Absinthe

The sun slowly rose above the horizon, clouds lightning up to bleed bright lights of orange and yellow to stain what parts of the sky that were visible a pleasant pastel pink. Birds sang their songs, cheerfully calling out to their family that they had made it through the treacherous night. They flew to their nests in glee, nuzzling up to their partners as their tunes filled the air. The time of day was ripe for song. It was the part of the morning when virtually no dragons were awake, as only the extremist morning dragons and those getting ready to retire from a night shift would be up at such an hour of the day. Even the dragons that were awake were often tired, as guards keeping watch over their clan hardly found the blooming activity of their prey enticing, dedicating all of their attention to protecting the clan and not falling asleep. The same could be said for more important dragons as well, for Shadice, albiet a hardworking clan leader and diligent protector of her classmates, much preferred sleeping through the morning whilst the guards were still active. As a matter of fact, most of the dragons of the Clan of Scattered Bones were not morning dragons, with only a small fraction of their group being up at such a time. Therefore, what happened next and the events that followed should have come at no surprise.

That morning was a particularly dreary one, with gray clouds filling the sky as an eerie fog wreathed around trees and filled the landscape. Shadice had been sleeping in a small shack bordering the clan's hunting grounds, relaxed on a chair she had dozed off in, head tilted backwards and front two paws folded across her chest. The Mirror was suddenly awoken by a loud thunk and a creaking of wood, as if something had landed on the roof of the shack, followed by the sound of something rolling and then a lifeless thud on the dusty ground outside. The Mirror startled, limbs flailing before she sunk her claws into the wood of the chair to steady herself. Her chest rose and fell quickly for a few moments, before returning to a steady pace rather quickly. Shadice was usually never surprised for long, and her experience at a leader had given her a rather calm disposition no matter what obstacle or peril she faced. So the Mirror stood up, calmly yet cautious, and walked to the door. Opening it, she peered outside, four eyes quickly falling on the still form right in front of the door. Despite the mist, Shadice quickly realized what the form was, and her heart fell when it dawned upon her what had just happened.

Time passed, and soon the time of day was acceptable for dragons to start waking up. One of the clan's warriors, Minthe, had decided to check on her leader. Usually, Shadice preferred that her subjects wait longer than a few hours before seeking her out, since she was always attending to different situations, but the Wildclaw didn't care. She was closer to Shadice that most, so she doubted that the Mirror would mind. Flying towards the hunting grounds where she had last seen Shadice, it didn't take long for her the spot her leader. Minthe squinted her eyes as she observed her leader appearing to dig a hole, with a huddled mass beside it. As Minthe neared, she felt her throat run dry. Shadice didn't turn when the Wildclaw landed behind her, recognizing from the scent of the dragon that it was Minthe and she meant no harm or hostilities. She continued to plunge the shovel into the dirt, now slightly damp with dew and mist, shoveling it out to make a grave. Minthe tried to avoid looking at the pile next to the hole that was definitely not dirt, but in the end her curiosity got the best of her.

"What do you think happened?" the Wildclaw sighed, wringing her paws together, claws scratching at her scales uneasily. Shadice stood up, letting out a deep breath as she turned her head to meet Minthe's gaze evenly.

"I'd guess that it's the war," the Mirror shrugged. "It's been particularly vicious. There aren't any burns on the outside, but the inside is fully cauterized, and seeing as whoever killed her took the time to drop her on my doorstep, I'm going to say it was a threat from a Fire flight. It's sad, but, it's a part of life. That's how war is. We send off our children to choose a side... and in the end most of them die carrying out the highest honor a dragon can receive. It is such a shame that some choose to disrespect the body, however. A disgrace to the flight indeed."

Minthe averted her eyes from her leader's even stare, despite the fact that she knew that Shadice wasn't blaming her for anything. Being one of the only two Fire flight dragons in the Clan of Scattered Bones, Minthe sometimes felt like an outcast when there were particularly nasty dominance battles between one of the deities and the Flamecaller. She was loyal to Shadice, no doubt, but sometimes she could imagine other dragons staring holes into her back. In avoiding Shadice's gaze, Minthe inadvertently looked at the corpse. It hadn't been her intention, and although she definitely didn't want to, she couldn't look away. The Nocturne had shimmering white scales, and were it not for the many wounds and holes covering her body she would have been a pure, shimmering white dragon. She had been wounded grievously, with the flesh pulled from her bones to reveal ribs, the spine, and other parts of her skeleton. Flesh hung from her neck, having opened up the main artery, a crude imitation of a Nocturne's neck sail. The limbs jutted at an awkward angle, but seeing as the flesh wasn't bruised, it was probably post-mortem. A result of being dropped from such a high height. The eyes were flat out missing, but from smell alone it was easy to tell that this Nocturne belonged to Plague. Minthe could only shudder as she tried to imagine what this dragon's final moments would have been like. Beside her, Shadice finally finished digging the grave. Wordlessly, she stood up and brushed the dirt off of her scales. Picking up the broken body without so much as a grimace or flinch, Shadice gently lay it in the grave. The Mirror then said a few words, charming the body so that insects and other flesh-eating vermin would stay away, leaving only rot and disease to consume the flesh. "As a child of the Plaguebringer, it's what she would want," Shadice whispered as she and Minthe filled the grave, saying a quiet prayer before they finally flew off.

~~~~
The moon was already high in the sky, although one could hardly tell. The clouds hung over the land bringing on an oppressive heat and darkness. But Shadice could hardly care, for she was busy walking through the expansive cave system that ran under the Clan of Scattered Bones. It was always damp and cool down there, cold enough to make almost any dragon shiver, and even in the daytime it was pitch black. Shadice padded along the rocky tunnels, her only light source being the burning candles that floated around her at all times, and the flickering lantern that hung from her tail. What Shadice was doing down in the caves, she wouldn't say. She was under no obligation to alert her subjects of the reason of her frequent spelunking down in the caves as long as she always made sure to let them know that she was going down there, incase there was an emergency up top or she didn't return after a worrying amount of time. But whatever reason Shadice had decided to go down into the caves that night, it wasn't to find anything out of the ordinary. Had that been her original intention, she might not have found anything. Such is often how fate works. But seeing as Shadice had not gone down in the caves to search for something odd, something odd is exactly what she found. Shadice must have been about an hour into the caves when she suddenly saw something in front of her. Floating lights, glowing a bright yellow and fiery orange in color. The color of fire. Such was unusual, seeing as the only light source in the caves was the occasional green glow from the walls, there were no light-producing creatures that lived in said cave, and Shadice would have scented if another dragon was down there. Instead, all the Mirror could scent was the faint smell of smoke and charred scales.

Fearlessly, Shadice quickened her pace, approaching the floating wisps with an emotionless look on her face. Whatever it was would not scare her. The lights did not scatter when Shadice approached, and only moved when the Mirror was practically on top of them. Shadice watched as the lights began to swirl around her head, bouncing along at a leisurely and yet excited pace. Slowly, they began to grow and expand, taking on a more distinct appearance. When they were finally done changing, Shadice noted that they looked like a lux spectre that was made entirely of fire. She watched as their tiny faces gawked at her before contorting in to sadistic, gleeful smiles. They laughed, a hiss as if a dragon was blowing air through their fangs. The tiny apparitions covered their mouthes with their arms as they tumbled along the air in delight, laughing for what seemed like an eternity. Shadice refused to speak throughout the entire bought of laughter, staring at the creatures defiantly. Finally, one managed to get a few words out through its incessant giggling. "I see you met our friend!" it gasped, the voice sounding like a high-pitched and yet breathless whisper. It returned to laughing after that, all three of the wisps cackling harder as if in on some hilarious inside joke. Shadice was no fool. She lifted a lip, sneering at the wisps. "Indeed I have," she said, voice even and stern. "It was quite rude of your cohorts to drop her from the sky. Even animals have more courtesy than whoever thought that doing that was an acceptable act. She has been given a proper burial, and has been rightfully reunited with the Plaguebringer." The wisps were silent for a moment, before their whisper-like voices turned to irritable shrieks as they began laughing once more. Shadice felt a pit form in her stomach. She knew that there was a key piece of information that she was missing.

"Our poor little gift, locked in a grave!" they chanted, voice having a gleeful tone. "Not for long she isn't!" Shadice felt the pit turn ice cold. Of course. The Plague flight, despite having a rather gory aesthetic, was just as much oriented about life and survival as the Nature flight was. While the Gladekeeper focused on bringing life with the use of her plants, the Plaguebringer had a different glorious plan. She would craft the strongest dragons by putting them through trials and hardships. Her infections and diseases, pestilences and plagues, meant to wipe out the weaker dragons of other flights, were also made to test her owe children. Those that survived would become stronger against the illnesses, pass that strength on to their offspring, and so on. But the sick, twisted, and outright demented dragons of the Fire flight had used that love of survival that Plague held dear to them to their advantage. They had thought it would be funny to raise a corpse. And the corpse of a Plague dragon no less! Shadice shook her head and disgust. "How dare you kill a dragon, only to reanimate them to use their broken and battered body in a jest against their own flight," she scoffed. "Have you no morals? Certainly not even your kind would be so cruel as to withhold a soul from the freedom of the afterlife, and instead condemn them to eternal suffering as a walking corpse." The wisps stopped laughing once again, faces contorting in what looked like to be mock shock and horror. "Oh, how little you think of us!" they cried in an obviously fake hurt tone. "We are dearly offended, and wounded by your stab at our pride. Your new friend is nothing but a walking corpse! We were sure to incinerate its soul, and send it to the afterlife where it belongs. The creature we raised is mindless; nothing of the original dragon remains inside it." Shadice should have felt comfort at this, knowing the poor soul was finally at peace, but instead unease rose inside of her. Shadice knew how reanimated corpses worked, although such was information she'd rather now dwell on in the first place. When a soulless corpse was brought back to life, it was usually aimless at first, with no intentions. It would wander around like a deer that had its brains eaten out by parasites. However, they did have one goal, no matter the purpose that they were brought back to life for; They would want to get revenge on what had killed them. If it was the weather, then it would often get agitated and scream at the sky or something. But if it had been killed by dragons... it would seek them out. "I have nothing to fear from it -- I am a Plague dragon, and neither me nor any of my subjects took any part in that poor dragon's death," Shadice spat, although her sudden burst of anger didn't make her feel one bit better. The wisps sneered, faces full of malice and evil. "Oh, we know," they whispered, voice full of mirth that sent a shiver down Shadice's spine. "And we know that you're not in danger. Even corpses can smell flight differences!" One of the wisps leaned in close, too close, so close that Shadice could feel her snout being singed. "That's why we tore out her eyes."

But... but that could only mean.... Oh no. Shadice turned and began running back down the cave as fast as she could, desperately trying to reach the exit in time, all the while the wisps laughing maniacally behind her.

~~~~

The rest of the day had been uneventful for Minthe, the Wildclaw warrior born in Fire. Now the night, not so much. Minthe blinked open her eyes, a did so repeatedly for a few moments, unable to tell of they were open or closed. It was just too dark. She sighed and rolled over in her bed, attempting to get back to sleep. But she couldn't. No matter how she tried to focus on her breathing, to think of daydreams to lull her to sleep, she remained wide awake. And of course, a rather unpleasant image popped in her head. She wheezed, her mouth and throat suddenly feeling dry. She shifted in her bed, trying to get comfortable. The hole in her stomach only grew, and the more she moved the more she felt like she was going to throw up. It was just so horrible! The broken bones poking out of the scales, causing the limbs to fold over themselves unnaturally. How the flesh had been stripped to reveal the insides, but no major arteries had been ruptured before death, meaning that the dragon had most likely suffered a long and painful demise. How the chest cavity -- and even the head -- had been hollowed out and incinerated. Minthe wouldn't put it past the dragons who did this to have charmed the Nocturne's organs, or something like that, and use her corpse as an makeshift lantern. It wasn't like she was deaf to the horror stories that the dragons in the Clan of Scattered Bones often told each other. When entire flights battled against each other for dominance, they could often get quite cruel. Tales which told of the lengths that dragons went to make a statement or take revenge during these elemental battles were often told in warning, a plea for the clan to not become like those who had no honor. Minthe had never witnessed any of the cruelty these stories spoke of -- until now.

The longer she lie awake, the more fearful Minthe grew, but for a different reason than before. It had slowly dawned on her that her den was pitch black, when she usually kept a lamp on to illuminate it. Most of the dragons in the Clan of Scattered Bones slept in dens burrowed deep into a cliff face. It allowed for privacy, and caves couldn't be destroyed like houses. But the downside was, when there was no light filtering in from outside, you would be left in pitch black if your light source went out. Eyes widening in worry, Minthe could see the faintest glow from the embers in her lamp. Not enough to light up her den. Minthe lay still, but even so her terror just grew and grew. She didn't feel alone. She felt as if some malevolent force was in the den with her, biding its time until it struck. Minthe strained to hear something, anything that might insinuate she wasn't alone, even something as little as the tiniest breath, but there was nothing. Not a single sound. She desperately wanted to leap out and attack the darkness, taking whatever was in the den with her by surprise if there was something in the den, but fear kept her rooted to the spot. At some points, Minthe couldn't even tell if she herself was breathing due to how terrified and frozen she was. But as time tricked by, Minthe couldn't take the suspense anymore. She opened her mouth, allowing a blue flame to flicker in the back of her throat. It didn't work as well as she hoped. She still couldn't see anything, except-- wait, was that-- Minthe suddenly caught the horrid metallic stench of blood, now finally noticing the small puddle on her cave floor. She couldn't see the source, which was still hidden in darkness. Minthe felt ready to vomit. Suddenly having the impulse to get it over with, Minthe launched a fireball at her lamp. Of course, it incinerated the thing, lighting up in a ball of fire before crumbling to the ground, reduced to a pile of ashes. But it had done what it was supposed to. It had lit up the den, revealing the source of the blood and stench.

Minthe screamed.

And the Nocturne screamed louder.

Minthe tried to scramble backwards, to get away from this creature, but she was backed into a wall. The thing was on her in an instant, biting and scratching and tearing. It had no concept of where to attack, it only found a part and bit. Minthe wildly kicked out with her hind legs, as she could feel her claws meeting flesh and bone. She easily tore through the carcass of the fiend, but it never ceased its attack. She could feel the flesh falling to the ground in sick plops, draping around her feet in ribbons, but the creature never skipped a beat. Minthe screeched as her own blood started to run freely from her body, mixing in with the Nocturne's as a rather sizable puddle grew on the ground. As she kept fighting, Minthe began to cry. This was it. She was going to die.

Suddenly, the entrance of the cave filled up with a blue light. It never ceased its pursuit, bolting right towards Minthe and the Nocturne. From the shadows that were cast against the walls, Minthe recognized the dragons as Shadice. All questions on how the Mirror knew what was going on or how Shadice planned to stop the creature flew from Minthe's mind when her leader jumped in between her and the Nocturne. The creature hissed, preparing to lunge at this new adversary -- but then it stopped. Minthe could hear it sniffing, although the thing definitely didn't have any lungs. Shadice's expression was indiscernible, Minthe couldn't tell what she was thinking. Time seemed to stop as all three dragons stood still. Then, the Nocturne chirped, a grackle squawk that made Minthe jump and tense her limbs, preparing for another fight. And yet, it never came. The Nocturne approached Shadice and -- began nuzzling against her. Shadice didn't even seem surprised! The Nocturne made a guttural purring sound, winding around Shadice like a cat. Shadice sighed and began scratching in between the Nocturne's horns. It chirped happily, leaning into the touch. Minthe couldn't believe her eyes. "Wh-what...?" she stammered out, standing on shaky legs as she absentmindedly approached her leader and the Nocturne. Immediately, the Nocturne's attitude changed. It hunched over threateningly, letting out a low hiss. It prepared to leap at Minthe. But Shadice was faster. Pulling something dark from a satchel she held at her side, Shadice slammed it on the top of the dragon's head. The Nocturne shrieked, shaking its head and neck in confusion. Minthe could see whatever it was conform to the dragon, recognizing it to be made of linens and lace. It was a headdress of some sorts. When it was finally situated on the dragon's head, it stood up, no longer angered. Then, the white sockets in the mask blinked. Minthe screeched again. but the Nocturne did not fly into a rage. Instead, it approached the Wildclaw. It butted Minthe's hand, asking for the same scratches Shadice had given it. Minthe, shocked, could only give in, lightly scratching the Nocturne's head as it purred. Shadice shook her head sadly.

"It really is a terrible thing," she mused, Minthe staring at her. Shadice could only sigh. "The dragons who did this made sure the soul was gone, leaving only a vessel behind. Then, they rose the corpse, knowing it would be mindless and animalistic. And since they ripped out its eyes..." Shadice grit her teeth in anger. "They knew that it would attack any dragon that smelled of Fire, since it couldn't tell if the unfortunate victim was the dragon that had killed it or not." Minthe opened her mouth, and then closed it. "A-and... the m-mask?" she asked, gesturing in a dumfounded manner to the headdress. Shadice gave a defeated shrug. "Empty corpses don't follow the same natural laws that you or I would," she muttered. "If you add something on to it, it will, how do I saw this, become one with whatever it is. I just gave it eyes. I could also give it another pair of wings, or maybe a second tail." Shadice walked over to the Nocturne, where Minthe was still scratching it. The Mirror sat, now looking tired and sickly. Minthe nearly recoiled. She had never seen Shadice look so horrid. "I thought about killing her right away," she whispered, voice sounding broken "The only thing that can free a vessel from its curse is fire. I could have dragged it to some bonfire as soon as I knew what they had done to her. But she's been through so much pain and suffering already." Shadice dropped her face into her paws. Minthe couldn't help but feel sympathetic. Shadice was no stranger to taking lives, but she only did so if she felt that it would be justified, and would help protect more lives. The Mirror had a motherly nature, and felt her clanmates to be akin to her children. She would sacrifice anything for them. It was why Shadice kept them out of most flight wars -- she wanted to protect them. Minthe lay a paw on Shadice's shoulder, comforting her.

"War really is a terrible thing."