Darkness engulfed everything around him - as it usually did. This was normal, it always was, because no one ever thought about leading an uprising against the "normal" dragons that lived above in the highest caves. He hated them, despised them with all of his passions, because they were the ones who exiled them here.

That is why he woke up in darkness - he rarely ever came out of his little cave. Pitch blackness always surrounded him no matter where he looked. But, he promised himself from now on, things would be better for him. Grieving was over, living in his own self darkness was over, and as Plato the RainWing NightWing hybrid exited his cave, he greeted the other hybrids with a smile on his face.

Plato took in a deep breath, smelling the cool scent of the freezing caves. He was seven years old, and planned on reorganizing his home, adding a little more . . . color, to it. All he needed to do was to find the right materials, turn them into something beautiful, then add it to his home to brighten up the place.

It was colder than it usually is in the caves, and Plato decided to wear his cloak. He made his way to where the water was retrieved, and also where the animals lived as well. Fish were the first things he caught, and he had already captured ten of them and placed them in a pile next to him.

"You're really good at catching fish," said another voice.

Plato looked over, and there stood a LeafWing SkyWing hybrid. "Thank you."

"I'm having a little trouble, you think you could . . . ."

"Of course, no problem." Plato knelt down, and examined the water. Smaller fish had come near them. "Ah, these kinds of fish always come close to the shore."

"Why do they do that?"

"See those sparkling things in the water? Those are supposed to be seeds. Fish love them. It's supposed to be some type of food for them."

A few more moments of silence, Plato readying his hands. Once he had his chance, he jumped, grabbing a handful of fish in both palms. He stood up, and set them down.

"Thank you," she said.

"Like I said, no problem," Plato replied. "It just takes practice."

"It takes me forever to catch fish."

"Maybe I could teach you how to?"

"That would be nice. Thank you."

"You're welcome. My name is Plato, by the way."

"My name is Brier," replied the LeafWing SkyWing hybrid, smiling at him.

"You have a very nice name."

"Thank you - and for helping me. I need to get going."

"Of course. Goodbye."

With that, Plato continued to find more animals, and after a while he made his way back up to his home area, going back to his cave. With his new materials, Plato morphed the clay to make cups and large jars. He tore up the animals and made them into carpets and rugs.

Before he knew it, Plato was finished redecorating his cave. He sat on his new bed which was a pile of colorful carpets, blankets, and pillows; above him were silky strings that glowed in the torchlight; two new tables sat on the left and right side of the room; carpets lined the floors until there were almost no sign of the stone floor, making it much more comfortable to sit on.

After a nice long nap, he stood outside of his home, admiring all of the work he had done. There was a red carpet with golden tinsel leading to the entrance; jars of sand colored red, green, and purple sat on the left, along with trinkets that sparkled in the torch light; on the right were bowls, cups, and plates just to add texture to the outside of the cave; lying under them were two more carpets, one purple with green tinsel, and the other a dark blue with pink tinsel; a green piece of cloth hung over the entrance to make it look more admirable; two torches were on either side of the entrance to look welcoming.

Plato smiled - the hard work had been worth the while.

He was about to go inside and rest some more until he heard a kind voice behind him say: "Wow! This looks very pretty."

Plato turned around, and there stood Brier, the LeafWing SkyWing hybrid. "Oh! Hello." He smiled at her.

"I remember you from a while ago."

"So do I. What are you doing here?"

"I actually live in a cave not far away from here. I saw your cave and I thought I'd come and take a look at it. This looks so beautiful."

"It is wonderful, isn't it?"

"It sure is. You have a very fine taste in imagination."

"Oh, well . . . thank you."

Brier smiled at him. "I'll see you around, huh?"

"Yeah, see you around."

Brier turned to leave, but turned back around and asked: "I'm very sorry, what was your name again?"

"Plato. My name is Plato. Your name is Brier, right?"

"Yes, it is, Plato."

The moments continued on, and Plato felt happier than he had been in a long while. Grieving was over for him, and now he felt somewhat free. He could imagine his parents now, seeing him happy like this. Plato and Brier started to become friends. Now they were at the lake again, showing her how to catch fish.

"You have to be very careful," Plato said. "Fish are sensitive, and very squeamish. They'll swim out of sight if you can't catch them fast enough."

Brier listened to Plato's advice the best she could, eyeing the fish with intent and patience, ready to pounce at the right moment. There were at least seven of them together, swimming in circles near the shore, and only inches away from the dragon's grasp. A long moment of hesitation went by and still Brier did not attack, but the fish were slowly edging away from the shore.

With one powerful leap, Brier jumped off the sand, and landed in the water, grabbing the fish. To her utter dismay when she stood back up, she saw that she had only caught two. Her face fell in disappointment.

"It's alright," Plato said. "There's always a second chance. Watch me."

The RainWing NightWing hybrid readied himself, then after a few moments of heart pounding urgency, he jumped, and grabbed as much fish as he could. Brier was surprised to see that Plato held five fish in each hand.

"You make it look so easy," Brier complained.

"Well," Plato said, "at least we have something for a meal."

The two met up after resting, and they had agreed to go on a walk together. They wandered past other hybrids and dragons, heading towards a part of the caves they had hoped never seen before. A sense of adventure was in their blood, and wanted someplace where they could have to themselves, with no population in sight. They both had not gotten a chance to truly fly in a while, so what they were searching for was a cavern, somewhere they could stretch their wings.

They soon were successful when they entered a spot where it was almost completely dark, and the distance seemed eternal. Far down below, they could hear the faint sound of rushing water. Maybe a river was down there, but the drop looked endless. A new place to explore, but because of the long journey, their talons hurt, and the two dragons sat down to rest for a little while.

They listened to the silence, then Brier said almost sleepily: " . . . This place is very nice."

"Yeah, I like it. It's quiet, and very peaceful."

"It is."

"I wouldn't mind coming here every once in a while to clear my head. Maybe the next time we hang out, we should come here."

"That would be very nice." They both smiled at each other, then Brier stood back up. "Come on, let's go flying."

Plato and Brier took flight without hesitation or second thought. They jumped off the ledge and ventured into the darkness, making sure to not lose the spot where they had started. The cold air brought a calming sense to their minds, as if every problem they had ever dealt with in their lives had never happened, and they could fly on forever. They laughed and chuckled, enjoying every moment. The cavern was nowhere near cheerful - a place of horror in its nature. To Plato and Brier though, it was the most beautiful place in all of the caves.

Brier laughed and smiled at her new friend, then her joyful face faded away when her head turned directly down into the shadows below.

Plato noticed her sudden chance of emotion, and asked: "Do you . . . want to go down there?"

"No," Brier replied. "It's just . . . a little scary."

"How so?"

"Look how far down it goes. It doesn't even look like there is an end . . . that worries me a little."

"Don't let it scare you. This place is supposed to be calm."

His reassurance brought a feeling of hope to Brier. She smiled and said: "You're right."

They decided to head back, but as they did . . . something caught their eyes. Down on the ledge, there stood two figures. Plato and Brier exchanged confused glances. It was so dark they couldn't make out the shapes, but both knew they were dragons.

Suddenly, one of them spoke: "Hey you." A moment of silence. "You up there . . . come down here."

Both hybrids were terrified. They couldn't turn and fly away - they did not want to get lost - the strangers could follow them as well. They had no other choice but to descend. When Plato and Brier landed, they saw that the strangers were in fact dragons; one a SkyWing, the other a SandWing . . . and neither of them were hybrids. Usually, dragons could get along just fine with one another, but a mixed breed . . . was somewhat abnormal to them . . . which is why all the hybrids lived in the lowest parts of the caves.

"W-What do you want?" Plato asked.

"Us?" Replied the SkyWing. "Oh, we're only here because this is our place to come spend some moments together."

"Yeah," said the SandWing, "so I would suggest you leave now . . . before we make you leave."

"No," said Brier.

"No?" Said the SkyWing.

"This isn't your spot, this is our spot. What makes you think you can come here to our territory?"

"Your territory? You hybrids don't belong anywhere in these caves. In fact, you shouldn't even exist."

Plato growled. "Back, off."

"Make us," said the SandWing.

Plato's eyes turned to rage. He lunged at the two dragons, going for the SkyWing first. He lashed at his face, but was then pulled off by the SandWing, and she threw him to the ground. She raised her tail, the barb oozing poison. Just then Brier jumped on her back, thrashing at her neck. The SandWing growled in pain, grabbed Brier by the head, and slammed her down . . . driving her barb across her neck.

"NO!" Plato screamed.

He pushed the SkyWing off, and flapped his wings hard, diving at the SandWing. He kicked and lashed at her, getting her away from his friend. That was when the SkyWing breathed fire at his back, scorching his cloak. Plato roared in pain and quickly pulled his cloak off and threw it to the side, then continued to fight the SkyWing. If he had venom in his fangs, he would use it, but because he was half NightWing as well, that trait had stripped him of that ability, so fire and claws were his only defense.

Plato fought the SkyWing the best he could, even though he was half the size of him. He lashed, breathed fire, which did deal a good amount of pain to his adversary, but even still, Plato was having a hard time trying to fight. The SandWing came up behind him. She wrapped her arms around his neck, giving the SkyWing the chance to slash at his stomach. Plato growled, and just as the SandWing was about to drive her tail barb into his side, he blasted fire at the SkyWing, then craned his neck and shot a fireball into the SandWing's face, catching both dragons off guard.

Plato stared down at them with malice in his eyes, then heard a groan from behind. He turned around . . . and saw Brier standing at the end of the ledge.

"Brier!" Plato cried.

"Plato," Brier said, her vision blurry and her limbs going numb, " . . . what's going on?"

"Don't move. Come towards me."

" . . . I liked hanging out with you, Plato."

"Brier . . . ."

" . . . Maybe we could do this . . . again . . . ?"

Everything then seemed to happen in slow motion. Brier's eyes closed . . . she fell backwards. Plato screamed her name, his consciousness demanding him that he go after her. For some reason he could not move, as if his talons were stuck to the ground. His own scream was muffled, even though it was at the top of his lungs. Finally, he forced himself to move, and ran towards the edge. Plato fell to his knees, and watched as the silhouette of his friend fell into the darkness. For a moment, Plato wanted to dive in after her, but his anguish compelled him to stay in place.

"Well," said the SkyWing, " . . . if only it were that easy to kill you as well, and all of your kind."

Rage he had never experienced before came over Plato. He spun around, letting out a roar, charging at the two dragons, but they quickly turned away with a smirk, and dashed down the tunnel from where they entered. Plato followed them through the small cave system, his teeth bared and pure anger plaguing his mind, thrashing his claws in front of him. He wanted the two dragons to feel how it was to be different, to know how it is to lose a friend, to know what it's like to live down here, in the deep, in the dark. But, when Plato flew out of the tunnel . . . the SkyWing and SandWing were nowhere to be found.

Plato lifted his head up, and roared as he had never roared before, his scream echoing throughout the cave systems.

Everything was silent now. No dragons lurked around the caves - they all were sleeping, unaware of what was going on. Plato was in his home, hands and head pressed up against the wall, trying to think of something to calm him down, but not even the dead silence could tranquil his nerves. Why must he and all the hybrids be treated so differently? Why were they banished here because of how they looked? Why, must everything, and everyone he ever cared about in his life be taken away from him? He wanted to be happy, he wanted to be his own self, he wanted to go past grief and live a happy life. For once, in a very long while, when he met Brier, he thought he had a chance to finally be happy with someone else, with a friend . . . but he couldn't even have that.

Plato breathed heavily, and punched the wall. He punched it again, and continued to do so. He thrashed, leaving deep claw marks in the stone. Plato roared at the rock, then lifted his head and continued roaring. No one heard his cries, no one heard his suffering. Plato threw all of his belongings across the room, smashing almost everything he had, slamming them down as hard as he possibly could. When that was done, he roared again, this time his voice sounding hoarse. After about thirty seconds, dropped his head.

Once his breathing slowed, Plato looked around at his trashed home. His anger, his rage, his anguish, it was all taken out on his new home. What he called his new life, now destroyed. He fell to the ground, remembering his parents, who had died from the same fate Brier had. Dragons from the higher caves, fighting them because they were hybrids. What kind of life was this? He, and every other hybrid that lived down here never deserved to be banished. It wasn't fair.

Plato covered his face, softly crying to himself, knowing he will never have the happiness he so longed for in his life.

" . . . Doth thou desire vengeance? . . . Doth thou desire blood? . . . Doth thou wish to become the greatest being of thy kind? . . . Doth thou thinkest thou deservest happiness?"

Plato suddenly felt as if he were in danger. It was a fear that resembled dread in its purest form, and there was no way he could escape it. His tears stopped falling as if he had never cried, sat up, and looked around. When he turned to the entrance . . . Plato could not even find his voice to yelp or scream.

There stood a dragon, staring him down, its eyes menacing and beyond horrifying. The dragon wore a cloak as black as midnight; the wings were filled with holes, and seemed to have no scales; the hood covered almost its entire face; the mouth was seen, and also looked to have no scales; the jaws raged with fire; and its eyes . . . glowed a blood red color.

Plato had never felt so scared or worried for his life. Somehow he knew whatever this was he could not fight it. Even if he tried, he would die in the worst way possible. The dragon stared him down with those blood red eyes, painted with malice and pure wickedness.

" . . . Thy friend and family hast gone . . . thy dragons above outcast thee here . . . thy dragons above despiseth thee . . . thou wantest revenge . . . ."

Finally, Plato found his voice: " . . . W-Who are you . . . ?"

"Thy savior, deliverer of gifts and power thy dearly desire."

"W-What are you talking about?"

The dragon was hesitant for a while. "Thou hast suffered many, now thy grieve for the happiness thou hast lost. . . . I hast the power to help thy happiness grow. Thy desire the grieving to end, thou desire to hast a beautiful family, and thou desire to be thy dragon thy crave to become."

Plato stared at the dragon, then scoffed. "You come in here to my home, you speak in some . . . odd way, and you say you can give me power!? How dare you? How dare you come into my home and speak that utter nonsense? Leave my home, dragon."

"Thy power hast thy greatest gift thy can ever imagine. Thy happiness thou wish for shall be eternal with thy great power."

"'Thy great power.' Sure, what are you, some kind of healer? I'll say this once more, and never again: Leave, my place, now, or I will kill you. . . . Let me grieve in my own silence."

The two dragons stared each other down. Then something happened in the corner of Plato's eye. He cautiously turned . . . and watched his furniture repair itself. The books flew off the ground and were reshelved when the shelf was set back up; his bed was turned back to its original position; the silk hung back up on the ceiling; the rugs sewed themselves together; the desks were placed back where they belonged; everything Plato had smashed in his rage was repaired, and placed exactly where he had put them to begin with, as if he had done nothing to them.

Plato could not believe what he had just seen - it was the impossible. How could this have happened? Did the dragon do that? If so, how?

" . . . W-W-What's going on?" Is all Plato could say.

"Doth thou believeth in a greater power? Doth thou believeth the impossible? To achieve the unthinkable, thou shalt become the unimaginable. To possess the greatest power, thou shalt hast the unbearability to that of dreams. To help those to gain happiness for thee and thyself, thou shalt know the ability of what thy power is capable of."

"What power? What are you talking about?"

"Exactly what thou hast witnessed. Thy power possesseth more than ever will surpass. Thy power is one that all shall desire. Thy power shall be held by thy hand. . . . The first of many . . . the mighty above all else . . . thou shalt be a king to the weak."

Plato tilted his head slightly, then turned around, examining his room. " . . . My life has been nothing but sadness and grief. My parents died. I have mourned for them for so long. Now . . . my friend. I thought I could have a life of happiness with her. To be together . . . ." He hesitated, then turned back around. "What makes you think you can make anything better with some . . . 'power?'"

"It can give thee joy for as long as thy desire, only by speaking two words."

"And that is?"

" . . . 'I enchant.'"

Plato stared, then scoffed. "That's it? Is this a joke?"

A moment of silence; the cloaked dragon did not move. Plato felt weak, as if he had not slept in months; his limbs felt as if no blood inherited his body; heat rose, and it seemed to burn his scales off. Plato lost all feeling in his body, and found that he could not breathe. He started to panic. His lack of air forced him down on his knees. He held his throat, trying to breathe. Plato coughed, feeling his sight beginning to blur, his life starting to be cut short, and his heartbeat slowing.

" . . . I enchant thou . . . to bleed. Thy organs to crush . . . thy veins to break . . . thy throat to close . . . thy body to burn. I enchant thee . . . to suffer!"

Plato watched as images suddenly flew throughout his head. His hatching, his parents, and Brier. Anger suddenly came, and for a second, Plato felt nothing but that. He remembered the dragons who murdered his parents, who murdered his friend, who banished him and all hybrids down to this darkness. How could they possibly live in peace whilst knowing what the dragons from the higher caves had done to them? He wanted revenge . . . he wanted to see them feel what he had felt for so, many, years.

As his soul started to fade from his body, Plato sputtered the word: " . . . Stop."

Plato coughed, feeling his life come back to him in an instant. The air returned to his lungs; the bleeding had stopped; the heat turned to cold; the pain was gone.

Plato stood up, meeting his gaze with the cloaked dragon, and asked: " . . . Where have you gotten this power?"

"It is mine."

"How?"

"I possesseth power and hast offered it to many souls throughout many long years, and hast been thanked, worshiped for this great gift."

" . . . How many powers do you have?"

"Enough to provide use for everyone in the world. That is why I am here. That is why I am offering my great power to thee. I hast this for thee, so thou canst be powerful, happy . . . and possess everything thou hast ever desired in thy life."

Plato's eyes went wide. "This power is . . . for me?"

"Yes."

"You have done this before?"

"I hast helped many souls throughout many, many, long years. I am here to gift thee with this power. It is for thee, and always hast been. I hast waited many years to find someone whom I must aid, and gift with this power . . . that soul is thy."

" . . . What is it called?"

" . . . Animus Magic."

Plato contemplated this for a moment, then asked: "What does Animus mean?"

"Thy soul."

"You say I can enchant something with this power, what do you mean by that?"

"Thou simply say, 'I enchant,' then sayest what the object or soul should do, or become, then it happens. I canst say: 'I enchant a rug to fly,' it does. 'I enchant my wings to become flames,' they do. 'I enchant my claws to become sharp,' they are. ' . . . I enchant the world to burn' . . . it does."

"So, that's all it does? Enchantments to make things do whatever you want them to do? No matter what, you can use the magic to make anything do whatever you want? If food runs low, you can increase the amount of the supply? If I break an arm, I can heal it just by saying words? If someone . . . dies . . . I can bring them back to life?"

"Exactly. Yet, there are limitations. Thy parents hast died. If thou wisheth to bring them back, thou must first heal others to heal them. Thou must heal the physically broken. If one breaks their head, thou must heal the bones. If one hast lost thy wings, thou must grow them back. If one is blind, thou must help them seest. If an animal dies . . . thou must heal it to feast on its corpse."

" . . . I see. What about other things? If I wanted to make a home out of rocks, or a tent out of cloth, what would I need to do in order to build that structure?"

"That is a smaller task, except it must require objectives to achieve that potential. To build a cave out of a cave, thou shalt needeth to build smaller caverns to build a castle. When that is accomplished . . . thy stronghold shall be built before thy eyes with only one command."

"What about anything else? If I wanted to do something bigger with Animus Magic, does that also require steps in order to achieve its highest potential?"

"Everything hast limits, all must learn to be strong to gain strength thyself. To build a tower, thou shalt hast a home, then build more to hast a castle. To make fire burn its brightest, thou shalt hast a spark, then feed thy flame. To lift the caves from the ground, thou shalt lift smaller objects with thy power without the use of hands, then thou shalt be able to lift the heaviest thing ever known."

Plato nodded slowly, trying to contemplate and piece together the potential of Animus Magic, and what it does.

He decided to ask: " . . . What is the true, highest potential of Animus Magic? What is its true form? What is its full power? . . . What can one do, to achieve the greatest power, ever known to the history of dragons?"

" . . . The power . . . of a god. Which requires a great sacrifice."

"Sacrifice? You never said anything about having to do something you must give up to achieve one little thing."

"That is where the deal comes in."

"Deal? What deal?"

"There is no gold involved, no need to become wealthy to manipulate me to giveth thee this power. Think of it as a favor. I giveth this to thee, in return, thou giveth me something I desire."

"What is it that you want?"

"Giveth a while, thou shalt knoweth. It is not important now, but I assure thou, it is a small thing that thou shalt not miss, or ever knoweth it was gone. Now . . . after all thou hast gone through in thy life - the torture, the grieving, the anguish thou experienced ever since thy hatching - what shalt thou do to make thyself happy? What shalt thou do to make thy life better? What shalt thou do to change everything for the better? What shalt thou do, to hast everything thy ever wanted? What shalt thou do . . . to hast eternal happiness?" The cloaked dragon offered its hand.

Plato stared at the claw, thinking about what he would do if he had the power. He could do anything if he used the magic in the right way. In fact, he could do whatever he wanted with the power, whenever he could. Yet, what would he have to give to the dragon in return? Whatever it needed was something that he would not miss, which Plato guessed was something he owned but would not necessarily need. He grew curious, and worried. He wanted to ask what he had to give specifically, but decided against it, only thinking about what the power could do for him. Happiness would finally, finally be his to control. No more grieving, no more anguish, no more sorrow . . . only joy, freedom . . . a perfect life. Everyone would look up to him, see him as someone who was once nothing, now the greatest dragon to ever live. No flaws, no mistakes, he would be content, and always content, for as long as he lived.

Plato lifted his head, meeting eye to eye with the cloaked dragon . . . and shook its hand. " . . . Let this flow through my veins. . . . Let me be the first to possess this magic."

They stood in silence, then the cloaked dragon said: " . . . The power is thy."

It turned, and walked off.

"Wait," Plato said, "I deserve to know your name."

The cloaked dragon stopped, hesitated, then replied: " . . . I rule flies . . . ."

Plato sat on his bed, his face expressionless, his body flowing with the new power. He didn't feel any different. Matter of fact, he did not even feel the magic inside of him. At first, he thought the transition did not work. No, it had to have worked. If not, what was the point of that dragon being here? Plato sat on his bed for a long while, then lifted his claws. He examined them, watching, waiting to see if some kind of energy would fly inside of his veins, yet saw nothing. He put his hands down, and sighed. Then he perked his head up. He was tired, but was curious, and had to see the magic for himself.

Plato stood up from his bed, looking at the ground. He slowly lifted his hands, and said: " . . . I enchant . . . the dirt and soil to rise up from the floor below me."

He watched, he waited. Nothing happened - maybe he needed something else to lift, something lighter.

He looked at himself. " . . . I enchant myself to be lifted from the ground and set down without the use of my wings."

Again, he waited . . . nothing. Plato started to get frustrated, and thought the cloaked dragon had played him for a fool. But, for a moment, Plato felt something flow inside of him. It was like a cool breeze, but different at the same time. He couldn't describe it, but he knew something was there. He decided to try one more time.

Plato looked at his bookcase, hesitated, closed his eyes and took a deep breath, lifted his arms, and said: " . . . I enchant my bookcase to lift itself from the ground, then land back down."

Plato waited. A while seemed forever, and nothing happened. . . . Then dust fell from the bookshelf, followed by a creaking noise. Plato watched with burning excitement and bewilderment . . . and witnessed his bookcase rise from the ground.

Plato smiled and chuckled, then watched the bookcase fall back down, a sudden thump sounding as it did. Plato jumped, but was surprised either way.

He turned, then said: "I enchant my bed to rise!" It did, and it touched the ceiling. "I enchant my bed to fall back down - gently this time." The object obeyed. "I enchant my rug to fly." The cloth floated, and spun around the room, landing at Plato's talons. "I enchant my desks to lift themselves from the floor, switch places once, then return to their original spots." The desks did what they were told, and Plato laughed like a dragonet.

This was a miracle, he thought. This truly was the best thing to ever happen to any dragon in the caves. Plato looked at his hands, feeling the magic inside of him. He jumped on his bed, continuing to laugh hysterically. After a while, he stopped . . . and his mind pilled up with malice.

Plato sat up, knowing exactly what he wanted to do next. Revenge. That is what he wanted. Now it will be his. He remembered those two dragons said they loved to go to that spot where Brier died - that is where he will go. Plato stood up slowly and walked, silence coming down upon him.

He stopped before he left. " . . . I enchant my cloak to come towards me."

The cloak flew from the bed, and landed on Plato's arm. He put it on, and walked off, thinking of ways to get revenge . . . and wondering what the cloaked dragon meant by, "I rule flies."

The cavern was cold, quiet. Water dripped in the distance, adding to the horrifying scenery. On the edge stood two dragons, staring down at a grave.

"I still can't believe you did that," said the SkyWing.

"I had to," said the SandWing, "she deserved it."

"I didn't think you had it in you."

"Shut up. I've killed hundreds of animals before, why not her."

"Why were those hybrids here anyway?"

"Who cares? They may say this is their territory, but they don't know that none of these caves belong to them."

The two dragons stood in silence for a moment, feeling the cold cavern wind pass by them. The SkyWing was about to say something, but was cut off when a scratching sound seemed to come from the walls themselves. The two dragons looked around, confused but angry as well. They strained their claws and bared their teeth. They looked towards the tunnel . . . to see a dark shape emerge from the shadows. It stood motionless, and the dragons exchanged glances. The figure lifted an arm, and pulled its hood back . . . revealing Plato.

The two dragons chuckled.

"Look who it is!" Said the SkyWing.

"The little hybrid from before," said the SandWing.

"Come to cry some more after your friend took a little . . . tumble?"

They laughed maniacally, mocking Plato. He only stood, staring them down with a blank face.

The SkyWing turned to his friend. "You see what he's got in his hand?"

"Yeah," replied the SandWing, "I hope he doesn't hurt us with it."

They laughed again, which only made Plato's anger rise higher. He gripped the spear tighter, thinking of what to say to enchant the weapon. The SkyWing chuckled once more before putting on a hard face of stone, and ran at Plato. The dragon built up fire in his mouth, growled, and jumped with a claw raised above his head.

At the last second, he spoke: " . . . I enchant you . . . to be suspended in the air."

The SkyWing lashed his claw . . . but stopped. It felt as if he was in a trance, but soon realized he could not move. He could lash his arms and legs, yet he could not free himself from one spot. He clawed, he thrashed, but nothing happened to make himself move.

"W-What?" The SkyWing said, fear beginning to rise. "What is this? What are you doing?"

"What's wrong?" Plato asked. " . . . Scared?"

The SandWing stared in shock. She could not believe what she was seeing. In all the caves . . . her friend was floating above the ground!

Plato lifted the spear, examined it, then smirked. "This looks pretty sharp . . . I hope I don't hurt someone with it."

"What are you going to do?" The SkyWing asked, now shaking in fear.

Plato frowned. "What am I going to do? What could I, a stupid hybrid do to you? . . . I will make you feel the same pain she felt when you killed her."

The SkyWing did not take his eyes off the spear for one second as Plato lifted the weapon, gripping it with both hands . . . and drove it into the dragon's chest. He roared in pain; the SandWing covered her mouth, screaming in terror. After a moment, Plato pulled the spear from the SkyWing's chest, and looked right at the SandWing.

"Stay back," she said, lifting her tail. "Don't come near me."

Plato walked towards her, breathing heavily, clutching the weapon as tight as he could.

"I said stay away from me," the SandWing cried.

Plato's glare grew harder. Out of fear, the SandWing took off, flying as fast as she could.

Plato simply raised his arm. " . . . I enchant you to come to me."

The SandWing stopped mid-flight, and was pulled backwards, landing in front of Plato. She tried to move, screaming, begging to be let go . . . but Plato only walked in front of her, staring her down.

He lifted the spear to her chin, and said: " . . . Do you know how happy I was going to be? I thought I could become good friends with her . . . but, apparently you came along and had other ideas. That was not the only thing you took from me. That is why my parents are not here. They were innocent, but you thought they were evil. . . . Now, you know, exactly how it is, to lose someone you care about."

The SandWing closed her eyes, turning her head away. " . . . Please . . . please don't kill me. . . . I-I'm sorry. I-I didn't mean to attack her with my tail, I'm sorry."

" . . . Sorry? My only chance of happiness was finally coming to me. Throughout my life, I knew nothing but grief . . . now . . . you will feel the pain that I have always felt." Without hesitation, Plato drove the spear through her back, then lifted his arm, and touched her forehead. " . . . I enchant you . . . to fall."

In a jolting motion, the SandWing was thrown backwards. She screamed at the top of her lungs as she thrashed her arms and legs, her cries echoing off the cavern walls. Plato turned, and walked off, pulling his hood back over his head. He was content now, his revenge had come . . . .

Plato now sat in his room - his cold, silent room. He had a small smile on his face - the smile of contentment, the smile of happiness . . . the smile of a murderer. His revenge had come to him in the form of magic. He used it for vengeance . . . he used it for murder - the SandWing's scream still rang in his ears. Why should one consider him a horrible person? Those dragons were the ones who forced him and all the hybrids to live down here, so no one should see him as a murderer. In fact, one could consider him to be a hero! Those dragons deserved to die. Plato smirked, reimagining that moment in his head . . . then he thought about his parents.

The RainWing NightWing hybrid recalled the moments his parents made him happy, made him laugh, made him smile his brightest. His young face, full of life and joy - his parents never wanted him to lose that happiness. They were happy together, they were the best family anyone could ever ask for . . . now gone . . . because of the dragons from the higher caves. But . . . Plato did not feel as if he avenged them, instead he felt sadness. He thought his grieving and anguish would disappear when he killed the SkyWing and SandWing, but it only made the emotions stronger. Plato looked at his hands, the ones that made him kill. His parents wouldn't want this from him. . . . What kind of dragon was he now?

What would Brier think if she was still alive? Plato was nice to her, and she was nice to him, and even though they had not known each other for a long while, they both knew they would be good friends. Brier wouldn't want to be friends with a murderer, and his parents wouldn't want to have a monster as a son. Plato clutched his head, not believing what he had done was real. Plato could swear he felt his soul get punctured and weak, causing him to fall to his knees.

What was this magic? What kind of power was he given? He wanted to get rid of it, he wanted to be a normal dragon again . . . but knew now that could never happen. Plato knew he could bring his parents, and Brier back to life if he had tried hard enough to heal others . . . but what point would he have at doing that? They would see the horrible things he had done.

For a moment, Plato wanted to cry, but stopped himself from doing so. He stood up, taking a few deep breaths, looking at everything around him. This was his life, this was his home, this was his choice, and he will make the best of it. Plato then swore that he would use Animus Magic for the greater good. He will use it to help others, he will use it to help himself, he will use it to make these caves better . . . and no dragon from the higher caves will have their claws on the magic, he will make sure of it.

Plato was out for a walk, and ran into a crowd in the main part of the lowest caves. Dragons were walking only two inches, trying to move forward, but more dragons blocked their paths. Some were trying to get their children back home, others were carrying large jars of sand or dirt. Plato did his best to push his way through the crowd, constantly stepping on talon after talon - a lot of people always made him stressed. He did his best to keep walking, but that was when a sound of what seemed to be glass shattering echoed throughout the mob, followed by a scream of pain.

Plato jerked his head towards the sound, and everyone started to go silent, wondering what had just happened.

Someone shouted: "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!"

A dragonet shrieked: "Oooooowwwwww! My arm!"

Plato pushed his way through the crowd, and found what had happened. A dragon carrying a jar of sand walked right into a young dragonet, tripped, and fell right on top of her, breaking her arm in the process.

One dragon shouted: "Give her space."

Another called: "Someone get some help!"

Others blamed the dragon for what had happened; the dragonet's parents were at her side, trying to calm her down.

Plato thought he should go get help, but considered another option. He was at risk of being exposed of his power . . . but he couldn't stand to see that child scream in pain.

Plato took a deep breath, then announced: "Everyone, stand back." He knelt down beside the dragonet. "It's alright, I can help."

"You can heal?" One dragon asked.

"Yes."

"How?"

" . . . You will see." Plato gathered courage, then said to the dragonet: "It's going to be okay, this won't hurt a bit."

"What are you going to do?" Asked the dragonet's father.

"Just . . . let me try to help." Plato gently hovered his hand over the dragonet's arm, and said: " . . . I enchant this child's arm to heal, that she will not feel pain when the bones grow back together, and the bones shall reposition themselves to where they were before."

All the dragons stared in curiosity. After a long moment nothing did. The father was about to angrily say something, but then the dragonet's arm started to shift. It bent forwards, and she felt her bones piece together, and the muscle under the scales right itself. Everyone gasped - they could not believe their eyes as the dragonet's arm was healed, as if it had never been broken in the first place.

The dragonet was ecstatic. "M-Mom! Look! I-It's not-"

"It's not broken," said the mother. "O-Oh my."

No one knew what to say. The dragonet looked up at Plato, who gave a kind smile. He stood up, and turned to the dragon who had tripped over her.

" . . . I-I'm sorry," he said, " . . . I-I didn't mean to hurt her."

Plato looked him up and down, then turned to the broken jar of sand.

He knelt down, saying: " . . . I enchant this jar to heal itself, that the shattered pieces of its remains may come together once more." A moment of silence, then the jar fixed itself, and didn't look to ever have been broken. "I enchant the sand to fly back into this jar."

A moment later, sand flew off the ground, and dove into the jar.

The dragon's eyes went wide. " . . . How did you do that?"

Plato stared at him for a moment, then smirked. He turned to the utterly bewildered dragons around him, and saw their concern.

He held up his hands. "Please, don't be scared. You may have seen me around the caves before, and I am just a random dragon as all of you are."

"Random dragon!?" Someone said. "What kind of 'random' dragon could do something like that?"

"How can you do that?" Asked one dragon.

"Could you have always done that?" Asked another.

"Please," said Plato, "don't be scared of me. I never knew this power existed myself."

"Then how did you get it?" Asked another dragon.

" . . . That is a secret only I should keep alone. But, please, I don't want to hurt any of you. I don't want to harm anyone in these caves . . . I just want to help." Plato looked at his claws. " . . . This power is something even beyond my own control. I myself do not know what this power is capable of . . . but I assure you, I don't want to use it to hurt anyone. I want to help . . . that's all I want."

The words of reassurance indicated to the dragons that this was not a threat, and most of them started to calm down and discuss with one another.

Someone then asked: "This power you have . . . you could use it against the dragons from the higher caves!" The other dragons turned their attention to the one who was talking. "I mean, they forced us to live here because of who we are . . . why don't we take those caves for ourselves?"

The hybrids turned to Plato, who replied: "No, I will not hurt, or kill anyone."

Everyone was taken aback.

"What!?" Said the dragon. "Why?"

Plato hesitated, thinking of what to say. " . . . If we take those caves for ourselves, and I harm someone, or go so far as to kill someone . . . then we would all be as savage as the animals. I will not let any of that happen to us. I will not let anyone become a murderer. Because, if someone does . . . what is the whole point of our lives?"

After that statement, all the hybrids agreed that they would accept Plato as an ally, and a friend, that none of them would go to the higher caves to harm anyone. They had decided that this was their territory, and no one else's. This place was no longer a home for exile, or banishment. It was their home. No one from the other caves accepted them . . . so they will not accept outsiders. To make sure this incident does not happen, Plato enchanted his ears so that if anyone were to come near him, or to enter the caves . . . he would sense them.

A very long while had gone by. Plato was an older dragon, and had aided almost every dragon in the lowest caves. They looked to him as a guide, a wise dragon, a healer to all - his Animus Magic grew stronger and stronger whenever he used it. Yet, no matter how he used his Animus Magic . . . it always felt as if he lost something in return. He felt something inside of him that should be there to help him live, but lost somehow.

On one occasion, two parents came to him, saying that their daughter had broken her neck. As Plato examined the wound, dragons gathered around, wanting to witness his great power.

Gently, Plato hovered his hand over the dragonet's neck, and spoke: " . . . I enchant your bones to heal, that they shall be broken no more. I enchant your neck to heal."

A moment of hesitation, then the dragonet's neck slowly righted itself. The crowd gasped, staring in awe at the sight - it was once again a miracle. The young hybrid thanked him and ran towards her parents, hugging them tightly. They looked to Plato, thanking him, and he returned a smile. After a moment the crowd walked away.

Plato was about to leave, but then sensed someone coming up behind him. Without turning, he asked: " . . . You are not from here . . . are you?"

" . . . N-No," said the first dragon - it was a female voice.

" . . . That is what I figured."

"How did you-" asked another, but was interrupted by Plato.

"I knew you were different when I sensed you . . . and once you entered these caves."

"You . . . sensed us?" Asked a third.

"Yes."

"But . . . how is that possible?"

"I enchanted my ears so that I could sense someone coming up to me . . . or stepping onto our territory. It is good, because I can sense if there is danger. . . . Do you bring a danger?"

"N-No," said the first.

"Then why are you here?"

"We were known that you possess a great power."

" . . . Great power?"

"Yes."

Plato hesitated for a moment. " . . . What is it you want from me?"

" . . . I believe there is a world beyond these caves . . . outside of the caves."

"Outside of the caves? What makes you think there is something more than the darkness?"

"I was told there was something more than this darkness, more than the caves, a world outside of the tunnels . . . I want to see that world. I want to go to that world. I want to believe there is something better to live in besides these shadows."

"Why should I trust you three? You are from the highest caves. Because of our appearance you have abandoned us, banished us here into this never ending darkness. . . . Why, after our exile, should I follow your lead?"

A small moment of silence, then the dragon replied: " . . . Because we deserve to live in that world. We are dragons, we are strong, we are the strongest species to ever live . . . and I believe we deserve to have a perfect life. A life of freedom, a life where we are together, not divided . . . a life, where there is light. Please . . . will you help us?"

Plato thought about this for a long moment, considering the dragon's words. Finally, he stood up, turned around, and examined the newcomers. The female was a SkyWing; the other was a SeaWing; and the third was a NightWing.

The RainWing NightWing hybrid stared at them, took a breath, then said: " . . . My name is Plato."