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[font=Garamond][size=4][b]« [url=https://www1.flightrising.com/forums/cc/2323941/58#post_40895342]Leannan’s story[/url] | [url=https://www1.flightrising.com/forums/cc/2323941/38#post_38481930]Khonsu’s story[/b][/size][/font][/right]
[columns][center][item=heart rose][/center][nextcol][color=transparent]..[/color][nextcol][color=#BEA55D][font=garamond][size=7][size=4][b]elysion[/b][/size][/size][/font][/color]
[size=2]written by Disillusionist
special thanks to LaSilva007
[color=#9494A9]8,472 words[/color][/size][/columns]
[center][font=gabriola][size=6][color=#7F7745]L[/color][color=#807645]e[/color][color=#807444]t[/color][color=#817344]t[/color][color=#817143]e[/color][color=#827043] [/color] [color=#826E43]t[/color][color=#836D42]h[/color][color=#836C42]e[/color][color=#846A42] [/color] [color=#846941]w[/color][color=#856741]h[/color][color=#856640]e[/color][color=#866440]e[/color][color=#866340]l[/color][color=#87613F] [/color] [color=#87603F]o[/color][color=#885F3E]f[/color][color=#885D3E] [/color] [color=#895C3E]F[/color][color=#895A3D]a[/color][color=#8A593D]t[/color][color=#8A573D]e[/color][color=#8B563C] [/color] [color=#8B553C]t[/color][color=#8C533B]u[/color][color=#8C523B]r[/color][color=#8D503B]n[/color][color=#8E4F3A]e[/color][color=#8E4D3A],[/color][color=#8F4C39] [/color] [color=#8F4B39]l[/color][color=#904939]e[/color][color=#904838]t[/color][color=#914638] [/color] [color=#914538]h[/color][color=#924337]a[/color][color=#924237]r[/color][color=#934136]t[/color][color=#933F36]s[/color][color=#943E36] [/color] [color=#943C35]e[/color][color=#953B35]n[/color][color=#953934]j[/color][color=#963834]o[/color][color=#963634]i[/color][color=#973533]n[/color][color=#973433],[/color]
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[right][font=garamond]~ [i]Good Omens[/i], Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett[color=transparent]________________[/right]
[color=#4B4521][url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=52783531]Leannan[/url] blundered through the darkness. Another time, the sight of the full moon would have caused her to shrink back — there were too many bad memories associated with it. But when it shone through the briars, she bulled forward eagerly, heedless of the thorns snatching at her wings and silks. Wounds would heal, and silks could be mended. But if she fell into the claws of the great, shadowy beast...
[i]Don’t look back, don’t look back.[/i]
As she flapped towards the stars, she cursed her shadowy pursuer. By now, she knew it was a [i]larva[/i]: a twisted, hateful perversion of the [i]lar[/i] it had once been. It had come to these lands, intent on avenging some great wrong Leannan had inflicted against it. It had even acquired a name, [url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=29764440][i]Corwin[/i][/url] — though Leannan could think of many other, unflattering epithets to address it by.
Now she did glance back, and the edge of the Tangled Wood seemed mercifully clear. She turned again, making for the Sunbeam Ruins. Even without Corwin’s pursuit, she would have headed there. The Sunbeam Ruins was now home to her oldest enemy, [url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=49449251]Khonsu[/url], and she would need to learn more about him, and the clan he’d fallen in with, before she could exact her revenge. [/color]
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[color=#4B4521] [i]Deep in the Sunbeam Ruins, another pursuit was in progress: the [url=https://www1.flightrising.com/forums/cc/2323941/61#post_43649197]Oneironauts[/url] were hunting. They did not hunt among the columns and corridors of the waking world, however — they hunted through other dragons’ dreams.
“There, behind that tree!” [url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=44293151]Legrasse[/url] barked. He bounded forward, stalking their shadowy quarry. Above him, stars winked in an amethyst sky, and in the distance, sandy dunes rose and fell. If he didn’t look directly at them, he could see other things out of the corners of his eyes, walls and shelves and windows...
The inky shape reared up, contorting fluidly. Its spindly claws stretched out to him, and its substance began to bubble like tar. Its head swelled, suddenly, impossibly huge, and began to twist into something grotesque and leering and truly [/i]nightmarish[i]—
Legrasse averted his eyes. But suddenly the air beneath his wings was alive with whirring feathers, and as he retreated, birds exploded into the night. Strangely faceless — if asked, he would’ve been unable to describe their eyes and beaks. But they were brilliant orange, almost like lanterns, and they swarmed the Shade fragment, hiding its terrible face from view. The fragment shrank back. When next it looked, it saw other shapes leaping or gliding through the dreamscape. The rest of the Oneironauts had arrived.
[url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=31129731]Ouroboros[/url] would have flee. This dream had turned too surreal and disjointed to be a nightmare, and in any case, the sleeper would be waking soon. It collapsed suddenly, and then it flowed away across the dunes—[/i]
—then out of the sleeper themselves, tendrils of darkness winding out of their ears, nose, and mouth. The sleeper gasped and came awake, looking around the chamber. There was the sense of pursuit and exhaustion, of being threatened by claws and fangs...
But now they breathed a sigh of relief. [i]“A dream...It was only a dream,”[/i] they realized, sinking back onto the sheets. They did not notice the wispy tendrils snaking out beneath the closed shutters, and they slept the better for it.[/color]
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[color=#4B4521]Ouroboros had visited other dragons that night, many of them in the trainees’ barracks. As dawn broke, a small knot of them trooped to the parade ground. Many of them were volunteers hoping to be exalted, and the desire to fight the Shade was why they’d signed on with the Disillusionists. Their encounter with this fragment had left them a little shaken, however.
Security Chief [url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=33209964]Aidan[/url] was there to address them. He gravely acknowledged the unpleasant night they’d had, and he reminded them, “A full onslaught from the Shade is much worse than a few nightmares — the terrors you’ve experienced are only a taste of what’s to come.”
He allowed that to sink in, his golden eyes grave. There was no outcry, but still he told them, “Let it not be said that the Light Flight conceals the truth from those who wish to serve the Lightweaver. If an encounter with a nightmare spirit is enough to shake you, then perhaps the exalted path is not for you. We will not condemn those who wish to leave — but we hope you will at least let our thaumaturges assist you. They are experts at healing the damage wrought by the Shade, and if you have further concerns, you are free to address them.”
The rest of the Oneironauts had gone to bed, hoping to catch a few hours’ sleep before their day jobs started. [url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=48720638]Netanya[/url] and Khonsu, however, were committed to helping those scarred by Ouroboros. As each trainee shuffled forward, Netanya closed her eyes, sank into the remnants of their dreams. She whispered spells of peace and fortitude to them, helping them calm their minds.
As for Khonsu, his focus was the dragons’ bodies: He drew down the faint sunlight (for what was moonlight, after all, but reflected sunlight?) and channeled it into the trainees. When they straightened up, they felt calmer, more confident — and more invigorated, as though they’d had a good night’s sleep.
They returned to the barracks; perhaps some would indeed quit the program, or perhaps they would remain, confident that if they had survived [i]this[/i] brush with a Shade fragment, they would be able to withstand more.
Netanya watched them go. As she leaned against her staff, Khonsu whispered, “If you’d like, I can cast the same magic upon you: a spell of invigoration and wakefulness.”
Netanya chuckled wryly. “Save it, Khonsu. I’ll be turning in for the night...or day...soon enough. Your offer is much appreciated, however. And how about you?” She looked up at him, tapping her chin speculatively with one claw. “Would you like a spell to soothe your mind?”
“Do not tax yourself, Netanya. A full day’s rest in my vessel, perhaps some drops of spirit ichor, and I will mend. Look to yourself first.” Khonsu’s face relaxed into a smile, and he reached out, patted her shoulder with one bejeweled paw. His touch was insubstantial, but it felt like a warm breeze.
Netanya was about to respond, but Aidan, seeing the trainees trudging back to the barracks, approached them. The two Oneironauts delivered their usual assessment of the dragons’ conditions, pronouncing them fit for further training with the clan. Aidan had been frowning, but as the report went on, he started looking more cheerful, and he raised his head.
“Excellent work as always. I’m not sure what we would do without you Oneironauts; we’d probably lose our own heads next. Hmm.” This last bit came as Netanya, finally, became unable to stifle a yawn. “Isn’t it time you got some sleep, though? Both of you?”
As if on cue, the other exalt trainers glided onto the parade ground. With shouts and horn blasts, they roused the trainees, and Netanya and Khonsu turned to leave.
“The Security Chief sells himself short,” Khonsu mused aloud. “Without his tactical expertise, our struggles against Ouroboros would certainly be harder.”
Netanya pushed back her scarlet hood, and the morning light gleamed on her steely scales, her troubled expression. “But it seems she grows stronger with every passing night. Do you remember, Khonsu, when you first came here, she was not able to travel so far afield. Now she remains outside longer; she resists us even as the sun is rising.” Her frown deepened, and her wings rustled in agitation. “What if, by this time next year, she is able to detach herself completely? Perhaps even claim new hosts....I have heard of some Shade fragments doing this. Ah, it is a [i]nightmare[/i]—!”
“[i]Netanya.[/i]” Khonsu’s voice was quiet, but firm. The Nocturne turned to look at him. It took some doing — in the sunbeams, he was nearly invisible. But his eyes still shone, clear and green and steady.
“Your concerns are vital,” he admitted, “but now is not the time to linger on them. Best to save it for later, after you have slept. But for now, you need to regain your strength.”
“You’re right,” Netanya sighed. Khonsu reached out a steadying paw; it went right through her, of course, but she appreciated the sentiment. She murmured rather sleepily, “I wish we had more help, though. New Oneironauts...A new alliance, perhaps.”
They lapsed into tired but comfortable silence as they neared the main lair. All around them, the rest of the Sunbeam Ruins was waking up, and dragons took to the sky on various errands. One shape, however, circled over the lair like a hawk. It waited until Netanya and Khonsu had vanished into the building, and then it glided away on ruby-red wings.[/color]
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[color=#4B4521]Elsewhere on the Disillusionists’ territory, other dragons were hard at work. The [url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=28592608]Crispy Phoenix[/url] staff began bustling around the restaurant, preparing it for the usual influx of customers. Mixed in among them were other Disillusionists: clanmates grabbing free meals before setting off to work.
Over near the wall, [url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=25504398]Metalicana[/url] had a booth all to himself. The hulking Guardian was cantankerous even at the best of times, and no one certainly wanted to be near him when he hadn’t had breakfast yet. Metalicana didn’t mind; he wasn’t too fond of other dragons either.
So he did a double-take when a lithe, dark shape settled onto the cushion opposite him. His lip lifted, displaying formidable teeth; and then he remembered his manners and grudgingly grunted, “Ngh? You need something?”
Orange eyes blinked in a night-dark face. “I am a stranger to these parts,” murmured the Pearlcatcher. Her voice was low and vibrant, and Metalicana snorted, trying to clear his head.
“I am interested in knowing more about the dragons in your clan. I’ve been told that you have been with the Disillusionists for many years, working as a guard. Surely you can tell me about some of your lairmates.”
“Aye. What do you want to know?” Metalicana muttered in between chomps and smacks. People asked about his clanmates all the time, largely when they wanted to do business. So long as they didn’t inquire about anything private, it was fine.
“I believe one of your clanmates goes by the name ‘Khonsu’?”
Metalicana grabbed a tankard of beer. He chugged the lot down and then emerged, dripping foam, to growl, “The spirit? Ugh, I can’t abide spirits. Best to ask Netanya. Or wait...” He blinked. “Maybe you mean to hire [url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=43097083][i]Naddaha[/i][/url] instead? She’s our spiritologist; she deals with those creepy things. Khonsu’s not for hiring, though.”
“No, I didn’t think so. Tell me, where can I find him?”
The words “He lives here; I thought you already knew that,” formed in Metalicana’s mind. They seemed stuck on his tongue, however. All he could get out was “Huh?”
The Pearlcatcher was leaning forward, her eyes boring into his. She was small, barely the size of his paw — but at that moment, she seemed to loom over everything, impossibly huge, filling the space outside and inside his mind. She smiled slowly, and seeing it was like lounging in the water and feeling a wave gently lift you up to the sky: Metalicana felt a surge of euphoria that had nothing to do with his breakfast.
“Khonsu, the spirit of moonlight,” she said — or Metalicana [i]thought[/i] she said. Her mouth was moving, but the words were just a few seconds behind, and they seemed to come from a long way away. The wave was still rising skywards, but he was sinking through it now, heading for the cool and quiet deep...
“Where do I find him, Guardian? Where does this spirit sleep?”
“On the...third level,” Metalicana mumbled back. “In the...Witchborne’s quarters. A spirit vessel...”
“I see. Are there any protective enchantments?”
The Guardian blinked owlishly, his pale eyes watering. “I’ve...no idea,” he admitted. He didn’t notice the Pearlcatcher reaching out, her iron-sharp talons lingering over one of his paws...
He didn’t notice her leave, either. The next thing he was aware of was a [i]thunk[/i] as [url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=35793310]Hesperides[/url] slid a fresh tankard on his table. “You need to move, Tal; we’ll be admitting customers soon. Are you all right?”
“Eh? I was talking...” The world came back into focus, and Metalicana frowned. He stared at the cushion opposite him, but it was empty; only Hesperides hovered on one side, her feathers bristling with impatience.
He scowled back. “Fine, I’ll...Ugh, what is this? [i]Water?[/i] All right, then, I’m going!” And he placed the tankard back down and lumbered irritably away.[/color]
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[color=#4B4521]Some days later, a dark figure appeared at the edge of the clan’s territory. In its grasp shone a diamond-bright scale, plucked from Metalicana’s paw. Soon it would be nighttime, and most of the Disillusionists would head to sleep....
[i]The Disillusionists.[/i] The clan had sprung up while Leannan had slumbered in [url=https://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=60368767]Dwerulas’[/url] garden. She’d had to ask around for information regarding them, but for someone of her talents, that had been ridiculously easy.
While Leannan normally got what she wanted by standing out, she had also learned to blend in, the better to conceal her true nature. The Light Flight was home to many dragons who could see through various glamours, so the spells she’d woven around herself were quite strong indeed.
The shrouding spells also kept her from being sensed by spiritologists — or other spirits. As she stood looking at the lair, she wondered idly what would’ve happened if Khonsu had sensed her. He obviously hadn’t — either that, or he’d grown hopelessly infirm. The thought made her lip curl in disdain.
Among the folds of her cloak, she felt Dwerulas’ vial. Such a tiny thing — but the weight of its power seemed to burn through the layers of cloth. Idly, she considered how she would use it.
The last time she’d seen Dwerulas had been centuries ago, before he’d put her to sleep. She hadn’t been able to track him down again (and to be honest, she hadn’t been sure she’d wanted to), but he had mentioned something about the poison being distilled from her rage and bitter memories.
Leannan was able to manipulate emotions; indeed, she could distill ardor into a similar poison for other beings to use. Since Dwerulas’ poison had been distilled from her own feelings, she was able to manipulate it too: She could lift it out of the bottle, a droplet of sun-bright liquid, and launch it through the air like a tiny, terrible missile.
She had handled it carefully, of course: There was only a few drops’ worth of the poison, and she wanted to save all of it for Khonsu. First, however, she would have to get to him.
There are certain hours of the day when fairy magic is at its strongest: noon, midnight, and the hazy twilight hours of dawn and dusk. As the sun sank onto the horizon, Leannan drew more spells of shrouding and concealment around herself. Now she was completely imperceptible; she rose from the ground like a ghost and glided noiselessly towards the lair.
There [i]were[/i] some protective enchantments around the lair to keep out intruders. They were common spells that Leannan had encountered before, in other places, over the course of her wanderings. And she had learned how to circumvent them.
She flew up to the terrace garden. The plants were beginning to bloom, coming awake in pulses of blue and violet. As she neared them, she held up Metalicana’s scale and crushed it in her grasp—
Inside the lair, [url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=29453385]Amaryllis[/url] was just starting his shift. He headed to his beloved terrace garden — and did a double-take when he saw the huge, glittering Guardian there.
“Metalicana! Did you get off work early? What are you doing here?”
Metalicana couldn’t have cared less about flowers, so Amaryllis was surprised to see him here. Frankly, Metalicana looked surprised to be here, too. The burly Guardian was shaking one back foot slowly, as if trying to work out a kink.
He narrowed his eyes at Amaryllis. “Yes, I [i]am[/i] finished with my work, and what I’m doing here is none of your business.”
“Oh, I rather think it is! I mean, this is [i]my[/i] garden—”
“Aye. I...apologize.” The words came out through clenched teeth. Metalicana strode out from among the ferns and into the corridor. “I will head back to my quarters now. It has...been a long day.”
Amaryllis was still annoyed, but if he dallied any longer, he would be late for his shift. He gave his colleague a curt nod instead. “Right. Sleep well.”
The Imperial walked to one of the ledges. These poked out into the central well of the main lair, and as Metalicana looked down, he saw Amaryllis dropping gently downwards, his crimson wings spread wide. There were also other dragons moving around, most of them heading to the kitchens to help prepare the evening meal.
He — or rather, [i]she[/i] — turned away. The Witchborne’s quarters were somewhere on this level, and Leannan intended to complete her revenge before the sun rose again.[/color]
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[color=#4B4521]Nightfall meant another shift for the Oneironauts. They did not sleep when they went dreamwalking — they slipped into trances. Their bodies remained awake, but unresponsive, for their consciousnesses would go flying through dreamscapes, chasing Ouroboros and the nightmares she wrought. While they were in this state, their bodies were vulnerable — and their minds, too, for spirits could slip in and take over while they were soaring through dreams.
To prevent this, they cast protective spells around themselves, such as the ones Netanya was now laying around Khonsu’s spirit vessel. The vessel itself was a large sphere, the top hemisphere of which split open like a flower. It was made of translucent white glass with opaque swirls and cradled in a polished wooden frame.
Khonsu waited patiently beside her. Although the moon was now waning, he seemed as calm and unflappable as ever. He cradled his fiery pearl between his paws; he would need its power in the nights to come, when the moon waned and briefly vanished and Ouroboros’ strength grew again.
“She has been quiescent these past few days,” Netanya murmured as she chalked the markings upon the floor. “I’m afraid she might be up to something.”
“She always was a tricky one,” Khonsu acknowledged. Netanya straightened up; the circle was nearly complete. Once Khonsu was inside the vessel, she would close it, and he would be able to slip safely into his trance.
[i]Safely[/i]...Netanya had to admit that even [i]that[/i] was unsure now. The Shade was a wily and adaptable foe, and she knew that eventually, there would come a time when even reliable spells would fail against it. Then their own magic would have to advance, they would have to become better and stronger...
“You will be careful, won’t you? Check if Kundalini is asleep, and if she is, return and let me know. I’m worried; there seems to be...something in the air...”
Khonsu laughed quietly. “There always is. But do not worry, I will wait. And I will keep safe, of course — our lives are tied together, after all.”
Neither of them had forgotten the promise they’d made to each other on that hilltop. Netanya straightened up, her face stoic once more. “Light and Flame keep you, Khonsu. Let us begin.”
Khonsu dissolved into a luminous silver mist, his pearl appearing as a bright nucleus. He flowed into the vessel, and the lid closed above him. Netanya bent down and closed the circle.
She was halfway through the remaining spells when, with a sharp click, the door to her apartment swung open. The dragon in the doorway blocked out the light: a hulking Guardian with rough-looking armor.
“Metalicana?” Netanya frowned. With a wave, she paused the spell, freezing the symbols and lines in the air. “What is—”
The door shut and locked — and suddenly Metalicana wasn’t there. In his place was a slim Pearlcatcher, her eyes aglow with vengeful light.
Cold fear crackled through Netanya’s body: She knew who this entity was. “You!” she gasped. Her staff leaped into her hand — but before she could react, the sinister Pearlcatcher cast a ball of fire into the air. It exploded with intense brilliance, and for a moment, Netanya thought she’d been blinded and deafened. She could barely see, and the sound seemed to fall away...
And then both sight and sound rushed back in full force as Leannan closed in, her face inches from the Nocturne’s. With a sharp swing of her tail, she slapped Netanya’s staff away. One paw clamped around the Nocturne’s throat, threatening to crush her windpipe; the other rummaged among the folds of her ornate cloak.
“How fortunate I happened to catch those last few words,” she growled. Her mane bristled around her head like an infernal halo as she glared down at Netanya. “So your lives are shackled to each other, are they? How very like Khonsu — that manipulative [i]beast.[/i]”
[i]“We are pledged to aid each other,”[/i] Netanya thought, [i]“as soldiers must aid each other in battle — that is all.”[/i] But Leannan’s spell had stunned her and briefly robbed her of her voice. She could only groan unintelligibly, her claws quivering as she desperately willed her body to move.
Leannan drew out a tiny glass vial. The seal broke into slivers of light, and out floated a tiny sphere of orange syrup. Something about that glow chilled Netanya — she knew she was looking at something dangerous.
“If your lives are shackled together, there’s no need for me to disturb the King,” Leannan continued. “Better that I eliminate both of—”
With a soft hiss, the spirit vessel opened up. Mist poured into the room again, rapidly coalescing into Khonsu’s form. “Netanya, Kundalini is—”
He was wholly unprepared for the scene before him. But Leannan, who had eavesdropped through the door, had known he would return, and she wasted no time. The poison sped like a bullet, piercing the scales over Netanya’s heart.
She’d expected both the witch and Khonsu to collapse — but it was only Netanya who screamed: a shriek of utter agony, as though a fire were eating away at her...or her heart were being broken.
Leannan darted to the window. She couldn’t resist looking back — and when finally she fled, it was not because Khonsu was coming after her, intent on avenging his mistress. He was reaching out to her, and his face—
That look of utter loss, as though his world had broken...Leannan instinctively recoiled from it. She couldn’t fight that — not anymore.
And before she was aware of it, she’d launched herself out the window and into the deepening night.[/color]
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[color=#4B4521]It didn’t take Khonsu’s clanmates long to arrive, but there was nothing they could do for Netanya. She was nearly incoherent, struggling and groaning in agony. There were no wounds upon her body — whatever this was, it was eating her from within.
“It was a fairy,” groaned Khonsu, “the same one I warned you of when I first came to the clan. It has been nearly a thousand years; I thought she had moved on. I didn’t think...!”
Naddaha reached out a consoling paw. Her emerald eyes were grave. “She has grown more cunning and powerful since you last saw her. Your mistress still lives; while there’s life, there’s hope. The others and I will see what we can do.”
And they did, mixing myriad remedies and casting all the spells they could. But the curse remained unbroken, and day by day, Netanya grew weaker. Day by day, the darkness over the clan grew.
[url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=45531649]Mana[/url] and Legrasse continued patrolling other dragons’ dreams, but it was more difficult for them to battle Ouroboros now, and dragons living nearby, including the exalts, found themselves plagued by terrible nightmares — and feelings of terror and unease that persisted even in daylight. Some of the volunteers dropped out of the exalt program, and Aidan forlornly watched them leave. Ouroboros was doing her job well: Slowly, they were losing fighters against the Shade.
Still, for the Disillusionists, the greater concern was losing a clanmate. One bleak night, the healers and thaumaturges conferred with one another. “Nothing is working,” growled Naddaha, “and I’m afraid we’re only wasting time. Can we consult other clans? Our allies?”
[url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=31031765]Tiferet[/url] ventured, “Viktor and Yuuri aided my husband when we came to them...but they have left the [url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/cc/2084754]Cathedral[/url] since then, and we might not be able to find them. Still, the Court of Lyres might help us.”
“It’s worth a shot.” [url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=26635401]Jubilant[/url] sighed heavily. He looked down at his notes, a list of names and ideas punctuated with question marks. “We’re dealing with something very dark and heavy here. We might have to consult people we normally wouldn’t reach out to.”
“How about [url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/cc/2439765]Nyx Coven[/url]? They were originally established in the Tangled Wood, and they have many skilled magic users among their ranks.”
“I have not received word from the Coven in a long time,” Jubilant admitted. He smoothed down his hood and said, “I’d heard there was trouble in the clan....I’m not sure if it’s been resolved already.”
And then he looked up, blinking slowly. “What of Netanya’s parents?”
Naddaha arched an eyeridge. “The [url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/drs/2607219]Witchborne[/url]? Mysterious folk, that bunch. I don’t believe I’ve ever met them.”
“Mana has, though. She spoke with them back when we recruited Netanya. I’ll write them a letter. They need to know about this, anyway.”
He reached for some fresh parchment. The others didn’t object; they knew he was right — because if nothing they tried worked, then they would only be able to make their friend’s passing as gentle as possible.[/color]
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[color=#4B4521]It was the night of the new moon. It should have calmed Leannan, but instead, she was feeling uneasy. If she were going to be entirely honest with herself, she had been feeling uneasy for the past several days.
[i]“He’s still alive,”[/i] she thought, frowning into the darkness. [i]“I guessed incorrectly; their lives weren’t bound after all. He’ll surely seek revenge...”[/i]
And here her thoughts trailed off, and it wasn’t because she thought Khonsu would come after her for revenge.
It was because she knew he [i]wouldn’t[/i].
She had gone over this scenario many times. Always, she had imagined that Khonsu would be enraged, that he would bellow abuse at her and try to strike her down.
But he hadn’t done any of those things. He hadn’t even been angry. He had just been shocked...and then she remembered the desperate way he’d tried to support his mistress, his ethereal paws passing through her body each time. The way he’d looked at Leannan, as if he couldn’t believe what she’d done.
Leannan gnashed her teeth. “I have what I want. I must move on,” she snarled. She hoped saying the words aloud would make her feel better.
They didn’t — and instead, she heard something that made her feel far worse.
[i]“Must you, really?”[/i] hissed the shadows, and then [i]she[/i] emerged from the base of the cliff. Even in the pitch-black night, Leannan saw her, for she was darker than the night itself.
[i]Corwin.[/i][/color]
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[color=#4B4521]For a long moment, nothing moved. The air was still; the only sound was that of the waves as they lapped at the gravel beach.
And then Leannan found her voice. She croaked, “You are here for...revenge?”
[i]“Revenge?”[/i] The shape tilted her head. It seemed to Leannan that Corwin was...smaller than before. Four legs, two wings...but surely she was smaller?
[i]“Wrath begets revenge,”[/i] the shadow stated. [i]“It was wrath that drove me on; it was wrath that called me to you. But here and now, there is no wrath. In its place, I smell a different emotion, and it puzzles me.”[/i] She paced closer, on soundless feet. Leannan sat very still.
[i]“There is something you must do,”[/i] said the shadow, and this close, she [i]did[/i] sound like Corwin. Leannan winced beneath that vast head. “But I do not know what to do. I—”
She flinched back as Corwin extended a sword-sized talon. Something glittered at the end of it — and Leannan, leaning forward, recognized the empty vial.
[i]“Ask,”[/i] Corwin growled. [i]“Your exchange requires that he answer.”[/i]
“‘He’?” asked Leannan. And then she closed her paw around the vial and the world [i]changed—[/i][/color]
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[color=#4B4521][i]Leannan gasped and looked around. Luminous fruits, glittering cavern walls...
She was back in Dwerulas’ garden.
She glided forward, insubstantial as smoke; even so, the trees seemed to know she was here. They moved disturbingly as she passed, and once or twice she caught them reaching out to her. Faces seemed to peer out from among the leaves, disquieting visages that retreated when she turned to look.
She found Dwerulas tending a bush. He harvested its ghostly green flowers, squeezing emerald nectar from them. “You are here,” he droned dispassionately. The nectar fell,[/i] drip – drip – drip,[i] into another glass vial.
“Yes,” Leannan said. Suddenly, she was unsure: Had she flown to where Dwerulas was now, or gone back in time, to when the garden had been in Dragonhome? Was her body still nearby, locked in sorcerous sleep?
[/i]“It doesn’t matter,”[i] she decided. Instead, she asked, “I would have you explain the nature of the poison.”
Dwerulas flicked a frill dismissively. “It is not a poison, it is a curse. The rancor of your long years, distilled into a single drop.” His eyes gleamed unpleasantly. “It will plunge the recipient into sleep, and they will fall through your nightmares, their soul fleeing deeper and deeper into the darkness, while the body wastes away. There will be no mercy for the soul, even when the body is dust and gone. There will only be darkness and pain and misery.”
And even Leannan, dark and troubled Leannan, shrank back from such an ominous pronouncement. It was one thing to imagine it, but another to have it said by someone who could make it come to pass.
—Who [/i]was[i] making it come to pass. She asked him, “How can the curse be lifted?”
“Lifted?” For the first time, Dwerulas laughed — and it was a terrible, raucous shriek, like an auger trying to bore through stone. “The poison is wrought from your feelings, girl.[/i] You [i]tell me how to lift it.”
He obviously hadn’t meant it as reassurance — yet there was the solution, plain as day; and the wave of relief was so strong, it nearly knocked Leannan over. Around her, the garden briefly shimmered.... “Thank you, Lord.”
“The answer pleases you, does it?” Dwerulas’ fins became still again. His dark eyes bored into her, and Leannan felt him trying to see through her and [/i]beyond—
With a gasp, she came back to the present: She was sitting at the foot of a seaside cliff, at low tide, with the distant waves lapping at the tidepools. Corwin was gone — but Leannan opened her paw and saw the empty vial, and clarity dawned again. She knew what she had to do.[/color]
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[color=#4B4521]It was much harder to enter the Disillusionists’ lair this time. Leannan had to actually break through some of the protective spells; no doubt this would alert someone in the lair. But it didn’t matter: If all went as planned, she would be gone within the next few minutes.
And Netanya would be free.
Leannan found the Nocturne in the infirmary. She was in a private room, and she seemed to be alone. That suited Leannan just fine, and she paused, looking down at her victim, really [i]seeing[/i] her for the first time.
She was young, and the curse had taken its toll: Her lead-gray scales were dull and ashen, and her breathing was irregular. She had grown noticeably thin — [i]wasting away[/i], as Dwerulas had said.
“Well, waste no more,” Leannan muttered, and she didn’t dare pause to think why she had said it. She didn’t dare think about why she was even [i]doing[/i] this.
She instead concentrated on the poison, somewhere deep inside Netanya. She willed it back into a small bead, and she called to it, lifting it to the surface of the skin. [i]“No more anger. No more pain,”[/i] she thought fiercely, her orange eyes blazing. [i]“No more...regret...”[/i]
Was it working? It didn’t seem to be working. Leannan felt a chill of unease as she considered this possibility.
And then a voice that inspired fear worse than Corwin ever did—
[i]“But you[/i] want[i] the regret. You want the pain. You enjoy festering in your rage.”[/i]
It crackled like dried leaves being eaten by fire, or like frost spreading swiftly across glass. And waves of fear, both scorching and chilling, burst across Leannan’s scales.
[i]“Will you not join her in the darkness? There is always room...for more,”[/i] Ouroboros hissed sibilantly, almost in her ear. A clammy breath, as though from an open tomb, wafted against the back of her neck.
[i]“Don’t turn around,”[/i] Leannan urged herself, though her shoulders trembled violently. [i]“Don’t look...”[/i]
[i]“You don’t need to look,”[/i] whispered Ouroboros. [i]“But you need to[/i] feel[i].”[/i]
A chill ran up Leannan’s spine: The thing was behind her. It was rearing up above her, and it would swamp her like a wave—
[i]Brightness![/i] The poison burst up, passing through Netanya’s scales as though they were water. Leannan loosed a strangled cry of triumph. She leaped forward, grabbing madly, reaching out for that glowing bead.
And then she felt Ouroboros’ touch, like freezing silk, winding around her ankle.[/color]
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[color=#4B4521][i]Leannan fell.
All around was darkness, but she could feel the wind rushing past her. It was almost like that time when...
She felt loam beneath her feet, and then loops of light appeared. They illuminated a familiar figure standing in the grass before her.
[/i]Khonsu.[i] As Leannan watched, he began bellowing — his words were incomprehensible, for they were horribly overlaid with a hissing, crackling noise. She’d heard that whisper...when?[/i] When had she heard it?[i] Panic set in as Leannan struggled to remember. It almost sounded like fire eating dead leaves—
[/i]Fire![i] It erupted around Khonsu, wreathing him in lurid orange light. His voice merged with the crackle of the flames till the sound was all around her, a hollow, rushing roar. The fire crept up him, lapping at his skin, and his face began to run like wax.
Leannan struggled to twist away from the sickening sight. She [/i]felt[i] herself struggling to twist — but no matter which way she turned, the phantom was before her, staring at her with hollow eyes. Tatters of skin slid away...and beneath, there was no skull, no bones. Just a darkness so intense it was painful to see.
The flames were now racing towards Leannan. The magical diagrams closed like a snare, trapping her legs. She struggled to tear herself free; the crackling noise was growing stronger. The flames would devour her alive! She twisted away just as the first of them touched her leg—[/i]
And there was a sharp, searing pain, hotter even than fire, against her left shoulder. The world briefly seemed to shimmer around her; clarity came suddenly to her mind, like sunlight through a break in the clouds. That pain — she’d felt it before, and she knew it now.
Iron!
[i]And then she was back on the hilltop, being menaced by a diabolical vision of Khonsu, but she struggled to hold on to that clarity. Because now she knew: She [/i]wasn’t[i] on the hilltop, and there [/i]wasn’t[i] a fire raging nearby.
She was still in the infirmary, and that searing pain, so sharp it had briefly wiped away the illusion, had come from something made of iron, banging against her shoulder. Frantically, Leannan tried to remember the layout of the room. There was Netanya’s bed against one wall, perhaps a few meters from her — if her frenzied struggling hadn’t pushed her farther away. A table in one corner of the room, shelves and cabinets lining the walls, racks for storing supplies.
Racks...maybe made of iron?
Leannan hurled herself sideways again. There was the jangle of metal and glass — and the pain, hot and bright, brushing against her wing. She sucked in a deep breath — and biting back a scream, she reached out, gripped the edge of the rack.
[/i]The world exploded apart. She saw the infirmary again, and she was huddled by one of the supply racks, her paw glued to the metal frame. There was Netanya in her bed. The poison had disappeared back into her; Leannan would have to draw it out again....
And there, in the corner by the door, a towering shadow, so huge it had to stoop to fit beneath the ceiling. It seemed like a coiled-up serpent, but here and there, spindly appendages thrust from its substance. Its head was featureless, faceless, just a roiling cloud of darkness.
But Leannan could feel the malevolence of it, the way it leered at her. It reached out with its many claws. And as it did so, darkness leaked in at the edges of her vision, threatening to overwhelm her again.
She managed to tear her eyes away from it. She focused on the poisonous bead instead. It was too far away for her mind to grasp; she would have to get closer. A grim smile shone on her face.
“I am Leannan,” she said, half to herself, half to the menacing shadow, “and I go where I please.”
She released the iron, [i]and the illusion closed in again. Or perhaps...a waking nightmare? For the images that assailed her were ones she’d seen before, in sleep. The moon blazed out from behind the clouds, and magic ensnared her again. The king she had loved held up a fist in condemnation, and flames roared towards her.
“No,” she told herself, and took another step. The flames crashed over her like a breaking wave, and her scales tingled with heat. But she clenched her fist, where the iron-seared scar still burned, and she kept on moving forward.
Khonsu’s image was gone, but the ground beneath her suddenly dipped, and it seemed she was falling into the earth again. She heard Dwerulas’ screeching laugh, felt the roots of monstrous plants plucking greedily at her. Faces seemed to swim out of the darkness, grotesque fruits with lurid eyes that dribbled sickly-sweet, cloying nectar.
“No,” she said again, and she remembered waking up in the garden, the vines crumbling into dust. If she concentrated hard enough, she could imagine the crackle of Ouroboros’ voice as the hiss of crumbling stone....
She took another step forward. Another, and another.
And finally, Corwin loomed before her, her horned head gleaming, chains rattling against her neck. Her heavy jaws split open, and her howl was all the souls Leannan had ever wronged, their voices crying out for revenge.
Leannan [/i]did[i] falter — but only briefly. For she remembered Corwin in the shadow of the cliff, the empty bottle of rancor balanced on a clawtip. And that quiet voice: “There is something you must do.”
[/i]“Indeed there is,”[i] Leannan thought, and now she could laugh at the shadow. “Hiding behind masks, Shadeling?” she taunted it, once again ablaze with fire and pride. “Why not shed these illusions and face me as you really are?”
It hung there for a moment[/i] — and then with a hollow, rushing noise, the nightmarish visions around Leannan were sucked back into their source. Ouroboros collapsed into an inky mass.
Leannan wasted no time. She leaped across the remaining space, and finally, her distilled emotions were within reach. The droplet sprang into her grasp — and she pressed it against her heart, willing it to fade.
“No more anger. No more hate. I will not be shackled any further,” she whispered fiercely, her eyes closed. “No more bitterness. [i]No more.[/i]”
And she felt the rancor leave her; she let out a deep and contented sigh. She opened her eyes and looked down — and her paw, at last, was empty.
Ouroboros had fled, but there was someone else: The door had opened, and the other Oneironauts, realizing their quarry was no longer inside the dream, had arrived. Leannan didn’t really see them, though — her eyes were riveted on Khonsu, whom she’d most hoped, most feared to see.
Worry for his mistress had weakened him; he was barely visible in the lantern light. He looked apprehensively at Leannan, obviously unsure what to do.
“Why?” he asked at last, his voice as faint as a breeze.
There were no words. Perhaps there never would be, or perhaps they would never be needed. Either way, nothing was holding Leannan back now.
She gave him one final look, and this time, it no longer felt as though a knife was twisting inside her. In a swirl of scarlet, she flitted to the window, and at last she was gone.[/color]
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[color=#4B4521]Morning slowly illuminated the lair, and as it did, Netanya stirred. She felt better than she had in days; her body was no longer racked by those strange, stabbing pains. And there was a voice, too, humming a song. It lifted Netanya’s spirits, and she opened her eyes.
“Mother!” she gasped, reaching instinctively for the Imperial. [url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/46632993]Zelievna[/url] leaned close to nuzzle her daughter’s cheek. The Witchborne mother’s clothes were travel-stained, and her face was lined with weariness; she looked as though she’d had a hard journey. But the air around her was calm — and Netanya knew that whatever concern had driven her here had now gone away.
There was a flutter behind Zelievna, and then [url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/46554321]Etrix[/url] appeared. He laughed quietly, reaching out to pat his daughter’s paw. “It is good to see you again, young one. You gave us quite a scare.”
“Did my clan...summon you here?”
“Oh, yes,” Etrix said. “The message arrived two days ago, carried by a most peculiar [url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=38799346]Spiral[/url]. We made our way here as quickly as we could — imagine our surprise to see that the problem had resolved itself already!”
Netanya was mortified, but Zelievna, seeing the look on her face, crooned soothingly again. “You needn’t worry about having trespassed on our time, for this matter [i]did[/i] require our attention. It is worth discussing even though it has been resolved. And of course...” She smiled warmly. “We could not forgo a chance to see our daughter again.”
The door opened slightly, and Etrix turned, listening to the healer’s words. He murmured briefly to Zelievna and, with another smile at Netanya, he flitted outside.
The door shut behind him. As it did, Zelievna held up something that sparkled in the sunlight. “Do you recognize this?”
“It’s a vial. The fairy had it; she stored the poison in it.” Netanya watched as her mother placed it on the bedside stand.
“It is empty now, harmless, but it bears traces of demonic magic.”
Netanya blinked in confusion. “But she was a fairy. Khonsu told me, and when I saw her, I was sure—”
“She may have wielded the poison,” Zelievna interrupted her gently, “but she did not prepare it. This required a touch of darkness, something to rival even the malevolence of the Shade. Your father and I discussed it, while you were sleeping.”
She let out a heavy sigh and turned, looking reflectively out the window. Outside, all was contentment: Sunlight glimmered on the lawns and gardens of the lair, and the brightly-colored forms of dragons wandered to and fro. Still— “No place is truly safe from the machinations of demons,” she growled, her eyes darkening. “Your clan has done well so far, but it appears that combating fiends is not their strong suit. Not that I blame them.” She couldn’t help smiling wryly. “It is not what one would call a common career choice.”
She patted Netanya’s arm again. “Not to worry, child; I will speak with [url=https://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=57254842]one[/url] of your kinsdrakes. Some of them have become rather more familiar with demonkind....I did not approve at first, but perhaps, indeed, they stepped onto that path for a reason.”
Netanya was too tired to argue. She watched as Zelievna cocked an ear. “Your spirit aide approaches. He has been consumed with worry over you. Treat him gently, girl.” The Imperial smiled again, a softer and warmer smile this time. “His kind are more fragile than they seem.”
Before Netanya could ask what she meant, Zelievna rose, drawing her robes around her, and made for the door. It opened, and Khonsu hovered there, his pearl in the crook of one arm. He inclined his head to the Imperial, and then he glided to Netanya’s bedside.
“You are well,” he gasped in obvious relief. “We were deeply worried....We were afraid we would lose you.”
“Yes,” Netanya said wryly, “I was afraid I would lose me, too.” Her heart wasn’t really in the joke, though. She’d been thinking about something for a while.
“What will you do now?”
“Me?” Khonsu tilted his head. “Why, I will head back to my spirit vessel soon. Naddaha has been taking care of me, but I shall be glad once you’ve completely recovered—”
Netanya shook her head slowly. “The fairy you told us about...she helped me. I heard her as dawn was breaking. She pulled the curse from my body, and she destroyed it herself.
“Part of our contract was that we would aid each other against our respective foes. But your adversary is...no longer an adversary, I think.” And, as Khonsu nodded slowly, Netanya repeated, “What will you do now?”
“Ouroboros...She still menaces the clan, does she not?” Khonsu gave her a grave look. “And she has grown stronger, too.”
Netanya couldn’t deny that. Khonsu’s help [i]would[/i] still be welcome against their foe. Still, she waited. The words had to come from him.
He took a deep breath and continued, choosing his words with care, “It is a struggle...worth continuing. Because this is a good place. It is a good clan. And I am happy here — with you.”
Netanya couldn’t help it; she burst into soft, delighted laughter, her paws going up to her cheeks. “We are glad to have you with us, Khonsu,” she stated formally — but the eyes with which she looked at him were full of affection, and Khonsu knew she understood. He reached out, placed his paw over hers, and she did not pull away. His face relaxed into a smile.
There were many ways to pledge one’s life to another, after all.[/color]
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[color=#4B4521]Night was looming, and once again, the veils between worlds were growing thin. Deep in the wilds of the Sunbeam Ruins, Leannan came to a small glade, and she paused, resting. And thinking.
Normally after getting what she wanted, she would move on — but Leannan no longer knew what she wanted, and she wasn’t sure what she would search for even if she [i]did[/i] move on. The sun sank beyond the trees, and the shadows lengthened, but still she was unsure what to do.
She decided that she could, at least, sleep. Maybe things would seem surer and more solid in the morning.
With a rustle, another dragoness slipped out of the woods: a [url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=34181155]Nocturne[/url], somewhat smaller than she was. “This is wild territory, wanderer,” she chirped. “Why have you come to this place?”
Leannan sighed. “Just following the sound of my own footsteps, I suppose. I shall have to move on soon.”
“Must you, really?”
The fairy was about to reply, but something about those words struck her. And there was something else — a familiar resonance and timbre. She turned and looked, [i]really[/i] looked, at the Nocturne sitting beside her.
“Corwin?”
“Sometimes,” the Nocturne said, shrugging iridescent olive wings. She was busy grooming her head, and Leannan realized that in addition to spikes, she was covered with soft white feathers, like a dove.
“I was a nameless spirit at first, in the temple of love and promises. I wore a mask when the promises turned to treachery, and I took on a new shape, one for ceaselessly stalking wrongdoers and bringing vengeance upon them.”
Leannan felt her hide prickle in alarm. She ventured, almost in a whisper, “And now?”
“Where is the wrongdoer? I do not see her now. I hunted one who preyed upon people’s love, who fed by turning it into anger and hate — but she is not here now.” The Nocturne leaned forward, sniffed Leannan’s face and mane. “You have changed.”
“So have you,” Leannan couldn’t resist retorting — and she realized it was true, in layers she was only just beginning to grasp.
She slumped, her ruby wings drooping, and stared at the forest floor. “I cannot go on preying upon others — not after what I’ve learned and lost. I suppose I will fade away, in time. Perhaps that’s what eventually happens to all of us.”
“There are many kinds of love,” the Nocturne said, “and this is yours.”
She held out a scarlet rose. It wasn’t red like wine, but rather shone like a flame. It was partly opened, pulsing with the promise of life...and of growth.
Leannan instinctively reached out for it, and as her fingers closed around it, she felt its vigor rush into her. Suddenly she was full of energy, as though she had just consumed a hapless victim — but there were no victims here, and she would never take another. The rose remained in her grasp, still as fiery and unbowed as she was.
“The more you give of it, the more you get,” the Nocturne said, blinking her ruby eyes. “Perhaps I will see you again.”
“Not as Corwin, I hope,” Leannan responded, and she even managed to crack a smile.
“No, I do not think I will be Corwin for a while. I will be...yes, I will be [i]Imago[/i], for I am no longer a larva, and true love has been revealed.”
She bent forward, gently nuzzling Leannan’s brow, and then she fluttered away into the night. Leannan was left alone in the gathering darkness.
The rose still pulsed in her hand...and as she concentrated upon it, it ran like water, brightening to lustrous gold. It took on a new form: a pearl as golden as the morning sun. Perhaps in time, it would be filled with memories of its own. Warm, bright memories, to sustain her even during the darkest days.
Love was what you made it to be, after all. At last, Leannan felt she could face the world again. Perhaps she would stay, perhaps not...but either way, she would move on.
Shadows parted around her like a curtain. Night had fallen completely now, but the pearl continued shining with a golden radiance. It twinkled on and off, glimpsed through the trees like a star: distant, but able to guide others — if only they knew where to look.[/color]
[right][font=Copperplate Gothic Light][color=#BEA55D][size=5][b]~ The End[/b][/color][/size][/font][/right]
[size=2][color=#9494A9][b]Credits:[/b] Special thanks to [i]LaSilva007[/i] for allowing Etrix and Zelievna to be included. Other clans mentioned include [i]awaicu’s[/i] Cathedral of Eyes and [i]Tues’[/i] Nyx Coven.[/color][/size]
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[center][color=#BBBABF][size=1][b]PREV.[/b][/size] [size=2][url=https://www1.flightrising.com/forums/cc/2323941/62#post_43786071]Dragon[/url] | [url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/cc/2323941/1#post_2323941]Contents[/url] • Characters [url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/cc/2323941/1#post_30507351]A-M[/url] [url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/cc/2323941/1#post_30507353]N-Z[/url] • [url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/cc/2323941#post_30507366]Stories Pt. 5[/url] | [/size][size=1][b]NEXT[/b][/size] [size=2][url=https://www1.flightrising.com/forums/cc/2323941/63#post_43786106]Dragon[/url][/color][/size][/center]
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elysion
written by Disillusionist
special thanks to LaSilva007
8,472 words
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Lette the wheel of Fate turne, let harts enjoin,
there are othere fyres than mine...
~ Good Omens, Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett________________
Leannan blundered through the darkness. Another time, the sight of the full moon would have caused her to shrink back — there were too many bad memories associated with it. But when it shone through the briars, she bulled forward eagerly, heedless of the thorns snatching at her wings and silks. Wounds would heal, and silks could be mended. But if she fell into the claws of the great, shadowy beast...
Don’t look back, don’t look back.
As she flapped towards the stars, she cursed her shadowy pursuer. By now, she knew it was a larva: a twisted, hateful perversion of the lar it had once been. It had come to these lands, intent on avenging some great wrong Leannan had inflicted against it. It had even acquired a name, Corwin — though Leannan could think of many other, unflattering epithets to address it by.
Now she did glance back, and the edge of the Tangled Wood seemed mercifully clear. She turned again, making for the Sunbeam Ruins. Even without Corwin’s pursuit, she would have headed there. The Sunbeam Ruins was now home to her oldest enemy, Khonsu, and she would need to learn more about him, and the clan he’d fallen in with, before she could exact her revenge.
Deep in the Sunbeam Ruins, another pursuit was in progress: the Oneironauts were hunting. They did not hunt among the columns and corridors of the waking world, however — they hunted through other dragons’ dreams.
“There, behind that tree!” Legrasse barked. He bounded forward, stalking their shadowy quarry. Above him, stars winked in an amethyst sky, and in the distance, sandy dunes rose and fell. If he didn’t look directly at them, he could see other things out of the corners of his eyes, walls and shelves and windows...
The inky shape reared up, contorting fluidly. Its spindly claws stretched out to him, and its substance began to bubble like tar. Its head swelled, suddenly, impossibly huge, and began to twist into something grotesque and leering and truly nightmarish—
Legrasse averted his eyes. But suddenly the air beneath his wings was alive with whirring feathers, and as he retreated, birds exploded into the night. Strangely faceless — if asked, he would’ve been unable to describe their eyes and beaks. But they were brilliant orange, almost like lanterns, and they swarmed the Shade fragment, hiding its terrible face from view. The fragment shrank back. When next it looked, it saw other shapes leaping or gliding through the dreamscape. The rest of the Oneironauts had arrived.
Ouroboros would have flee. This dream had turned too surreal and disjointed to be a nightmare, and in any case, the sleeper would be waking soon. It collapsed suddenly, and then it flowed away across the dunes—
—then out of the sleeper themselves, tendrils of darkness winding out of their ears, nose, and mouth. The sleeper gasped and came awake, looking around the chamber. There was the sense of pursuit and exhaustion, of being threatened by claws and fangs...
But now they breathed a sigh of relief. “A dream...It was only a dream,” they realized, sinking back onto the sheets. They did not notice the wispy tendrils snaking out beneath the closed shutters, and they slept the better for it.
Ouroboros had visited other dragons that night, many of them in the trainees’ barracks. As dawn broke, a small knot of them trooped to the parade ground. Many of them were volunteers hoping to be exalted, and the desire to fight the Shade was why they’d signed on with the Disillusionists. Their encounter with this fragment had left them a little shaken, however.
Security Chief Aidan was there to address them. He gravely acknowledged the unpleasant night they’d had, and he reminded them, “A full onslaught from the Shade is much worse than a few nightmares — the terrors you’ve experienced are only a taste of what’s to come.”
He allowed that to sink in, his golden eyes grave. There was no outcry, but still he told them, “Let it not be said that the Light Flight conceals the truth from those who wish to serve the Lightweaver. If an encounter with a nightmare spirit is enough to shake you, then perhaps the exalted path is not for you. We will not condemn those who wish to leave — but we hope you will at least let our thaumaturges assist you. They are experts at healing the damage wrought by the Shade, and if you have further concerns, you are free to address them.”
The rest of the Oneironauts had gone to bed, hoping to catch a few hours’ sleep before their day jobs started. Netanya and Khonsu, however, were committed to helping those scarred by Ouroboros. As each trainee shuffled forward, Netanya closed her eyes, sank into the remnants of their dreams. She whispered spells of peace and fortitude to them, helping them calm their minds.
As for Khonsu, his focus was the dragons’ bodies: He drew down the faint sunlight (for what was moonlight, after all, but reflected sunlight?) and channeled it into the trainees. When they straightened up, they felt calmer, more confident — and more invigorated, as though they’d had a good night’s sleep.
They returned to the barracks; perhaps some would indeed quit the program, or perhaps they would remain, confident that if they had survived this brush with a Shade fragment, they would be able to withstand more.
Netanya watched them go. As she leaned against her staff, Khonsu whispered, “If you’d like, I can cast the same magic upon you: a spell of invigoration and wakefulness.”
Netanya chuckled wryly. “Save it, Khonsu. I’ll be turning in for the night...or day...soon enough. Your offer is much appreciated, however. And how about you?” She looked up at him, tapping her chin speculatively with one claw. “Would you like a spell to soothe your mind?”
“Do not tax yourself, Netanya. A full day’s rest in my vessel, perhaps some drops of spirit ichor, and I will mend. Look to yourself first.” Khonsu’s face relaxed into a smile, and he reached out, patted her shoulder with one bejeweled paw. His touch was insubstantial, but it felt like a warm breeze.
Netanya was about to respond, but Aidan, seeing the trainees trudging back to the barracks, approached them. The two Oneironauts delivered their usual assessment of the dragons’ conditions, pronouncing them fit for further training with the clan. Aidan had been frowning, but as the report went on, he started looking more cheerful, and he raised his head.
“Excellent work as always. I’m not sure what we would do without you Oneironauts; we’d probably lose our own heads next. Hmm.” This last bit came as Netanya, finally, became unable to stifle a yawn. “Isn’t it time you got some sleep, though? Both of you?”
As if on cue, the other exalt trainers glided onto the parade ground. With shouts and horn blasts, they roused the trainees, and Netanya and Khonsu turned to leave.
“The Security Chief sells himself short,” Khonsu mused aloud. “Without his tactical expertise, our struggles against Ouroboros would certainly be harder.”
Netanya pushed back her scarlet hood, and the morning light gleamed on her steely scales, her troubled expression. “But it seems she grows stronger with every passing night. Do you remember, Khonsu, when you first came here, she was not able to travel so far afield. Now she remains outside longer; she resists us even as the sun is rising.” Her frown deepened, and her wings rustled in agitation. “What if, by this time next year, she is able to detach herself completely? Perhaps even claim new hosts....I have heard of some Shade fragments doing this. Ah, it is a nightmare—!”
“Netanya.” Khonsu’s voice was quiet, but firm. The Nocturne turned to look at him. It took some doing — in the sunbeams, he was nearly invisible. But his eyes still shone, clear and green and steady.
“Your concerns are vital,” he admitted, “but now is not the time to linger on them. Best to save it for later, after you have slept. But for now, you need to regain your strength.”
“You’re right,” Netanya sighed. Khonsu reached out a steadying paw; it went right through her, of course, but she appreciated the sentiment. She murmured rather sleepily, “I wish we had more help, though. New Oneironauts...A new alliance, perhaps.”
They lapsed into tired but comfortable silence as they neared the main lair. All around them, the rest of the Sunbeam Ruins was waking up, and dragons took to the sky on various errands. One shape, however, circled over the lair like a hawk. It waited until Netanya and Khonsu had vanished into the building, and then it glided away on ruby-red wings.
Elsewhere on the Disillusionists’ territory, other dragons were hard at work. The Crispy Phoenix staff began bustling around the restaurant, preparing it for the usual influx of customers. Mixed in among them were other Disillusionists: clanmates grabbing free meals before setting off to work.
Over near the wall, Metalicana had a booth all to himself. The hulking Guardian was cantankerous even at the best of times, and no one certainly wanted to be near him when he hadn’t had breakfast yet. Metalicana didn’t mind; he wasn’t too fond of other dragons either.
So he did a double-take when a lithe, dark shape settled onto the cushion opposite him. His lip lifted, displaying formidable teeth; and then he remembered his manners and grudgingly grunted, “Ngh? You need something?”
Orange eyes blinked in a night-dark face. “I am a stranger to these parts,” murmured the Pearlcatcher. Her voice was low and vibrant, and Metalicana snorted, trying to clear his head.
“I am interested in knowing more about the dragons in your clan. I’ve been told that you have been with the Disillusionists for many years, working as a guard. Surely you can tell me about some of your lairmates.”
“Aye. What do you want to know?” Metalicana muttered in between chomps and smacks. People asked about his clanmates all the time, largely when they wanted to do business. So long as they didn’t inquire about anything private, it was fine.
“I believe one of your clanmates goes by the name ‘Khonsu’?”
Metalicana grabbed a tankard of beer. He chugged the lot down and then emerged, dripping foam, to growl, “The spirit? Ugh, I can’t abide spirits. Best to ask Netanya. Or wait...” He blinked. “Maybe you mean to hire Naddaha instead? She’s our spiritologist; she deals with those creepy things. Khonsu’s not for hiring, though.”
“No, I didn’t think so. Tell me, where can I find him?”
The words “He lives here; I thought you already knew that,” formed in Metalicana’s mind. They seemed stuck on his tongue, however. All he could get out was “Huh?”
The Pearlcatcher was leaning forward, her eyes boring into his. She was small, barely the size of his paw — but at that moment, she seemed to loom over everything, impossibly huge, filling the space outside and inside his mind. She smiled slowly, and seeing it was like lounging in the water and feeling a wave gently lift you up to the sky: Metalicana felt a surge of euphoria that had nothing to do with his breakfast.
“Khonsu, the spirit of moonlight,” she said — or Metalicana thought she said. Her mouth was moving, but the words were just a few seconds behind, and they seemed to come from a long way away. The wave was still rising skywards, but he was sinking through it now, heading for the cool and quiet deep...
“Where do I find him, Guardian? Where does this spirit sleep?”
“On the...third level,” Metalicana mumbled back. “In the...Witchborne’s quarters. A spirit vessel...”
“I see. Are there any protective enchantments?”
The Guardian blinked owlishly, his pale eyes watering. “I’ve...no idea,” he admitted. He didn’t notice the Pearlcatcher reaching out, her iron-sharp talons lingering over one of his paws...
He didn’t notice her leave, either. The next thing he was aware of was a thunk as Hesperides slid a fresh tankard on his table. “You need to move, Tal; we’ll be admitting customers soon. Are you all right?”
“Eh? I was talking...” The world came back into focus, and Metalicana frowned. He stared at the cushion opposite him, but it was empty; only Hesperides hovered on one side, her feathers bristling with impatience.
He scowled back. “Fine, I’ll...Ugh, what is this? Water? All right, then, I’m going!” And he placed the tankard back down and lumbered irritably away.
Some days later, a dark figure appeared at the edge of the clan’s territory. In its grasp shone a diamond-bright scale, plucked from Metalicana’s paw. Soon it would be nighttime, and most of the Disillusionists would head to sleep....
The Disillusionists. The clan had sprung up while Leannan had slumbered in Dwerulas’ garden. She’d had to ask around for information regarding them, but for someone of her talents, that had been ridiculously easy.
While Leannan normally got what she wanted by standing out, she had also learned to blend in, the better to conceal her true nature. The Light Flight was home to many dragons who could see through various glamours, so the spells she’d woven around herself were quite strong indeed.
The shrouding spells also kept her from being sensed by spiritologists — or other spirits. As she stood looking at the lair, she wondered idly what would’ve happened if Khonsu had sensed her. He obviously hadn’t — either that, or he’d grown hopelessly infirm. The thought made her lip curl in disdain.
Among the folds of her cloak, she felt Dwerulas’ vial. Such a tiny thing — but the weight of its power seemed to burn through the layers of cloth. Idly, she considered how she would use it.
The last time she’d seen Dwerulas had been centuries ago, before he’d put her to sleep. She hadn’t been able to track him down again (and to be honest, she hadn’t been sure she’d wanted to), but he had mentioned something about the poison being distilled from her rage and bitter memories.
Leannan was able to manipulate emotions; indeed, she could distill ardor into a similar poison for other beings to use. Since Dwerulas’ poison had been distilled from her own feelings, she was able to manipulate it too: She could lift it out of the bottle, a droplet of sun-bright liquid, and launch it through the air like a tiny, terrible missile.
She had handled it carefully, of course: There was only a few drops’ worth of the poison, and she wanted to save all of it for Khonsu. First, however, she would have to get to him.
There are certain hours of the day when fairy magic is at its strongest: noon, midnight, and the hazy twilight hours of dawn and dusk. As the sun sank onto the horizon, Leannan drew more spells of shrouding and concealment around herself. Now she was completely imperceptible; she rose from the ground like a ghost and glided noiselessly towards the lair.
There were some protective enchantments around the lair to keep out intruders. They were common spells that Leannan had encountered before, in other places, over the course of her wanderings. And she had learned how to circumvent them.
She flew up to the terrace garden. The plants were beginning to bloom, coming awake in pulses of blue and violet. As she neared them, she held up Metalicana’s scale and crushed it in her grasp—
Inside the lair, Amaryllis was just starting his shift. He headed to his beloved terrace garden — and did a double-take when he saw the huge, glittering Guardian there.
“Metalicana! Did you get off work early? What are you doing here?”
Metalicana couldn’t have cared less about flowers, so Amaryllis was surprised to see him here. Frankly, Metalicana looked surprised to be here, too. The burly Guardian was shaking one back foot slowly, as if trying to work out a kink.
He narrowed his eyes at Amaryllis. “Yes, I am finished with my work, and what I’m doing here is none of your business.”
“Oh, I rather think it is! I mean, this is my garden—”
“Aye. I...apologize.” The words came out through clenched teeth. Metalicana strode out from among the ferns and into the corridor. “I will head back to my quarters now. It has...been a long day.”
Amaryllis was still annoyed, but if he dallied any longer, he would be late for his shift. He gave his colleague a curt nod instead. “Right. Sleep well.”
The Imperial walked to one of the ledges. These poked out into the central well of the main lair, and as Metalicana looked down, he saw Amaryllis dropping gently downwards, his crimson wings spread wide. There were also other dragons moving around, most of them heading to the kitchens to help prepare the evening meal.
He — or rather, she — turned away. The Witchborne’s quarters were somewhere on this level, and Leannan intended to complete her revenge before the sun rose again.
Nightfall meant another shift for the Oneironauts. They did not sleep when they went dreamwalking — they slipped into trances. Their bodies remained awake, but unresponsive, for their consciousnesses would go flying through dreamscapes, chasing Ouroboros and the nightmares she wrought. While they were in this state, their bodies were vulnerable — and their minds, too, for spirits could slip in and take over while they were soaring through dreams.
To prevent this, they cast protective spells around themselves, such as the ones Netanya was now laying around Khonsu’s spirit vessel. The vessel itself was a large sphere, the top hemisphere of which split open like a flower. It was made of translucent white glass with opaque swirls and cradled in a polished wooden frame.
Khonsu waited patiently beside her. Although the moon was now waning, he seemed as calm and unflappable as ever. He cradled his fiery pearl between his paws; he would need its power in the nights to come, when the moon waned and briefly vanished and Ouroboros’ strength grew again.
“She has been quiescent these past few days,” Netanya murmured as she chalked the markings upon the floor. “I’m afraid she might be up to something.”
“She always was a tricky one,” Khonsu acknowledged. Netanya straightened up; the circle was nearly complete. Once Khonsu was inside the vessel, she would close it, and he would be able to slip safely into his trance.
Safely...Netanya had to admit that even that was unsure now. The Shade was a wily and adaptable foe, and she knew that eventually, there would come a time when even reliable spells would fail against it. Then their own magic would have to advance, they would have to become better and stronger...
“You will be careful, won’t you? Check if Kundalini is asleep, and if she is, return and let me know. I’m worried; there seems to be...something in the air...”
Khonsu laughed quietly. “There always is. But do not worry, I will wait. And I will keep safe, of course — our lives are tied together, after all.”
Neither of them had forgotten the promise they’d made to each other on that hilltop. Netanya straightened up, her face stoic once more. “Light and Flame keep you, Khonsu. Let us begin.”
Khonsu dissolved into a luminous silver mist, his pearl appearing as a bright nucleus. He flowed into the vessel, and the lid closed above him. Netanya bent down and closed the circle.
She was halfway through the remaining spells when, with a sharp click, the door to her apartment swung open. The dragon in the doorway blocked out the light: a hulking Guardian with rough-looking armor.
“Metalicana?” Netanya frowned. With a wave, she paused the spell, freezing the symbols and lines in the air. “What is—”
The door shut and locked — and suddenly Metalicana wasn’t there. In his place was a slim Pearlcatcher, her eyes aglow with vengeful light.
Cold fear crackled through Netanya’s body: She knew who this entity was. “You!” she gasped. Her staff leaped into her hand — but before she could react, the sinister Pearlcatcher cast a ball of fire into the air. It exploded with intense brilliance, and for a moment, Netanya thought she’d been blinded and deafened. She could barely see, and the sound seemed to fall away...
And then both sight and sound rushed back in full force as Leannan closed in, her face inches from the Nocturne’s. With a sharp swing of her tail, she slapped Netanya’s staff away. One paw clamped around the Nocturne’s throat, threatening to crush her windpipe; the other rummaged among the folds of her ornate cloak.
“How fortunate I happened to catch those last few words,” she growled. Her mane bristled around her head like an infernal halo as she glared down at Netanya. “So your lives are shackled to each other, are they? How very like Khonsu — that manipulative beast.”
“We are pledged to aid each other,” Netanya thought, “as soldiers must aid each other in battle — that is all.” But Leannan’s spell had stunned her and briefly robbed her of her voice. She could only groan unintelligibly, her claws quivering as she desperately willed her body to move.
Leannan drew out a tiny glass vial. The seal broke into slivers of light, and out floated a tiny sphere of orange syrup. Something about that glow chilled Netanya — she knew she was looking at something dangerous.
“If your lives are shackled together, there’s no need for me to disturb the King,” Leannan continued. “Better that I eliminate both of—”
With a soft hiss, the spirit vessel opened up. Mist poured into the room again, rapidly coalescing into Khonsu’s form. “Netanya, Kundalini is—”
He was wholly unprepared for the scene before him. But Leannan, who had eavesdropped through the door, had known he would return, and she wasted no time. The poison sped like a bullet, piercing the scales over Netanya’s heart.
She’d expected both the witch and Khonsu to collapse — but it was only Netanya who screamed: a shriek of utter agony, as though a fire were eating away at her...or her heart were being broken.
Leannan darted to the window. She couldn’t resist looking back — and when finally she fled, it was not because Khonsu was coming after her, intent on avenging his mistress. He was reaching out to her, and his face—
That look of utter loss, as though his world had broken...Leannan instinctively recoiled from it. She couldn’t fight that — not anymore.
And before she was aware of it, she’d launched herself out the window and into the deepening night.
It didn’t take Khonsu’s clanmates long to arrive, but there was nothing they could do for Netanya. She was nearly incoherent, struggling and groaning in agony. There were no wounds upon her body — whatever this was, it was eating her from within.
“It was a fairy,” groaned Khonsu, “the same one I warned you of when I first came to the clan. It has been nearly a thousand years; I thought she had moved on. I didn’t think...!”
Naddaha reached out a consoling paw. Her emerald eyes were grave. “She has grown more cunning and powerful since you last saw her. Your mistress still lives; while there’s life, there’s hope. The others and I will see what we can do.”
And they did, mixing myriad remedies and casting all the spells they could. But the curse remained unbroken, and day by day, Netanya grew weaker. Day by day, the darkness over the clan grew.
Mana and Legrasse continued patrolling other dragons’ dreams, but it was more difficult for them to battle Ouroboros now, and dragons living nearby, including the exalts, found themselves plagued by terrible nightmares — and feelings of terror and unease that persisted even in daylight. Some of the volunteers dropped out of the exalt program, and Aidan forlornly watched them leave. Ouroboros was doing her job well: Slowly, they were losing fighters against the Shade.
Still, for the Disillusionists, the greater concern was losing a clanmate. One bleak night, the healers and thaumaturges conferred with one another. “Nothing is working,” growled Naddaha, “and I’m afraid we’re only wasting time. Can we consult other clans? Our allies?”
Tiferet ventured, “Viktor and Yuuri aided my husband when we came to them...but they have left the Cathedral since then, and we might not be able to find them. Still, the Court of Lyres might help us.”
“It’s worth a shot.” Jubilant sighed heavily. He looked down at his notes, a list of names and ideas punctuated with question marks. “We’re dealing with something very dark and heavy here. We might have to consult people we normally wouldn’t reach out to.”
“How about Nyx Coven? They were originally established in the Tangled Wood, and they have many skilled magic users among their ranks.”
“I have not received word from the Coven in a long time,” Jubilant admitted. He smoothed down his hood and said, “I’d heard there was trouble in the clan....I’m not sure if it’s been resolved already.”
And then he looked up, blinking slowly. “What of Netanya’s parents?”
Naddaha arched an eyeridge. “The Witchborne? Mysterious folk, that bunch. I don’t believe I’ve ever met them.”
“Mana has, though. She spoke with them back when we recruited Netanya. I’ll write them a letter. They need to know about this, anyway.”
He reached for some fresh parchment. The others didn’t object; they knew he was right — because if nothing they tried worked, then they would only be able to make their friend’s passing as gentle as possible.
It was the night of the new moon. It should have calmed Leannan, but instead, she was feeling uneasy. If she were going to be entirely honest with herself, she had been feeling uneasy for the past several days.
“He’s still alive,” she thought, frowning into the darkness. “I guessed incorrectly; their lives weren’t bound after all. He’ll surely seek revenge...”
And here her thoughts trailed off, and it wasn’t because she thought Khonsu would come after her for revenge.
It was because she knew he wouldn’t.
She had gone over this scenario many times. Always, she had imagined that Khonsu would be enraged, that he would bellow abuse at her and try to strike her down.
But he hadn’t done any of those things. He hadn’t even been angry. He had just been shocked...and then she remembered the desperate way he’d tried to support his mistress, his ethereal paws passing through her body each time. The way he’d looked at Leannan, as if he couldn’t believe what she’d done.
Leannan gnashed her teeth. “I have what I want. I must move on,” she snarled. She hoped saying the words aloud would make her feel better.
They didn’t — and instead, she heard something that made her feel far worse.
“Must you, really?” hissed the shadows, and then she emerged from the base of the cliff. Even in the pitch-black night, Leannan saw her, for she was darker than the night itself.
Corwin.
For a long moment, nothing moved. The air was still; the only sound was that of the waves as they lapped at the gravel beach.
And then Leannan found her voice. She croaked, “You are here for...revenge?”
“Revenge?” The shape tilted her head. It seemed to Leannan that Corwin was...smaller than before. Four legs, two wings...but surely she was smaller?
“Wrath begets revenge,” the shadow stated. “It was wrath that drove me on; it was wrath that called me to you. But here and now, there is no wrath. In its place, I smell a different emotion, and it puzzles me.” She paced closer, on soundless feet. Leannan sat very still.
“There is something you must do,” said the shadow, and this close, she did sound like Corwin. Leannan winced beneath that vast head. “But I do not know what to do. I—”
She flinched back as Corwin extended a sword-sized talon. Something glittered at the end of it — and Leannan, leaning forward, recognized the empty vial.
“Ask,” Corwin growled. “Your exchange requires that he answer.”
“‘He’?” asked Leannan. And then she closed her paw around the vial and the world changed—
Leannan gasped and looked around. Luminous fruits, glittering cavern walls...
She was back in Dwerulas’ garden.
She glided forward, insubstantial as smoke; even so, the trees seemed to know she was here. They moved disturbingly as she passed, and once or twice she caught them reaching out to her. Faces seemed to peer out from among the leaves, disquieting visages that retreated when she turned to look.
She found Dwerulas tending a bush. He harvested its ghostly green flowers, squeezing emerald nectar from them. “You are here,” he droned dispassionately. The nectar fell, drip – drip – drip, into another glass vial.
“Yes,” Leannan said. Suddenly, she was unsure: Had she flown to where Dwerulas was now, or gone back in time, to when the garden had been in Dragonhome? Was her body still nearby, locked in sorcerous sleep?
“It doesn’t matter,” she decided. Instead, she asked, “I would have you explain the nature of the poison.”
Dwerulas flicked a frill dismissively. “It is not a poison, it is a curse. The rancor of your long years, distilled into a single drop.” His eyes gleamed unpleasantly. “It will plunge the recipient into sleep, and they will fall through your nightmares, their soul fleeing deeper and deeper into the darkness, while the body wastes away. There will be no mercy for the soul, even when the body is dust and gone. There will only be darkness and pain and misery.”
And even Leannan, dark and troubled Leannan, shrank back from such an ominous pronouncement. It was one thing to imagine it, but another to have it said by someone who could make it come to pass.
—Who was making it come to pass. She asked him, “How can the curse be lifted?”
“Lifted?” For the first time, Dwerulas laughed — and it was a terrible, raucous shriek, like an auger trying to bore through stone. “The poison is wrought from your feelings, girl. You tell me how to lift it.”
He obviously hadn’t meant it as reassurance — yet there was the solution, plain as day; and the wave of relief was so strong, it nearly knocked Leannan over. Around her, the garden briefly shimmered.... “Thank you, Lord.”
“The answer pleases you, does it?” Dwerulas’ fins became still again. His dark eyes bored into her, and Leannan felt him trying to see through her and beyond—
With a gasp, she came back to the present: She was sitting at the foot of a seaside cliff, at low tide, with the distant waves lapping at the tidepools. Corwin was gone — but Leannan opened her paw and saw the empty vial, and clarity dawned again. She knew what she had to do.
It was much harder to enter the Disillusionists’ lair this time. Leannan had to actually break through some of the protective spells; no doubt this would alert someone in the lair. But it didn’t matter: If all went as planned, she would be gone within the next few minutes.
And Netanya would be free.
Leannan found the Nocturne in the infirmary. She was in a private room, and she seemed to be alone. That suited Leannan just fine, and she paused, looking down at her victim, really seeing her for the first time.
She was young, and the curse had taken its toll: Her lead-gray scales were dull and ashen, and her breathing was irregular. She had grown noticeably thin — wasting away, as Dwerulas had said.
“Well, waste no more,” Leannan muttered, and she didn’t dare pause to think why she had said it. She didn’t dare think about why she was even doing this.
She instead concentrated on the poison, somewhere deep inside Netanya. She willed it back into a small bead, and she called to it, lifting it to the surface of the skin. “No more anger. No more pain,” she thought fiercely, her orange eyes blazing. “No more...regret...”
Was it working? It didn’t seem to be working. Leannan felt a chill of unease as she considered this possibility.
And then a voice that inspired fear worse than Corwin ever did—
“But you want the regret. You want the pain. You enjoy festering in your rage.”
It crackled like dried leaves being eaten by fire, or like frost spreading swiftly across glass. And waves of fear, both scorching and chilling, burst across Leannan’s scales.
“Will you not join her in the darkness? There is always room...for more,” Ouroboros hissed sibilantly, almost in her ear. A clammy breath, as though from an open tomb, wafted against the back of her neck.
“Don’t turn around,” Leannan urged herself, though her shoulders trembled violently. “Don’t look...”
“You don’t need to look,” whispered Ouroboros. “But you need to feel.”
A chill ran up Leannan’s spine: The thing was behind her. It was rearing up above her, and it would swamp her like a wave—
Brightness! The poison burst up, passing through Netanya’s scales as though they were water. Leannan loosed a strangled cry of triumph. She leaped forward, grabbing madly, reaching out for that glowing bead.
And then she felt Ouroboros’ touch, like freezing silk, winding around her ankle.
Leannan fell.
All around was darkness, but she could feel the wind rushing past her. It was almost like that time when...
She felt loam beneath her feet, and then loops of light appeared. They illuminated a familiar figure standing in the grass before her.
Khonsu. As Leannan watched, he began bellowing — his words were incomprehensible, for they were horribly overlaid with a hissing, crackling noise. She’d heard that whisper...when? When had she heard it? Panic set in as Leannan struggled to remember. It almost sounded like fire eating dead leaves—
Fire! It erupted around Khonsu, wreathing him in lurid orange light. His voice merged with the crackle of the flames till the sound was all around her, a hollow, rushing roar. The fire crept up him, lapping at his skin, and his face began to run like wax.
Leannan struggled to twist away from the sickening sight. She felt herself struggling to twist — but no matter which way she turned, the phantom was before her, staring at her with hollow eyes. Tatters of skin slid away...and beneath, there was no skull, no bones. Just a darkness so intense it was painful to see.
The flames were now racing towards Leannan. The magical diagrams closed like a snare, trapping her legs. She struggled to tear herself free; the crackling noise was growing stronger. The flames would devour her alive! She twisted away just as the first of them touched her leg—
And there was a sharp, searing pain, hotter even than fire, against her left shoulder. The world briefly seemed to shimmer around her; clarity came suddenly to her mind, like sunlight through a break in the clouds. That pain — she’d felt it before, and she knew it now.
Iron!
And then she was back on the hilltop, being menaced by a diabolical vision of Khonsu, but she struggled to hold on to that clarity. Because now she knew: She wasn’t on the hilltop, and there wasn’t a fire raging nearby.
She was still in the infirmary, and that searing pain, so sharp it had briefly wiped away the illusion, had come from something made of iron, banging against her shoulder. Frantically, Leannan tried to remember the layout of the room. There was Netanya’s bed against one wall, perhaps a few meters from her — if her frenzied struggling hadn’t pushed her farther away. A table in one corner of the room, shelves and cabinets lining the walls, racks for storing supplies.
Racks...maybe made of iron?
Leannan hurled herself sideways again. There was the jangle of metal and glass — and the pain, hot and bright, brushing against her wing. She sucked in a deep breath — and biting back a scream, she reached out, gripped the edge of the rack.
The world exploded apart. She saw the infirmary again, and she was huddled by one of the supply racks, her paw glued to the metal frame. There was Netanya in her bed. The poison had disappeared back into her; Leannan would have to draw it out again....
And there, in the corner by the door, a towering shadow, so huge it had to stoop to fit beneath the ceiling. It seemed like a coiled-up serpent, but here and there, spindly appendages thrust from its substance. Its head was featureless, faceless, just a roiling cloud of darkness.
But Leannan could feel the malevolence of it, the way it leered at her. It reached out with its many claws. And as it did so, darkness leaked in at the edges of her vision, threatening to overwhelm her again.
She managed to tear her eyes away from it. She focused on the poisonous bead instead. It was too far away for her mind to grasp; she would have to get closer. A grim smile shone on her face.
“I am Leannan,” she said, half to herself, half to the menacing shadow, “and I go where I please.”
She released the iron, and the illusion closed in again. Or perhaps...a waking nightmare? For the images that assailed her were ones she’d seen before, in sleep. The moon blazed out from behind the clouds, and magic ensnared her again. The king she had loved held up a fist in condemnation, and flames roared towards her.
“No,” she told herself, and took another step. The flames crashed over her like a breaking wave, and her scales tingled with heat. But she clenched her fist, where the iron-seared scar still burned, and she kept on moving forward.
Khonsu’s image was gone, but the ground beneath her suddenly dipped, and it seemed she was falling into the earth again. She heard Dwerulas’ screeching laugh, felt the roots of monstrous plants plucking greedily at her. Faces seemed to swim out of the darkness, grotesque fruits with lurid eyes that dribbled sickly-sweet, cloying nectar.
“No,” she said again, and she remembered waking up in the garden, the vines crumbling into dust. If she concentrated hard enough, she could imagine the crackle of Ouroboros’ voice as the hiss of crumbling stone....
She took another step forward. Another, and another.
And finally, Corwin loomed before her, her horned head gleaming, chains rattling against her neck. Her heavy jaws split open, and her howl was all the souls Leannan had ever wronged, their voices crying out for revenge.
Leannan did falter — but only briefly. For she remembered Corwin in the shadow of the cliff, the empty bottle of rancor balanced on a clawtip. And that quiet voice: “There is something you must do.”
“Indeed there is,” Leannan thought, and now she could laugh at the shadow. “Hiding behind masks, Shadeling?” she taunted it, once again ablaze with fire and pride. “Why not shed these illusions and face me as you really are?”
It hung there for a moment — and then with a hollow, rushing noise, the nightmarish visions around Leannan were sucked back into their source. Ouroboros collapsed into an inky mass.
Leannan wasted no time. She leaped across the remaining space, and finally, her distilled emotions were within reach. The droplet sprang into her grasp — and she pressed it against her heart, willing it to fade.
“No more anger. No more hate. I will not be shackled any further,” she whispered fiercely, her eyes closed. “No more bitterness. No more.”
And she felt the rancor leave her; she let out a deep and contented sigh. She opened her eyes and looked down — and her paw, at last, was empty.
Ouroboros had fled, but there was someone else: The door had opened, and the other Oneironauts, realizing their quarry was no longer inside the dream, had arrived. Leannan didn’t really see them, though — her eyes were riveted on Khonsu, whom she’d most hoped, most feared to see.
Worry for his mistress had weakened him; he was barely visible in the lantern light. He looked apprehensively at Leannan, obviously unsure what to do.
“Why?” he asked at last, his voice as faint as a breeze.
There were no words. Perhaps there never would be, or perhaps they would never be needed. Either way, nothing was holding Leannan back now.
She gave him one final look, and this time, it no longer felt as though a knife was twisting inside her. In a swirl of scarlet, she flitted to the window, and at last she was gone.
Morning slowly illuminated the lair, and as it did, Netanya stirred. She felt better than she had in days; her body was no longer racked by those strange, stabbing pains. And there was a voice, too, humming a song. It lifted Netanya’s spirits, and she opened her eyes.
“Mother!” she gasped, reaching instinctively for the Imperial. Zelievna leaned close to nuzzle her daughter’s cheek. The Witchborne mother’s clothes were travel-stained, and her face was lined with weariness; she looked as though she’d had a hard journey. But the air around her was calm — and Netanya knew that whatever concern had driven her here had now gone away.
There was a flutter behind Zelievna, and then Etrix appeared. He laughed quietly, reaching out to pat his daughter’s paw. “It is good to see you again, young one. You gave us quite a scare.”
“Did my clan...summon you here?”
“Oh, yes,” Etrix said. “The message arrived two days ago, carried by a most peculiar Spiral. We made our way here as quickly as we could — imagine our surprise to see that the problem had resolved itself already!”
Netanya was mortified, but Zelievna, seeing the look on her face, crooned soothingly again. “You needn’t worry about having trespassed on our time, for this matter did require our attention. It is worth discussing even though it has been resolved. And of course...” She smiled warmly. “We could not forgo a chance to see our daughter again.”
The door opened slightly, and Etrix turned, listening to the healer’s words. He murmured briefly to Zelievna and, with another smile at Netanya, he flitted outside.
The door shut behind him. As it did, Zelievna held up something that sparkled in the sunlight. “Do you recognize this?”
“It’s a vial. The fairy had it; she stored the poison in it.” Netanya watched as her mother placed it on the bedside stand.
“It is empty now, harmless, but it bears traces of demonic magic.”
Netanya blinked in confusion. “But she was a fairy. Khonsu told me, and when I saw her, I was sure—”
“She may have wielded the poison,” Zelievna interrupted her gently, “but she did not prepare it. This required a touch of darkness, something to rival even the malevolence of the Shade. Your father and I discussed it, while you were sleeping.”
She let out a heavy sigh and turned, looking reflectively out the window. Outside, all was contentment: Sunlight glimmered on the lawns and gardens of the lair, and the brightly-colored forms of dragons wandered to and fro. Still— “No place is truly safe from the machinations of demons,” she growled, her eyes darkening. “Your clan has done well so far, but it appears that combating fiends is not their strong suit. Not that I blame them.” She couldn’t help smiling wryly. “It is not what one would call a common career choice.”
She patted Netanya’s arm again. “Not to worry, child; I will speak with one of your kinsdrakes. Some of them have become rather more familiar with demonkind....I did not approve at first, but perhaps, indeed, they stepped onto that path for a reason.”
Netanya was too tired to argue. She watched as Zelievna cocked an ear. “Your spirit aide approaches. He has been consumed with worry over you. Treat him gently, girl.” The Imperial smiled again, a softer and warmer smile this time. “His kind are more fragile than they seem.”
Before Netanya could ask what she meant, Zelievna rose, drawing her robes around her, and made for the door. It opened, and Khonsu hovered there, his pearl in the crook of one arm. He inclined his head to the Imperial, and then he glided to Netanya’s bedside.
“You are well,” he gasped in obvious relief. “We were deeply worried....We were afraid we would lose you.”
“Yes,” Netanya said wryly, “I was afraid I would lose me, too.” Her heart wasn’t really in the joke, though. She’d been thinking about something for a while.
“What will you do now?”
“Me?” Khonsu tilted his head. “Why, I will head back to my spirit vessel soon. Naddaha has been taking care of me, but I shall be glad once you’ve completely recovered—”
Netanya shook her head slowly. “The fairy you told us about...she helped me. I heard her as dawn was breaking. She pulled the curse from my body, and she destroyed it herself.
“Part of our contract was that we would aid each other against our respective foes. But your adversary is...no longer an adversary, I think.” And, as Khonsu nodded slowly, Netanya repeated, “What will you do now?”
“Ouroboros...She still menaces the clan, does she not?” Khonsu gave her a grave look. “And she has grown stronger, too.”
Netanya couldn’t deny that. Khonsu’s help would still be welcome against their foe. Still, she waited. The words had to come from him.
He took a deep breath and continued, choosing his words with care, “It is a struggle...worth continuing. Because this is a good place. It is a good clan. And I am happy here — with you.”
Netanya couldn’t help it; she burst into soft, delighted laughter, her paws going up to her cheeks. “We are glad to have you with us, Khonsu,” she stated formally — but the eyes with which she looked at him were full of affection, and Khonsu knew she understood. He reached out, placed his paw over hers, and she did not pull away. His face relaxed into a smile.
There were many ways to pledge one’s life to another, after all.
Night was looming, and once again, the veils between worlds were growing thin. Deep in the wilds of the Sunbeam Ruins, Leannan came to a small glade, and she paused, resting. And thinking.
Normally after getting what she wanted, she would move on — but Leannan no longer knew what she wanted, and she wasn’t sure what she would search for even if she did move on. The sun sank beyond the trees, and the shadows lengthened, but still she was unsure what to do.
She decided that she could, at least, sleep. Maybe things would seem surer and more solid in the morning.
With a rustle, another dragoness slipped out of the woods: a Nocturne, somewhat smaller than she was. “This is wild territory, wanderer,” she chirped. “Why have you come to this place?”
Leannan sighed. “Just following the sound of my own footsteps, I suppose. I shall have to move on soon.”
“Must you, really?”
The fairy was about to reply, but something about those words struck her. And there was something else — a familiar resonance and timbre. She turned and looked, really looked, at the Nocturne sitting beside her.
“Corwin?”
“Sometimes,” the Nocturne said, shrugging iridescent olive wings. She was busy grooming her head, and Leannan realized that in addition to spikes, she was covered with soft white feathers, like a dove.
“I was a nameless spirit at first, in the temple of love and promises. I wore a mask when the promises turned to treachery, and I took on a new shape, one for ceaselessly stalking wrongdoers and bringing vengeance upon them.”
Leannan felt her hide prickle in alarm. She ventured, almost in a whisper, “And now?”
“Where is the wrongdoer? I do not see her now. I hunted one who preyed upon people’s love, who fed by turning it into anger and hate — but she is not here now.” The Nocturne leaned forward, sniffed Leannan’s face and mane. “You have changed.”
“So have you,” Leannan couldn’t resist retorting — and she realized it was true, in layers she was only just beginning to grasp.
She slumped, her ruby wings drooping, and stared at the forest floor. “I cannot go on preying upon others — not after what I’ve learned and lost. I suppose I will fade away, in time. Perhaps that’s what eventually happens to all of us.”
“There are many kinds of love,” the Nocturne said, “and this is yours.”
She held out a scarlet rose. It wasn’t red like wine, but rather shone like a flame. It was partly opened, pulsing with the promise of life...and of growth.
Leannan instinctively reached out for it, and as her fingers closed around it, she felt its vigor rush into her. Suddenly she was full of energy, as though she had just consumed a hapless victim — but there were no victims here, and she would never take another. The rose remained in her grasp, still as fiery and unbowed as she was.
“The more you give of it, the more you get,” the Nocturne said, blinking her ruby eyes. “Perhaps I will see you again.”
“Not as Corwin, I hope,” Leannan responded, and she even managed to crack a smile.
“No, I do not think I will be Corwin for a while. I will be...yes, I will be Imago, for I am no longer a larva, and true love has been revealed.”
She bent forward, gently nuzzling Leannan’s brow, and then she fluttered away into the night. Leannan was left alone in the gathering darkness.
The rose still pulsed in her hand...and as she concentrated upon it, it ran like water, brightening to lustrous gold. It took on a new form: a pearl as golden as the morning sun. Perhaps in time, it would be filled with memories of its own. Warm, bright memories, to sustain her even during the darkest days.
Love was what you made it to be, after all. At last, Leannan felt she could face the world again. Perhaps she would stay, perhaps not...but either way, she would move on.
Shadows parted around her like a curtain. Night had fallen completely now, but the pearl continued shining with a golden radiance. It twinkled on and off, glimpsed through the trees like a star: distant, but able to guide others — if only they knew where to look.
~ The End
Credits: Special thanks to LaSilva007 for allowing Etrix and Zelievna to be included. Other clans mentioned include awaicu’s Cathedral of Eyes and Tues’ Nyx Coven.
