Epiphany
Sometimes, when I can't think clearly, I like to pace around through the tunnels. The air is stuffy and hot, and dragons blend into the shadows just a bit too easy. It makes my heart race, and makes me want to turn and run the other way. I don't.
I am not the dragon I used to be. I'm not sure that's true, but if I repeat it enough times, I like to think it will be.
The exit wouldn't just close off by chance. Something is happening out there that Sharp-eyes doesn't want us to see–of course it looks like the cave fell in. Of course no one has been able to swim under without running out of air. That's how he wants it to look.
I freeze at the flash of light, the sound of scrabbling talons on dirt.
"Hello?" a soft, quiet voice calls. It sounds like a dragonet, maybe a few years old, light and feeble.
"Is–is anyone there?" the dragonet asks. Doesn't sound like any of ours.
Did Prophecy run off again? No, I had someone watching her when I left—this is someone who snuck in.
And it couldn't be Pavo. He's made friends with a few of the other dragonets, and I know someone was watching them play when I left.
"Who's there?" the voice says, trembling and small. He rounds the corner, eyes meeting mine, and a sudden horror seems to dawn on him.
"Hey, what's wrong?" I try to sound calm and collected. "How did you find us? Where are your pa–"
I can see his star-speckled scales glinting off the faint light like Princess Star brought back from the dead.
"No," I whisper, covering my mouth. "I'm–I'm dreaming. I'm going crazy. You can't be–"
"Vigilance," he interrupts, seeming to shrink into himself. "No, no, no. You're dead! You're supposed to be dead! This is all just a game, isn't it? This is some way of punishing me, oh, I knew it was too good to be true!"
A chill sinks over my whole body.
Prince Nebula.
"No!" I cry. "No, no, no, big misunderstanding–I get it all the time. I'm–I'm not Vigilance, I'm really not—"
Nebula starts to hyperventilate, cowering behind his wings. "I'm sorry, Grandmother. I'm sorry! I'm sorry I betrayed you, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry—"
He knows.
Everyone else in this city has forgotten, be he remembers.
He leans against the side of the tunnel wall, and his breath keeps getting faster, and he starts to cry, and then he stops.
I step closer. "Nebula?"
He doesn't respond.
***
When the city started to melt, Gaze and I were sitting by the window of an apartment we now shared alone. Without her parents in it, I felt like I could breathe for the first time in months.
As soon as the walls started to shake, she froze. Curled up into herself. I tried to snap her out of it, but nothing was working, and I didn't have the time.
I carried her on my back toward the highest ground I could find. The industrial sector still seemed stable, at least for now. She whimpered and cried, a thousand miles away, and I tried not to think about what she might be seeing. Tried to guard her with my wings and told myself that I'd be able to protect her, no matter what–but I had no idea if that was true. We stayed like that for hours.
She snapped out of it the second the city went back to normal. I would have been jealous of her if not for what she said next.
"Gaze?" She looked so small and vulnerable in my talons.
"Where–where am I?" her breath was uneven her face streaked with tears. She shifted, looking around. "Is anyone left?"
I blinked. A sense of dread set over me. "You're fine. I've got you. Don't worry about now–tell me what you saw," I said gently.
She looked up at me, and whispered, "I saw tidal waves swallowing cities. I saw the stars, falling from the sky. I saw the dust storm, again, again, again–swallowing the continent whole."
"You've seen that before, haven't you?" I asked. She was shaking a bit, and I didn't know what to say–how I was supposed to make it better. If there was much I could do at all.
She shakes her head. "No–no, that was it. That is the new prophecy. Destruction, to no end. Before there was a way out, but I couldn't find a way out of this. It's not like the other visions. I can't–"
She looked at the city, hiding on rooftops. Now that the streets had drained, they were lined with the bodies of those who had fallen. Someone's friends. Someone's family. I felt a little sick.
"What happened to this place?" she breathed.
***
The air is thick with smoke, and another scent too–something sharp that makes my eyes water. Brightmind has been trying to blast open the exit to the outside world for days, but nothing seems to be working.
"Gaze!" I shout. I've awkwardly slung the dragonet over my back, and my shoulder is starting to ache.
"Gaze!" I find her, Brightmind, and Dreamsinger inside the meeting room, all sitting around our table.
She comes running. "Epiphany? What's–who's that?"
She helps me slide Nebula off my shoulders and onto the rocks. He knows, he knows, he knows, and he's going to tell everyone. I should run while I still have the chance.
I just shake my head.
"What's going on?" Brightmind asks, scrambling over the uneven rocks toward us. "Why do you have a dragonet?"
"I feel like I've seen him before," Dreamsinger comments.
"This is Star's son. He might have... fainted when he saw me."
I hear another blast from the cavern.
"You need to keep that noise down," Gaze says scoldingly to Brightmind. "This is the definition of stupidity. If you do something twenty times and it's still not working, you're wasting resources."
"It's only the third blast," Brightmind reminds her. The exit sealed off not long ago, and with it, any way of ferrying dragons out of the kingdom. It looks like part of the cavern simply buckled under its weight, but somehow, I have a hard time believing that's true.
I look down at the ground, wondering if I was just imagining the dragonet mumbling to himself. "You can go," he breathes. "I'llbefine...donworry..."
Gaze and Brightmind mutter back and forth, and I can't hear what they're saying through the scenarios flashing through my mind.
If it happens, it happens. It's going to happen eventually, and even if I'd rather it be on my terms–
After everything your Mother sacrificed to keep your identity secret, this is how you repay her?
I picture the crowds of dragons looking at me, hating me. Everything that I've accomplished reduced to dust.
I am not the dragon I used to be.
The dragonet's eyes open, and they meet mine. I notice the teardrop scales on either side of his eyes, glinting in the light. I try to keep my mind as silent, as calm as possible, imagining an empty sky, the desert sand stretching out to the horizon. I try to hold that image in my mind.
"Nebula!" Dreamsinger crouches down, trying to get on his level. "You're awake. I know you must be confused, and scared, but I promise we're not going to hurt you."
The dragonet blinks.
"This is the New Star, isn't it? I found you."
"You were looking for us?" I ask, rather than answering. "Why? How did you get down these tunnels?"
Sharp-eyes could have sent him. He's a total stranger, and to make things worse, he's part of the family. Careful, Epiphany.
He scans me up and down.
"You're not Vigilance. You're–"
I almost tell him. The wind is blowing through my wings, the sky is blue, and the sun is beating down on my back... "Constellation."
"But–" he hesitates. In this light, I know he can see the ever-so-slight silver freckles on my cheeks. He's covered with them himself, enough to make a whole night sky. There are a few clouds and I can see the palace, not far away, where Queen Scorpion waits. This is my life, this is where I've always been. I miss it with all my heart.
"You still haven't answered my question."
Nebula hesitates for a moment. Whatever answer he wants to give, he's thinking it over pretty thoroughly. "I... figured if you liked my mom so much, you'd probably like me. I'm a mind-reader, it wasn't hard to find you."
"What happened in that tower? Did you ever meet a dragon called Supernova in there?" Brightmind asks. "Or hear his thoughts? Get any sign he was alive? He's my brother, and he was on the council, and–" Brightmind hesitates, clearing their throat. "Well, I haven't heard from him in a while."
Nebula looks at the four of us. "Aren't you the dragons who set the kingdom on fire?"
Gaze grimaces. "Right now, we're the dragons against Sharp-eyes. If you're against him, then you're with us."
Nebula thinks that over for a moment.
"I guess I should start from the beginning."
He clears his throat, and he tells us everything. That the council is locked up in a wing of the palace, that Brightmind's brother is probably there, but Nebula's not sure. That the old monarchs never believed any of the things they were saying. Sharp-eyes had them in some kind of isolation, and he would bribe them with time together, conversations with Nebula.
If I was in their place, if I knew Gaze was one speech away from being mine, if only for a few hours... I don't know if I could resist that either.
"You could hear their thoughts, all the way across the castle?" I ask wonderingly. Is that normal?
Nebula shrugs. "Bits and pieces. Not well."
He hesitates, looking up at me.
I am flying through the desert, and it's all I've ever known. It's home to me. I'll be back at the palace before I know it. The image is so vivid that for a moment, I almost lose myself in it.
He continues. "And then–when everything starts to fall apart, I still couldn't escape. My cage didn't break apart. But, uh, Mom and Dad did get out. Way, Precocious, Fathom and Indigo did too. I'm not sure how exactly. Dad tried to come back for me, but he couldn't get me out, and he was running out of time, and–" Nebula hesitates. "I told him he had to let me go. My family got out, that's what matters."
Darkstalker and Clearsight escaped. The rumours are true.
I have to feel for the dragonet. He lost his first family before he ever met them; I can't imagine Queen Vigilance made for much of a mother, and then when he finally found a set of half-decent dragons to look after him, he lost them too.
If I'd stayed behind—if I hadn't run, would Vigilance have killed me? Or–
I am flying through the desert. I'll be coming down to land soon.
Gaze and I exchange a glance. At least the boys got out–and they've got someone to look after them. I don't know who Fathom and Indigo are, but I hope that they're trustworthy.
"So then how did you get out? Did Sharp-eyes have another–" I search for the right word. "Lapse? Episode? What did he do to make them stop coming–how did he put the kingdom back together? What's he planning?"
Nebula fidgets with his claws. "Uh. You guys are.... not gonna believe this one."
***
Dreamsinger keeps talking with Nebula, and Gaze meets my eyes, gesturing to the door.
"What. Just. Happened," Gaze says, slipping out the door.
"You don't believe it?"
"No, it's so absolutely ridiculous I think I have to," Gaze says, laughing, shaking her head. "I mean, I knew Sharp-eyes was going to fix himself eventually, I just... I mean.... how is that even possible?"
"The souls of multiple dragons must make a pretty potent fuel," I observe.
"You aren't surprised?"
I shake my head. "It makes sense. Transplanting a soul must be a pretty dicey process. No wonder it made the city fall apart."
She shifts on her talons, glancing behind us, checking that no one is listening in. She steps closer. "And that's not even getting to the crux of the matter. He's your cousin! Your first living relative, Pif!"
"You say that like it's a good thing!" I want to shake her. "Everyone related to me is evil, Gaze! He's probably going to snap and kill everybody or send information back to Sharp-eyes, because there is no way he just let the prince of two regimes go without any kind of catch. There's a cost to this–we just can't see it yet."
Gaze opens her mouth. Closes it. " He just seemed scared. I don't think he's going to hurt anyone deliberately. But you're right–I don't buy that Sharp-eyes just got bored of keeping him on display. The timing makes no sense."
"He's a mind-reader, Lu. He is the ideal candidate for a spy. He's probably already figured out who I am, figured out everything about our organization–"
"I didn't think about that. That is... an issue. You're right." Gaze grimaces. "I feel like I'd be able to see it if he was doing something sneaky. Look, we'll keep an eye on him, and I'll make sure all our other mind-readers are on the lookout for anything suspicious."
I feel a little guilty, for being so hostile to someone who's done nothing wrong himself.
He looks no older than two years old, although I think he must be four. And by all the moons, he looks so much like his mother. I wonder what mine would think of all this if she were still around. If there's some alternate universe where we were a big, happy family–even Vigilance.
Besides the point.
"Why did Vigilance even let him live?" I ask Gaze.
She shrugs. "He wasn't a threat to the throne. I guess she felt guilty. I don't think she was much of a parent, though. From what I heard, he was supposed to go to Darkstalker and Clearsight, but technically he didn't. He lived with her until his sister by adoption killed her. Right until the end." She looks over at me. "You're right–there are some security concerns. But this isn't really about those things, is it? This is personal."
I open my mouth, trying to think of a response.
"What are you scared of, Epiphany?" She reaches out, touching her wing to mine.
I should tell her, but somehow, I can't bear it. He thinks that I'm her. I could see it in his eyes.
I answer, "He saw me for half a second in that tunnel, and that's all it took for him to see through me."
***
"This isn't news," Gaze says with a sigh. "We saw this coming a mile away, right? We knew getting dragons out of the kingdom was a limited-time offer. We knew things were going to change."
"It seems like too much of a coincidence that right as Sharp-eyes was assembling his new body, you start getting all these visions," I point out.
"Have you seen anything else?" Dreamsinger asks like she does every damn night. It's a reasonable question, I know that logically–so I don't know why it makes my belly fill up with fire.
"Nothing," Gaze says, and I can tell she's holding herself back. "I don't know what's happening, and I don't know why. It's got to be magic, doesn't it? Or... I don't know. Maybe the stars are just mad at us. Whatever cause it might have had when I saw this back in the desert? It's worse, now. Angrier. Stronger."
"Sharp-eyes probably wants to bring it on," Brightmind mutters. "I'm sure he could survive it."
"I don't know about that," Gaze says, furrowing her brow. "Maybe he could. Even so–then, who will be left to remember him?"
"I don't think that's how he thinks. I don't even care–I'm fed up of sitting around and talking," Brightmind gripes. "I know why we have to be careful, and all, but... this doesn't feel right. No one is getting out–we all know the cavern didn't just cave in out of nowhere. He knows what we're up to, which means we're actually a threat. What's the point of hiding in the shadows anymore?"
"We just got some pretty revolutionary information. Darkstalker and Clearsight managed to escape, and so did a lot of other dragons when everything went haywire. Maybe it doesn't matter in any practical sense–but that story? That's powerful," Gaze says. When she gets excited, she starts to talk like she's speaking to a crowd. She's not–she's pacing in a stuffy, smoke-filled room, illuminated by a lantern on a desk.
"How are we going to prove that?" I counter.
"We don't need to. We can take over a street, and I can give a speech, and dragons will believe it. We're all tired, and angry, and terrified because after the whole world disintegrated, we got nothing. No one is getting in, no one is getting out–the world is changing too fast to understand, and there's absolutely nothing we can do. But Darkstalker and Clearsight made it out, and so did hundreds of other dragons–living proof he can mess up. That story is enough to keep dragons fighting for a little bit longer."
She's so good, for a moment, I can see her logic.
"Until Sharp-eyes sees we've gone beyond mostly peaceful protest, wipes our brains, tosses us into his war machine and sees what comes out the other end," I interrupt. "And in the end, all that comes out of it is... a fairy tale, that the old king and queen are going to swoop in and make it all better. An excuse to be complacent. They don't have their powers anymore! If they were truly a threat, Sharp-eyes wouldn't have let them go."
This is a new era. He's not fragile anymore–we can't bank on his magic breaking down.
Gaze throws her wings up in the air. "Epiphany—"
"Gaze. We didn't get involved in this to sit around making up stories that made dragons feel better. We got involved with this to improve their lives." We've never been so completely opposed about an issue before–but someone has to oppose her, now and then. "If no one's life was on the line, that would be one thing. But we have a limited number of pieces left to play, so we have to make them matter. We know he's made himself invulnerable, but—he's messed up before, maybe he did it again. What if we spread the word about it throughout the city, and try to make the next dragon who wins a spot at the palace supply us with information? Like, with the mirrors or something?"
"Does it... matter what we do?" Dreamsinger asks softly, a sad, quiet look in her eyes. "It's over, isn't it? We can't get anyone out, we can't change anything in any major way. If he gets tired of dealing with all of us, he can just turn our brains to mush at any given moment."
"He wouldn't do that. He does care what we have to say–at least at some level." Gaze interjects. "He acts like he doesn't, but he used to be like us. How you would feel if we formed a government, and you've just found out that no matter what we do, the world is almost certainly going to end, and on top of it, dragons were marching in the streets because of something we did."
"Angry," Brightmind suggests.
"Embarrassed," Dreamsinger offers.
"Scared," I finish.
"Trust me, there is nothing more infuriating to him than being disagreed with, especially by dragons he respects. He thinks he's big and tough and scary, but deep down he's still just a scared little dragonet. If we push him far enough, he's going to lash out and do something stupid."
"Which will help us... how?" I challenge her.
"Because once he starts acting irrationally, we can use that. Oh, three moons, you just want to play it safe on everything," Gaze says, exasperated.
I shut my mouth, meeting her eyes. "That wasn't fair, and you know it."
I glance at Brightmind and Dreamsinger, looking decidedly uncomfortable.
"This is how it's gonna be," I say with a shrug. "At least for a while. We might as well try to establish the underground into somewhere we can all bare to live in, all of the time. Brightmind, if you stopped trying to blow up our headquarters, you could focus on charting out the tunnels we haven't explored and adding in those ceiling supports you were talking about. We've got dragonets living down here full time–I don't know, Dreamsinger, we've gotta be able to find someone who could teach them. There, that's a project. That's useful."
Brightmind sighs. "That's a good idea. I have another project I'm almost done with anyway. Don't worry, I have plenty to keep me busy. Oh, which reminds me." They grab out a tape measure and a piece of paper, and measure my wooden leg, jotting down figures on the paper, in the span of a few seconds. I blink. What was that about?
"There are dragons who support this regime," Gaze says quietly. "We never have to meet with them, because the only time we socialize is within the group dedicated to taking him down. But they do exist. This may not be ideal, but it is stable. Everyone knows what to expect, everyone knows they will still be alive come tomorrow. That's not something anyone has experienced in years. I don't think the costs are worth the benefit, but I get it. That's what we're competing against."
What does it matter? We're not even living on the same plane as him. Sometimes, it seems like this kingdom was designed for its ruler first, and the dragons living in it as a vague afterthought.
A silence settles around the room, and for a moment, I think we all might be feeling the same thing.
I don't understand–how it's possible to have so much power, and yet still feel so powerless.
***
Hours later, after most dragons have settled down into makeshift beds, or wandered back down the tunnels to wherever they've set up base, Nebula is still sitting by the water.
"Hey," I say, waving. "Um–how are you.... liking it here so far?"
"It's fine," Nebula says quietly. He clears his throat. "I, um... I haven't been around this many dragons in a long time."
He looks at me, and I know he knows.
But he doesn't say.
"I'm not reading your mind," Nebula blurts. "I'm good at tuning dragons out–well, I didn't use to be. But, uh, my dad gave me this bracelet, and it helps." He shows me a cuff around his wrist. "And I had a lot of time to practise in that tower, so now I hardly need it at all.." He says it in a way so pointed I think he must have overheard at least something.
"Everyone's been looking at me like I'm some kind of ghost," he says. "It's cause this place has to do with my mom, isn't it?"
I hesitate. "Look, I'm gonna be honest with you. Most of these dragons–myself included, were perfectly normal, law-abiding citizens before all this went down. They probably were willing to keep their heads down and put up with Vigilance's whole... mess. But when Sharp-eyes came along, when we were the only dragons who could get dragons out of the city, they joined up. But some of them were here from the start–they've spent half their lives fighting against the royal family, or at least part of it. But you? You're the son of the dragon this is all named after, and you were raised by the dragon who pretty much everyone here hates, and on top of that, even if it's by adoption, you're the son of these crazy-powerful dragons who half of us idolize and half of us hate. Maybe they just... don't know what to do with you."
Is that how they would look at me?
Would they worship me? Would they loathe me, would they see me as something separate from myself?
Despite my new mantra, I can't help but hope that no one ever has to find out.
***
When we get home, there's a letter lying on the desk by the window, in a neat print I recognize all too well now.
Citizens of Nyx,
Over the past few months, you've exceeded my expectations in every way. Our Empire is becoming a resounding success, and as it grows, I have decided to make some changes.
Starting tonight, for those who wish to change career paths, open an establishment of your own, or modify your living situation, you may send a request to the palace and it will be reviewed. We will be opening up more tracks within our school, as well as building a new university, which will begin accepting applications as soon as the appropriate staff has been found. New levels of the library will become available to the public. These and many more changes can be expected in the upcoming weeks.
In the Empire of Nyx, everyone can realize their potential.
"What is it?" Gaze leans over my shoulder, murmuring the words under her breath as she reads. After our fight, I want to push her away–but I can't, and I don't.
Gaze blinks. Snatches the page from me, reads over the paper again, and narrows her eyes.
"All right. Well played, Sharp-eyes. Well-played," she mutters.
He's trying to appease us.
Why does he even care?
"I can't believe it," Gaze says, pacing back and forth. When she gets mad, she talks so fast it's hard to follow. "Months of total silence from the palace, and now this? Sorry, I turned our kingdom into a joyless, soul-destroying husk and almost killed you guys–I guess you can have a university! What has he been doing all this time?"
I shrug. "Planning world domination?"
She rubs her forehead. "I haven't been able to get a single vision about this. I can feel something–it's like it's on the tip of my tongue. Look, he's obviously gearing up for a big announcement. He's trying to soften the public's opinion of him. He's trying to make himself the hero, and dragons will accept it if they don't have someone else to glorify. If we don't tell the kingdom that Darkstalker and Clearsight got out, we are going to regret it. I don't care if Sharp-eyes takes me out. Someone's gotta do it." Her voice catches a little, and she clears her throat.
But does someone have to be you?
I try to imagine the things Gaze saw. Death on a scale never seen before, tough times there's no way to run from.
We might not have much time left.
She throws up her wings in the air. "Or–Pif, three moons. We might only have six months left. Or maybe it's three months, maybe it's years. Maybe there's some way to stop this, and I just can't see it. Maybe..." She shakes her head.
You always want to play it safe. I'm still furious with her, in a small corner of my heart.
We stand there for a second, staring at each other. I know where this could go–we could shout about this in the few hours we have before the endless, grinding cycle of days starts over.
But I don't want to fight with her. I don't want to hate her and mean it.
I step closer. She throws her wings around me, burying her face in my shoulder.
***
Everyone in the city is whispering. Down the streets, dragons seem just a bit more hopeful than they did the day before. They stop, whispering among each other:
"Did you hear the news?"
"Just imagine, all the new things we can do..."
"I think I'll study archeaology. Do you think he would allow me to do that? Maybe I'll get to meet the emperor in person..."
I watch a mother her a small dragonet. "Things are about to get better," she reminds him "Maybe we can be together more often; I'm going to include that on my form. I'm sure the Emperor would be willing to be... reasonable about it."
"Think how wonderful this place could be in five, ten years," someone says over their shoulder to a friend.
I stand at the edge of the street. Take it all in.
Back when the kingdom was ruled under Vigilance, they had all those things–universities, schools, different career options. No one was celebrating in the streets about it then, they were talking about how terrible it was that she was killing off half the kingdom's population and dragging us into wars we didn't need to be in.
I've got to give it to Sharp-eyes. I wonder if this was his plan all along–to make life so miserable that dragons would worship him just for giving them back the exact same things he took.
He's trying to appease us, and it's working.
***
I bring Nebula a basket full of scrolls from the library and smile halfheartedly. "I heard you liked reading. I don't really know if you have any favourite topics, but I just got the most popular stuff out of the dragonet section." I didn't exactly spend a lot of time reading as a dragonet; or I don't think I did anyway. I can't remember having any special interests at four years old, aside from fighting to survive each day.
He reads over the titles of each scroll, a smile curling across his snout. "Thank you," he says quietly. "That... really helps, actually. It's nice to have something to keep your mind... busy. It makes it all feel a little less scary, you know?"
Weirdly, I do. "Well, I'm not much of a reader, but I'm glad it works for you."
"This is the second in a series, I think," he says, holding up, The Star Keepers: Vengeance's Wrath. "But it says the first one is just Star Keepers."
"I'll try and find it," I promise. I can't help myself—he looks so happy, and it's probably the first time I've seen the kid smile.
He hesitates, then starts to talk, with that quiet voice that tells me he's spent a lot of time being told to shut up. "I like reading just about anything, but fantasy is my favourite–especially when the scrolls are based on history? I think that's really cool. Like, um, in my favourite series, there's..." he goes on, starting to ramble, and for some reason, I don't mind.
He stops talking, clearing his throat. "Um, sorry, I know that's kind of a lot."
I shake my head, sitting down beside him. "No. Talk as long as you like."
"Really?" A smile tugs at his snout.
I shrug. "Yeah, 'course."
"I know, I'm, uh, kind of weird–"
"I like weird." I nudge him sideways, and I let the dragonet tell me about all his favourite scrolls, about how much he missed reading.
Oh. I get it. This is why Scorpion looked after me.
"I guess, um–Grandmother... never really paid much attention to me. You know, queen of the Night Kingdom, always kind of..."
"Busy," I finish.
I'd take my childhood over his, any day.
I remember how scared I used to be of her when I was a little dragonet. My mother was a warrior, she'd fought in every battle that made it to the history scrolls, and even she was scared of her own mother. What would that have been like for a little dragonet?
He meets my eyes. "Yeah."
"What was she like?" I ask, tilting my head, trying not to show too much interest.
Nebula seems to curl into himself. "Mean, a lot of the time. Scared. She was guilty. She felt so guilty, all the time, but she didn't try to change, she just festered and got worse and worse. She was so scared; I think she just wanted someone to tell her what to do. She was a terrible dragon-I know she was a terrible dragon. But she was a dragon, too."
She was horrible. She was cruel.
She was a dragon.
Nebula looks up, meeting my eyes.
"I, uh... I know your name isn't really Constellation."
I wait for the panic to set in. For the pounding of my heart, the chill creeping up my back.
Nothing.
"Not 'cause I was reading your mind–well, I did, a tiny bit. But you look... I mean, we've both got the kinda... stars." He points at his cheeks.
"You remind me of Grandmother. Your brains move the same way—fast and scattered and scared, and a little bit angry. But... you seem kinder. I don't think I should be afraid of you. I wasn't sure at first, but I am now."
I hold out my talon. "I guess we should start over, shouldn't we? We didn't exactly get the best introduction."
Nebula laughs. "Yeah, sorry about that."
He grabs onto my talon.
"My name's Nebula, and I'm your cousin. Wow, that feels weird to say." He laughs a little.
I duck my head. "Nice to meet you, Nebula. My name's Epiphany."
"I can't believe there's any of us left. I thought—after Vigilance—your mom was Persistence, right?"
I nod. "We always... stuck to ourselves. I met your mother a few times. I think. I don't know—it doesn't feel like my life. You're much more of a royal than I am."
What would Mother have thought about this? Did her and Star get along? I can't remember, not reliably. If the rest of our family wasn't dead, I'm sure I would have seen Nebula a few times a year, and never had anything more than a polite rapport. Now, we're the only family each other has left.
"What happened to you?" Nebula asks me. "How did you end up back here?"
I get the sense he really needs to know.
I am not the dragon I used to be.
I rub my temples. "That's a long story. You really wanna know?"
***
Gaze clambers up onto what's become her stage. The crowd doesn't need to be asked to quiet down.
I still don't think this is the right choice.
Three moons, she's gorgeous. There's something about the way the firelight hits her, the determination in her eyes–
"Hey! Listen up!" She shouts. " Look, we all got those little scrolls, telling us how things are better, how things have changed. Maybe some of us filled them out–and if you did, good on you. I'm not here to shame anyone for trying to survive."
Gaze pauses, starting to pace. I know she wrote this out hours ago, practised it over and over again, but it feels like she's talking off-the-cuff.
"Sharp-eyes acts like he's so different from anyone else. But I knew him back when we were dragonets. He was petty, and the first to say he was all for open discussion, and also the first to lash out the second anyone disagreed with him.
"Sharp-eyes isn't wrong about everything. Or, I don't think he is. He's right–this kingdom is hungry for stability, for peace, for predictability. I am just as tired of turning over leaders as you lot are. But that doesn't mean we settle for a system that traps us in the darkness, that watches our every move, that holds the ability to wipe our brains clean or kill us on the whims of one dragon. We know where that leads. We're smarter than these tactics.
"Sharp-eyes is scared of us. He's trying to placate us, trying to make us worship him by giving back the exact same things he took away. I think you're smarter than that. I think you can think for yourselves, and I think that you can see exactly what he's doing. Are we going to fall for that?" Gaze asks sharply.
"Never!" the crowd shouts. I run through the lines of her speech, and I realize, she stole a couple from me.
"Many of you might have noticed we've got a new addition." She beckons Nebula up to join her, and he reluctantly comes along. "Prince Nebula has seen the rise of three governments up close. He's three years old. Like many of us, I can imagine he's had to grow up fast."
The dragonet looks more than a bit uncomfortable in the limelight. I wonder if Vigilance ever made him do things like this.
"He recently escaped from Sharp-eyes's custody, with some stories to tell. Including that... of Darkstalker and Clearsight's escape. They made it out, like many of our friends and family did–and so did Prince Wayfinder, and many more of Sharp-eyes's prisoners, while he was knocked out, transferring his soul to a new body that won't reject his magic. Now, he thinks that he's above us all–he thinks he's different, special, that history was written for him. But everything that happened that day stands testament to something that has and will always be true: Sharp-eyes is not infallible. No matter what, he will always stumble, will always be overcome by emotion or blinded by rationality. He's a dragon. He hatched, and he went to school, and he's going to die, just like all of us will. That's what he doesn't want you to know. But the king and queen escaped. They found a way out of this, and so can we. We're survivors. We're stronger, smarter than we think. We can build a new way, a better way of doing things–together. So spread the word, tell everyone you know that Sharp-eyes made a mistake."
She screams, raising a fist up in the air, and the room fills with boisterous cries in return. I don't understand–how the dragon who used to dream of studying literature, who murmurs under her breath as she reads, and gets ticklish under her chin–could possibly be the same as the one who can make a crowd do anything she likes with only her words.
***
We sit in silence for a moment. We only have an hour, before the day will start anew.
Gaze and I sit side by side by the window, looking out over the city. I try not to react when Gaze leans into my shoulder. I look down at her--eyes closed, smiling--and smile despite everything.
"Hey, Pif," Gaze says, opening her eyes.
"Hey Lulu," I tease.
"Nevermind," she mutters. "I hate you. "
"You're so petty," I say, laughing and smiling despite myself. I wish we could stay like this. I wish we could have this peace forever.
She looks over at me. Grabs onto my talon.
"If we survive–what would you do with your life? If we lived in a perfect world?"
I look over at her, and I don't know why my heart is racing.
I've never had that option before. I've never had the luxury of considering those things. I think this might be her version of an apology, and I don't know what to do other than accept it.
"Maybe I'd build a nice little house. At the edge of the kingdom. And... I dunno. Go to visit Scorpion every now and then." I shrug, and I try not to show it in my expression how much I wish she could be with me. I can picture it, though–the conversations we'd have, the little porch we'd build, to sit out and watch the stars on. A real, proper home. I'd like to know what that feels like. Maybe it's not the most unusual aspiration, but I don't think that makes it matter any less.
"That would be enough for you?" Gaze asks curiously.
"It sounds pretty great to me," I say with a laugh. "Not that... I mean... not that it'll ever happen. But... you know. What about you?"
She shrugs. "I want... I don't know. I want someone's kids can remember us, and think that we messed up a lot, but we at least did them some good. I want—no, I'm three seconds away from spinning out of control, and I'm bitter, and I'm angry all the time. But in some alternate timeline where I've got myself together... I think it would be nice to have someone to look after, and teach them about all this. I want them to have that luxury, of learning horrible things on their own time. I wanna see my parents again, and the boys, and Shadowhunter and Permafrost–you never met them, but they were great. Family, I guess. I haven't felt like I've had that in a really long time."
When she talks about things that really matter, her voice always gets quiet, like she's scared of being overheard.
"You're my best friend, Epiphany," she says, looking over at me. "You do know that, don't you?"
***
We stop talking after a while. Gaze reads me some scroll she got out of the library about NightWing history, hundreds and hundreds of years ago, and I try to at least look like I'm paying attention. It's interesting, but my mind just can't stop spinning down its own little tract, thinking about what she said. About family. I don't know why I can't get it out of my head, can't stop picturing what my mother would have said about her, imagining how different my life would have been if I hadn't fled.
I can't stop thinking about what Nebula said. He says I'm like her, and he knew her—better than anybody.
I turn around, an uncomfortable pricking sensation at the back of my neck.
"What is it?" Gaze asks, setting down her scroll.
I flinch, turning around. For a second, I could swear I see–no.
By the blank wall, a projection of Sharp-eyes stares us down. I could swear, he's looking right into my soul.
"Citizens of Nyx. My dear friends." Sharp-eyes's voice seems to carry through the whole city, echoing through each open window over the canyon. It fills me up with dread, deep down into my soul.
I understood what Gaze was describing in theory. But that doesn't mean I understand it in practise. His scales are made of black metal, and smoke pours out between the cracks in the metal, dark voids where eyes should be. He doesn't need to wear a crown to radiate authority.
"I bring you this news, aware of its irony." Sharp-eyes thinks for a moment. "You see, I was once a revolutionary, just like some of you listening. I once stayed up, writing essays against the powers that ruled over me, and against the war they fought. We all remember it–the draft, leaving families torn apart, siblings, parents, dragonets, friends–swept away to fight for something that held no clear benefit to the kingdom. It was a wasteful war, and a pointless one, for at its end, the Empire was no better for it."
There's something in his voice–so amicable, so conversational. Like he's really there in our home, having a talk over coffee.
This is something completely new.
"You see, Nyx has now entered in its own war–not over two lovers–but over territory. Over ideology. I do not take this decision lightly. Perhaps you've noticed a few dragons going missing here and there. They have been chosen to serve their Empire to the highest possible degree, and when they have fulfilled their purpose, they will be returned home, unharmed. Before long, it may even be your time to serve. This is truly an honour. Perhaps one of these dragons is your parent, your dragonet. Don't be afraid–right now, as we speak, they're fighting for the good of Pyrhhia, and they will return."
Gaze covers her mouth, staring at the map of the Sand Kingdom now hovering over our floor. Everywhere Nyx has conquered is shaded in black–maybe a quarter of the desert's massive expanse. After a moment, it shrinks back in–but I don't think it's going anywhere.
"You piece of–" Gaze mutters. "It's a war. That's what he's been building up to. How many dragons had to die for this?"
I grab onto her talon.
"Gaze. Shh."
For a moment, I could swear Sharp-eyes is staring right at us.
"The past generations have been plagued by warfare. Everyone knows somebody who's died, fighting for an ideology they had no choice but to support. Kingdom of Nyx, I believe this to be a waste. We are waging a war in which no one has to die–a war to end all wars. I intend to expand this Empire of peace, of stability, of plenty for all—to all corners of Pyrhhia, leaving no inch of soil untouched. Mine is a kind war–mine is a fair war. Mine is a war that will not come without bloodshed, but will lead the continent into a new age.
"We are waging a war for the good of all. To ensure that there will never be another Vigilance or Allknowing again. Certain detractors of mine which to drag us back to those days–in which dragons starved in the streets, in which you were shipped off to die for conflicts you had no part in. In which you were tired, and hungry, and sick. We are strong enough to stand against them. To see through their lies, their dangerous rhetoric, and to take Pyrhhia toward a brighter, better future.
"We are waging a war for the good of all.
"I hope that you will join us."
***
I find Gaze by the desk, surrounded by scrolls, her face in her talons.
"What are we gonna do, Epiphany?" she asks quietly.
I glance through the papers. I imagine they've been sent out to everybody—career reassignment forms, a list of new positions now opening.
"It's always been hopeless. It's always been insane. From the night we hatched until the night we die. That doesn't mean we give up," I say to her.
Her eyes shine with tears. I've never seen her so fragile before.
She opens her mouth. Closes it. Presses her forehead against mine.
"I am hopeless," she repeats, mumbling the words like a prayer.
There's something in the way she says it, her voice half full of fury and half full of love. She's two dragons at once, she has been since four years old, and finally, I think I see both of them at once.
"But I'm not giving up," I finish. There are only a few inches between us, and it feels like nothing at all.
I am not the dragon I used to be.