A/N: So I know that I said that I'd try to be more timely with this next chapter, and I guess that turned out to be a bit of a lie, seeing as it took nearly a month for me to get this one out. I do have a better excuse this time, though, and that's that I was writing, just a different story (it's not WoF, but still very dragon-centered, and I hope to have it out moderately soon, and by moderately soon I mean I have no idea). Anyway, I am sorry this took so long, and I plan not to take this long again.

If you like this story, feel free to fav/follow and leave a review. And enjoy Chapter 6...

Chapter 6

A Different Exchange

"There," Whiteout said as she set down her scale token and removed his last square, "I win again, brother."

Darkstalker let out a good natured growl and shook his head in almost disbelief. His sister never ceased to amaze him; at times she could act like she didn't know where or what she was, and other times she could strike with the speed and ruthlessness of a viper. Luckily, being her brother meant that he didn't have to worry much about her ever using that against him—except when playing games like scales-and-squares.

"I don't know how you do it," he told her. They'd already played three games, and he hadn't even come close to beating her once.

"I merely let the chaos and the winds of the game guide me," she explained in a genuine way that made no sense, "If you use it like a river, you might play better."

"I'll try," Darkstalker assured her, even though he had no idea how he could use the 'winds of the game' 'like a river'. "Want to play again?"

Whiteout nodded and he began to set up another game. It was a rather lazy early morning, classes had been off for the night, and since Clearsight had stuff to do he'd spent most of the night at home with Whiteout. A bit of that time had been focused on some of his assignments for his classes, but he had more than enough time to play games with his little sister, even if it meant losing horribly.

"You go first this time," she told him as he finished putting the tokens in place, "Remember, don't try to force the game."

"Yeah, yeah," Darkstalker grumbled sarcastically as he looked over the board, trying to remember what moves and mistakes he'd made before so that he didn't repeat them. Of course, he'd promised Whiteout that he wouldn't cheat and look ahead in the future to see what his moves would result in, but at times he really, really wanted to. Nor would he try to read her mind to try to determine what she was planning and plotting to do, but that was more due to her mind's innate hard-to-read makeup rather than any promise he'd made.

"Let's see…" he said, as he carefully picked up a scale token, his eyes roaming the board as he tried to figure out where to place it to start the game. "Where to go…" he mumbled to himself, right before a presence made itself known on the edge of his mind. "Oh, great," he hissed.

"What's wrong?" Whiteout asked.

"You'll see," he growled as the presence grew stronger, his mind reading individual thoughts of the dragon approaching his home.

A few seconds later he heard the door open, and a few seconds after that his father walked into the room where Whiteout and him sat playing their game. Or would be playing their game, if Arctic hadn't arrived.

"You're home early," Darkstalker said to him, not quite keeping his voice from being needlessly icy.

Arctic growled as he looked over what they were doing. "Don't you have something better to do besides playing games," he spat, "If you were Icewings, you'd be laughed out of the circles for doing something so worthless instead of training and fighting."

"Well, we're not Icewings," Darkstalker answered him with narrowed eyes, "…and I don't think we're missing anything by it."

His father growled again, "Be glad you're not. I doubt a snake like you would survive a week in the Ice Kingdom. If it weren't for your powers, I'd say it would be even less."

"Says the dragon who ran away from it," Darkstalker hissed, "Don't act so high and mighty when you're the one away from home."

"You little," Arctic hissed back, "You have no idea—"

"No idea of what?" Darkstalker interrupted, taunting him, "What you gave up? What you've been through? How hard it was to leave your precious tribe of tough-drake killers who haven't been able to win a war after five years of trying? Spare me the lecture, Icewing."

Arctic's face twisted into a sneer ad his eyes filled with rage, and for a moment Darkstalker feared he might have pushed it too far, too fast. His father raised a claw, talons barred, and Darkstalker was legitimately anticipating a fight before Arctic put it back down and tuned, tail sweeping behind him and overturning the table the gameboard was set on, scattering the pieces all over the ground. "Find something better to do, miserable serpents," he commanded with yet another growl as he stomped out of the room and towards his own quarters.

Darkstalker watched him go, eyes narrowed and claws still out, almost wishing that Arctic had tried something. That miserable excuse for a father was always on his case, and his sisters, no matter what he did. If he was completely honest with himself, he was actually surprised that he hadn't taken Queen Diamond up on her offer to kill them and return to the Ice Kingdom.

"Don't be too upset," he heard Whiteout say next to him, "He misses mother."

Darkstalker lashed his tail, as he did know that it was true. Arctic was always more grumpy and moody when Foeslayer was out fighting with her unit. It was almost an odd dynamic: he was miserable and awful when she was gone but was awful and argued with her when she was home. If Arctic 'loved' her enough to be worried about her in her absence, then why wouldn't he try to be kind to her when she was home?

He shook his head and growled to himself as he began to help Whiteout pick up the pieces of their ruined game. She gave him a look when she saw that he was putting them back in their case instead of setting up for another game.

"You don't want to play again?"

"No, sorry," Darkstalker huffed, "I'm not in the mood."

Whiteout nodded and put the last few scale and square tokens into the case. He set it back on the shelf that they normally kept it and walked out of the house. Whiteout followed him into the dim light of the rising sun.

"Are you going someplace, brother?" she asked innocently, no fear or concern in her voice over the confrontation they'd just had with their father.

Darkstalker sighed. "Yeah, I think I am." Talking with his father always put him in a bad mood, but he knew something that would put him in a good one. Specifically, seeing and talking with a friend, and he knew that Fathom wouldn't mind a visit. It was pretty much his job, after all.

"Oh, okay." Whiteout said, "I guess I'll stay here."

Darkstalker gave a small smile; she wasn't being sarcastic or trying to guilt him over taking off, she was simply stating what she'd do. Unlike him, she had no qualms with being alone with Arctic, but then again she'd always been 'his' daughter. Arctic had named her and was always kinder to her than he'd ever been to Darkstalker. So, almost surprisingly, Darkstalker never had many qualms with leaving her with him, despite how horrible a dragon Arctic was.

He gave her a small hug with his wings before taking off and flying towards the palace. The sun was beginning to get a bit higher in the sky, but there was plenty of time to spend with Fathom before he'd need to return and go back to sleep. Even after the few weeks the Seawings had been in the Night Kingdom, they hadn't quite adjusted to the schedule of the Nightwings, so the only real options for Darkstalker to visit were mainly either very late or very early anyway.

He'd hoped that the flight would get his mind off things, but Darkstalker was still in a rather sour mood as he reached the palace. He'd debated just landing on Fathom's balcony, but he decided instead to use one of the palace's main aerial entrances and walk the hallways to get there.

The hallways were fairly empty as he made his way through them, only a few members of the palace staff or guards passing by going from here to there. A couple bowed their heads towards him as they recognized who he was, and Darkstalker gave a smirk. This was the respect he deserved, even if he didn't get it from his father.

His mood now slightly improved, he turned a corner onto the hallway where Fathom's room was…and his spirits went right back down as he saw the dark blue dragoness sitting outside it. I should've gone for the balcony, he thought as he approached Fathom's door; it would have been nice to avoid another disagreeable exchange today.

"What do you want?" Indigo asked him as he walked up to her. Her voice was not too hostile, but more annoyed, like she'd had the exact thought that he'd had.

He gave a snort. "I just want to talk to Fathom," he said with a roll of his eyes, "…like I do every time I show up here."

Indigo gave a kind of hmmpf but didn't move from her spot outside the door. Darkstalker's tail twitched as they glared at each other.

"Well…?" he asked, starting to get a bit angry, especially as certain memories of certain futures began to spring unbidden to his mind as he met those purple eyes.

"Fathom isn't here," she finally told him, "He's in a meeting with Queen Vigilance over something, I'm not sure what."

Darkstalker could see in her mind that she did know what, but that it wasn't anything too important. Just discussing a report on animus magic she'd had Fathom write for her, something that Fathom himself had told him he'd be doing for her.

"Do you know when he'll be back?" Darkstalker asked.

Indigo shrugged her wings. "No, no one said anything. He was summoned and I was instructed to stay."

That, at least, Darkstalker could see was true, from her mind as well as the frustration in her voice over it.

He tapped a talon lightly on the ground, trying to decide what to do. He could just turn and go back home, but he didn't exactly want to spend any more time around Arctic than he wanted to. Alternatively, he could stay and wait for Fathom for who knows how long, all while under the gaze and scowl of Indigo, a dragoness that he also didn't want to spend any more time around than he needed to.

Of course…

There was at least one future where that last statement wasn't quite true, and for some reason that future he'd seen suddenly leapt from the deep recesses of his mind where he'd tried so hard to bury and forget to the forefront of his thoughts. He shook his head to get it out as the Indigo in front of him gave him an odd look. With a snort, he turned around and began to walk away—doing anything else would practically be inviting a confrontation…or worse.

Yet, even as left her, a different thought sprung up in his mind. It was of Clearsight's words, when she'd asked him to at least try to be kind and talk to the female Seawing. "For Fathom's sake, if not mine" she'd said, and to his present chagrin he'd told her that he would. And here was an opportunity for him to actually do so without the scrutiny of Clearsight or Fathom. Any words they'd exchange now would be only between them.

He stopped walking and growled to himself, lashing his tail. He didn't particularly want to talk to Indigo, but this might be one of the only few times that he could freely speak to her without worrying what Fathom would say or think about his words towards her. This could be one of the only few times that he might truly be able to see whether she could be a friend like Clearsight said she'd be, or an enemy like he foresaw, or possibly something different altogether.

He turned his head and looked back at her. She cocked her head slightly in response as she met his gaze, and he could hear her mind wondering why he'd stopped. Clearly, she'd been anticipating him to simply leave since Fathom wasn't there.

He snorted and steeled himself before speaking, but when he did it was with a question that he'd long been wanting to ask her, even if he was already sure of the answer.

"Why do you hate me?"

Indigo blinked once and seemed to a bit taken aback. He couldn't quite be sure if it was because of the question or that he was actually talking to her when he didn't need to be. She immediately recomposed herself, however, and she narrowed her eyes at him.

"Why do you think I hate you," she asked in a somewhat weaselly way, and Darkstalker decided to play her game instead of brushing that off and repeating his own question.

"Because I'm an animus," he said, turning his body back fully towards her and walking back up to her, "A mind reading, future seeing animus. And I'm not afraid of my powers."

Indigo kept a neutral face, but he saw her tail twitch slightly. He gave a very small smirk, beginning to grow some confidence in the conversation.

"Did I miss anything?" he asked sarcastically, slightly spreading his wings and lifting his head back and up so he was at his full height.

Her eyes roamed over him and he could tell she was thinking of a response, but he couldn't tell exactly what. Finally, she answered.

"Yes. You did." It looked like she was content to leave it at that, but he gestured for her to continue and she obliged him. "You are an animus, and you are unafraid of your powers. But what worries me most of all is this: you have no discipline."

"Discipline?" Darkstalker repeated, barely keeping from a laugh. Discipline was what bothered Indigo so much? "How so?"

She glanced down to her talons and closed her eyes for a second, as though she was debating whether or not to say what she was thinking. But when she opened her eyes and looked back at him there was a bit of determination in them.

"You have all the power in the world," she told him, "You can create or destroy, kill or heal. But no one can dictate whether you do that but yourself. You inherited that power. You didn't earn it or work for it in the slightest. And you use it without care or regard to anyone, including yourself."

Darkstalker snorted. "It almost sounds as if you're actually worried for my soul."

"Why shouldn't I be?" Indigo challenged, but she went on before he could even begin to respond, "But regardless, I am worried for Fathom's. But not because I'm worried about Fathom using his power. I trust him. He knows the costs. He has discipline."

Darkstalker was beginning to grow more amused with this conversation, even if he suspected where it was ultimately heading. "And so why are you so afraid for Fathom's soul?"

"Because Fathom, for some inexplicable reason, has decided to become friends with you, and you seem determined to do everything in your power to ensure that he becomes just as carefree with his magic as you are."

"It sounds like you don't trust Fathom as much as you claim, then," Darkstalker observed.

Indigo lashed her tail and gave him an unamused look. "I can trust but still be cautious. I'm sure you do that plenty."

He frowned, mainly because she had a pretty good point right there. "Fine. But what makes you say that I'm so…" he raised a claw and looped it in the air a few times "…'undisciplined'? That I actually use the powers that I was gifted?"

Indigo tapped her tail lightly on the ground and was silent for a moment. He could tell that she was picking her next words carefully. "No. What makes you undisciplined is that you think so little about what you use it on. You merely want a thing done, so you make an object do it without raising a claw. You want a telescope to tell how good a soul is? You simply enchant it. No thought put into it, no questioning the consequences—you just do what you want when you want."

Darkstalker shook his head and resisted the urge to roll his eyes; she sounded like Arctic. "And this is bad how?"

"Because little things can have big consequences," she told him, meeting his eyes, "I don't know how much it takes to drive an animus insane. I don't know if it's a hundred little things or a few big ones. I don't know if it's even the use of magic that can cause a good dragon to fall. But I do know the consequences of those actions, of power unrestrained, and it only ends in ruin for all involved."

He did let himself roll his eyes at that one. Once more he was being preached to about the "dire consequences" of animus magic that would inevitably destroy him. It was almost enough for him to mention his scroll, to say that he had taken precautions. But he couldn't; it was too dangerous for anyone but him and Clearsight to know about it. He hadn't even confided in Fathom about it quite yet, and he definitely wasn't about to mention it to Indigo.

"You say that because one animus went mad, so naturally all of us must be dangerous." He told her sarcastically. "Did you ever stop to think that maybe, just maybe, I'm not like Albatross. That maybe I could actually do good. You seem pretty confident that Fathom isn't going to go insane and kill a bunch of dragons, so why can't it be the same for another animus?"

Because Fathom doesn't use his power, was the immediate thought in her head, although Indigo didn't say it out loud. She tapped her tail lightly on the ground, again picking her words cautiously. "Perhaps you can," she finally answered, "But you've yet to show it."

Darkstalker narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean by that?" he hissed. He had done good with his magic already; of that he was certain. He'd made the soul reader to prevent himself or Fathom from potentially turning evil, he'd enchanted objects to make the lives of dragons he cared for easier, and he'd used it to protect what he cared about. Who was Indigo to say that he hadn't shown that he could use it for good?

Indigo seemed to grow a bit nervous at his reaction, some of her icier 'guard' demeanor cracking the longer they talked. He noticed her eyes flicker for a brief moment to her spear that rested against the wall before she spoke. "I mean that you seem to use it on the most trivial things. If you're really as powerful and good as I hear you say you are to Fathom, then why don't you use it for something truly good, like ending the war with the Icewings?"

Darkstalker cocked his head but couldn't help but give a small grin. "It sounds as though you're actually advocating that I use my power," he told her.

She shrugged her wings and kept a perfectly neutral face. "Maybe I am." Reading her mind, Darkstalker truly couldn't tell whether she was serious or not.

He shook his head. "While I can appreciate that sentiment, changing the hearts and minds of thousands of dragons to bring about the end of a massive war may just be the kind of that would destroy my soul, assuming the legends are even real." But of course, he thought, I'm not exactly bound by those limitations anymore, given my scroll. It was something he'd have to think about more later…

"If you're afraid of the effects of one big spell, shouldn't you also be afraid of many small ones?" Indigo asked, and what frustrated Darkstalker was that it was a perfectly reasonable question that he had walked right into.

A growl was his only response. He didn't really have any other. But perhaps if he explained about his scroll, about his safeguard, she could see and understand why he wasn't concerned. Maybe it could make her trust him just a little bit more than she did. If she knew, maybe they could be…

No! He yelled at himself mentally. Why would he even think about telling Indigo, one opposed to him and his powers, his one limitation? Since when do I even care about what she thinks of me? He wondered. Surely it had nothing to do with the fact that she kept haunting his mind with unwanted visions where he did care with all his heart.

He closed his eyes and shook his head, the mere thought of that bringing up the memories of those futures he'd seen. They were so unlikely and so frustrating…yet he couldn't forget about them. Even though he tried, they just kept coming back to his mind.

He opened his eyes back up to see the subject of those thoughts looking at him in what almost appeared to be concern, having noticed his sudden shift in demeanor. Darkstalker mentally kicked himself, not just for letting his thoughts run like that, but in front of her in the middle of a conversation.

"Are you okay?" she asked, even though in her mind he could hear that she was wary that it was some sort of weird trick he was doing.

"Yes," he said with a growl, trying not to appear weak or out of sorts, "It's just…" he snorted, "You have no idea what it's like to be an animus, to have this power. It's not as simple as just doing or not doing something. Despite how it may look to you, I know what I'm doing, and I'm not going to fall like Albatross. I'm not going to be like him, or my father, or any other animus. I control my own destiny, not you, and not anyone else!"

Indigo gave an almost nonexistent shake of her head before she spoke again, softly, almost more to herself than to him. "I don't doubt that. I just worry about what that fate will be. And I worry for my friend."

Darkstalker looked at her. He really looked at her, both the outside and inside, searching her mind for anything at all that he could scoff at, to take and tear at. But he saw nothing that he could. Her fear and worry were genuine, and he saw in that moment that the soul reader was correct: Indigo was a good dragon.

The thought actually made him a little sick, and he wasn't completely sure why.

With one more growl he turned and stomped away, unable to bear the conversation anymore, unable to look at the dark blue Seawing that had unknowingly been torturing him. She watched him go silently, and he didn't even bother to read what she was thinking; it couldn't be anything good. He should never have entered that conversation, promise or no promise to Clearsight. It was, as he'd anticipated, an open invitation for causing a problem. But as he walked away, he didn't even know for sure what exactly that problem was.

Of course, Indigo was never supposed to even be here. She was never supposed to be a problem. It was always supposed to be him and Clearsight and Fathom, but she'd changed everything. It was why Darkstalker despised her so, because she was such an unknown variable, and that she was so opposed to who he was and what he did. She wasn't a friend, and she definitely wasn't something more. He wouldn't—he couldn't—let himself look at her as anything other than an obstacle, a nuisance, because that's what she was.

Wasn't she?