Ghost

There were whispers around the clan.

About a dark, battle-scarred guardian flickering past in the corner of someone's eye. A shadow, briefly taking form just to disappear again as quickly as it came. Always at night.

Some claimed they had seen him wandering the main lair, some had seen him in the corridors connecting the smaller lairs around the main one. Some had even seen him entering dens, or at least one specific den. He seemed to hold a special interest for Nyx, the troubled imperial. Nyx never mentioned his presence though, but with her you could never know if it was because she had never seen him or if her illness just made her forget about it.

The rumours prevailed. They started calling him "the ghost of Silverfields" and the legend grew. Some, especially youngsters, claimed he was malicious and if you spoke his true name three times he would possess you. Others theorized that he was a benevolent spirit that never managed to find his charge in life but kept searching in death.

Only one knew.

In the dead of the night a white shape wandered restlessly among his sleeping clanmates. Ariel, the dreamwalker, never slept and at night his mind was alive as it visited the dragons he passed by. He calmed those he could, but did not touch their dreams too much, because dreams are important. He passed by dragons after dragon without hesitating until he reached the large den of Nyx and Erebus. Both the imperials were sleeping, side-by-side but not quite tangled up the way most dragons did when they were entirely comfortable with each other. But on Nyx's other side there was a large, black shape. Ariel watched him silently and the guardian met his gaze without flinching. A moment passed, then the skydancer nodded in recognition and turned to continue his wandering. The black guardian lowered his large, scarred head to the ground again. His secret was safe another night.