Heatherwrought

Mournsong noticed it immediately. There was a slight shift in the air; any normal dragon might not have even detected it, but she had trained herself to sense when even the smallest change occurred in her surroundings. A spell was being channeled.

She wasn't sure what exactly was being cast, but Mournsong decided she had to act fast. In the time she had spent investigating the ruins of the Lucidlight Clan's lair, she'd pinpointed a few locations that had seemed off to her. Mournsong returned to one of those locations now. A cave-in of what she assumed used to be a window. The skydancer had previously attempted to excavate the crumbled marble and enter the abandoned lair, but every time her efforts had been fruitless, as the marble seemed to be endless. Not to mention whenever she left and returned, she could have sworn there was more marble back in place.

Mournsong's feathers stood on end as she began to desperately claw at the marble chunks one last time. She could sense a strange energy crackling in the air now, but it was nothing she recognized. This isn't the Lightweaver's magic... or any elemental magic at all!

As she heaved another brick out of the way, Mournsong nearly jumped out of her feathers. A green and aqua paw was poking through the rubble. Was it one of the members of the Lucidlight Clan who had perished?

Mournsong forgot about the spell being channeled for a minute and thought about how she could possibly excavate the body to inspect it. Maybe it would give her a clue as to who had caused the clan's downfall. Maybe whoever this is met their demise by the same hands as the one who slew Father.

But upon staring down at the paw further, Mournsong saw that it was moving. She unsheathed her daggers and jumped back as the paw seemed to reach toward her. Then, unexpectedly, the marble rubble seemed to waver, before vanishing entirely. Mournsong's eyes widened. It was an illusion. she realized. Of course it was.

The marble had revealed a large, gaping hole, in which an aqua-colored tundra stood. She appeared to be soft and unthreatening, but Mournsong snarled when she made eye contact. The tundra's sclera was black, but her pupils were an unmistakable yellow. She was a light dragon.

"Who the Wyrmwound are you!?" Mournsong hissed. She felt a twinge of confidence as she saw the tundra flinch.

The female tundra beckoned with her paw now. "There's no time!" She spoke in a soft, yet urgent voice. "You have to come inside, or this place will disappear before your very eyes!" Mournsong blinked. It's probably a trap. She thought automatically. No way she was trusting the words of a light dragon.

And yet... if what she said was true, Mournsong would lose the only lead she had on the murderer of Father, if whatever spell was being channeled could in fact do what the tundra claimed would happen: the lair would disappear.

"What will happen if I come inside?" Mournsong questioned.

"Do you want to come in the lair and learn it's secrets or not? Isn't that why you've been hanging around here?" the Tundra said instead of answering.

Now Mournsong was really suspicious. She already suspected that the illusion was the work of someone still living in the lair. If that was the case, what clan would willingly give up its secrets? Mournsong so desperately, desperately wanted to learn what secrets the supposed fallen clan held (and if any of it related to Bloodshed) but she knew her mother would be disappointed in her if she fell for such an obvious trap.

And yet . . . Mother would be thrilled if I took the risk and actually found answers of use. Maybe even proud, Mournsong thought. Proud. She'd always wanted nothing more than to feel Rosanguis' prideful gaze upon her. If nothing could shake her mother from her quest for vengeance, the only option left was to earn that praise by aiding in that quest. Plus, the Lucidlight Clan used to be the Ichor Covenant's close ally. Information on what exactly happened to it would please the rest of the clan.

She hesitated for the last time. "Why would you share your secrets with a stranger?" she demanded.

"I don't want to be here," the Tundra stated bluntly. "A dark presence lurks here. If you could just get any word to the outside world after what you see in here, my mutuals and I would be in your debt."

Mournsong ignored how her heart leapt at those words. This was for her clan, and mother. Not some light dragon who looked like the wind in Dragonhome could knock her over. Besides, the Tundra sounded honest in her words. Mournsong was well-trained in detecting lies, but she found no trace of deception, only... desperation?

So, reluctantly, Mournsong took the paw the Tundra had extended in her own talons and let herself be pulled into the shadow of the collapsed lair.

As the Skydancer disappeared from view from the outside, the remnants of the lair shimmered once, twice, and then it was gone.


Heatherwrought jerked awake from the dream. It took a moment to reorient herself as the feeling of the dreamscape seeped away. She was in her room, on her bed of feathers and cotton, and after checking the clock on her nightstand, she determined it was still very early in the morning.

That was a strange dream, Heatherwrought thought. Dreaming about her fellow clan members was nothing out of the ordinary, but she'd never met anyone named MournSong before. She hadn't recognized the dreamscape either, apart from the vague resemblance to parts of the Sunbeam Ruins she and Lovebell had played around when they were hatchlings.

She felt around her nightstand for a moment until she grasped the leather cover of her dream journal. Taking a quill and dipping it in the inkwell that also sat on her nightstand, Heatherwrought began to write.



Satisfied, Heatherwrought blew on the ink until it was dry before closing her journal and setting it off to the side.