Hello, everyone! I am very sorry for how long this took. Life gets in the way, and it is very hard to write and edit while burnt out. However, there's no need to worry; I have written very far in advance to this chapter, and have no intentions on leaving this work incomplete, regardless of how long it takes. It will be finished...eventually.

I would love to thank all of my reviewers: FuryDrake, MysteryWriter175, lunalover507, theaugustauthor, picothea, Lightbrightfury, Dwarf, temporary0username, Mr0cznyKisiel, Enlil45, CallMeUrmo, The Grimm Reaper, and Ashora! When I am feeling low and like it is not worth it to keep writing, coming back and reading your kind words always helps me push through. Thank you all, sincerely!

Lastly, I would like to thank my betas: kwizjunior, Dragon Crusader, Anticept, Crysist, Samateus, Dys, LapisSea, and RS!

I hope you all enjoy, and have a wonderful day!

Chapter 25

Saw Through Closed Eyes

We wove through the twilight-touched clouds, dipping from their shimmering pink strokes into the deepening indigo shadows between them, only to race back into their sanctuary as though pursuit snapped at our tails. I held the…the…I held Hiccup close to my heart, where I could feel the soft flutter of his and know that he lived.

His body was as stiff as death, limbs pulled in, lips drawn back, eyes clenched shut. His labored breath broke in uneven gasps and hisses. He was so small. Anger, unexpected and brief, sparked through me.

I had only heard and sight-sounded a little before I dove into that cave of blood, fire, and monster-scent. It had been enough. He had been standing before an egg—an egg!—protecting it from the nothing-eyed dragon and the liar-monster, a dead dragon just claw-lengths away, the Outsider Toothless warring with several of the red dragons that had once tried to attack me.

If they would risk their lives in a losing battle against the liar-monster, if everything they had said to me was true…if a curse really could be broken…

I was not naive enough to let hope into my heart again. But, at the very least, I could be sure that they hated the monsters as much as I did.

They had stopped me from breaking my promise to the nameless male and Killed the Sea Serpent. Even now, the memory sent nausea and regret washing over me. I had wanted it—I still wanted it—even though I knew it was wrong, that I was wasting their sacrifices they'd made for me. The Outside had seemed to seep in and ravage me at that very moment, and even as the word Survive! rang in my ears, I had turned my back to it.

I…needed help.

These two had done everything they could to do so, even as I struck out at them, even as I hurt them. I didn't know how to make it right, any of this. I wanted to go home. I wanted the magic out of me. I didn't want to be Outside. But I would never get what I wanted, and I had promised, I had promised. And, somehow, even after breaking that promise, like a foolish swimling raging that they couldn't fight a current too big for them, I had still been given a second chance.

"Hiccup!" The Outsider Toothless said, jarring me from my thoughts. "Hiccup, hold on, hold on, you'll be okay, I promise! Please, say something!"

The not-a-monster managed a strained grunt.

"Do you see any caves? Any shelter?" I asked. This high up, the only features I could make out were the golden flames of the sun on the tips of the mountains and some of the tallest trees. Everything else was swallowed in emerald darkness.

"We need to go further," Toothless said reluctantly. "I want to make sure we've covered enough ground that they can't follow us. Can you fly fast?"

I clutched Hiccup closer to my chest and shook out my wings. "Yes."

"Then let's hurry." He swept in front of me, spared one last glance over his shoulder, and then sank into the darkness, a stone plunging into a deep pond.

I surged after him, sight-sounding and listening to his wings and the air whistling over him. He was very fast, maybe even as fast as Killed the Sea Serpent. But I had beat my leader in a race once, a lifetime ago, and though I was still sore and tired from this morning, I pushed onwards. The clouds stretched out into thin strips as we tore through them, racing southwest, rushing to meet the night sky.

The sun had fully sunk by the time Toothless took us down. Instead of the mountains, though, he led me to the forest.

"Why here?" I called as we swept over the canopy, our wingbeats sending waves of wind crashing through the foliage. He went into a turn, facing the ground below, and I set my sight-sounds upon it. The trees were massive and old, stretching nearly halfway up the mountain. Some of the trunks were so thick that I wouldn't even be able to wrap my wings around them. It smelled like the enormous forests of the Shell, rich and green.

"They'll expect us to go to a cave," Toothless explained. "Ready to go in?"

I nodded. He dove like an inexperienced flightling. There was a lot of crashing and grunting as he bashed heedlessly through the tree limbs.

Rolling my eyes, I sight-sounded like a normal dragon and wove between the branches. When I came to a hover a few seconds behind Toothless, he leapt and spun towards me.

"How—" he began, shocked. "Nevermind. It's hard to see down here, but maybe we can find somewhere covered."

"I can go look," I said, hushed by the enormity of the trees around us. "I don't need to see." Stretching my hind legs down, I eased into an upright landing and gently leaned over.

"Ouch," Hiccup moaned once his back hit the mossy forest floor.

"Hiccup!" Toothless gasped, rushing to him, sniffing him all over, licking his face. "Hiccup, are you hurt? What happened?"

He dug his claws into the fur on his head. His eyes snapped open, wild and fever-bright. "It's—" he gasped. "It's—cracked."

Toothless went just as stiff as his brother. "Cracked?" he whispered.

The terror in his voice struck me stiff-legged.

"The shell for my magic," he whimpered. "It's cracked!"

o.O.o

Toothless pressed his nose to Hiccup's forehead, closed his eyes, and went still. Lying flat on his back, twitching with phantom pains, Hiccup bared his teeth in a grimace.

I tapped my paws and paced back and forth, staring and sight-sounding at them. Hiccup didn't smell sick, but he looked and acted like it. Fear-scent roiled off of the both of them, making my own heart hammer. Part of me wanted to help; the other recoiled with the knowledge that it was magic that was causing this, magic that was healing this.

…or, at least, I hoped…

So still, so quiet, barely breathing, the both of them. All that kept me silent was the fact that Toothless had not slumped over, dead himself.

Hiccup's expression slackened. He loosened his claws from the earth and sucked in a haggard, deep breath. Toothless swayed and fell back on his rump, panting with his tongue lolling out.

"Are you…well?" I asked, feeling as useless as the question.

Hiccup brought a shaking paw to his head. With a small moan, he got his paws underneath himself and pushed himself upright. He looked pale and ghastly in the deep light of the forest, and a sheen of moisture plastered his fur to his face.

"For now," he said. He flinched and his paw shot to his head.

"Hiccup?!" Toothless gasped.

"A—migraine—" Hiccup ground out, his voice strained. "M'fine. I'm fine."

"I can try to seal it further," Toothless rushed. He stumbled forward. "Here, hold still—"

"No," Hiccup hissed, putting a paw on Toothless' nose. "It's—it's gone. You did it." He managed a weak smile. "I guess it's a good thing you got to practice on her, huh?"

Toothless flattened his eyes. "Not funny. Why is it still affecting you? Are you sure it's gone?"

There hadn't been anything here to begin with. I glanced about, looking for "it", but even my sight-sounds revealed nothing. "What is hurting you?" I said, my voice far more shrill than I expected.

Both of them startled and looked at me.

"My magic," Hiccup said, lowering his paw, his expression still pained. "That poison put a—a crack in it. It was trying to eat away at it, and it was all I could do to fend it off." He pushed his head up against Toothless' lower jaw like a flightling. "But Toothless knows how to transfer his magic to another dragon now, from healing you. He was able to shove his between me and the poison. It ate away at his instead, and now…it's gone, I think."

"You think?" Toothless said, exasperated.

"I'm pretty sure," Hiccup reassured him. "Thank you, Toothless. Thank you so much." His easy expression fell. When he next spoke, he sounded as small as I always felt. "Grimmel…that poison…it ate away all of the magic you threw at it, until it burned itself out." He touched a claw to his head. A tremble entered his voice. "It would have done that to me. It would have eaten all of my magic."

Toothless sat next to him and wrapped his tail around him. He pressed his forehead to Hiccup's. "It's a sacrifice I will make over and over if I need to. Nobody is taking your magic ever again, Hiccup. It is fine."

"It is fine," Hiccup murmured like it was a prayer, pressing close to him.

A pang went through me. It took me a second to realize it was jealousy, and a second more to look away to hide it.

"But the crack is still there," Hiccup sighed. "It hurts. Like a constant headache."

"Hiccup…" Toothless said in a knowing tone.

His shoulders slumped. He glanced at me.

"I'm not ready yet," he whispered. "We need to find Dad and Haugaeldr."

Toothless looked disappointed, but still nodded without any argument. I stared between the two insane Outsiders, wondering if we were even speaking the same language anymore. What were they talking about?

"Should we find shelter?" I suggested, trying to turn the conversation to something logical. "Both of you are injured."

Toothless nodded. He got to his feet—and then his hind leg immediately gave out. I could barely see the blood that trickled out of the wound, but the smell was sharp as a blow.

"Toothless!" Hiccup cried. He opened one of the…things…clinging to Toothless' side and started pulling other things out. "Here, lemme dress that for you."

He couldn't walk—not for now, at least. "I'll find somewhere safe," I told them. "Stay here, and I'll come back."

Before they could protest, I spun and went racing through the forest, sight-sounding and listening. Even deeper than we had landed, where it was as pitch-black and cool as the Under, my sight-sounds caught on a husk of a tree. Dead by disease or fire, I couldn't tell, but its trunk was almost completely hollowed out. I stepped inside of it, taking in the wonderful smells of the mosses, redwood, and mulch. It almost reminded me of Killed the Sea Serpent's cave within the lavender crystal: small, but soft and warm.

This was perfect. I retraced my path through the winding, ancient trunks, my wingbeats like a whisper in the silence. When I returned to the Outsiders, Toothless' hind leg had something wrapped around it that smelled faintly floral. But when he stood up, he was able to put his weight on it.

We set off. I wanted to fly, but when I asked Toothless why he wouldn't just sight-sound, I was met with a blank stare. So, we limped through the forest, Hiccup leaning on Toothless' shoulders like he could somehow support his weight. The thick shroud of safety slowly enveloped us, bringing much-needed relief to everyone. By the time it was too dark even for Toothless to see, I held out my tail for him to hold, just like I once had with the swimlings I'd cared for. Though most adult dragons I knew would be insulted by such a gesture, the Outsiders were grateful. With his mouth gently clamped on my tailfin, I took them the rest of the way, murmuring warnings whenever the ground dipped.

Despite my efforts, Hiccup still fell once. The guilt that shot through me was just as unexpected as his yelp in the silence. I worried that, at any moment, I would turn around to see one or both Outsiders slumped to the earth, unconscious. Then what would I do?

It never came to that. By the first one's grace, we made it back to the hollowed tree. All three of us could fit fairly comfortably inside. The two Outsiders curled up against each other like they would perish if they separated. I was grateful they couldn't see my expression, the envy and sorrow I knew I couldn't hide.

I don't want you to be alone.

I settled down on the opposite side of them, taking comfort in the soft spring of the moss. It smelled strongly of fox in here; I wondered if we had accidentally chased a family out of their nest. I hoped they didn't mind.

"How is your magic?" Toothless asked in a hushed voice, as if he was afraid he would scare the magic away if he spoke too loud.

Hiccup shifted so that he was splayed against Toothless' side. "It's still as bright as ever, except for this…it's like a huge gash of darkness across it." He let out a long sigh and said in a grim tone, "I don't think I'll be able to take another one of those darts."

"I've barely any magic left," Toothless murmured, hugging Hiccup closer with his tail. "I was saving some in case—" He cut himself off, leaving behind a tense silence.

In case I tried to kill myself with my magic again, he had almost said.

"It's okay," I whispered. I lowered my head. "I never thanked you for saving my life. I won't try to do that again. And I'm sorry to have burdened you with that worry." I shuddered. "I never want to use magic again."

"Do you feel a little better?" Hiccup asked.

I couldn't help but smile at the strange little Outsider. The "crack" in his "magic shell" had sent him and Toothless into a panic, but he still wanted to know if I, an ungrateful stranger, was feeling well?

"A little," I said, and was surprised to find that it was the truth.

Don't hope, I reminded myself.

"That's good," Hiccup sighed, relieved. "At least there's one good thing, now."

Toothless shifted. "Let me try something, then," he whispered. "Hold still, brother…"

Both of them went silent. With sight-sounds, I watched as Toothless pressed his nose to Hiccup's forehead. They seemed to fall asleep, breathing together, soft and deep. I held my breath, too. Whatever this was, whatever it meant, it was everything to them.

If magic could fix it…what did that mean?

It was only a few seconds later when Toothless drew away. His ears were flat. "I…tried to fill the crack. Did it work?"

Hiccup was silent, introspective. After an agonizing wait, he murmured, "Yes and no. It's still there, but…it's not open anymore. Like it's scabbed over, but not quite, because it isn't sealed, but…" He trailed off.

"Like you turned the crack upwards," I said, remembering. "To keep everything inside."

Hiccup paused. "Yes," he said, grim. "Like that."

Judging by the silence, we all knew how little that helped a real cracked egg.

"My headache is gone, at least," Hiccup said with weak cheer.

Toothless snorted skeptically. "You've just given it to me."

Finally, my curiosity could take no more. "What is this thing? Why are you acting like it would be gone forever? Didn't you say that magic slowly comes back over time?"

"Because the Dragon of the Sun and Dragoness of the Moon gave me back my magic," Hiccup tried to explain. "It's there to transform me into a dragon again, but I can't use it for anything else. And I really don't know if They'll give me seconds if it all gets destroyed by some magic-eating poison."

I balked. It was from the fake gods, meant to change him? Even now, the thought of a creature changing into a dragon fought against all logic. That he could be reborn at will sounded so strange that I had wondered if it was a delusion at first. But Hiccup and Toothless were earnest, and their fear over losing this magic showed me just how real and important this magic-egg was.

The first ones would never interfere like this. Why did the fake gods care? They had killed the first ones. They brought ruin upon the world, hadn't they?

"You two are the strangest creatures I have ever met," I mumbled. "I don't understand any of this."

Hiccup barked out a short laugh. "We get that a lot. But…even I don't want to push this. We can't be caught off guard like that again."

Toothless growled. "I'm going to kill that human before he breathes fog over our eyes like that again."

Although he spoke with conviction, fear still chilled me to my heart. These were creatures that I barely understood, in a world that I had only known for a few days. We weren't safe, not even here.

The liar-monster and nothing-eyed dragon were still here. They would come for us.

We were prey.

o.O.o

A dense mist carpeted the forest when I woke up. It reminded me so much of the Shell, with its cycles of ocean fog, that I stretched out as far as I could to welcome it. I lay there for some time, listening to the soft breathing of the Outsiders. I had never thought I would wake to the sound of other dragons again.

You're still cursed, I reminded myself. Don't hope, until you can.

Having spent most of the previous day asleep, I wasn't tired enough to curl up again. I went to the entrance of the tree hollow, staring up at the canopy, watching as streams of mist flowed between the enormous branches that were thick enough to be individual trees themselves. The air smelled fresh and crisp and a chill had descended overnight. Just barely, I could taste the zing of lightning. Either a storm was coming, or the remnants of one was drifting over from the ocean.

"Hey."

"Ah!" I yelped, leaping into the air with all four of my legs sticking straight out.

"Sorry! Sorry," Hiccup laughed. He was curled against Toothless, who was still deep asleep. The black dragon had sustained many wounds; he needed his rest more than the two of us combined. He shifted a little, fidgeting with the skin of scales that could go over his head, but ultimately decided to leave them. "Can I…come over?"

Still cursed, I reminded myself. Will I hurt him, too?

"It's okay," he said softly after I had hesitated too long. "If you're still scared…"

"Yes," I said, surprising both of us. Before my courage left me, I shuffled a little to the side and opened a wing in invitation.

Even on a monster's face, the smile that he gave me was warm and brilliant. He walked over slowly, four-legged, his wings half-opened on his back. He hesitated as he reached me. Finally, he sat down daringly close. Our sides nearly touched.

Maybe I was feeling daring, too, because before I could stop myself, I craned my neck down to him. I sniffed his fur, which tickled at my nostrils. I stared deep into his eyes—strange, circular pupils—and studied his odd, pink skin. He had spots! Now that I could really see him, I saw that his scales were actually Toothless', somehow pressed into his skin. His wings had the same material in them as his shiny leg.

Yet, despite it all, his scent was that of a dragon.

I had thought of all of this as a trick before. A lie. Now I saw that I was wrong. It was a wish, a hope, a future. One that, it seemed, had very nearly been ripped away from him.

When I drew back, Hiccup slowly lifted a paw. I watched him, stiffening. He raised it towards my head, closer, closer…!

The soft-touch of a monster made every part of me want to wrench away. I stayed. He traced his paw along my forehead, almost like he was licking. It was somehow soothing, even within the wrongness of the monster-touch, and I had so, so craved the comfort of another dragon's. Especially last night, watching him and his brother find solace in one another while I stayed far away, alone…

I leaned into his paw, and he pressed closer to me, and our hides touched, warm and familiar in the cool wet of the morning fog, and I wasn't the least bit afraid.

"You are a cursed dragon, too," I realized.

He tilted his head. "What do you mean by that?"

"We…" I struggled for the words. "Both of us…we came out of our eggs wrong."

The look he gave me was sad, just like how Killed the Sea Serpent used to stare at me whenever I mentioned my curse.

Averting my eyes, I lied down, pressing my scales to his and reveling in the simplicity of warm touch. Just like in the Shell, a part of me screamed that something would go wrong, that this brief lull in the sorrow would not last. "I…I don't want to hurt you."

"Hurt me?" he asked. He thrummed with a comforting purr. "Unless you plan on biting me or something…"

"No!" I gasped, horrified. "But…I am cursed. I've only hurt everyone around me. What if I do the same to you and Toothless?"

He traced his eyes along the scar on my snout, the one from the nameless male. "Just because bad things happen to you, it doesn't mean that you're cursed. It doesn't mean you deserve to live the rest of your life scared and alone."

I shook my head. "I was never meant to survive," I murmured. "It was only through magic, stolen into the Shell, that I lived…and the first ones never forgave it."

Hiccup stared into my eyes. "I think the fact that you're here says otherwise. You've been through a lot. You don't have to tell me, if you're not ready or don't want to. But despite all of it, it sounds like you've always tried to do the right thing." He tried to smile—a strange expression on a monster's face—and butted me lightly with his head. "That counts for something, doesn't it?"

I looked down at my paws. In a small voice, I whispered, "Do you really think it can be broken?"

Hiccup purred, and the vibrations he sent through me soothed the ache deep in my heart. "I once felt a lot like you," he said. "I wanted to end it all, too. But now, even like this, I can still fly and talk to other dragons, even if…" he grimaced, "…even if they're scared of me. I found happiness, and that broke that curse over me." He met my eyes. "We'll do everything we can to break your curse, too."

I swallowed heavily. Break the curse. Even now, the words sent hope singing through my heart, even as I shushed it, wary of the pain of broken dreams.

"I hope so," I whispered, lying my head down on my paws.

He leaned against me. "That's all you need to do," he said. "Have hope."

We sat in silence for some time, watching the mists, listening to the songbirds.

"By the way," Hiccup suddenly said. "Do you have a name?"

I pressed my ears flat against my head. "Yes," I said softly, remembering the joy, the relief, the acceptance. "I was called Saw Through Closed Eyes."

He eyed me, a clear question in his stare. Instead, he said, "I'm Hiccup."

I chuckled. "I know. Your names are very strange. And short. Where I'm from, a name tells of a dragon's accomplishment. It means…everything." I lowered my eyes. Now, mine meant nothing. It was only a painful reminder.

"Most names aren't as demeaning as ours," Hiccup said with a small smile, trying to cheer me up. "Where I'm from, they used to be bad to scare bad luck away. Most dragons in our nest didn't have names, but now, all of them do. They're a sign of friendship." He gestured above with a paw. "Here, in these mountains, dragons name others for good luck."

I lifted my head. "What made the dragons earn names?"

Hiccup's expression was cautious now. "Well…our nest is actually a nest of humans and dragons, together. The humans gave dragons names when they became companions."

I lurched. "What?"

"Just like there are all kinds of different dragons, with different kinds of names, there are different kinds of humans." He pressed his shoulder to mine. "Toothless and I…we hate the humans here who hurt and trap dragons. Where we're from, humans see dragons as part of the nest. We live together, feed each other, shelter each other, defend each other."

"I can't even imagine…" I murmured. Dragons and monsters, together? That seemed even more unrealistic than Hiccup having magic himself, able to turn into a dragon. It fought with everything I had ever known about the Outside.

His smile faded. "Galewing…the dragon who died…she said that, too. I really think she was going to come home with us, to keep her hatchlings safe. Instead, we led Grimmel—the human that was in there—right to her."

I knew that self-hatred in his voice like it was a reflection of myself. It didn't seem deserved, not from all that I had heard and seen. "You tried to fight the liar-monster," I protested. "You tried to save her and her eggs."

"We didn't." His eyes were hard now. "And I'm going to make sure we make up for it."

I wasn't sure if I liked the determination in his voice. It meant trouble. "What do you mean?"

He turned to me, and his eyes blazed like any dragon. "We're going to stop him," he growled. "And we're going to save Toothless' brother, too."

o.O.o

nameless male

"Did What Was Right! Did What Was Right! Did What Was Right!"

I forced a smile and hoped it didn't look as hollow as my heart.

Killed the Sea Serpent's eyes flickered with recognition. She ushered me down to our flockmates so that they could congratulate me properly. I murmured blank "thank-you"s to the dragons that came to me, licking my head and butting their foreheads against me.

Each congratulation had a low tone to it, though. A kind of sadness to it.

I hated it.

They had no right being sad about Saw Through Closed Eyes now, not when they didn't try to help her, not when I was being named for banishing her.

Why, why, why?

The only good thing about any of it was that nobody was in a mood to celebrate. My flock dispersed, and I padded numbly through the nesting-grounds Above, which I now had every right to live in. I blundered into the very first cave I found: one nestled into the mountainside, with a huge willow drooping sheets of leaves over its entrance. I padded in a circle, lighting the stones beneath me with my flame, and lied down.

Not too long after, I heard Killed the Sea Serpent ask outside, "Did What Was Right?"

By the time I remembered that was my name—why, why, why did she name me for banishing her—she had crept inside. I looked at her, biting my tongue, remembering what happened the last time I challenged a leader.

She flinched, so my expression must have said enough.

In a weak, pitching voice, I croaked, "She was my best friend!"

The sobs came suddenly, swooping upon me from my blind spot. They had been for the past three days.

Then Killed the Sea Serpent was wrapped around me, shuddering alongside me, and it was too hard to stay mad at her. I curled up to her, burying my nose into her neck. She held me under her wings. Both of us shared our heartbreak.

When I finally settled down, I drew away and sniffled, "Why?" I bowed my head, remembering the easy give of her flesh under my claws, the sudden copper-sting smell of blood, the shock in her eyes. "I hurt her."

She sucked in a shaking breath at that. "Because you saved her life, where I could not."

I snapped my head up.

Killed the Sea Serpent gave a humorless, remorseful smile. "She listened to you," she said. "And most of all…you offered her kindness, in the end."

"You saw?" I mumbled, but my thoughts had escaped into the past. The falling, the agony in my chest, the rushes of adrenaline, the remnants of not-wanting-to-die, that last embrace before I threw her—so small, so broken—into the ocean and fled.

Her eyes had been a sea of resigned sorrow in that final moment. It had been so obvious that she had not wanted to live. That she had not intended to live. And worst of all, I could not even blame her for feeling like that. So that was what had made me beg her, Survive!

I had watched and watched and watched and had not seen her surface. That was what haunted me the most.

"That was why I gave you this name," my leader murmured, drawing me back to her. "You had to choose the hardest path, but you did it anyways. And that was a feat of true courage and sacrifice, Did What Was Right."

I looked down at my paws. To the dragons of the Shell, they would think I was named for banishing her despite our friendship.

But this meant that I was named because of it.

"I understand," I breathed—and then collapsed into crying once again, the attack a strange mixture of relief and heartache now.

My leader held me, murmuring soothing wordless things into my ears, but it was nice to at least have someone there. So many of my flockmates had not known how to react to these attacks, not when all the dragons of the Shell leered down at us now, seeking out any other hidden "traitors".

Killed the Sea Serpent nuzzled me, and in a hush, said, "There's something I must tell you."

I blinked up at her, my chest still heaving, stray shakes still quivering through my limbs.

When she smiled this time, it was small, but real.

"Saw Through Closed Eyes is alive."

o.O.o

Like the fog that washed over the Shell in the morning, a haze drifted through my mind in the following days.

For so long, I had wanted this. I had wanted a name, the freedom and respect that came with it.

Instead, I spent most of my time in my new nest, half-heartedly gathering foliage into it and sleeping the hours away.

In my dreams, Saw Through Closed Eyes was still home, smiling in that nervous, distrustful, hopeful way of hers that had made my heart hurt. She, Killed the Sea Serpent, and I traveled through the Shell with our friends, competing and playing and hunting.

Now the fog condensed on the roots creeping into the roof of my nest, and the steady dripping sound was a poor substitute for the laughter in my sleep.

(…I remembered being surprised the first time I heard her laugh, just because I had so rarely heard it before…)

Killed the Sea Serpent came by every day. Sometimes she merely lied next to me, bringing warmth to my chilled side. Sometimes she urged me up and out, even grabbing me by my scruff and dragging me to my paws once. Fought the Leader also found me a few times, offering dry advice in her usual way.

But though Saw Through Closed Eyes was alive—alive! alive!—I still mourned her.

I would never see her again. She would never know my name, that I was given it to honor our friendship.

(…my friendship got her banished…)

I should have never asked her to play chase with me on that day.

…right?

It was hard to think of what would have happened otherwise. She would have stayed Under, alone and cold, the loneliness whittling away at her like water carving a river from stone, and I would have eventually earned a name, and…

…and we would have never been friends.

I wondered how I would have acted around her. Would I have still been friendly? Would I have treated her as a curse? Would I have been just as unfair as the others? Would I have scorned her, spined her with my tailfins, nipped and clawed her, insulted her?

No, no, no! my heart rebelled.

But how could I know, when everyone else was so cruel and unfair to her, like that was normal?

How could I know, when she had used magic, when she proved that she was so very different for a reason?

(…not cursed, she can't really be cursed!…)

She hadn't meant to. I'd seen it so clearly. She'd been just as confused and horrified as the rest of us.

So why? Why her, of all dragons? Why couldn't the first ones just leave her be? Hadn't she already suffered enough?

I wondered where she was now, in the horrible Outside, the place of the fake gods. Had she found a safe, warm place to rest? Was she hungry? Did the wound from my claws scoring her muzzle still sting in the sea-salt? Had she found her way across the ocean's skies, although she had always been so afraid of flying alone?

Were there monsters?

(…vines constricting like snakes, garbling cawing voices, sickly-fleshy-soft-touch, biting without teeth, clawing without talons, soul-searing eyes, hungry and evil…)

Oh, why, why hadn't I listened to Saw Through Closed Eyes when she told us to turn back? Why had I been so stupid?

A shudder wracked across my body. They had almost eaten me, just like what had happened to Escaped the Monsters.

(I hadn't seen him, Survived the Storm, or Fed the Flock since before her banishment. I was a bad friend to everyone.)

How could I go on now, as though nothing had changed?

(…everything is different now…)

How could I smile or revel in my name, when it came at so dear a cost?

(…she's gone because of me…)

How could I be so, so, so, so—!

(…stupid!)

"Did What Was Right!"

I jolted in place, blinking myself back into the present.

Killed the Sea Serpent stood over me, eyes wide. "Are you well?" She leaned down and sniffed me. "I've been standing here trying to speak with you for awhile now."

I looked away, embarrassed and guilty and still a little mad at her. "Sorry."

She frowned, ears and frills drooping. After a moment, she said in a low, kind tone, "Will you come along?"

I got to my feet, wincing as my muscles protested after spending so long not moving. Killed the Sea Serpent led me past the willow leaves. I halted mid-step.

It was midday. But that was wrong, because it had been dusk when I had last crept back into my nest. I hadn't slept at all, and it felt like I had only just lain down, even though my body's aches told otherwise.

"I'm going to take the new nameless out on patrol," Killed the Sea Serpent said. "The ones we taught as flightlings, remember?"

She gestured out towards the central lake in our territory. At the shore, four young adults all preened and pranced and fluttered about with excitement. They had finally ascended to the top layers of the Above, which meant they were nameless adults now, although they were still very small and young. I was still growing, myself, but when I looked at them, they might as well have been swimlings; I felt so old, so weary, that everything they did and said seemed juvenile.

Killed the Sea Serpent was still looking at me. Waiting.

I blinked, realizing that the unspoken command I had thought was there…wasn't.

As a named dragon, I could do whatever I wanted. She was only asking me to come. I could say "no", slink back to my nest, and close my eyes and try to dream of happier times if I really wanted to.

I did want to.

One of the new nameless looked over and saw me. She was the one Saw Through Closed Eyes had taught with me, now easily twice her previous size and growing into her wings. She brightened like the sun.

"Did What Was Right!" she cried, skipping over in a series of flapping hops. "Are you coming, too?"

The male I had been assigned to on that day stumbled after his clutchmate. "Where's Saw Through Closed Eyes?" he asked, eyes wide and curious.

I winced. "Um…"

"I was so scared when she got sick," the female said. "Is that what happened to her? Is she okay?"

I glanced at Killed the Sea Serpent, who closed her eyes and took a slow, controlled breath.

"I told you all last night, remember?" she asked them gently. "She was banished."

"But when is she coming back?" the male complained, showing his youth.

I grit my teeth. "She isn't," I growled. "She's never coming back."

That made them both stop, looking at each other with flattened ears and huge, alarmed eyes.

"That's what it is to be banished," I ground out. "All the Shell turns away from you, and you can never come back, ever!"

"But that's not fair! She was so nice!" the female exclaimed, and it was too much, too much—!

I turned away, choking down sobs.

"That's enough!" Killed the Sea Serpent said. "Go back to the lake and stretch your wings. We'll be flying above the Shell, the highest any of you have ever gone. You'll need to get them nice and warm."

That sent them scampering away, back towards their two clutchmates, who had both hung back and watched with a mixture of confusion and concern.

I swallowed, composing myself. "I…" I began, only to find that I didn't know what to say.

Killed the Sea Serpent wrapped a wing around me. "I'm sorry," she said. "I told them last night, and tried to make them understand how serious it all is…but they clearly don't yet. I thought being able to teach them again could help—"

"You think a lot of things," I snapped.

Killed the Sea Serpent withdrew, pulling her wings back, ears pressed flat.

A brief spurt of anger and satisfaction withered like a dry plant in the winter. I lowered my head, crouching submissively. "I'm sorry," I stammered. "I…I was…"

(being a bad friend again)

"Shh," she hushed me. She leaned down and pushed her head against my chin, lifting me back up. She met my eyes. "You are right to be angry with me. I am angry with myself. Every night I wonder if I could have done something, anything, to change what happened."

I couldn't bear the guilt in her eyes, so I looked down at my paws. I knew that she was right. She was Killed the Sea Serpent, the strongest of us all. If anyone could have changed what happened, it would have been her. That Saw Through Closed Eyes survived using magic in front of everyone was a miracle. Even if she had somehow been allowed to stay in the Shell, she would have been in danger every day, and not only from the outcast members of our flock.

It was easy to blame Killed the Sea Serpent, because that meant that I didn't have to blame myself, and that was wrong.

"It was my fault," I whispered.

"No. A leader protects her flock." She gave me a gentle lick on the forehead. "It is my responsibility to keep reckless nameless dragons from hurting themselves. I know this does not make it any easier, Did What Was Right, but, please…" she waited until I met her eyes again, and then murmured, "…please, don't let guilt eat you away. Don't bury yourself Under. Let me help you. Mourn with you. Remember her together." She managed a weak smile. "She is still out there. You said you told her to survive, and I know she will. She's a strong little dragon."

I couldn't help a mirthless laugh at that.

"She was stronger than all of us," I croaked, "to have gone through all she did, and still learn to be friends with someone like me."

o.O.o

The nameless were really bad at flying.

My leader was right; this was a good distraction. I spent most of the patrol making sure nobody was swept away by an updraft or smashed into the walls of the Shell by a stray gust. Killed the Sea Serpent normally took us much further out on patrol, but I realized soon why she hadn't. The nameless tired out so quickly that, when our leader called out for us to return, I was baffled.

Then I looked at their drooping tails and lagging wingstrokes, saw proof of how much I had changed in so little time right in front of me, and everything fell upon my shoulders again.

Since Killed the Sea Serpent had waited until late in the day to patrol, those on hunting responsibility were just returning when we did. They brought up their catches for us and stepped back. Our leader and a few other dragons, those who had also been patrolling or on caretaker responsibility, padded over. I settled down next to the exhausted, panting nameless.

"Did What Was Right," Killed the Sea Serpent said, reminding me that I didn't have to wait.

I got up, took a few steps forward, and then stopped. Looking over my shoulder, I took in the four nameless, who all drooped and lied on the ground, their eyes locked on the pile of fish.

I wasn't that hungry, but they were.

I remembered that. I remembered being nameless and famished, with only scraps left behind.

It wasn't fair.

The thought came unbidden, but not as a shock. I had never acknowledged it before, but I knew it was a truth. The dragons of the Shell were very unfair sometimes, because what else could they be, if a dragon as good as Saw Through Closed Eyes was doomed to the Outside for something that was my fault?

"You take my spot," I told the nameless.

They perked up and, in a rush of new energy, charged over to the food pile. The named dragons there gawked, some even wrinkling their noses and baring their teeth. But before anyone could spit and bat a nameless away—a hard lesson I had needed to learn more than once—Killed the Sea Serpent looked at all of them with a commanding expression. Though angry, the named dragons held their tongues and claws back. The nameless gobbled their meal down with perfect innocence, clueless of the silent argument crackling above their heads.

When they were done, I waited for the others to get their fill.

After that, there was hardly any food left. I stepped over to the single, small fish that lay on the ground.

Has Saw Through Closed Eyes eaten today? I wondered.

My appetite was gone after that.

Killed the Sea Serpent sat down next to me. "That was very thoughtful of you," she said. "But I wouldn't suggest making a habit of it."

I pawed at the fish, letting it flop over. "Why not?"

"Because it's not the way of things," she said firmly. "Our traditions have sustained us since before the Shell was opened up."

I glanced up at her, wondering if she really believed that. Her voice told me yes, but her eyes…

Her expression softened. "We have had so much conflict within our flock already," said in a lowered voice. "And the dragons who will suffer the most from that will be the nameless."

"It's not fair," I said, echoing the young nameless from earlier today.

Her smile was small and knowing. "I remember feeling like that when I was named. I remembered vowing to make it to the top, just so I could tear it all down. I felt like I could, too."

I searched her gaze. "But you didn't."

"No," she agreed. "We dragons are set in our ways. I wasn't lying when I spoke of our traditions. It is hard for us to change, especially when we have lived so long like this."

I scowled at the fish on the ground. "I think we should."

"Careful," she hissed. "Our flock is a dying leaf on a twig right now. One stray gust, and we will snap off and tumble away. The other flocks see me as a weak leader. Now, more than ever, they will be looking for reasons to challenge me." She gestured around us. "If I were to lose a battle, we may lose all of this. Our place in the Shell, the companionship of the other flocks. And if the leaders hear that you are trying to change the very foundation of our ways…"

Stupid.

I lowered my head. Once again, I was so caught up in myself, I didn't even think of how my actions affected others. "I'm sorry," I whimpered.

She licked the top of my head. "It's only natural that you feel this way," she said. She drew back. "All I ask is that you be careful. Alright?"

I sighed. "Alright…"

We sat around for a little while longer. In the end, I left the fish there.

o.O.o

…

The clouds loomed overhead, swollen and greenish-black with their oncoming might. A sharp, cool wind sliced forth, the advance guard of the winter. It raked through the trees and foliage, bending them before its will. As if the whole mountain were a reed instrument, the wind whistled eerily as it wound through all that stood in its path.

A suitable site was found within a cavern behind a waterfall. There, outside of the gale's vast reach, not a soul spoke. Their orders had been given, and the men that remained bore their task with bowed heads. The five Deathgrippers left scored their claws in the soft earth, digging each hole until you saw fit. Of those, only four were healthy, having waited as reserves with the rest of your men. The one survivor of the Night Fury's assault limped and whined, his one eye gouged out and oozing blood and pus. He followed your commands regardless.

You did not stand by and watch. You bent and toiled along with your men, digging holes, settling the burnt corpses within them, and carefully packing them up again. It was bitter work. You ordered each grave dug so deep that no filthy scavenger could come by, rip it up, and have an easy meal. This meant that each grave left you breathless with exertion, but on you went.

Of the men who went into the dragon's nest with you, only two had survived. The captain was one. The other was a younger man, a boy recently freed from servitude with his uncle and father, who had fled and hidden in the tunnels once the fighting broke out.

You had hundreds of other men to call on. They would lunge at your first beckoning. People in these mountains, along the mainland, even those who had simply stayed out of the line of fire. These losses were like drops shifting away from a waterfall, never damaging the power of the rushing water. Still, you approached each grave with compassion and regret, patiently mumbling your prayers over each one.

When all was done, twenty graves lined the cave behind the waterfall. The trees outside bowed in the desolate wind. Water sprayed as a fine mist each time a stray gust managed to tear its way inside. You and your men held a grim vigil, each man muttering prayers of their own following in soft voices. A few words were spoken of each of the lost. Here was a brave warrior. Here was a man with an unbending spirit, truly owned by no man before you freed him. Here was a father. Here was a son.

You did not desecrate their memories by speaking words of revenge and battle. With a nod to your men, camp was set up just outside the cavern, hidden within an overhang of the rock. The waterfall glowed in the firelight, casting a luminescent, storm-green shadow across the stone walls.

You and the captain sat away from the remainder of the unit, sharing a bitter silence and an even worse ale. There was hardly any left in your waterskin, so you two shared it with alternating sips, the bleak green casting dark shadows across your faces.

"My…lord?"

You looked up, blinking as if woken by a dream. The young boy who had survived held his arms close to his chest and hunched his shoulders, eyes flicking from his feet, to you, to the captain, straight ahead, and then back down again. You nodded for him to go on.

"Should…" he grimaced and ducked his head like he expected a blow. "Should we call off this hunt?"

A silence fell over all the men who had listened in. You stared. The captain pressed his lips together.

"Why do you say that?" you asked.

"My apologies, my lord," the boy spluttered. He hunched further in on himself, head bowed. "I only—I don't mean to question you—I only fear that—that—"

You raised a hand to stop him, but he was nearly bent over with submission and didn't see. The boy seemed to find his courage, or simply wanted to be done with what he started, and gasped:

"I fear that we will lose everyone if we hunt those monsters again!"

Tears streamed down his face. "I know—I know it's important," he hiccuped, "but…my uncle…" He trailed off, clutching his sides with clawed fingers, shivering.

"Oh, Duilius," the captain sighed.

Your face affected something like compassion, but the far-away look in your eyes robbed any warmth from it. You patted the ground next to you. "Come, boy. Have a drink with me and your father. And the rest of you—take a moment."

Your people—who were all listening in but trying not to show it—stopped their aimless work and came to sit. The boy did as he was told, settling between you and the captain. He took a small sip from the waterskin. His expression screwed up at the flavor, and he hastily handed it back to you. The captain smiled a little and gave him a firm slap on the back.

"You are right," you mused. You took a sip and handed the waterskin to the captain. "They've proven that we cannot trap them by…traditional means. To pursue that route would spell all of our deaths."

Your followers eyed each other at the admission. Yet there was no doubt hidden in those looks. They waited patiently for your instructions that were sure to come.

"Do you know why I hunt Night Furies?" you asked, staring into the fires.

"N-no, my lord," stammered the boy. His eyes flicked directly forward again.

"Then I'll ask you this: do you know why I free slaves?"

This was well-known among all of your men. "You were a slave, too. But you broke free. And you vowed to free as many others as you could. So you travel through the lands, destroying armies and empires, freeing their slaves."

You nodded. "There is one tiny detail that is always left out of that story," you said. The captain threw back another gulp of ale and handed you your share. You took a small drink, offered it to the boy, shrugged when he wrinkled his nose and shook his head, and handed it back to the captain.

"I was not a slave to men."

The captain nearly dropped the waterskin. The boy's brows scrunched in confusion.

"You have all heard of the dragons of the east, have you not?" you asked. Some nodded, others shook their heads. "They are hailed as gods there. Only the few most privileged holy men are allowed to learn their language to speak their decrees. The dragons there, as far-fetched as it sounds, know how to read and write. They hold authority over men, even over emperors and military commanders. And with such long lifespans, they have learned how to cling tight to this power."

They would have all laughed, were it any man but you telling them such things.

"I have visited these lands. The men bow to the dragons' whims—literally. Theirs is the word of Heaven, they say." You shook your head. "One may tell me, 'eastern dragons are far different from western dragons'. That is true in many ways, but one." You lifted your eyes to meet every man's stare. "Their intelligence."

Now your followers looked uneasy. Sickened. The captain swung the waterskin back and took a deep gulp of it, then hastily handed it back to you.

"Are you saying…what I think you are?" Duilius whimpered.

You tipped the waterskin back, frowned, and peered into it. It was empty.

Finally, when it seemed you had not heard the boy and everyone was shifting uneasily, you deigned to answer. "I am saying precisely that."

Duilius shook his head, skin pale and sickly in the weak light. "But that—that can't be. You, a-a…" He choked on the words. "A slave to dragons?!"

Now that the blasphemy had been spoken into the world, the others began to mutter to each other: It wasn't possible—it couldn't be—the gods would never—but—but then—but also—but that would be why—

—it made sense—

"I suspect," the captain broke the chatter, taking the empty waterskin and throwing it aside, "that we'll like the connection to the Night Furies even less."

The reflection of the fire mimicked the spark of life in your pale eyes. "Well," you said, "you all know what I do to slavers."

Your eye twitched, your lips drew back tight, and the spasm was gone as quick as it had come.

"Especially when I was the one who gave them their tools of subjugation."

Duilius bit down a horrified gasp. You stared into the blaze, letting the silence consume the cavern, noxious as poisonous gas. Nobody dared to so much as breathe.

"So, you see," you murmured, "this is something I have to do. For I brought this disease upon the world, and like all infected wounds, it must be cut open and drained. I cannot rest until I recompense."

This time, the stillness, taught and lifeless as a frozen lake, was final.

"My lord…" the captain said. He put a hand on your shoulder. "I had no idea."

This seemed to break you from the trance's grip. You ripped your eyes from the flames and quirked a grin at him. "I try not to tell such harrowing tales. Tends to bring the mood down." Your expression turned stony, serious. "But you all have followed me faithfully and deserve the truth. If you wish to leave this mission, then you may. But I will continue."

The captain's eyes hardened. "So will I."

"Aye!" said another warrior. "I will stay, too!"

"As will I!"

"And I!"

"And me," Duilius whispered, squaring his shoulders.

"No," you said. The boy's expression fell, but you merely grinned at him. "I have a special task for you." You reached into your pocket and held out several parcels. "You will take the injured Deathgripper and fly this to the village. Some of Drago's freed slaves are there, and a few still have Sharkworm vessels. I want you to tell them to send these messages out to every post we have at all haste."

The boy took them and held them reverently. "What do they say, my lord?"

The captain shot him a disapproving look. "Now, lad—"

"No, no, no," you tittered, flapping a hand. "It's fine. You should all know as well, since we're sharing secrets." You grinned at your followers, leaning forward and resting your elbows on your knees. "I have seen enough. I see the beginnings of the end rising in the north. And I intend to snuff it out."

You rose to your feet, and your followers with you. Not a soul decided to leave. With a confession that would have damned any other man, you had won their unyielding loyalty and trust.

Before the storm broke, you rigged a workable saddle for Duilius and instructed the Deathgripper to follow the boy's flying-commands and to return to the ship. The boy was exalted to have a special task given personally by you, of all men. He eagerly proclaimed that he would see the task finished, and you responded that you considered it already done with him as the messenger.

The boy's grin was bright enough to light the whole sky. He kicked his heels like he was on a horse. With a wheeze, the Deathgripper took off, disappearing into the swollen clouds, the harbingers of the oncoming war.

The captain came up to your side. "Thank you," he whispered, "for sending him off."

"I am not sure if it will keep him safe," you admitted, your expression falling. You clapped his shoulder and grasped it. "But this, Lupercus, is one thing I can control. I will not see another boy stolen by the dragons." Your eyes flashed like lightning in the black of night, a latent danger blazing with sudden intensity. "Not. Another. One."

The captain gripped your shoulder and nodded. No words were needed. He did not understand, not even a little, but he did not need to. He thought he did. You had told him and the others just enough and not a breath more, leaving the gaps in the story to be filled with the horrors of their imaginations. It turned the dragons into impossible, harrowing monsters, terrible and mighty, unholy and blasphemous. Creatures that could do what no man had thought they could, and to the very greatest of them.

To the freedmen of your armies, there was not a single more honorable thing to kill.