"There you go, little ones.... safe and sound..."

The soft, affectionate voice of Chopin echoed through the warm cavern as he placed the tiny hatchlings in a bed of moss and feathers. They squealed and reached for his snout, giggling as he softly nuzzled their heads. A pang of sadness hit the Wildclaw; this would likely be the last time he'd see this batch of younglings, as they were all either too young to remember him... or even still in their eggs.

He forced a smile and cooed, "Now, be good for your new parents, pups." He booped the babies on the nose and chirped, "Any dragon would be lucky to have hatchlings like you..."

The sense of finality in his tone made the babbling youngsters still, their eyes filling with slight worry. Chopin reassured them with a last chirp and a pat on the head, before he tucked them into the nest and backed out of the cave, hiding the entrance with a bunch of leaves.

"You're going soft." A sudden voice broke Chopin from his thoughts, and he squeaked. He whirled around to face a familiar, large Gaoler, who glowered down at him with a frozen gaze. The Gaoler rumbled, "You cannot continue on like this. It pains you to let go of the children, doesn't it? The loneliness, the feeling of losing your family... it shall break you."

Chopin's wings drooped at the last sentence, any possibility of a snappy retort dying on his tongue. He sighed and trotted past his large companion, slinging his satchel, still full of spare fur, feathers, and leaves, across his shoulder.

"Thanks, Mully," he snorted. His eyes were dim with dismay as he muttered, "I needed that. You're a real ray of sunshine."

Mully huffed, shaking his head. His luxurious coat, filled with small ice crystals, seemed to shimmer in the dim moonlight, his ice blue eyes glowing softly as he whispered, "You seek to fill the void left behind by your own offspring." His tone was level, deadpan, even. "The very same work that fulfills you... pains you with each rescue. Am I correct?"

Chopin scrambled over a slippery rock, his claws catching the edge by a hairline crack. He stumbled, hopping to perch on the boulder's peak, before glancing back at Mully, who lumbered slowly behind. "I'm not empty. Or pained." He hummed, his voice taking on a bitterly mirthful tone, "I'm a Wildclaw stork."

Mully mused, "I do not see how a waterfowl, delicious as it is when roasted, relates to this situation."

The Wildclaw stork analogy shook his head, grumbling. "Forget it." He slid down the rock, his tail twitching, before he raced towards a well-trodden path through the trees, no longer so clumsy now that he was on familiar terrain. He slowed to a stop upon reaching what seemed to be a small, humble hut, fashioned from logs, tree sap, and a thick, musky material made from the pelt of a kelpie (meant to keep out water, of course.)

His Gaoler companion trotted after, picking up the pace. "You already plan to retire for the night?" Despite his questioning tone, he curled up, resting with his legs folded beneath him and his tail wrapped around his form like a blanket of sorts. He glanced at Chopin, who was emptying the dried moss from his bag into the fire. Rippling green smoke curled from the blaze, as if the flame were content with its "snack."

The sight made Mully's fur stand on end, and he sighed, shaking his head and settling fully, nestled among the fluorescent plant life. He hummed softly, "The fire's tone is odd..."

The Wildclaw responded proudly, "It's laced with garlic and some other stuff. It'll keep animals away, but we won't smell it at all."

Mully sniffed the air, then wrinkled his nose. "I think you're forgetting..." He shook his head and snorted. "My sense of smell is much more powerful than yours..."

Chopin ignored him, retrieving a mug from his bag. He emptied a canteen of water into the mug and dropped a packet of tea into it. Almost instantly, a warm, aromatic steam rose from the tea, and the Wildclaw sighed.

He took a sip and smirked at Mully. "Say what you want... but all I can smell is this delicious..." He paused to look at the worn label on the packet. "Hibiscus... ginger root tea...?"

Mully chuckled, amused by his companion's confusion. "I see..." He pulled his own bags over, retrieving the final egg, a small, shimmering Light egg. He hummed, "Where did you say this one was meant to go?"

Chopin swallowed the overly sweet tea and coughed, "S-Shadow territory."

Mully froze. "A Light child... in midst of Shadow? Surely you jest?"

Chopin shook his head, sighing. "Look, I know it sounds crazy-"

"Utterly so."

Chopin snapped halfheartedly at Mully for the interruption, before continuing, "Hear me out. Light and Shadow are rivals. I mean, there's a whole carnival game formed around that idea, as sick as it is. I think... introducing the two sides to each other would help things."

The Gaoler turned away, his voice barely above a whisper. "You saw how that turned out when Plague and Nature attempted to reach peace..."

Chopin rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, we all heard the story. But those were ambassadors. Adult dragons who already formed an opinion of each other. What about kids? Pearlcatcher hatchlings who'll grow up loving their Nocturne families, no matter what magic they breathe or how their eyes glow."

Mully glanced at Chopin, considering.

The Wildclaw couldn't be stopped. He rambled on, almost manic. "Call it treason. Call it madness, but... this could be the answer to Exaltation! No more dragons being sent away to fight in a pointless war. You and I may not see a big difference between... I dunno, Ice and Nature... but some dragons do. The deities themselves pit us against each other... and if we could overturn that... oh I'd give anything to see that-"

"ENOUGH!" Mully roared.

Chopin froze mid-sentence, halfway through another manic gesture. His wings folded tightly against his sides, and he flinched. "W-what..?"

Mully stood, towering over the Wildclaw, who only seemed to shrink. His eyes flared angrily. "I may not be a... traditional sort of Gaoler... but I do know this..." He paused, before stomping upon the earth.

Cracks raced along the soil, the temperature dropping. The wind halted, and the fire, once a brilliant, magical cyan, was snuffed out and turned to ice. The plants in the area seemed to wilt, frost forming as branches froze over with a snap. Even the sky seemed to darken in the immediate surroundings, though not too much, and the magic in the air tasted of mint and foul ichor.

Chopin squeaked, staring up at his friend. "Mully..?"

The Gaoler hissed, "I've frozen the earth, the fire, the flora, and the wind. While I cannot do much about the sun and the shadows, the ice should blot out any connection..." He shook his head.

Chopin tilted his head, concern riddling his expression. "Mull, you're really scaring me..." He tried to inch away.

Mully snapped, "You cannot just... speak so callously... of overthrowing the Eleven like that. While I've dulled the other perception of this spot, if he so pleased, the Icewarden could listen through the frost, could hear this treacherous conversation.... could possibly..."

He reached out, drawing a jagged (more jagged than normal?!) claw over Chopin's neck. "Slay you... and end this rebellion where it stands."

Mully's piercing gaze flickered, and he whispered, "Do you understand..?"

Chopin nodded meekly, struggling to catch a breath. His own electrical magic was forced down, until he coughed up freezing blue liquid. He whimpered, "Mully... s-stop..."

Mully's gaze softened, and he sighed. "Very well." He turned away, and the ice melted.

Plants sprung to life, flames crackled, and light and shadow seemed to dance as the wind picked up in a blustery gale; as if the elements themselves were offended by their silencing, now singing, unbound and glorious. Mully looked at it all, his eyes taking on a paler shade, a more familiar hue. His normal, tranquil expression had returned, and he hummed, "Come on, Chopin. We ought to get that egg to its home. Ice territory, right?"

Chopin stood shakily, his ears ringing. He shook his head and mumbled, dumbfounded, "Ice..?"

Mully crooned, "Why yes, Ice is the perfect home for it."

Chopin blinked owlishly. "What about the Shadow-" He cut off, breaking into a series of coughs.

The Gaoler looked over his shoulder and hummed, "Whatever is wrong, my friend?" He looked genuinely concerned, even pausing to allow Chopin to catch up. He rested a great paw on the Wildclaw's shoulder; Chopin noted vaguely that his friend's claws were back to normal...

Chopin stared at Mully for a long time, shaking. He sighed, his eyes seeming to dull. "Nevermind." He grabbed his bags and forced a smile, taking a sip of his now ice cold tea. "Better pick up the pace if we want to get to the Southern Icefield!"

Chopin hurried along, forcing himself to ignore the creeping dread filling his heart. His eyes shimmered with forced glee, and he clutched the egg, wishing that he could keep just this one. The faint heartbeat of the Pearlcatcher had nearly stilled. The egg, frozen solid in his claws, glowed softly, the light trapped within.

The two companions made their way, performing their duties. One, an adventurer whose rebellious nature was silenced, and the other, an unwilling puppet of his own element.

One element, spared from the frigid silencing, crackled in the air, the winds thick with ozone....

By PrinceBirb08



By Horocol

By nobraincellbard