The jungle canopy shimmered with the soft glow of the moon as Tree Haven rested in an uneasy silence. For two days, the teenage Silverwings, Griffin and his cousin Luna, had been grounded within its dense confines. Their crime? Befriending a young Vampyrum Spectral bat who, unbeknownst to them at first, was none other than the son of Goth, the Silverwing colony's greatest enemy. His name was Orpheus, and though he carried the regal air of his father's lineage, his mere presence had threatened the delicate peace Shade Silverwing and Marina Brightwing had fought to secure.
Shade and Marina were deeply disappointed in their son, Griffin. Not only had he befriended the Vampyrum heir, but in doing so, he had put Luna and their jungle companions, Tango the fruit bat and Plátano the spider monkey, in peril. Orpheus had led them, innocently enough at first, into the depths of his father's domain, where death lurked in the shadows. If not for the timely intervention of their parents, Griffin and Luna might have met the same grisly fate as so many others who crossed Goth's path.
Now, the children roosted quietly in the heart of Tree Haven. Plátano had returned to his family, who had wept with relief upon his return, while Tango had flown back to his sanctuary, grateful to be alive. The Silverwing colony buzzed with whispers about the young bats' foolishness, but none more stern than those of Chinook and Selena, Luna's parents. The disappointment was palpable in the air, though it was softened by the relief that, for now, their children were safe.
Shade's parents, Ariel and Cassiel, had shared in that mixture of anger and relief, urging their son to keep Griffin and Luna out of danger. But for all their warnings, none could deny the severity of what had almost happened—the brush with death at the claws of the bloodthirsty Goth, whose hunger for power was matched only by his taste for smaller bats.
Griffin hung upside down from a branch, the weight of his thoughts pressing down on him. His wings twitched as he replayed the events in his mind. *I could have been eaten by Goth...* His stomach churned at the thought. He had never met the infamous enemy before, only heard the horror stories his parents told of the monstrous bat and his colony of cannibals. He shuddered, realizing just how close he had come to being part of those tales. Lucky didn't begin to describe how he felt.
That night, sleep eluded him. When it did finally claim him, it came as a nightmare. In the depths of his dream, Goth's shadow loomed large over him, dark wings outstretched. Griffin felt the weight of the predator pinning him down, the sharp claws digging into his chest as the giant bat lunged with gleaming fangs.
With a start, Griffin awoke, his heart racing and his breath coming in ragged gasps.
"Aaagh!" he cried, his voice a strangled echo in the still night air.
Marina was by his side in an instant, her dark eyes wide with concern. "Griffin, what's wrong? Are you alright?" she asked, her voice soft but urgent.
Griffin panted, trying to steady himself. "I'm fine, Mom. It was just a nightmare. Just... a terrible nightmare."
Marina's brow furrowed as she settled next to her trembling son. "What was it about?" she asked gently, though she had a feeling she already knew.
Griffin shuddered. "It was about that giant bat, Goth. He... he lunged at me, and he..."
"Shhh," Marina soothed, wrapping her wings around him in a protective embrace. "Calm down, Griffin. You're safe here with us. Tree Haven is far from Goth and his colony. You're safe."
Her warmth eased the tension in Griffin's muscles, but the fear lingered. "Mom?" he whispered after a moment, still trembling in her wings.
"Yes, Griffin?"
"When I told you about Orpheus, I wasn't kidding when I said he was harmless... I mean, he seemed different. He didn't want to hurt anyone."
Marina sighed softly, her eyes filled with both sadness and understanding. "I know, Griffin. I know you thought he was trustworthy, and I understand why you wanted to save him when he was caught in that net. But Orpheus... he's still a Vampyrum. He's still Goth's son. That bloodline is dangerous, no matter how innocent he seemed."
Griffin's brow creased in defiance. "But he didn't hurt me or Luna! He..."
Marina tightened her hold, her voice now tinged with the memory of her own encounters with danger. "Griffin, when your father and I first met Goth and Throbb at the human city in the North, we learned the hard way that appearances can deceive. Your father trusted them, even when I knew in my heart they were dangerous. And that trust almost cost us our lives. They pretended to be protectors, but in the end, they were cannibals, hunting smaller bats like us for food."
Griffin fell silent, the weight of his mother's words sinking in. He hadn't been there during the battles his parents had faced, hadn't witnessed firsthand the terrifying force that was Goth. But now, after this ordeal, he understood better than ever the danger they had been warning him about all his life.
"I... I just wanted to help him," Griffin whispered.
"I know," Marina said softly. "And that's what makes you special, Griffin. You have your father's heart. But sometimes... sometimes, we have to be careful who we trust. Especially in this jungle."
Griffin nodded, nestling closer to his mother, her wings a protective cocoon around him. Safe for now, but still haunted by the shadows of the past. The jungle was vast and dangerous, and though they had escaped this time, he couldn't shake the feeling that the danger wasn't over.
Meanwhile, deep in the farthest reaches of the jungle, the night was punctuated by the crackling of a campfire. Two human poachers lounged in front of the flames, the flickering light casting shadows over their rugged faces. The older of the two, an Australian man in his thirties, scratched at his brown hair while his partner, a younger American with a blonde beard, fiddled with the barrel of his tranquilizer gun. They laughed and exchanged stories, the jungle's wild sounds blending with their voices. Behind them, two large cages held their latest prize: Morris and Ebony, a pair of Vampyrum Spectral bats.
Morris paced restlessly inside his cramped cage, his golden eyes narrowed in anger. "Curse those filthy humans," he growled. "They put us to sleep before we even had a chance to notice!"
Ebony, her wings folded tightly against her body, clicked her sharp teeth in frustration. "I can't believe we lost Orpheus! Goth will have our wings for this." Her tone was sharp, edged with panic.
Morris lashed his tail against the metal bars. "And how, exactly, are we supposed to get out of here, Ebony? We're doomed!"
Ebony, ever the more practical of the two, glared at him. "Stop whining and help me figure this out. King Goth is ruthless, and losing his son on his first hunt... we'd be lucky if he just banishes us."
The two poachers paid no attention to their captives. They had made camp for the night, confident in their secure catch. As the firelight dimmed and the poachers turned in for the night, Morris and Ebony saw their opportunity. Ebony extended one of her clawed fingers and began working at the rusty lock on her cage.
Minutes stretched into what felt like hours, but at last, with a soft click, the lock gave way. The door swung open with a faint creak. Ebony slipped out, glancing nervously toward the sleeping poachers, then moved to Morris's cage. Her claws worked quickly and, in moments, he too was free.
Without a word, the two Vampyrum Spectral bats shot up into the night sky, their enormous wings cutting silently through the air as they left the human camp far behind.
High above the jungle canopy, Morris and Ebony slowed their flight. The cold wind swept through their fur as they scanned the ground below for prey. The night's earlier fear turned to hunger as they spotted movement beneath the thick undergrowth. Together, they dove, swift and deadly, and each snapped up a mouse with ease. Their sharp fangs made quick work of the small mammals, blood and fur gone in moments.
By the time they reached the Mayan Temple, their stomachs were full, but the dread of facing their king weighed heavier than ever. The grand, crumbling structure loomed in the moonlight, its ancient stone adorned with carvings of bat wings and fanged jaws. A symbol of power. A symbol of terror.
As they entered the dark, echoing halls, Goth awaited them, his form cloaked in shadows. His wings were folded neatly behind him, but his eyes burned with an unmistakable fury. His mate, Phoenix, stood at his side, her gaze no less cold.
"Where was my son Orpheus when he needed you on his first hunt?" Goth's voice was a low snarl, the words dragging like claws across stone. "You have *failed* to guide my son."
Morris, ever desperate to defend himself, stammered, "It wasn't our fault, Your Majesty! The humans—"
"Silence!" Goth's roar echoed through the temple, rattling the ancient stone walls. "The next time you take my son out hunting, you *will* ensure that he doesn't get lost. I do not tolerate failure. Luckily for you, my royal guard found Orpheus before you could cause further disgrace. But mark my words—this incompetence will not go unpunished forever."
Morris and Ebony bowed their heads low, the weight of their failure pressing down on them. "We will not fail you again, King Goth," Morris said shakily. "We promise."
"Dismissed," Goth snarled, his eyes narrowing to slits.
They scurried out of the chamber, their hearts still hammering. Outside the temple, the jungle stretched out in an endless sea of darkness, but it was a relief compared to Goth's cold wrath. They exchanged a look of shared fear and vowed never again to let humans capture them like helpless prey.
Meanwhile, within the temple, young Orpheus sat in the shadows, his wings folded as he thought quietly. He hadn't missed the tension in his father's voice or the way his mother, Phoenix, had glared at him when he returned from his misadventure. His mind, however, wasn't on his parents or their disappointed gaze—it was on the two Silverwing bats he had met in the jungle: Griffin and Luna.
Orpheus was confused. His father had always spoken of Silverwings as weak prey, enemies to their kind, but Griffin and Luna had been different. They had saved him. Why would they do that if they were his enemies?
His stomach churned at the thought of eating smaller bats like his father and the rest of the Vampyrum Spectral colony. He knew it was expected of him, that his future as Goth's heir meant he would one day rule over the bloodthirsty colony. But the thought of tearing into Griffin or Luna sickened him.
Instead of mice or bats, Orpheus slipped quietly out of the temple, seeking the small, harmless creatures that wouldn't make him feel guilt with every bite. The cool night air filled his lungs as he flew to the nearby river, where he hunted for fish, insects, and beetles. These were the meals that didn't weigh on his conscience.
He knew his parents would disapprove. Goth had always been clear: to rule, one must be strong, cunning, and merciless. But Orpheus wasn't like his father. He wasn't ruthless, and though he tried to suppress it, a part of him couldn't help but think back to the kindness Griffin and Luna had shown him.
As he finished his quiet meal, the young bat stared up at the moonlit sky, torn between the life his family had laid out for him and the strange, impossible friendship that called to him from the jungle beyond.
The jungle seemed endless, a vast sea of green and shadow as Thomas Cannon moved steadily through the undergrowth. At his side, his daughter Mariam kept pace, her eyes sharp and inquisitive, taking in every detail of their surroundings. The midday heat was stifling, but neither of them seemed to mind. This was their element—out in the wild, searching for the creatures that fascinated them both.
"Dad," Mariam began, brushing a vine out of her path, "what kind of bats are we looking for out here? I've never heard of this region being home to anything unusual."
Thomas adjusted the straps on his pack, his gaze fixed ahead. "There have been reports," he said, his voice low with a hint of excitement. "Rumors, really—about silver-haired bats spotted in this jungle. They don't belong here, though. These bats come from the northern regions, from Canada."
Mariam frowned, interest sparking in her blue eyes. "Silver-haired bats? In Mexico? How could they have ended up this far south? Someone must have brought them here."
"That's exactly what I've been thinking," Thomas agreed. "They couldn't have come here on their own. And it's not just the bats—there have been sightings of owls too. Big ones. Boreal owls, and possibly others. They're not native to this area either."
"But why?" Mariam asked, her voice puzzled. "Who would bring bats and owls all the way down here?"
Thomas hesitated for a moment, glancing at his daughter. "I'm not entirely sure," he admitted. "But I heard some troubling things on the news recently. There's talk of a terrorist group, one that's been using animals—specifically bats—as weapons. They've been strapping explosives to the bellies of certain bat species and releasing them to cause destruction."
Mariam's expression darkened at the thought. "That's horrible," she said, her voice dropping. "And you think they've been using the silver-haired bats for that?"
"It's possible," Thomas replied grimly. "But it's just a theory for now. What's important is that these bats and owls don't belong here. We need to find them, study them, and see if we can help get them back to Canada, where they belong."
Determination flickered in Mariam's eyes. "We can't let them get caught up in something like that," she said. "They're too important to the ecosystems back home. We have to help them."
Thomas nodded, his expression proud. "That's the plan," he said. "Once we locate them, we'll get in touch with the rest of the team and arrange to transport them safely back north. But first, we have to find them."
As they pressed on, the light in the jungle began to fade. The sun dipped below the horizon, and the chorus of nighttime creatures began to rise, filling the air with sounds of the wild. Thomas glanced up at the sky. "We should set up camp soon," he said. "It'll be dark before long."
Mariam nodded, and together, they cleared a small area near a cluster of trees. Thomas built a fire, the orange glow illuminating their camp as the shadows grew deeper around them. Mariam rummaged through her bag, pulling out her notebook and scribbling down thoughts about the day's journey. She glanced up, and her eyes caught movement above the treetops.
"Dad!" she whispered urgently, pointing skyward.
Thomas followed her gaze, just in time to see a massive shape glide through the darkening sky. Its wingspan was enormous, silhouetted against the twilight. The creature circled above them briefly before disappearing into the trees.
"That was a Vampyrum Spectrum bat," Thomas said, his voice hushed with awe. "The false vampire bat. They're rare, Mariam—carnivorous and one of the largest species of bats in the world. They eat meat... and yes, they're known to be cannibals."
Mariam's eyes widened. "I've read about them, but I never thought I'd see one in the wild."
"Few do," Thomas replied, his tone thoughtful. "They're apex predators out here, not like the bats we study back home."
The two of them sat quietly for a while, the weight of their conversation lingering in the air. The fire crackled softly, and the sounds of the jungle seemed to press closer.
"We'll find those silver-haired bats," Mariam said after a moment, her voice resolute. "And we'll bring them back to where they belong."
Thomas smiled at his daughter, his heart swelling with pride. "We will," he agreed. "But for now, let's get some rest. We'll continue searching tomorrow."
With that, they crawled into their tents, the sounds of the jungle lulling them to sleep as the fire flickered gently against the night. Somewhere far off in the darkness, the Vampyrum Spectrum bats soared through the trees, hunting, as the Cannons rested, unaware of the dangers that still lurked ahead.
Back at the ancient Mayan Temple, the Vampyrum Spectrum colony gathered for a savage feast, their eyes gleaming with hunger and cruelty. The night was alive with the sound of flesh tearing and bones cracking as the giant bats devoured their prey—lizards, mice, and, most chillingly, smaller bats caught in the jungle. The air was thick with the stench of blood and the sharp, metallic taste of death.
Goth, the king of the colony, sat on a stone throne, his piercing eyes scanning his subjects. Beside him was his mate, Phoenix, her sleek black fur shining in the dim light of the temple torches. Together they ruled the colony with an iron claw, their reign marked by terror and bloodshed.
At the edge of the feast, Throbb, Goth's overweight brother-in-law, greedily gnawed on a rat, bits of fur sticking to his snout as he devoured his meal with enthusiasm. Across from him, the other Vampyrum bats tore into their own prey with similar savagery. The colony was a family of predators, united by their hunger for dominance.
All except one.
Orpheus, Goth and Phoenix's only son, sat apart from the rest, his wings wrapped around his small frame. Before him lay a rat, untouched. His heart ached as he stared at it, the idea of eating it revolting to him. Orpheus had always preferred softer foods—bugs, fish—anything but the smaller creatures that his family so eagerly consumed. He couldn't bring himself to eat another bat, or any of the jungle creatures they deemed prey. The thought of it made his stomach turn.
Phoenix noticed her son's hesitation and leaned in with a cold glare. "Eat, Orpheus," she said, her voice like ice. "You cannot be the heir to the Vampyrum throne if you refuse to feast like a true predator."
Orpheus swallowed hard and looked up at his mother, then at his father, whose expression was hard and unyielding. "I... I can't, Mother. Not tonight."
"You will," Goth rumbled from his throne, his voice like distant thunder. "You are a Vampyrum Spectrum. We do not show weakness."
Reluctantly, Orpheus reached out with trembling claws and took a bite of the rat. The taste of warm blood filled his mouth, and he felt a wave of nausea. He forced himself to chew, tears stinging his eyes. He could feel the weight of his parents' gaze, and the judgment of his entire colony, but no amount of scolding could make him the predator they wanted him to be.
As Orpheus fought to finish his meal, a voice broke the tense atmosphere. It was Voxzaco, the high priest of Cama Zotz. The elderly bat stood tall, his wings spread wide as he led the colony in a prayer to their dark god.
"Cama Zotz, lord of the eternal night," Voxzaco intoned, his voice echoing through the temple. "Grant us your strength. Show us how to destroy our enemies—the silver-haired bats and their allies, the owls—and lead young Orpheus to his rightful place as the apex predator he was born to be."
At that moment, Edom, the captain of Goth's royal guard, entered the temple. His reddish-orange fur stood out against the dark stone walls, and his sharp eyes gleamed with ambition. Edom was Voxzaco's nephew and twin brother to Ebony, but he was also known as a power-hungry bat, constantly seeking ways to challenge Goth's authority. Many in the colony whispered that Edom secretly desired the throne for himself.
"My lord Goth," Edom said with a deep bow, though his tone lacked genuine respect. "I have news from the jungle."
Goth narrowed his eyes, his expression unreadable. "Speak, Edom."
"There are humans in the jungle," Edom continued, his voice laced with intrigue. "Two of them. They seem to be searching for something—perhaps the Silverwing bats that have been spotted here. Or maybe the owls."
The mention of the Silverwing bats, whom the Vampyrum Spectrum had come to know as enemies, caused a ripple of interest among the colony. Goth's thoughts immediately shifted to his old rival, Shade Silverwing. The memories of their past encounters stirred within him like a festering wound.
"Humans," Goth muttered, his fangs bared. "And Silverwing bats. Perhaps we should find Shade and his colony and their owl friends before those smelly humans do."
Edom bowed his head again, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Shall I gather a scouting party, my king?"
Goth's eyes darkened. "Take five of your best guards. Find Shade and his colony. Spy on them, and if the owls are there... we will strike. We will end this war before it begins."
Edom's smirk widened. "As you command, your majesty."
Without another word, Edom and his guards took flight, their wings carrying them into the dark jungle. The feast continued behind them, but Orpheus remained silent, his heart heavy. He couldn't shake the feeling that the Silverwings—those creatures his family called enemies—weren't as evil as they were made out to be.
Far away, in the dense jungle, Mariam Cannon slept peacefully in her tent. The stars above twinkled through the canopy, casting faint light over the camp where she and her father, Thomas, had settled for the night. The sounds of the jungle—chirping insects, distant animal calls—lulled her into a deep sleep.
But as the night deepened, a strange, glowing blue light appeared, drifting silently through the trees. It moved with purpose, weaving between branches and leaves until it found its way to Mariam's tent. The ethereal light hovered over her for a moment before slowly descending, entering her dreams.
Inside her mind, the jungle melted away. Mariam found herself standing in a vast, starry void, surrounded by galaxies and constellations. In front of her, a magnificent figure appeared—an enormous bat, shimmering with blue light. Its wings were adorned with stars, and its eyes glowed with ancient wisdom.
"Who are you?" Mariam asked, her voice trembling in disbelief.
"I am Nocturna," the bat replied, her voice melodic and calm. "Goddess of the night, and protector of balance. You, Mariam, have been chosen."
Mariam looked around in confusion, trying to make sense of the strange vision. "Chosen? For what? And how are you speaking to me?"
Nocturna's wings spread wide, filling the void with her presence. "There is a great danger approaching. My brother, Cama Zotz, seeks to return. His followers, the Vampyrum Spectrum, wish to plunge the world into eternal night. You must help bring the Silverwing bats and the owls back to the North after you help defeat the Vampyrum."
Mariam's mind raced with questions, but before she could ask, she felt a sudden change wash over her. Bright blue specks of light surrounded her, swirling and shimmering. "Wait! What's happening?" she cried, but Nocturna's figure began to fade away.
When Mariam finally woke, the first light of dawn streamed into her tent, and a feeling of disorientation washed over her. She glanced around, feeling something was off. As she looked down, a shriek escaped her lips—she was no longer human.
She had shrunk to the size of a silver-haired bat. Her arms were now bat wings, and she flapped them in a panic, struggling to comprehend the shocking transformation. "What's happening?!" she squeaked, her voice high and frantic, filled with fear and confusion. Mariam stumbled out of her tent, her heart racing in her tiny chest.
The world loomed larger than it ever had before—the trees towering overhead, the sounds of the jungle amplified and strange. She looked down at her wings, stretching them out in disbelief, trying to comprehend what had happened. Her once-human hands were now thin, leathery membranes, fingers extended into long, delicate bones that flexed and moved as though she had always been like this.
"No, no, no, no!" she whispered frantically, her voice high-pitched and foreign to her own ears. "This can't be real."
Her eyes darted toward her father's tent, just a few feet away, but it might as well have been miles. She rushed toward it, her tiny bat body moving awkwardly across the ground as she tried to make sense of her new form. Reaching the entrance, she paused, staring at the zipper.
"How am I supposed to—" she started, but when she tried to grip it with her new claws, it slipped away, impossible to manage with her bat wings. She struggled for a moment, trying to tug it open with her teeth, then with her claws, but nothing worked.
"Dad!" she squeaked, her tiny voice a shadow of her old one. She stopped. Even if he woke up, he wouldn't understand her now—she wasn't speaking his language. She was a bat, and humans couldn't understand bats. The realization hit her like a wave, and she sat back on her haunches, panic welling up inside her.
"Dad," she called out again, softer this time, as if hoping he might somehow recognize her voice in the dark.
But there was no response from inside the tent. The sounds of her father's soft breathing filtered out to her, but nothing else. He was asleep, oblivious to what had happened to his daughter.
Mariam's heart ached, and she felt tears welling up in her eyes. She had no idea what to do. She couldn't talk to him, couldn't wake him up, couldn't even get inside the tent. Feeling helpless, she turned away, her wings dragging in the dirt as she moved.
"I can't stay here," she whispered to herself. "I'll just... I'll figure it out."
Taking a shaky breath, Mariam looked around the camp one last time before she spread her wings and awkwardly began to flap. It wasn't enough to lift her off the ground, but she felt a strange instinct tugging at her, guiding her. She shuffled toward a nearby tree, its bark rough under her claws. She grabbed hold of the trunk and started to climb, using her wings to balance as she scaled the tree, her new instincts taking over.
Halfway up, her muscles began to ache, and the panic returned. "I can't do this..." she muttered, her voice trembling. "I can't—" But her body had other plans. She reached a low-hanging branch and, without thinking, hooked her claws onto it. Exhausted, her tiny body slumped, and before she realized what was happening, she was hanging upside down, her wings folded tightly against her chest.
Sleep overtook her like a wave, pulling her into a deep, dreamless slumber.
Hours passed, and when Mariam finally awoke, the jungle was alive with the sound of birds and insects. She blinked her tiny bat eyes, momentarily disoriented as she swung gently beneath the branch. For a brief, blissful moment, she had forgotten everything. But then it all came rushing back.
She was a bat. A tiny, silver-haired bat, hanging upside down in the middle of the jungle. Alone.
Mariam tried to scream, but the sound that came out was nothing like her human voice—just a small, high-pitched squeak. She flapped her wings in frustration, her whole body shaking with fear and confusion.
"Dad!" she called out again, but no answer came. The camp was far behind her now, and the jungle stretched endlessly in every direction.
Tears welled up in her eyes again, and she clung to the branch, unsure of what to do. The jungle, which had once been a place of wonder and exploration, now felt like a vast, terrifying labyrinth. She was too small to make her way through it, too weak to fight back if something found her.
"I can't stay here," she whispered to herself again, her voice filled with desperation. "I have to find Dad. He'll know what to do."
But where could she go? She had no idea how far she had climbed, no idea where she was in relation to the camp. And worst of all, she was no longer human. Her father wouldn't even recognize her.
Taking a deep breath, Mariam forced herself to move. She spread her wings again, this time with more determination, flapping them until she was airborne. The sensation of flying was strange, terrifying at first, but there was something instinctive about it. Her body knew what to do, even if her mind didn't.
She glided through the trees, searching for any sign of her father's camp, but the deeper she flew into the jungle, the more disoriented she became. She was lost, utterly and completely lost.
As she flew through the darkening canopy, fatigue began to weigh on her again. She spotted another branch, far up in the trees, and flew toward it, landing with a small thud. Once again, she hooked her claws into the bark, her body swaying gently in the breeze.
Mariam hung there, exhausted and frightened. The reality of her situation was sinking in deeper now. She was a bat, far from her father, and alone in a jungle filled with dangers. And worst of all, there was no way to communicate with him, no way to tell him that his daughter was still out here—just not in the form he'd recognize.
Feeling a wave of sadness wash over her, Mariam closed her eyes, gripping the branch a little tighter as she whispered to herself, "What am I going to do now?"