarely hit him: Fear.

The dragon in front of them was an Animus dragon, which meant that he could wield the power of Animus – essentially magic – read minds, and see into the past, present, and future. But he wasn't a normal Animus, as evidenced by his peculiar left eye. According to the scrolls – he hatched unable to read minds in exchange for perfectly clear visions that he could initiate anytime. They also said that only Voidwings could be Animus due to their skill being intelligence – which ties directly into an individual's Animus power and capability. But he hoped that was a lie. He didn't want one tribe to be better than the rest, even though the intelligent Voidwings probably thought they were. The dragon races were balanced everywhere else; there had to be – or at least, have been – Animus of other tribes besides just the Voidwings.

Cyclone tried to look a little more intimidating and imposing. He was glad the Animus Voidwing couldn't read minds; he wouldn't want anyone to know that he was afraid – especially this inspector.

Wormhole was even bigger than Kestrel, and five times more terrifying. He spread his jagged, torn wings and peered down with otherworldly fuchsia eyes at the Dragonets lined up in front of him. He had silver, star-like scales on the underside of his wings, like Anion and Nebula, but on him they seemed to glitter from a great distance and cast a cold glow. Wormhole lacked any pink, purple, or silver scale patterns. Only tiny silver dots on the underside of his wing membranes curled in an inward pattern. His armored scales were a few shades closer to black than his regular ones.

As he glared, his glowscales pulsed the same color as his eyes, like a stream of alien energy flowing from the tip of his snout to the end of his tail. He looked like he could easily rip off each of their heads in one bite. He also looked like he already hated the ten dragonets. Maybe the Animus dragon was seeing into the future and all of his visions were of failure, failure, failure.

Anion was stiller than Cyclone had ever seen him. The Voidwing Dragonet always froze when he was afraid. It was as if he hoped that by not moving, he'd disappear from view and the danger would pass right by.

Wormhole silently stared at them all, emotionless; he seemed as though he was calculating their very souls. Cyclone saw as the Voidwing turned his head that his left eye wasn't fuchsia like the other one. It was just a pale fuchsia orb that had an even paler iris, and a white pupil. The strange eye was glowing faintly. Looking into it made Cyclone feel so small and insignificant – it was fascinating and terrifying at the same time.

The tall Voidwing turned to the ten Guardians. "Something has gone very wrong here."

"Yes!" Tsunami blurted. "It has, and I can tell you what. We're treated like prisoners! We've never been outside these caves, not once. All we know about the world we're supposed to save is what we've learned in scrolls. We're supposed to be the most important dragonets in the world, but they treat us like blind salamanders!"

"And every time the War is going badly or they lose some Talon member on the other side of the continent, they take it out on us!" Cyclone chimed in. "Especially Flora. Our entire lives have been training, training, training." He felt his wings flare. "And the whole time we're constantly being told that we're useless, worthless, and that we'll never fulfill the Prophecy and let down the entire world!"

"Tsunami, Cyclone, hold your tongue." Dune snapped. Cyclone hissed at him.

"I will not!" Tsunami cried. "Please get us out of here." She said to Wormhole. "Take us away with you."

"Ungrateful lizard!" Kestrel growled.

Without warning, Wormhole lunged at Tsunami. His teeth flashed like a bright, white light, darting toward her neck. Cyclone growled, flinging himself at the Voidwing's huge, ridged back before he could stop to think about what he was doing. "Defend!" He yelled as he came down upon the Voidwing's back. "No breaths and no tails! We can't kill him!" His glowscales signaled brightly.

Cyclone's magnetic claws sank into the small gaps between the shifting purple scales, scrabbling for a hold. His tail thrashed as he tried to balance. Below him he saw Tsunami rolling away and spinning to fight back. Her sharp, hooked Seawing talons slashed at Wormhole's nose and underbelly, drawing deep magenta blood; it seemed as though magic coursed through the Voidwing's veins. The huge dragon reeled back from the Seawing claw-sting but didn't make a sound.

Flare was distracting Wormhole. She was raising her barbed tail threateningly; it looked like she was trying to find a place to jab it into. Or, more likely, she was just bluffing.

Candor aided Tsunami in melee while Umbra and Ray hovered nearby, dashing in to deliver a bite or slash and then darting away again.

Clay was a few yards away, lowering his head and getting ready to ram right into the giant void dragon. Winter was raking her cold, serrated claws across Wormhole's neck. Cyclone flattened himself along the big dragon's back, snaked his neck forward, and bit down as hard as he could.

Wormhole swung his arm and knocked Tsunami away with the back of his talons. She went hurtling across the room. Cyclone bit down even harder, digging his claws deeper into the purple dragon's back. Something tingled in his scales and Wormhole grunted to Cyclone's surprise.

The Voidwing reared up on his hind legs and grabbed both of Clay's horns right before Clay slammed into him. Wormhole huffed and threw him to the ground, on top of Candor.

Flare jumped up onto his head and attempted to hold it to the ground with her weight - which was only half-working. Winter slid under Wormhole and tried to claw his underbelly, but the Voidwing grabbed her by the neck and threw her away. He spread his starry wings and slashed Flare's side with his wingclaw. Flare let go and winced as red blood trickled from her side, unable to clot due to the enzyme coat on Voidwing claws.

No! Cyclone thought fiercely. He suddenly let go, reared up and struck at the space between Wormhole's wings. The hardness of his Skywing claws protected them from breaking as they hit the Voidwing's back. A small thunderclap echoed through the caves as he broke the sound barrier with the signature Skywing strike. It was swift and effective, like a large-scale punch of a bullet shrimp.

This time Wormhole hissed, unable to dislodge Cyclone – now firmly dug into purple scales. But the Voidwing had to turn his attention elsewhere.

Just as Ray was swooping in, Wormhole grabbed him by the wing and swung him toward Umbra, knocking both out of the air.

Wormhole slowly turned to Flora, readying his claws. His expression had not changed since he arrived.

Flora steadied herself, took in a breath, and let out a jet of poison, disobeying Cyclone's orders. Wormhole held his breath, but as soon as the gas came in contact with his scales, they started blistering and peeling off. As the green gas zoomed toward him, Cyclone realized that there was a problem.

He was still on Wormhole's back.

He let out a yelp, but it was cut off as the poison enveloped him. He snapped his mouth shut and kept his eyes closed and ears pinned to his head. Horrible, stinging pain seeped into his scales until some of them blistered and fell off, as if talons made of acid were trying to rip off his scales one by one. He had never been hit by poison before; Paradise refused to attack any of the Dragonets. Even Flora reserved her poison for Kestrel or Dune or Shroud. If she would have, then this kind of pain wouldn't be new and it wouldn't hurt as much. Cyclone thought with gritted teeth.

Wormhole shook his whole body, spraying some scales toward the walls – exposing young, smaller ones underneath that would grow to fill the gaps. Cyclone was flung across the room as Wormhole shook. He saw a patch of scales on the Voidwing's right arm that had cracked and deformed. And it looked like the second layer was dead too, which meant that patch couldn't grow back – a scar. Like all breaths, Flora's poison dissipated.

None of the Guardians had moved during the fight.

Neither had Flora.

Neither had Anion.

Cyclone was laying on the floor in front of the other Dragonets, groaning. Tsunami rushed to his side and tried to comfort him, but as soon as she touched him, sparks of pain erupted where she did. All he could do was grunt. That was enough to make her back up.

"I will need time to consider." Wormhole said after a pause. He and Nebula locked eyes, and his expression softened. "As for you," He said, shaking his head away from Nebula's gaze and toward Anion. "I assume you were intelligent enough to figure out that I wasn't going to harm the Seawing. Perhaps you had planned out my visit today. No doubt you already know that I'm going to take you into the next cavern for a private conversation."

Cyclone shuddered, causing pain to flare up in his scales. A "private conversation" with Wormhole sounded about as much fun as having his ears roasted. He did not envy Anion as the two Voidwings slithered toward the Scrolls Cave. Wormhole paused in the archway and looked back at the Guardians.

"We'll talk about her later." He didn't look at Flora, but everyone else did. She flicked her ears and lifted her chin a little higher as Wormhole's footsteps faded away down the tunnel.

"Stupid Seawing." Kestrel shot across the cave and struck Tsunami's snout. "Complaining to the first outsider dragon you see! Trying to make us look bad! Whining about your life, after all we've given up for you!"

"If you hate this, too, why don't you let us go?" Tsunami shot back.

"This is for your safety." Webs interjected. His voice was gentler than Kestrel's, but Cyclone could tell he was angry from the way his long blue tail lashed on the floor. "That's what all of this is for. The Talons of Peace need you to survive long enough to fulfill the Prophecy. You have no idea how many dragons would love to get their claws on you ten."

"Or what they'd do to you if they did." Dune growled.

Shroud hissed and sighed at the same time. "It would most definitely not be pleasant."

"Our job is to keep you alive." Kestrel said. "Or else I'd have strangled you myself a long time ago."

"Great." Flora said. "Well, it's been a terrific life. Thanks very much."

Kestrel made the hissing, lightning-is-coming noise. Clay grabbed Flora's tail and tugged her back toward the river.

"We are grateful." Flare said, jumping in front of Kestrel. Her crimson scales shook slightly with fear and her bleeding hadn't stopped. "We would much rather be alive than not alive! We're glad you keep us that way, really we are."

"Come on." Webs said. He prodded the other Guardians toward their cave. "We need to talk."

"But—" Paradise started, pointing at Cyclone, then Flare.

"Now he has something to say." Kestrel grumbled as the seven of them clambered over the broken stalagmites.

"But what about—"

"Come on!" Kestrel yanked her away from the Dragonets.

Tsunami threw herself into the river and sank to the bottom in a stream of furious bubbles, where she curled up with her talons over her head.

It got very quiet in the cave. Flare and Clay exchanged glances, then looked over toward Flora.

The Lifewing was sitting in the same spot, with her tail still neatly curled around her feet. She yawned. Cyclone wished he could ever be that calm. It was as if nothing bothered her at all. He was always getting mad about something. Like right now. Couldn't she at least have given him a "Heads up, Cyclone!" before she blasted him with poison? He glared at her for a moment.

"Are you all right?" Clay asked. He came around and sat in front of her. Flare came to Flora's side, brushing her violet wings with her own.

"Of course." Flora said. "I mean, we knew that was going to happen. It's not like the minders have been talking about how awesome I am this whole time. Everyone hates Lifewings." She yawned again. "I'm going to take a nap."

"Now?" Flare exclaimed, alarmed. "Is that a good idea?"

Flora and Paradise fell asleep every day, usually after lunch, from thirty minutes before noon to thirty minutes after, but Cyclone had expected her to stay awake while Wormhole was around. He knew he wouldn't want the big dragon to catch him sleeping; a sleeping dragon is a vulnerable dragon. He glanced at the tunnel to the study room, wondering uneasily if the Voidwing's prophetic eye could See subconsciously. Or if it could See automatically, or if it could See through rock.

"I'm tired." Flora snapped. "And they all think I'm lazy anyway. Nothing I can do to change that."

Cyclone knew Flora wasn't lazy. She worked harder than everyone, even though none of the big dragons ever noticed. She just had to nap in the middle of the day, probably for some Lifewing reason. Although it didn't seem to help: Flora was just as prickly and tired after napping as she was before. So maybe it wasn't for rest. Maybe it was for something else that isn't here under the mountain.

"Wake me if anything exciting happens." Flora said. "But make sure it's actually exciting, not Flare-exciting." She gave Flare a friendly nudge with her snout, and the Heatwing protested.

"I don't think everything is exciting!" Flare flapped her wings, catching the torchlight and making her crimson scales look even redder. "But you guys don't think enough things are exciting."

Clay came over and wordlessly began bandaging the Heatwing's trickling wound. Hopefully pressure would help it clot again, or at least stop the bleeding.

"Think of it this way..." Flora said. "Time to leave the caves and fulfill the Prophecy: exciting. You caught another weird-looking white crab in the river: not exciting. Got it?" She poked Flare again, uncurled her tail, now fully blue, and slipped inside her sleeping cave.

Flare blinked at Clay while Cyclone struggled up to a standing position.

"I know." Clay said. "That last crab was really weird looking."

"It was, wasn't it?" She said.

"I wouldn't have minded if you'd woken me up to see it." Clay added kindly.

"Well, good." She sad. "I know. That's why you got to eat half of it instead of anyone else." She headed for her favorite column and started to climb it, hooking her claws in the holes that dotted the bulbous shape.

Cyclone couldn't help but smile. Those two were being just as friendly as ever. He had to hand it to the guardians; they had picked the teams well. He limped over to the river, half-falling into a laying position with his chin underwater. His eyes were focused on the brilliant blue of Tsunami's scales. She looked like a dragon made of sapphires. She was really beautiful. In his opinion, the prettiest dragon he'd seen – that included illustrations in the scrolls.

She was curled up at the bottom of the river, watching tiny fish go by. She looked upset, so Cyclone reached forward with his right arm, slipping it into the water and letting his talon drift in the current. The Seawing looked up at him and smiled weakly. After a moment of hesitation, she reached up and grabbed his citrine talon with her own.

"I'm worried." Tsunami's scales signaled. "For Flora. For all of us."

"I know." Cyclone squeezed a little bit. "We'll make it. We'll find a way. All of us."

She seemed to ease up a little after that. Her gaze shifted back to the fish, but she didn't let go of his talon.

Cyclone looked toward the exit corridor. Wormhole had arranged something with Nebula when they met, Cyclone could tell. What was he planning?

Was Flora – or any of the other Dragonets – in danger?

Well, that's that. I think there's probably a little confusion after this chapter. Should I make a separate guide to the tribes or just keep rolling with it?

Thanks for reading!