Wings Of Fire (WOF) : A dark family affair

Chapter 34

She felt as if she had stumbled and fallen into the hopeless abyss of her soul. The fall was violent and, at the bottom of the abyss, this time, she didn't have the strength to get up. She didn't want to get up. She didn't want to get up again. Every time she tried to put things right, every time she overcame a difficulty, she had the feeling afterwards that she'd have to face a new, even greater hindrance. She had wanted to save her mother and instead had killed her. And death was an obstacle she couldn't overcome. She didn't have the power to raise the dead. Nobody could.

She blamed herself for not trusting her premonitions and ignoring them. The half-nightwing thought these dreams were just a trick of her unconsciousness and that she was tormenting herself. After all, who could believe that overnight she'd acquired seer powers ? But that turned out not to matter, as it was now too late. Everyone would tell her she couldn't have imagined it, but the only person who would hold it against her would be herself. Guilt was beginning to well up inside her.

What was the point of having these visions if they couldn't change the future ? Even if she had decided to put her premonitions out of her sight, it didn't change the fact that she had tried everything in her power to bring justice and stop Coyot. But nothing helped. Whether we knew it in advance or not, destiny was inviolable, a universal law from which no being could derogate. The feeling of not being in control of her destiny sickened her and sucked away her determination. It was cruel and unfair.

Eventualluy all the emptiness of her mind and will stemmed from a single regret : notchaving had the chance to really know her mother. A part of her seemed to have disappeared with Mist's death. But not having been able to get to know her personality, not having been able to live with her on a daily basis, not having had the chance to share her doubts, her fears. All that imaginary past could have become today's future. But now it was nothing more than a mirage, and this prevented him from grieving properly. It was like having a funeral without knowing the person. She had to be sad, but there was nothing to justify the pain.

In the first few seconds after Mist's death, no one dared to fidget or even whisper a word. Maple seemed torn between comforting Nightjar or leaving her in her solitude, and Dandelion did nothing but stare impassively at the sand, respecting his friend's deep pain. After admiring the lifeless body, the half-mudwing looked at Crystal, hoping to get something from her.

Looking at the corpse lying there, Coyot's daughter didn't seem to react. She seemed stunned by what had just happened. Of course, her amber eyes reflected a wet look of sadness. Crystal had just lost what she probably considered a second mother. But, strangely, this livid look only strengthened her confident gaze. In the still waters of her tears lurked something even greater than the sense of loss. There was something unsettling that Nightjar couldn't quite make out. The half-seawing clenched her fists in frustration and turned to face Coyot : "Are we done with this ?" he asked. His voice expressed a defiant weariness.

- Yes, said Crystal firmly. This ends here.

- Very well, then. Then let's not waste any more time".

Coyot put his machete carefully back in its leather sheath and prepared for battle by standing on his feet.

No matter which tribe a dragon belonged to, it was simply impossible for anyone to fight with a white weapon, which occupied one hand, and remain mobile and lively in its movements. Thus, many fighting styles relied on the claws and other tribal advantages of each clan. It was unconventional or even inadvisable to use any other tool. Weapons were often reserved for ceremonial purposes or used to deliver a fatal blow, often symbolically. Crystal, however, seemed to be the exception that confirmed the rule.

She brandished a long, thin, immaculate, rapier-like blade with her right arm and pointed it upwards. In this way, she was able to grip the iron with her tail, with which she encircled the handle of the weapon. In this way, Crystal was like a sandwing with its sting. This manipulation was accompanied by the unsuccessful remarks of the hated father : "Do you really think you can touch me with that ? Or are you putting a handicap on yourself ?" Crystal made no reply. "I don't know what game you're playing, he added, but I must say I find it daring and very brave of you.