Cormac

The child of two shade infected dragons, the hatchlings of Darkstrike and Fect are anything but normal. Ranging from beings made of darkness to beings with shining jet-black feathers, the hatchlings tend to have an ear for music and a fascination with dreams.

Cormac gets what he wants. A true shade-born child, he doesn't deny that he enjoys feasting on the dreams of all dragons, young and old. He doesn't have an affinity for music though, the dragon rather tune-deaf. He enjoys to wreak havoc within unsuspecting clans, integrating himself into the clan and slowly eating their sanity.
Credit to Rosenbriar for writing above.

Cormac was standing over Sundew, feasting on the small hatchling’s Dreams. Her eyes were scrunched up, and she was whimpering. Slowly sinking into her consciousness, he slumped down beside her.
In her dreamscape, Sundew was in a dark cave with large beasts looming over here. They looked like dragons, but their horns were twisted like ram horn and they stood on two legs, but unlike coatls and wildclaws, their wings weren’t feathery. But this didn’t matter to Cormac. He simply needed the energy he got from Sundew, leeching off her nightmarish dreamscape.
“What are you doing here.” Said a voice behind him, quiet but with an air of danger. Cormac whipped around and looked at the dragon behind him.
“Chamomile.” He hissed. He knew she was a member of the Dream-Lullaby family, but he had hoped she had gotten her mother’s powers... Oh well. He was a shade-born dragon, no dream meddler could stop him.
“You best stop meddling. Camellia would hate to find out you were meddling with this poor dear’s nightmares.” Cormac cooed tauntingly. Chamomile stiffened, her gaze hardening. The young coatl’s face looked aged with wisdom and hatred in the silver glow of her candles.
“I am a dream walker. You will not stop me, shade. I know what you are. You will not drive my clan to madness. I will make sure of that, if it’s the last thing I do.” Chamomile dug her claws into the rocky earth and the room shifted from a nightmarish hellscape to a breezey field just before dawn.
Chamomile slashed her claws against Cormac’s opaline face, throwing him out of Sundew’s mind.

Cormac shot up next to Sundew. He touched his face, but it was as smooth and pristine as before. The shadeborn hatchling slinked away to his room, thinking of a way to overthrow Chamomile.

———————
Cormac lay in the dreary cave, lashing his tail and gazing over the clan with a predatory glare. He had to find someone who genuinely hated the clan and hold aid him in destroying it. A large snapper was lumbering through the streets with a small Nocturne perched on his wings.
Milkweed and.. Damara? Datura? He didn’t know and quite frankly, didn’t care. Neither of them would be useful. Milkweed was strong, but dumber than a pile of rocks on a sunny day. The Nocturne was scary, but she didn’t like Cormac very much. She had never talked to him unless she was on patrol and even then she looked like she wanted to sink her claws into his perfect, gorgeous face. That wouldn’t do.
Perhaps the Skydancer that was a hitwoman. Her claws were stained red and she had knives under her dress. Smart and knew what to do. Only problem was, he didn’t know her. But...
Cormac looked at her fiancé, who was wrapped around another red Skydancer. It wouldn’t take much for someone to give her a job that was too much easy and let her come home to... this. And well, when she was mad, he would swoop in to help her and then she would owe him a favor. “Yes. That’s what I’ll do,” Cormac decided, standing up and going to the library to write a fake request for the Assasin.