Age: ~350 Mates: Midnightsun, Honeyfrost Role: Architect, Logistics, Enchanter Alignment: Neutral Good

“Where did you learn to do that, skydancer ma’am?” Daybreak turned from her work--a fine netting of interlocking ice crystals--to face the dragon who spoke. It was a dark blue imperial, and though he towered over her, he was still gangly and clumsy like any other hatchling. Stormtide, that was his name. He was a new arrival at the Waypoint, displaced by a border dispute between Arcane and Ice. He was the youngest out of all the refugees, not even fully fledged. “I learned from my parents,” she answered, holding out the ice netting so the hatchling could have a closer look. “And you can call me Daybreak.”

He blinked his massive pink eyes. “Who taught your parents, Daybreak ma’am? Did they come up with it?”

“No, my parents learned from their parents, who learned from their parents. At some point, someone invented this technique, but it was so long ago we don’t know who.” She gave a brief demonstration, doing each step slowly so Stormtide could follow how she created, shaped, and linked the tiny ice chains together.

The hatchling nodded sagely. “It looks like the armor the soldiers wear. Is that what it is? Chain armor?”

Daybreak did her best to ignore the sudden sadness that clenched her heart, that a hatchling would be so used to war that it was the first thing on his mind. Instead, she craned her neck and, like she was sharing some big secret, whispered into his ear, “Do you want me to show you what it’s for?”

Stormtide nearly bowled her over in his excitement. “Yes! Show me!” Then he struggled to still himself, all but vibrating in place. “I mean, yes please, show me the ice, Daybreak. Ma’am.”

“Then follow me.”

The hatchling quivered with excitement the entire walk, thrilled to be let in on a Waypoint “secret”. Daybreak hummed happily to herself, managing to not laugh at the young imperial’s antics.

She turned a sharp corner, and paused. “Do you know where we are, Stormtide?”

“Um, maybe?” He looked around, looking at the distinctive carvings on the walls of the tunnels. “Near the Gardens, I think.”

“Correct. But this isn’t the main way into the Gardens, this lets you into a secret place.” She stressed the word secret just to see his pink eyes light up with joy. “If we just go up this tunnel, we’ll be there.”

Stormtide bolted in.

She heard his gasp from outside, before finally going up into the small chamber herself. It was one of her prouder designs, a small semi-enclosed area overlooking the Gardens. The walls were rounded and rough, to mimic a natural cave, and the side that opened to the Gardens was lined with false stalagmites and stalactites. But the beauty of it came from the ice: ice crystals that glowed in the ceiling and filled the cave with diffuse light, frost swirls that spiraled like shapeless flowers over the floor and walls, ice mesh garlands in dozens of pastels that hung down like glittering clouds.

“It’s, it’s--wow.” Stormtide tripped on his own tail trying to turn and see everything all at once. “What is this place called, Daybreak?”

“I call it the Court of Ice.” The skydancer stood beside him, her white feathers puffing up proudly. “You can come here whenever you want, Stormtide. I made this pace to be as beautiful as possible.”

“So much of the Waypoint is pretty…” Stormtide said softly, gazing down at the lush Gardens.

“There’s already so much in the world that’s painful and ugly,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady against her own memories. “What we all need sometimes is to imagine a place that’s not.”

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