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FATHOM

The party was a nightmare.

Fathom's mind was nothing but a continuous stream of alarm bells.

This is just like the party at the Island Palace.

What would those musicians do if Darkstalker attacks? They have nowhere to run!

Why are they serving hors d'oeuvres on those wooden skewers? They could impale someone!

There aren't enough escape routes.

Those windows aren't big enough for a dragon to fly through.

Why are those hallways so narrow?

Why is this ballroom so big and open?

It's too crowded. He could kill so many of them.

Where is he?

WHERE IS HE?!

When he saw a cheese knife sitting atop a wheel of brie, he covered his mouth and shrieked, before grabbing it and throwing it in the nearest trash bin, covering it up with napkins from the table.

"Fathom, what are you doing?" Indigo hissed beside him as she glanced around suspiciously.

"There was a knife," he whispered back. "Just sitting there, right on that wheel of cheese."

Indigo tilted her head over at the wheel that he'd indicated. "Great. So now they don't have a way of spreading cheese on their crackers."

"These dragons have no idea how much danger they're in," Fathom said, pacing back and forth nervously, trying to find other ways he could make this place safer. "What were they thinking?"

"Fathom," Indigo said pressingly. She lifted her talons and grabbed Fathom's head, forcing him to look at her. "Get a grip. This is our first day here. You can't spend this entire party freaking out at everything that's — get down!"

In an instant, her eyes went wide and she leaped onto Fathom, draping him with her wings and pushing him to the floor. She craned her head around and reached for the concealed dagger that she had in a sheath under her wing.

"What is it?" Fathom whispered — although he wasn't sure if Indigo was able to hear him over the conversing NightWings all around them.

Indigo was motionless, staring at a high glass window. She studied it for many seconds, not answering Fathom. He could see from the rising and falling of her chest that she was breathing quickly.

But then she relaxed a little, and folded her wings in again. "Nevermind," she said, extending a talon to help Fathom back up. "I thought I saw someone coming in from the window, but it was just in my head."

"You're nervous too," he said, taking her talon and pulling himself up. "Just as nervous as I am."

"I shouldn't be," Indigo said. "My eyes have been playing tricks on me. It's all these mirrors and candles and black pillars. They're making me see things that aren't there." She sighed and rubbed her eyes. "I'm so tired too."

"Fathom, Indigo, my honored guests," a familiar sounding voice suddenly spoke. Fathom looked behind him and saw the queen, frowning down at him. She had two dragons at her flank — a slender female NightWing with pearly white earrings, and a scowling male IceWing with onyx black earrings. Those must be Darkstalker's parents, he realized.

Queen Vigilance cleared her throat to force Fathom's attention back to her. "Why are you acting so strangely, young prince?" she asked him. "You have yet to mingle with any of the invited guests. Instead it appears you've been playing a little game with my servants called 'find out where I hid all the silverware.' "

"Queen Vigilance," Fathom responded, bowing. "I'm sorry to bother you with this again, but can you please explain to me why Darkstalker isn't here?"

"He rejected my invitation, Prince Fathom," Queen Vigilance said for the third time that day. "It's as simple as that."

"But — how?" Fathom asked, pinning his ears. "Can't you make him show up? Can't you order him to? You're the queen."

"I don't force my subjects to join me for parties against their will, Prince Fathom," Vigilance answered boredly. "But you can rest assured that I'm quite upset with him for not showing up. Since you seem so disappointed by his absence, then I can arrange a punishment for him."

Darkstalker's parents glanced disapprovingly at each other.

"Uh — that won't be necessary," Fathom quickly said. "But it would have been really, um … convenient if you insisted on having him show up."

"I made the importance of his attendance very clear when I invited him," Vigilance said. "But he said that he had more important private affairs to attend to. Apparently, he had a little project scheduled for tonight that he'd been planning for a few months in advance."

Fathom's blood ran cold. "What project?" he pressed, completely failing to hide his overwhelming nervousness judging by the look on Queen Vigilance's face.

"Three moons, Prince Fathom! Calm down. Get a drink of water, take some deep breaths." She found a nearby servant and motioned him to get something for the anxious prince.

"Just answer the question!" Fathom hissed.

Vigilance narrowed her eyes. "Is that the sort of tone of voice that SeaWings are taught to speak with when addressing a queen?" she asked coldly.

"Please forgive the Prince, Your Majesty," Indigo interjected. "We are both extremely grateful that you put on this gala for us, but it's unfortunately invoking some rather unpleasant memories. The last time we attended something like this, our families got slaughtered before our eyes. I hope you understand that Prince Fathom's nerves are slightly on edge, especially in the absence of the animus we were meant to meet."

Vigilance hummed and thought for an uncomfortably long time. In the duration of her silence, a NightWing server had approached Prince Fathom with a bowl of water, handed it to him, and left without a word. It was only after Fathom had started drinking that Vigilance decided to speak again. "Very well. I will forgive this infraction. May the good Prince please repeat his inquiry in a more cordial and respectful manner?"

"O-of course, Your Majesty," Fathom said, bowing low. "What is this project that Darkstalker is currently working on?"

"I don't know," Vigilance said dismissively.

Fathom whimpered.

"In fact, I don't even know where he is right now."

Fathom whimpered a little louder.

"Take another drink, Prince Fathom; you look like you're going to be sick."

Fathom reluctantly obeyed, taking another sip. He did feel a little calmer afterwards, but there were still butterflies flitting all over his stomach. "You really need to keep a closer eye on him, Your Majesty," Fathom said pleadingly. "You don't know how dangerous he might become — how dangerous he might become to you."

Vigilance paused thoughtfully again, but this time her silence was less deafeningly long. "You might be right," she said. "I should arrange for further measures to be taken to ensure that a more watchful eye is kept on him."

For the first time that night, Fathom felt something that resembled relief.

"As an animus, he really shouldn't be doing things that I don't know about," she continued to muse. "Who knows how much trouble he and that girlfriend of his could be getting into without me knowing?"

"Excuse me, Your Majesty," Darkstalker's mother interjected, looking just a little bit irate. "But the night is starting to wane, and I'm sure it's getting late for our SeaWing guests."

"Ah yes, you're right," Vigilance said, nodding. "Fathom, Indigo, you may be escorted to the chambers we'd prepared for you whenever you feel ready to retire. Simply call on any of the servants and they'd be happy to take you there."

"Actually, I would like to invite Prince Fathom to my home before he rests for the night." She looked at Fathom and bowed her head. "I am Foeslayer and this is my husband, Arctic."

"Prince Arctic," the IceWing corrected.

"We are Darkstalker's parents," Foeslayer went on in the same breath. "It's an honor to meet you."

"And what reason would you have to abduct our foreign guests like this?" Vigilance said, arching an eye at Foeslayer.

"Your Majesty, I would never dream of 'abducting' any of them." She raised her head, stiffening her posture, and Fathom suddenly found himself growing impatient with all these royal formalities. "It is a simple invitation. Darkstalker said that he would be returning home before morning. If Prince Fathom would like to meet him as soon as possible, then he should come with us and wait for him to come back."

"I would like that," Fathom responded, almost immediately. Anything to get out of this nightmare. "If Your Majesty wouldn't mind," he quickly added, bowing to the queen.

Queen Vigilance sighed impatiently. "Oh, go on. I grant you all leave. This party was going to end soon anyway. Just be sure to return through the front gates. I'll be sure to assign door guards who will recognize you."

Fathom bowed one last time, and followed Foeslayer and Arctic as they guided him out of the palace. Indigo went off to fetch Wharf and Lionfish for a moment, but slipped right back to Fathom's side once she'd returned with them trailing behind her. He was amazed by how much calmer he felt when she was next to him.

They turned a corner and began to walk down a long corridor with high glass windows on either side that showed the moonlit landscape of the evergreen forest within which the palace was buried. Soon, the noise of the party began to fade into distant echoes, and Fathom could feel another layer of his anxieties peeling away from his soul. "Thank you, Mrs. Foeslayer," he said to them in a small voice.

Foeslayer glanced back at Fathom, but didn't respond. It was hard to tell the look on her face in the darkness of the palace. Fathom had good night vision like every other SeaWing, but Foeslayer's scales were darker than the shadows of the high ceiling. All he could tell was that she wasn't smiling.

Indigo decided to speak up. "Do you know what your son is doing right now, Mrs. Foeslayer?"

"He told me that he was going to be spending the night with his friends, Clearsight and Listener," she answered. "He didn't tell me what they were doing, but I think I have a pretty good idea."

"What is it?" Indigo and Fathom asked simultaneously.

"I shouldn't tell you," Foeslayer said, and now she was definitely smiling. "I'd be quite a bad mother if I revealed a secret of his that I'm not supposed to know."

Fathom looked hesitantly over at Indigo, and she looked hesitantly back at him. He murmured something in Aquatic that roughly translated to, I don't like this. And she responded with something that translated to, Neither do I. She can't be trusted.

"Does it involve any animus magic?" Fathom asked Darkstalker's mom.

"Not that I'm aware of," she answered. "He knows how to use his powers carefully, Fathom. He's very thoughtful with the enchantments he makes, and I'm keeping a very close eye on his soul."

"Those enchantments can add up, Foeslayer," Fathom said, sounding urgent. "I know he may seem fine now, but my grandfather seemed fine right up until he killed all those dragons."

Foeslayer looked back at them. "I know," she said hesitantly. "I worry about him too, Fathom. But his soul is in better talons than your grandfather's was. You see, Darkstalker has the ability to see the future. And because he was hatched under three full moons, he is particularly talented at it. If there were a future where he turned evil, he would see it. And he would keep it from happening."

"Are you sure?" Fathom asked. "What if he slowly turns evil over time without realizing it?"

"Then he has Clearsight," she answered. "If what Darkstalker told me about her is true, her future-seeing abilities are even more powerful than his. I've already spoken with her before. She appears to understand the responsibility she's accepting by being with my son. I don't need to be constantly breathing down his neck to make sure he doesn't step out of line, and neither do you." She folded her brow at them and frowned. "And neither does the queen."

Fathom winced, suddenly feeling a small pit in his stomach where the butterflies had once been. He couldn't think of any way to respond.

The corridor finally came to an end, and a pair of guards opened the doors to let them out. The air outside was warm and still, but Fathom was just happy to be breathing fresh air again. The palace had been stuffy from all of the candles burning against the walls.

"We don't live very far away," Foeslayer said to them. "Stay close to Arctic. He'll let you know when we're close, and you should be able to see him better once we start flying."

Once Foeslayer spread her wings and took to the sky, she completely vanished. Fathom wasn't even able to catch her silhouette in the sky.

"Hey," Arctic barked quietly to get their attention. He nudged his head upward, urging them to take flight. "Don't keep Foeslayer and me waiting."

"Sorry," Fathom said, before lifting up into the air.

Arctic was indeed a lot easier to spot. Once he started soaring ahead of him, Fathom was able to catch his wings and tail him without any problem. They glided over deep green coniferous forests and under a clear, cloudless sky with two shining moons overhead — one bright and full, another big and gibbous. Thousands of colorful stars dotted the rest of the sky, and a sea of crickets chirped below him.

Now that his nerves were dying down, Fathom began to grow more and more exhausted. He was starting to regret joining Foeslayer and Arctic. Perhaps his meeting with Darkstalker could have waited until he was more well-rested. A quick glance back at his SeaWing companions informed him that he wasn't alone. Indigo was gliding right behind his right wing, her eyelids only half-open. Wharf and Lionfish each had their heads dipped low, and they kept losing altitude on accident, periodically reflapping their wings to pick themselves back up.

I need to see him, Fathom told himself. I need to let him know how dangerous his magic is. I don't care how many seers he has with him. I don't care how safe he and his family thinks he is. He can't use his powers. He needs to stop using them.

That much he was sure of. And the sooner he could convince Darkstalker to give them up, the safer the world will be.

Arctic began to descend. Fathom snapped out of the half-conscious gliding state he was in and dipped down as well. They appeared to be falling into a ravine. At first it appeared dark and sinister, but as they grew closer to the walls, he saw windows with orange candle lights coming out of them. Small window boxes with flowers adorned many of them, especially those near the top. Deeper down, where less moonlight poured in, the gardens were instead replaced with decorative wreaths, each a different variety of colors.

Darkstalker's house was closer to the top, with the flower gardens. Arctic landed on a porch where a wide black door was already open, and made his way inside. Fathom quickly followed, and Indigo, Wharf, and Lionfish were right behind him.

"Would you like anything to drink?" Foeslayer asked. When Fathom looked up at her, he saw that she was already in the kitchen. "I could make some rich black tea for you if you need help staying awake."

"That would be wonderful," Fathom said, yawning. "Thank you very much."

"I'll take one too," Indigo added. She sat down beside the door, keeping an eye on Fathom as she tried to keep her eyes from permanently closing. She'd been carrying a whale tooth spear with her, which now lay idly by her side.

Fathom looked around. The main living room had a wool rug atop the floor with blue and white patterns between the weavings. In fact, he noticed there was a lot of that color combination in the room. The canvases were paintings of happy looking IceWings and NightWings and IceWing-NightWing hybrids, with blue backlit shadows and blue sky backdrops. It reminded Fathom of the ocean and the summer sky, with little clouds drifting overhead and pale white seagulls dive-bombing into the waves to catch unsuspecting fish.

He found a piece of paper lying nearby and picked it up. On it was a sketch of a NightWing that didn't look like any of the others in the other paintings. She was a little smaller, and had a different shape to her snout. She was walking forward, and unlike the NightWings in the other paintings, she looked determined and steadfast rather than cheerful and optimistic. Tied to her hind leg was what looked like a piece of string, which extended out beyond the edge of the piece of paper.

"I hope you'll excuse the mess," Foeslayer said. From the kitchen, she was overlooking a teapot that was sitting atop a small fire on the counter. "Those illustrations belong to Whiteout, Darkstalker's sister."

"Sister?" Fathom repeated. He looked over at her and said, "Does she have any special powers too?"

"No, she doesn't. NightWings get their powers when they hatch under full moons. The more full moons they hatch under, the more powers they have. Darkstalker hatched on the brightest night, but Whiteout didn't hatch until the next day, so she unfortunately doesn't have any powers of her own."

"I'm not so sure about that," Arctic said. He was seated on a small horde of bright blue and white throw pillows, frowning pensively at the drawing in Fathom's talons. "I think she has something. I'm not sure what it is, because none of what she says ever makes any sense. But sometimes I feel like she can see things that we can't."

"What do you mean 'None of what she says ever makes any sense'?" Fathom asked him.

"Father?" someone said from the hallway.

Fathom's jaw dropped a little when Whiteout came out from her room. She was unlike any dragon he'd ever seen. She was a wash of blue and black and white. Her wings and the spikes along her neck and back were snowy and white like an IceWing's, but the scales that painted the majority of her body were a dark ocean blue. She had piercing bright blue eyes and long, curving claws along her front talons. She looked like she was from a completely different planet.

"See for yourself," Arctic murmured.

"You made some new friends," Whiteout said to Arctic, her ears raised in curiosity.

"Close, but not quite," he answered. "These are SeaWing … ambassadors or something. They're here from all the way across the continent to meet your brother. Why don't you be polite and say hi to them?"

"Oh, I see!" Whiteout nodded, and beamed at Fathom. "My brother heard your whispers a long time ago. He's absolutely delighted by your existence."

"That's … good, I think," Fathom said. He looked over at Foeslayer, who was busy pouring the tea. She didn't appear to be at all confounded by her daughter's words. Looking back at Whiteout, he said, "Anyway, it's nice to meet you."

"Everything is mutual!" She trotted over to him and eagerly shook his talon. Her scales were chilly to the touch. "I hope my father hasn't given you any bitter apple seeds yet."

"I … don't think he has," Fathom said. Am I just too tired to understand what she's saying?

"Oh, my apologies!" Whiteout circled behind Fathom and began to gather up her paintings. "My silly pets leave a mess everywhere they go. They're supposed to stay in my room, but they never listen."

Fathom tilted his head, and looked back at the sketch of the NightWing with a thread tied to her. "Who are your pets?"

Whiteout giggled. "They don't really have names. They always come and go before I get the chance to give them one." She turned back around, her arms now full of half-painted canvases and empty paint tubes, before she stopped and looked at the sketch Fathom was holding. "Oh, except for that one. She does have a name."

"What is it?" Fathom asked as Whiteout began to retreat back to her room.

"'Dragon of chaos.'"

Fathom blinked, then looked down at the drawing again. Who is she? He felt a soft chill run down his spine, wondering if it were someone he'd meet, and if she were someone he had to be afraid of.

A cup rattled beside him. When Fathom looked over his shoulder, he saw Foeslayer looking at the drawing as well. A ceramic cup of tea was now next to him, sitting gently on the floor in a white saucer.

"That's Clearsight, I'm pretty sure," Foeslayer told him. "Whiteout has been drawing her a lot lately. I don't know why."

Fathom hummed, tapping the thread attached to the sketch's hind leg. "Maybe Whiteout thinks she's important," he suggested.

"She's very important to Darkstalker, that's for sure," Foeslayer said. "Perhaps she'll start drawing you next."

Fathom looked down at his teacup and took his first sip. He hoped he would be important. He hoped he could persuade Darkstalker to change.

Indigo suddenly leapt to her feet and faced the door, baring her teeth. A second later, the door swung open, and in paraded a young, glittering NightWing with a pair of silver teardrop scales on either side of his eyes. "Hello, mom!" he said jovially. "We're home, safe and sound."

It's him, Fathom realized. All of the fear that had dissipated since he left the palace sprouted right back up. Darkstalker.

"Welcome home, Darkstalker," Foeslayer said to him. "Do you remember the SeaWing prince that Queen Vigilance wanted you to meet tonight?"

"Yes, I do. Prince Fathom, right?" Darkstalker turned to face Fathom, and extended a talon for him to shake. "It's an honor to —"

A spear suddenly pointed itself at Darkstalker's throat. "Don't touch him," Indigo warned, standing right beside Fathom and gripping her weapon tightly.

Fathom, Foeslayer, and Arctic all jumped to their feet at roughly the same time, though Foeslayer spoke up before Fathom could, sounding more furious than Fathom thought she was capable of being. "Get that thing away from my son right now!"

"Mother, it's alright," Darkstalker said slowly, raising his talons to surrender.

"Actually, it's not," Arctic said. "Dragons pointing spears at you is definitely not something you should be alright with."

Another dragon walked in that Fathom immediately recognized: Clearsight.

She looked exactly how Whiteout sketched her. She was even wearing the same bracelet that she had on in the sketch. She watched Darkstalker carefully, as if she were studying him and Indigo. That's weird, he thought. Why doesn't she look worried?

A third dragon walked in — someone Fathom didn't recognize at all. She looked about a year younger than Clearsight, and reacted expectantly when she saw Indigo and Darkstalker. She shrieked and turned around to fly away, and Clearsight quickly ran after her. "Listener, wait!"

Because she already knows what's going to happen, Fathom realized. She knows Darkstalker is going to be okay, because she can see the future.

Is Indigo going to be okay, then? Would Clearsight care if he killed her?

He didn't want to risk it. He wasn't going to let Indigo put herself in pointless danger for him. "Indigo, that's enough," Fathom said, trying to sound demanding. "Lower your weapon. I think Darkstalker just wanted to shake my talon."

"I did," Darkstalker agreed. "No harm meant. I promise!"

Indigo didn't lower her spear. "We can't trust him, Fathom! He's too dangerous. If we kill him now, then we can make sure he doesn't do anything bad."

"Indigo, just think for a second!" Fathom argued. "Isn't this what Queen Pearl wanted to do to me? We need to get through to him, not kill him. That was the whole point of me being here, wasn't it?"

"Also, I sincerely doubt Queen Pearl gave you permission to kill my son at your discretion," Arctic said, sounding much more imposing than Fathom ever could. "If you kill the only living NightWing animus, you and Prince Fathom will be at the mercy of Queen Vigilance. She won't make your deaths a pleasant experience."

Indigo looked back at Fathom for a moment, looking saturated with worry and sorrow and exhaustion. Then she sighed, and lowered her spear to the ground. Arctic promptly walked up to her and took the spear out of her grip. "Wait outside," he said sternly. "Never step into this household again."

Indigo shook her head. "I am not to let Prince Fathom out of my sight," she told him.

Arctic bared his teeth. "Will I need to call the guards, then? I was hoping I wouldn't need to bring this to anyone else's attention."

"Arctic, let's not overreact," Darkstalker said calmly as he lowered his talons back to the ground. "These SeaWings are tired and have been put under a lot of stress. And they're supposed to be my friends, are they not?"

"I'm starting to doubt that," Arctic said, scowling at Fathom and Indigo.

Fathom winced. "We are, I promise!" he quickly said. "Please, forgive Indigo. We're both really nervous, but we came here with good intentions, I swear. You have my word that from now on, Indigo will not attack or threaten Darkstalker unless he puts my life in danger."

Indigo shot him a disapproving look that seemed to say, I never said I would agree to that.

Arctic narrowed his eyes. "Fine," he said. "But you're going to have to give me that dagger you've been trying to hide as well."

Indigo looked unsure. She glanced over at Fathom, and he nodded. So she unbuckled the harness that attached the sheath of the dagger beneath her wing, and handed the weapon to Arctic.

With that finally settled, Darstalker smiled at Fathom. "As I was saying, it's an honor to finally meet you. May I shake your talon?"

"No," Indigo said sternly.

Fathom actually found himself wanting to override Indigo and say yes. After having his life threatened like that, a talonshake probably would have been a nice gesture. He didn't want Darkstalker hating him or Indigo. And he really did want to be friends with Darkstalker. Not just because he was dangerous and needed someone he trusted to tell him to stop using magic. But also because Fathom really missed having friends.

But he didn't quite trust Darkstalker yet. He had to trust Indigo's intuition for now. "Not yet," he said after Indigo. "I hope that's not too much trouble. I'm just not … quite comfortable enough right now."

"I perfectly understand," Darkstalker said warmly. "I hope that changes by the end of the day, though. It would be such a shame if we couldn't get along in the end. Anyway — let's get down to business! Where's Clearsight and Listener? I hope I didn't scare them off."

"We're here," Clearsight said. She was sitting right at the edge of the front door with Listener by her side. Listener looked like she'd just seen a ghost, and Clearsight looked oddly pleased.

"Good, good! I'm so sorry about that, Listener." He walked towards them and closed the front door. "This was all so completely unexpected. If you'd like to go home now instead of staying with us, I'd completely understand."

"I think I'll be okay," Listener answered, though she sounded quite rattled. "Um …. May I ask what the SeaWing Prince is doing in your house?"

"Of course." Darkstalker spread his wings behind Clearsight and Listener. "Prince Fathom: this is my girlfriend Clearsight and my friend Listener. Clearsight, Listener: this is Prince Fathom. He's an emissary from the Sea Kingdom who's here to befriend me. Queen Pearl sent him over to help us better understand our powers."

Fathom looked concerningly at Indigo. That's not right, he thought. We're here to stop exploring animus magic, not to keep exploring it. Darkstalker probably didn't know that, though. Queen Pearl probably said something very similar to the NightWings when they requested that he be brought over as an emissary.

Darkstalker gave him a devilish smirk that immediately made Fathom freeze up. I forgot, he can read my thoughts! His brain paralyzed itself. He was too afraid to think. What if he or Indigo thought something that ruined their chances at friendship?

Listener took a step forward — which produced a small growl from Indigo — then stopped and bowed her head to Prince Fathom. "It's great to meet you. If you're going to be a friend of Darkstalker's, then I'm sure you'll be a friend of mine too!"

Fathom hesitated, then produced a sheepish smile. He couldn't seem to muster up anything more in response.

"While we're on the topic of magic," Darkstalker said jovially, "why don't we all head to my room? There's something I'm excited to show you all."

Darkstalker walked ahead, stopping to give his mom a hug before moving ahead to his room. His friends followed after.

Fathom's nerves were tangoing with his exhaustion. Before tailing the other NightWings into the chamber that led to Darkstalker's room, he took another sip of the tea that Foeslayer had prepared for him. His muscles were starting to feel numb from how tense he'd been this whole time.

He didn't even notice how long he'd been standing there until Darkstalker called out from his room. "What are you waiting for, Fathom? C'mon, you might actually think this is kinda cool. You can bring your bodyguards if you want."

Fathom glanced at Indigo. Indigo glanced back at him. In Aquatic, she said, We should probably just leave.

I agree, he flashed back. We're too vulnerable.

"We're waiting!" Darkstalker called. "Don't you want to see my latest enchantment? You can see for yourself what your powers are capable of."

"You enchanted something?" Fathom said worriedly. "Darkstalker, you know we're actually here to try and make you stop using your magic, right?"

Without another moment's hesitation, he walked to Darkstalker's room. Indigo snapped right to his side, glancing at him like he was about try flying with only one wing.

"I just want to see what he did," Fathom whispered to her. "Maybe I can find a way to talk him out of doing anything else with his powers." His friends are here. If I can convince them, they might be able to pressure Darkstalker into giving up as well. It was a longshot, but he might as well take this opportunity.

Wharf and Lionfish followed behind the two of them, but Fathom instructed them to stay outside of Darkstalker's room. It just barely had enough room for everyone currently inside to comfortably fit, and Wharf and Lionfish were larger and clumsier dragons than the rest of them. He didn't want either of them knocking anything over or making everything more cramped.

When Fathom looked inside Darkstalker's room, the candles against the wall lit up a somewhat sparse interior. There was a wide window on the opposite wall with the curtains opened, letting in the moonlight. The three other NightWings were all surrounding the foot end of Darkstalker's bed. Fathom stepped closer to get a better view, and saw that there was a large golden goblet standing atop his blanket. Listener was standing between Darkstalker and Clearsight, her eyes glued to the goblet.

"So, these are enchanted?" she said, reaching forward to touch it.

'These?' There's more than one? Fathom took another step closer, but he only saw the goblet Listener was examining.

"What does it do?" she asked Darkstalker.

"Why don't you find out?" Darkstalker asked, giving Fathom a brief, amused glance before focusing his attention back on Listener. "All you need to do is close your eyes and exhale into the bowl."

Listener swallowed, then nodded. "I hope you know I'm putting a lot of trust in you here."

"I wouldn't make my first animus gift for you anything mean," Darkstalker promised. "Go on."

Darkstalker was practically dancing in place. His smile practically touched his ears. Fathom, meanwhile, felt his nerves skating all over the place. He was pretty sure that the enchantment was probably innocent enough. He also knew that that wasn't what mattered. What mattered was that he was destroying his soul.

And yet, for some reason … he couldn't shake this bad feeling he was getting. What if he's already gone? What if this enchantment is going to do something terrible to his friend?

He held his breath as Listener closed her eyes. She leaned forward, exhaled a slow breath of warm air into the bowl of the goblet …

… and disappeared before his eyes.

A/N: That was a longer wait than I was expecting! To those of you who were waiting for this chapter to come out, I hope those two months of waiting weren't too frustrating. I'll make it up to you though! I spent this November writing the next six chapters all in advance, so you've got some reading to look forward to in the forthcoming days.