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FATHOM

The hours blurred together in the dungeons. It was dark as a catacomb in his cell, cool as a cellar, and without the warmth or light of the sun to guide him, his sense of time warped with every passing minute.

The pain made everything slower. His jaw ached from the tight leather muzzle that they had put on him after he'd lost consciousness, but that was the least of it. The wound on his leg never fully closed, and it was starting to grow infected. His dislocated shoulder never popped back into place despite his efforts, and his arm had now become swollen and discolored. And his cracked rib made breathing a perpetual act of labor, and had given him an acute fear of coughing.

When he'd first woken up in his cell, he had been in so much agony that he could hardly stand to relieve himself in the corner farthest from the damp straw on which he slept. And the pain only grew worse with each passing hour. His only escape from it was sleep, and he did that as much as he could, but it came far too scarcely.

Guards came to bring him water a few times. Drinking was hard with his mouth bound shut, but he always managed. They only tried to feed him once, giving him a bowl of cow's blood to drink, but he didn't have the appetite for it.

He didn't know why he was being imprisoned. If they wanted the scroll, they would've asked him about it by now. But they just kept him locked up, so he had to imagine there was something more going on.

But he eventually stopped wondering why. It wasn't like he could ask anyone anyway. What he never stopped wondering was whether or not Indigo was okay. The last dream he had was one where he was forced to watch as Queen Vigilance executed her for murdering those high guards. He never heard her in the cells with him, but he didn't know if that was because they had muzzled her too, or if they'd put her somewhere else in the dungeons, or if something terrible had already happened to her.

It felt like about two days had passed when his cell door opened for the first time. Weakly, Fathom lit up his biolights, revealing a pair of heavily armed guards.

"Come with us," one of them said. "Try anything funny, and you'll be dead before you touch the ground."

Fathom started rising to his feet, which earned him a growl from the other guard. "Faster, SeaWing! Queen Acuity is waiting for you."

Fathom found the strength to tilt his head. 'Queen' Acuity? Isn't Vigilance the queen? Perhaps Acuity had challenged her mother while he was locked away.

He hobbled out of his cell on three legs. The strain it put on his lacerated hind leg was nauseating, and he only managed ten steps before he collapsed, wailing through his muzzle and his tears.

The impatient guard behind him prodded him hard with the blunt end of his spear. "Get up!"

"It looks like he's too injured to walk," the other guard said. "We'll need to drag him."

Fathom tried to retain his dignity by standing back up, but all he did was make it easier for them to latch a chain leash around his body. It tightened around his chest, chafing against the joint where his wing met his shoulder. There was an end for each guard to hold on to, and they each used one arm to pull him forward. Fathom managed another three steps before he lost his footing and fell to the floor again, at which point they dragged him on the rough ground all the way to the dungeon's elevator.

As the guard operated the crank that lifted the elevator up, he spoke to his partner. "You go ahead and tell Queen Acuity of the prince's condition," he said. "Make sure the way to the questioning room is clear as well."

The elevator groaned as it rose higher. There was a period of complete darkness in the cramped box, and it compelled Fathom to illuminate his biolights. Then light began to shine in from above, and soon the elevator came to a halt. He waited as one of the guards went ahead, then came back about a minute later.

They dragged him out of the elevator and across a set of unfamiliar narrow halls in the palace. Now that the foul odor of the dungeons was gone, the palace air that filled his nostrils was overwhelmingly fresh.

Thankfully it was a short walk to wherever they were taking him. He soon found himself inside of a small room with four other NightWings. The one standing beside him was a guard. The other three were on the other side of a wide stone table: one he recognized as Acuity, Vigilances's eldest daughter, and the other two were mind readers that he'd seen before in the palace but whose names he'd never learned.

One of the mind readers spoke first. "Good evening, Fathom," she said in a disturbingly soft-toned voice. "My name's Keen Eye. To my left is Princess Acuity. To my right is detective Dreamcatcher. Sir Manifold, you can take off his muzzle."

Fathom felt the binds around his mouth tighten for a half-second, then loosen before sliding off completely.

"How are you feeling?" Keen Eye asked.

'Hurting,' was what Fathom wanted to say, but he couldn't move his mouth. His jaw was stiff, and his attempt to move it only resulted in painful cramps.

"He's not speaking," Acuity said, narrowing her eyes.

"He's trying," said Dreamcatcher, the other mind reader. This one had a voice that reminded him of Albatross, dull and smooth and void of any emotion. "His jaw is rigid. But if he could speak, his answer would be that he's in a lot of pain."

"Let me see your leg," Keen Eye said, circling around the table to get a look at his injury. She frowned deeply when she saw it: it had opened up again when he was dragged against the floor, and fresh blood and biolight fluid was smearing his thigh. "That's no good," she said. "This should have been treated yesterday."

"We'll send him to the medical ward after we're done questioning him," said Acuity.

"No, I think we'll postpone questioning him until after he's been treated," said Keen Eye.

"Nonsense," Acuity responded. "I'm sick of all the delays. We're talking to him now."

"No we're not," said Keen Eye. "Your Majesty, Fathom is still a SeaWing prince. If Queen Pearl learns that you ordered him to be beaten, arrested, and neglected, then you'll be making an early and powerful enemy."

"You were the one who suggested that I arrest him!"

"Yes, but I didn't suggest that we put him in this state in the process. Your Majesty, I insist that he be treated immediately."

Acuity spat out a puff of smoke. "Fine," she said. "Take him to the holding cell near the clinic and have a nurse look at him. I want him followed by guards at all times, and I want that muzzle on him again."

"Keep the muzzle off," Keen Eye interjected as the guard started sliding the leather around his maw again. "He needs to be able to move his jaw when we talk to him."

"I can't risk him uttering another spell," Acuity said sharply.

Fathom blinked in confusion. That was why they were forcing his mouth shut? But he never cast anything! And even if he wanted to, a muzzle wouldn't have kept him from using his magic.

"We'll have guards watching him in case he tries anything," Keen Eye said. "The muzzle stays off."

There was a moment where nobody spoke. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw Acuity nod. Then the muzzle slid from his face, and he felt himself being carried out.

"Indigo," he said hurriedly through his teeth.

"She's alright," said Dreamcatcher. "We'll be speaking with her as well."

And that's all they told him before they carried him out of the room and down the narrow hall.

They set him down in a room lit with four bright oil lamps, one in each corner. The floor and walls were made from a white stone with streaks of gray, a stark contrast to the sandstone and granite tiles that adorned the rest of the palace.

He lay on a lightly cushioned mat that smelled of an astringent soap and waited. Eventually another NightWing came in, carrying a bouquet of medical equipment in one arm. She gave him water, urging him to drink with a soft, crooning voice.

Then she felt the joint around his dislocated shoulder for a few seconds, and informed him that this was going to hurt a little bit.

That was a lie. It hurt a lot. She pulled on his shoulder and rotated it, tugging his muscle fibers to the point where he feared they might tear. When she raised his arm back towards his wing joint, he swore he could feel his bones bending, being pried apart, and the agonizing pressure spread rapidly from his shoulder, into his chest and up his neck all the way to his ears. His jaw had loosened up from the uncontrollable urge to keep his mouth open in case he needed to scream. But then there was a sudden pop, and the pressure released all at once. The doctor soothed him by massaging the tender muscles.

Soon enough, he was able to move his arm again, much to his relief — though, the doctor scolded him for it, and told him to let it rest for at least the next few hours. He offered his thanks to her, but she was already busy examining the wound on his leg. Fathom accepted her silence and let her work undisturbed.

She took another flask out of her bag and gave it to him. "Drink up," she said.

This time, it wasn't water. When the first drops hit his tongue, it felt as though it were burning through his mouth. He managed to gulp down a single swallow of the gnarly medicine before coughing out the rest, forcing him to wince from the chest pain. "What is this?"

"Crude whisky. It burns, but you're going to want to drink all of it. When you're done, bite onto this."

A wooden cylinder wrapped in several layers of cloth appeared in front of his face.

Fathom swallowed. "What are you going to do?"

"I need to debride the wound on your leg, which means I'll need to cut away at the infected parts. It's going to make you want to bite into my neck, so you'll need to keep your teeth busy."

Fathom muttered, feeling tempted for the first time in his life to cast a spell. All he needed to do was enchant that peg to take away all his pain when he bit down into it.

But a spell was a spell, no matter how small. If the NightWings suddenly thought that he was some sort of monster, then he needed to prove them wrong.

But what if I did do something?

The thought hit him as he was drinking the rest of the liquor. Everything went cold, and he dropped the flask before finishing it.

Was that why they had arrested him? Did he go insane without ever realizing it and do something terrible? Is Acuity queen now because he killed Queen Vigilance?

"How're you feeling, Prince?" the medic asked.

"Numb…" he said hazily.

"Good. Bite down, then. It'll be over soon."

He wasn't actually numb, it turned out, and 'It'll be over soon' ended up being another lie. Within the first minute, the medic had to call in a guard to keep his leg pinned down while she worked. To his disgrace, he clubbed her in the face with his tail a few times during the process, and a second guard had to be called in to hold it still.

Eventually the pain started to subside, and he began to feel dizzy and tired. There was some sudden soft pressure on his leg, but soon thereafter everything became a haze.

The next thing he knew, he was waking from a dreamless sleep. Bandages that weren't there before now covered all of his injuries. Everything still hurt, but the tightness of the gauze pads was comforting.

He was in the same white medical room as before, on the same bed with the same soapy odor. When he turned his head to see if anyone was there, his skull erupted with a nauseating headache. He squeezed his eyes shut, fighting against the sensation of his brain pushing up against the other side of his eyes. There was a bowl of water that he'd spotted that was within grabbing distance. Eyes still closed, he picked it up and drank.

It had the earthy, bitter aftertaste of some sort of painkiller. Peaceroot, he was pretty sure it was called. It wasn't very strong, but it acted fast. The dull aching in his head died down, along with the nausea, and his other body aches became a little more tolerable. For the first time since his imprisonment, he started to feel hungry.

He was staring at the door, which he could only assume was locked, and took slow, steady breaths. It dawned on him that they were actually taking care of him. That they really did want him alive, at least for now.

He was able to stand up, which was encouraging. But arching his back to stretch proved too taxing on his chest, and he lay back down, deciding that he'd be better off waiting a few more hours before he tried to walk.

He wondered if struggling against the guards had been worth it. The only good that had come out of it was the scroll being destroyed, and a bitter part of him felt that it might not have been so bad if Acuity had gotten a hold of it. He and Indigo would've been spared a lot of suffering.

Oh, Indigo. Where are you? I need to hear your voice again.

He imagined that she was there, laying beside him and nursing his sore arm. He imagined Blob climbing onto his back and wrapping his tentacles around his neck in a gentle embrace. He imagined Indigo giggling at the enchanted octopus's behavior and twining her tail around his.

"Think we'll get out of this alive?" he asked the imaginary SeaWing.

"Sure we will," Indigo said. "I bet this was all one big misunderstanding. Once they find out that we didn't do anything wrong, they'll be begging for our forgiveness."

"But what if we did do something wrong? What if I killed Vigilance without realizing it? I'm an animus, Indigo. You know how easy it would be for me."

In his mind, Indigo squeezed his tail. "I don't think you do," she said, leaning against him and smiling. "You didn't do this, Fathom. You couldn't have done this. You're too kind, too perfect. And I know you'll never realize how perfect you are, so just take my word for it, alright?"

The door opened, and Indigo vanished. Keen Eye poked her head in, glancing inquisitively at him. "I see you're already awake," she said. "Did I hear mumbling?"

Fathom looked away. "Just talking to myself," he said.

"The doctor said that she wants to keep you in this room for the next week to monitor your condition. None of your injuries should be serious now that they're treated, she said, but your SeaWing anatomy might change things." She stepped inside, and was tailed by her partner — the other NightWing detective that had been with her after they took him out of his cell. "You may not have been fully aware when we first met a few hours ago, so allow me to introduce myself. I'm Keen Eye. I'm an advisor to the queen. And this is Dreamcatcher, chief detective in the royal palace."

Fathom nodded.

"How are you feeling now?" Dreamcatcher asked. "Is there anything we can get you?"

His hospitality put Fathom on edge. Something about it felt fake. But he was hungry. "Food," he said.

"I'll find you something to eat," he said. "I think they have some fresh fish in the kitchens."

Dreamcatcher left, and Keen Eye made herself more comfortable, sitting down across from Fathom. "What hurts the most?" she asked.

"My leg," answered Fathom. Simply mentioning it made him wince.

"Fortunately, that should fade away the fastest. By tomorrow, it'll still be sore, but you should be able to walk short distances on it." She tilted her head, an inquisitive expression on her face. "Though I wonder … you have animus powers, don't you? Can't you use them to heal yourself?"

Fathom averted his eyes. He didn't like that question. There could only be bad reasons for her asking it.

"Is it because you can't, or because you won't?" she asked.

"Shouldn't you already know that?" he said venomously.

"I suppose I should," she said, making it sound like a confession. "But we NightWings haven't had magic for very long. If I were an animus, I'd heal myself any time I got a scratch on one of my scales. But here you are, suffering from head to tail, seemingly with the power to make all of that pain go away with a simple enchantment. So either your magic isn't as strong as I thought it was, or something is holding you back."

If she was playing dumb, she was very good at it. Fathom considered whether or not it would be a good idea to answer. A part of him wanted to. Wouldn't it be a point in his favor if she knew that he was consciously choosing not to cast any spells?

There was a glimmer in Keen Eye's eye, and he bit his tongue. Lousy mind-readers, he thought. You can never be comfortable around mind-readers.

"I made a blood oath to Queen Pearl that I would never use my animus powers again," he said before she could respond to any of his thoughts. "I have kept that promise, and I'm going to keep it for the rest of my life."

Keen Eye nodded pensively. "Are you sure about that?"

Fathom recoiled at the question. "What?"

"Is there any situation that would cause you to break that promise?" she asked calmly. "To save your own life, perhaps? What about Indigo's?"

Memories crashed into his brain against his will. That haunted exception that he'd privately made to himself all those years ago — the one thing that would make him break his oath — Keen Eye had just guessed it. And now that he'd thought about it, Keen Eye now knew it.

He didn't dignify her with a verbal answer. There was a long silence, which was eventually broken by Dreamcatcher reentering with a filet of bass. Fathom had to hold back a whimper when he saw how small it was.

"I know, it's not much," Dreamcatcher said, placing the food in front of him. "But the doctor's worried that you might get sick if we give you too much at once. The guards said you didn't eat anything while you were in the dungeons, so we'll be giving you food slowly."

Keen Eye gave him a sideways glance. "I don't think that's necessary. He was in the dungeons for less than a day."

Fathom blinked. Did time really go by that slowly while he was down there? It had felt like three days.

The smell of fresh fish broke through his confusion, and he ate the entire filet in a few bites. He felt energy return to his body almost immediately. An irrational part of him ached to be thrown into the ocean so that he could catch more fish himself.

"When we're done talking, I'll arrange to have more food brought to you," Keen Eye said kindly.

Fathom nodded, drinking in her gesture of kindness as though he needed it as much as he'd needed the food, and momentarily forgetting the way she had already manipulated him into confessing that he'd break his oath to protect Indigo.

"I'm sorry about what happened to you," Keen Eye continued in her soothing voice. Fathom wasn't sure if her tone had changed or if he was simply less irritable now that there was food in his stomach. "Rest assured, some dragons are going to be facing some very serious repercussions for the way you've been treated."

"That being said, we had no choice but to arrest you when we did," Dreamcatcher said, trying to match the softness of Keen Eye's voice but not really succeeding. "Shortly before we took you into custody, Queen Vigilance was killed."

There was a moment of stillness that followed before Fathom realized they were trying to read him for a reaction. Either for surprise or guilt or something that would implicate him one way or the other.

"I heard the guards referring to Acuity as 'Queen Acuity,' so I figured that out already," he said quietly.

Keen Eye muttered, "Smooth-brained guards," under her breath.

"We're trying to figure out who killed her," Dreamcatcher said.

"And I assume I'm one of the suspects?" Fathom asked.

"I'm afraid so," Keen Eye said.

"Well … have I been cleared?" Fathom asked. "You're mind-readers. You should be able to look into my mind and know that I didn't do it."

"I wish it were that easy, Fathom," Keen Eye said. "We can tell that you believe that you didn't do it, but you're an animus. And that complicates things."

"How?"

Keen Eye looked at Dreamcatcher, as though silently asking him to explain. Perhaps she said something to him telepathically. "Well, who's to say that you didn't kill her, and then wipe all your memories about it afterwards?" he asked.

It bothered Fathom how good of a point that was. It forced him to consider whether or not it might've been true. And with two mind-readers interrogating him, he felt extremely vulnerable giving that idea any serious thought.

He shook his head. "I'm not smart enough to do something like that," he said, as it felt like the most convincing argument to him. But he quickly added, "And I would never use my powers." And then, a heartbeat later, "And I would never hurt the queen."

He tried very hard not to reveal the worry that bounced in his heart. The worry that it might've been him after all. The worry that his soul was so corrupted now that he might've been doing evil things without ever realizing he was doing them. He used every method of mind-blocking that Darkstalker had taught him to keep them from hearing those thoughts.

"So, if it wasn't you … then who do you think it might've been?" asked Keen Eye.

Fathom shook his head. "I don't know," he mumbled.

"Do you know how she died?"

Fathom shook his head again, and lowered his head to rest on his arms.

"We're not so sure ourselves," Dreamcatcher said. "She went to sleep and didn't wake up."

"Are you sure it was a murder, then?" Fathom asked. "It could have just been stress."

"I highly doubt it," said Keen Eye. "I worked closely with Queen Vigilance for years, and was perpetually envious of her ability to shoulder the burdens of ruling a kingdom. I saw no signs of her buckling. Neither did anyone else."

She mirrored Fathom's position, laying her head on her arms. It was as though she were trying to see him on eye level, even while he was slumped down and exhausted. But she didn't say anything, and there was an uncomfortable silence that hung between them.

"You don't actually think I did it, do you?" Fathom asked.

"Of course not," Keen Eye said.

Relief crashed through him, and he released a tense breath he'd been holding. "Then why didn't you say that from the start?"

"In these early stages of investigation, what we think might've happened doesn't matter all that much," Dreamcatcher said.

"It matters to me!" Fathom said, loud enough for his ribs to start aching again. "Why were Indigo and I almost killed if you don't think that I did it?"

"Because Queen Acuity is terrified of you," said Keen Eye. She must've sensed the fury stewing in his mind before he did. He was on the verge of exploding at them both for letting him get treated so poorly, but she defused that rage in an instant when she reminded him how frightening his powers were.

"Look, I don't want to justify the way you and Indigo were treated, but what happened happened," Keen Eye continued. "By resisting arrest, the high guards were forced to subdue one of the most powerful dragons in the world. Whether or not they reacted appropriately, you should at least understand why they reacted the way they did."

She gave Fathom a moment to chew on her words. He supposed that if he were a different dragon, those guards could have been killed. He'd already used his magic to kill —

— He caught himself mid-thought and blocked it out. That needed to stay a secret.

"If it's any consolation, Prince Arctic has been arrested too," Keen Eye said. "Darkstalker will be as well, once he returns to the palace. Clearsight should already have received a message from the new queen. If she knows what's good for the two of them — and she should, given her powers — Darkstalker should already be in chains and on his way back here."

Fathom struggled to imagine Darkstalker bound in chains, let alone Clearsight being the one binding him.

"Do you have any thoughts about who might've done this?" asked Dreamcatcher.

"I already told you no," Fathom said, a little forcefully.

Keen Eye gave Dreamcatcher a look. He couldn't quite tell what it meant, but it didn't look very patient. Then she looked back at Fathom. "What were you doing during the hours prior to your arrest?"

"Sleeping."

"And before you went to sleep?"

Fathom shrugged. "I was enjoying the morning with Indigo."

"Doing what?"

"None of your business," he said, feeling embarrassed and childish even as he said it. Thankfully, the two detectives seemed to understand that he wouldn't be elaborating further on that line of questions.

"Has anyone ever pressured you to use your magic?" asked Dreamcatcher.

"Not recently," Fathom said.

"But others have in the past?"

Fathom shrugged. "Queen Lagoon wanted me to use my magic for her when I got older."

"What about when you came to the Night Kingdom?"

Fathom shook his head. "Nobody ever asked me to use my magic here."

"Have you ever witnessed Darkstalker or Arctic using their magic?" asked Keen Eye.

"No," he said.

"Do you know of any enchantments either of them made?"

Fathom shook his head.

Keen Eye frowned. "I'm going to give you a second chance to answer that question. Be honest this time."

The sudden hostility in her voice made him feel a lot smaller. He'd answered so quickly that he didn't even realize that it had been a lie.

He took a long breath to calm his beating heart, then said, "Darkstalker enchanted a device for me called a 'soul reader.' It measures how much good and evil exists in a dragon's soul."

Keen Eye nodded.

"Any other enchantments you know about?" asked Dreamcatcher.

"I know he made something for his mother, to keep her safe," Fathom said. "But I don't remember what it was."

Keen Eye sat up. Fathom did too, not wanting to be looked down on by her. "Can you walk us through what happened on the night of your arrest?" she asked.

"Well," he started, "I was writing a letter to my sister, Queen Pearl, when the guards knocked on my door."

"What was the letter about?" asked Dreamcatcher.

"She wanted me to give her regular updates while I was here," Fathom explained. Dreamcatcher gave him a silent look that suggested that he was expecting more, so Fathom took a second to recall the details of the letter. "I was planning on telling her that Indigo and I were … together now."

"So the guards knocked on your door," Keen Eye said, hurrying Fathom along.

"They said that they had some sort of message for me, and that I needed to come with them," he continued. "But Indigo was suspicious of them."

"Why?"

"She just got a bad feeling," he said. "They said they were from the high guard, and we didn't interact with them much."

"So, she thought they were lying?"

"I guess," Fathom said. "She was right, wasn't she?"

Keen Eye nodded. "I suppose she was. Anyway, continue."

"Well … Indigo went to get her weapons and armor, and I tried asking more questions to the guards. And then they opened the door and started attacking me."

"Hold on," Dreamcatcher said. "Was Indigo planning on attacking the guards?"

"No. She was planning on defending me if they decided to attack."

"Why did you think they were going to attack you? I understand thinking that they might've been hiding something, but that doesn't mean they're going to hurt you."

Fathom wasn't sure if it was the exhaustion clouding his mind, but he couldn't make sense of the question at all. It felt obvious. So obvious that he struggled to come up with a meaningful answer. "They were armed?" was what he finally said.

"But they're always armed," Dreamcatcher said in a matter-of-fact tone. "Are you afraid that all of the other guards are going to attack you?"

"When I think they're lying to me, maybe."

Dreamcatcher sighed. "Look, Fathom, it just doesn't feel like I'm getting the whole picture here. If I were in your position, I wouldn't have gotten ready for a fight. I would've assumed there was urgent business with the queen and opened the door — even if they seemed to be hiding something. Why did you assume they were going to hurt you?"

Fathom shrugged. He tried not to think about it too hard.

"You know, it would have been a lot easier if you had just complied," Dreamcatcher said. "You would have gotten arrested without getting hurt, and Indigo wouldn't be in as much trouble."

"Is there something you were hiding from Queen Vigilance?" asked Keen Eye.

It was impossible to hide the honest answer from the two mind-readers when the question was asked directly. His memory of the scroll in his desk — of Indigo warning him that Vigilance might have known about it now — it flashed into his mind. He tried shoving it away with the techniques that Darkstalker had taught him, focusing on the colors of the objects in the room and thinking about foamy ocean waves. But it was too late. He said "No," as a reflex, but he could tell by the look in their eyes that they had already caught his moment of hesitation, and they weren't going to let him get away with it.

"Fathom," Keen Eye said, her voice frighteningly calm. "What were you hiding?"

"Nothing," he said.

"I know what you're trying to do, Fathom," Keen Eye said. "I know mind-blocking techniques when I see them. And I understand why you'd want to keep secrets. But trust me when I say that the best thing you can do right now is be honest."

Fathom squeezed his eyes shut. Ever since he'd first learned about the scroll, he ran through scenarios in his mind about what he would say if he was ever confronted about it. What sort of lies he'd tell, and what he'd be thinking about as he told those lies in order to keep mind-readers from growing suspicious.

And yet, despite all that effort, he couldn't come up with the right lie to give them right now. He hadn't considered the scenario where he was unexpectedly imprisoned for the murder of Queen Vigilance and interrogated for his involvement.

"We know that you think Darkstalker is innocent," Dreamcatcher said, filling the silence. "So whatever it is you're keeping from us, it shouldn't be enough to incriminate him. It might even help to clear his name."

It was almost with a hint of dread that Fathom realized that Dreamcatcher was completely correct. If he revealed the true nature of Darkstalker's scroll to them right now, Darkstalker's innocence would be practically impossible to dispute.

The dread came from the fact that once he realized this, he knew that they had won. They were going to get the information they wanted, because now he actually had a reason to give it to them.

I'm sorry, Darkstalker, Fathom thought. He took a deep breath and said, "Darkstalker … isn't an animus."

It was a little comforting, watching their faces light up in surprise. It told Fathom that he had at least been able to keep his secret up to this point. That these NightWings were actually learning something, and not just seeking validation for what they had already known.

"He used to be," Fathom continued. "Before I came here. But to protect his soul, he put all of his magic into a scroll. To cast a spell, he'd write it down on the scroll. Then the spell would come true, just like any other animus enchantment. But he can't cast any spells without it. He's not an animus dragon anymore. He has no animus powers, because—"

Fathom realized that he was rambling, but he would have kept going were it not for the welling pain in his chest. He winced, and took several deep breaths as the strain in the muscles surrounding his broken rib started to pass.

"Where is the scroll now?" asked Keen Eye. "Did Darkstalker not take it with him when he left for the siege?"

Fathom shook his head. "He left it with me before he left."

"And where did you leave it?" Keen Eye's voice carried some urgency with it. Fathom, still wincing from the pain, opened his eyes to look at her, but her eyes had returned to the same calm, calculated gaze that she'd had for most of her questioning.

Fathom heaved a low sigh. "In my desk," he said. "It got destroyed in the fire that started when they arrested me."

Keen Eye frowned, more with her eyes than with her mouth. "And that means…?"

"Darkstalker's animus powers are gone." And it's my fault, he added to himself. He slid to his belly, the confession exhausting him.

"Okay," Keen Eye said. "Dreamcatcher, I think we're done for now. You go ahead and compile what we discussed here into a report. I'll see to it that Fathom is taken care of."

The way she worded that made him nervous. Ever since Albatross's massacre reminded everyone of what animus magic could do to a soul, phrases like, 'I'll see to it that Fathom is taken care of,' carried a different meaning.

Dreamcatcher left the room, leaving Keen Eye alone with him. That didn't help his nerves.

Keen Eye rose to her feet. "Your cooperation is more appreciated than you realize," she said. "And I promise that you won't regret telling us what you did. Because I'm a transparent dragon, I'll let you know what's going to be happening. You're going to have to remain in custody until I can convince Queen Acuity to let you go. And because Darkstalker remains a suspect, we're still going to have to arrest him when he returns. Clearsight too, probably. But I'll be personally making sure that all three of you remain under suitable conditions for the duration of your arrest."

"What about Indigo?" Fathom asked.

"Her too. But she's in a bit more trouble than you are. The high guard is building a pretty strong murder case against her."

Fathom sat up faster than he thought he was able to. "You have to save her."

"I don't know how much I can do, Fathom," Keen Eye said, sounding genuinely sorry.

"Please," Fathom begged. "She didn't do anything wrong. They would have killed me if it weren't for her."

Keen Eye nodded. "I'll try," she said. "We'll be back tomorrow to talk more about that case. In the meantime, you'll stay here and do what the doctor tells you."

"When can I see Indigo again?" he asked, a little frustrated by how petulant his voice ended up sounding.

"We might be able to arrange something soon. She'll …."

Her eyes went glassy, and she lowered her head in a slow, eerie movement. It was a clear sign that she was having a vision, meaning she was a seer as well as a mind reader.

"She'll have to wait," Keen Eye said, turning around and heading towards the door. "Your idiot friends are trying to make a mess of things."

"What?" Fathom said. "What do you mean? Did you have a vision about Darkstalker?"

She caught the door handle with a claw on her wingtip and slammed it on the way out.

A/N: Hey everyone! Long time no see.

To those of you who are still following my story after my six-and-a-half month break, thanks for your patience. You really didn't deserve to have to wait that long. I can't really say for sure what provoked this nasty block, but it was probably a combination of factors. I didn't really like this chapter as I was writing it, which tanked my motivation. I wasn't really sure where I wanted to take the story from here, so I kept floundering with how I wanted this chapter to pan out. And I kept getting distracted with these "creative parasites" - a term I just made up for those project ideas that occupy your mind and demand your creative energy before completely vanishing a few weeks later once you've gotten bored of them.

I think I've worked through all of these hurdles for now, so I don't expect the next chapter to take six more months to write. I won't make any promises besides that one about when the next chapter will come around, but I will say that NaNoWriMo is just around the corner, and I'm thinking it'll probably be a good idea if I participate this year. If I pull off a good writing streak during November, there should be a healthy backlog of chapters ready for publishing when December rolls around.

Anyway, hope you enjoyed the chapter, and I'll see you next time. Happy Halloween!