Whiteout watched as Snowflake, the dragon who always wore a cloak, entered the room. With the unflinching obedience that characterized the IceWings, Snowflake removed the cloak when the queen commanded her to do so — but her energy radiated a prickly red and mold-textured dark green. Whiteout watched Snowflake intently, just like every other dragon in the room… except one.
That dragon moved with the perfect stealth of a trained assassin. Whiteout didn't see, hear, or even sense him approaching until the cord was around her neck, closing off her windpipe so she couldn't scream. As Snowflake and Queen Diamond shot piercing, angry words like icicle shards at Whiteout's father, she was led, unnoticed, through a side door and out of the room.
The cord around Whiteout's neck loosened slightly, just enough for her to wheeze a shallow breath but not to scream for help. As if being pulled on a leash, her kidnapper led her along icy hallways lowly lit by a scattered few floating orbs. These were not the main palace hallways, wide and lit by tall windows and many hovering lights. These were secret passages, where the palace servants could travel unseen and out of the queen's way.
Whiteout knew she was not being murdered — at least not yet — so she cooperated with her captor. She had information to gather. She tried to walk quickly behind him to relieve some of the pressure of the rope against her neck. She used all of her remaining energy to remember everything she could about these passages. It could have been an endless maze, but Whiteout memorized every detail. She would have no trouble navigating her way out if she needed to escape on her own.
Eventually, they reached a narrow staircase. It was even darker than the hallways, lit only by a single orb at each landing. Whiteout's captor led her down, down, down… they must have gone deeper than the palace was tall, deep underground.
A dungeon. A surprisingly small dungeon. A row of cages lined the walls, and Whiteout was tossed roughly into one. The door of her cage was shut with a careful, delicate clang. The kidnapper locked the door and hurried away without a word.
Whiteout loosened the rope that still dangled around her neck and took several deep breaths. The dungeon was very dark… but Whiteout was half Nightwing; she could see just fine. She carefully approached the door of her cage and looked through the bars. All of the cages were empty. That unnerved Whiteout more than seeing emaciated, tortured prisoners would have. She was utterly alone. She curled into a corner, finally allowing herself to tremble openly, and, overcome with exhaustion, fell into an uneasy sleep.