Content warning: Depictions of war, mental breakdowns, death, gore/potentially disturbing imagery within a nightmare
Shadowhunter
I stare at the glass bowl on Jerboa's desk, sighing heavily. I've been trying to avoid it all night--but it's two in the morning now, and what else am I going to do? I've still got four hours before it's Ember's turn to watch Jerboa.
The candle on the kitchen table flickers, then burns out. I don't bother lighting another one; I can see well enough in the dim moonlight.
"Hey bowl, show me Darkstalker and Clearsight."
I know it won't work. I've been trying for weeks–every night, while Jerboa sleeps and I've got nothing better to do with myself. When I'm tired of planning battles or pacing back and forth, I always come back here. Like picking at a wound, I can't seem to stop myself.
The water swirls around, then settles. I watch the ripples fade. Every time I ask, I keep hoping the outcome will change.
I sigh, lying down on the floor. It's late, and I'm tired, and all I want to do is go home. Back to my tent, where Permafrost will be sleeping. She would know what to say about this.
"Hey bowl, show me Foeslayer."
The water doesn't shift at all. It's like I didn't say anything.
If Mom and Dad are dead, why would it react differently? It's like it's still trying to find them.
Is it just a flaw in the spell? It must be, right?
I can't wrap my head around this whole death thing–the idea, that these dragons are never coming back. Not in fifty years, not in a hundred. They're gone. Forever.
"Hey bowl, show me Wayfinder."
The water ripples, and gradually starts to stain with colour. I see a dragon flying over a forest through a thick, clouded sky. I think Precocious is behind him, and–is that Indigo?
"Is he okay?" I ask the bowl. I don't like my brother one bit, but I do love him, and I need to know like breathing that he's not in any trouble.
It shows him dancing in a crowd of RainWings, running through a maze. I don't understand any of it, but he looks healthy enough. I think he's grown, although it's hard to tell in the tiny picture.
"Hey, bowl–show me Nebula."
I see the little dragonet sitting by a river in a dark cavern, chatting with a dark burgundy dragon–older than me, but not by much.
He's out of Sharp-eyes's control, wherever he is. He's okay.
I've been checking on him a lot of late, and every time I see him, I let out a small sigh of relief that he's not dead. I like to think that it matters somehow, me knowing what they're up to–that the universe will be kinder to them if they know that I'm watching.
Not that there's any truth in that, obviously.
"Hey bowl, show me Eclipse."
It's light where my sister is, apparently, and she's sitting in a fancy-looking classroom, surrounded by IceWing dragonets. She doesn't look like she's enjoying herself much, but she's alive, and that's good enough for me.
I smile halfheartedly.
And then I think, three moons, what if Mom and Dad really are gone? What if I'm all they have left?
I don't know if I can handle that burden.
"Hey, bowl, show me Darkstalker and Clearsight."
My little sister disappears as a whirlpool builds up in the tiny basin, then dissipates.
I glance at Jerboa–pale and almost skeletal, her breaths soft and shallow. Her scales are now almost cool to the touch. She's surrounded by golden trinkets, somehow suspending her at the edge of death. Every day, I think they work a little less.
I close my eyes, burying my face in my talons.
For a moment, I can't breathe underneath the weight of it all.
***
We've intervened in four battles so far. The first one was a reasonable success; as in, we held off Sharp-eyes long enough to get the dragons he was seeking out of his reaches. The second was an even better success–for a moment there, we were almost winning. The third battle, we had to retreat early after Marigold got injured, but we still did some good.
The fourth battle, we failed even worse. We got a couple of dragons out, but only a couple--and five of the Gifted died in the process. After that battle, I couldn't sleep for days. All I could see every time I closed my eyes was the buildings going up in smoke and the look in Permafrost's eyes when she said if we don't pull out, we're going to add to the death toll.
She was right, and I knew it, but that didn't make it easier.
In the dim, pre-dawn light, only a few dragons are still awake. There's NightWings here now, enough NightWings I have an irrational fear that I'll run into someone I know–that I'll round a corner, and there'll be Brightmind, staring at me, their eyes holding secrets no one else will truly understand.
The city is starting to feel more and more like... a normal city. Most of the population doesn't have powers.
"Shadowhunter! Oh my gosh, it's Shadowhunter!" a hybrid dragonet says to her friend (or maybe her sibling), pointing at me. "You're the one who saved us."
I sigh heavily. Oh, three moons, not this again. It's sweet, but I'm tired, and I just want to get home.
"That... would be me. It wasn't all my work–I don't even have powers, it really has more to do with the rest of the Gifted. I mean, I helped dragons get out, and I helped plan the battle, but..."
"Can I get your autograph?"
"Is it true that you're the most powerful dragon on the continent?"
"And that you're a princess?"
"I wanna be just like you when I grow up! I wanna fight bad guys and save everybody, like a real proper hero!"
Oh, kid. I'm not a hero, and I'm definitely not someone small dragonets should look up to.
"I don't have any ink for an autograph," I lie. "Sorry–maybe another time. Where are your parents?"
"Oh, Dada's back that way, talking with.... what's her name?"
"Aloe! She's the best. Last time she came over, she gave us candy."
I raise my eyebrows. "She gave you... candy?"
"Yup." The dragonet nods vigorously.
I let Aloe do most of the talking to dragons in the city. I don't always like how she handles it, but for the most part, I stay out of her business, because I don't have the time or energy to micromanage her.
But I also don't trust her when she's entirely left to her own devices. Her loyalties are to Jerboa more than me.
"She was telling Dada, all about–all about the meetings she does at sundown, and how this dragon called Jerboa–"
They lead me toward a small tent with little potted flowers by the door. A bedraggled, slightly gaunt NightWing pokes his head out of the door. "Oh–Shadowhunter. It's–"
"You really don't have to flatter me. I'm not going to shower you with magic gifts for it, and I'm not gonna execute you if you don't. Keep better track of your kids; last week we had two one-year-olds go missing, and I was up all night trying to find them in the forest. Don't have time for it." I gently herd the dragonets in his direction.
"She's so cool," one of them whispers to the other.
"I know, right?"
I roll my eyes.
"Aloe, come with me. I'll see you two around, all right?" I say to the dragonets. I'm just in a bad mood; they didn't do anything wrong. I notice a spare piece of parchment, a sheet of paper perched by the window. I hastily scrawl my name and pass it to them. "There–now you can go show your friends at school, or whatever you want to do."
I herd Aloe out of the tent without another word.
"What were you doing in there?" I ask, as soon as we're out of earshot. The sun is starting to come up, its familiar warmth creeping up my back. A little butterfly flits overhead through the streets and lands on someone's window boxes.
"I was making sure they were registered for school," Aloe replies. "Lots of new dragons are still confused about it, and sometimes they just need a friendly face to explain how it works to them."
We try to get the dragonets out of the warzones first–but there's so many here now, some without parents, it very quickly became apparent we needed some kind of daycare system–and if we were going to go to the trouble of setting that up, we might as well just make a school. It's Permafrost and Aloe's project, not mine, something I thank the moons for on a regular basis. Permafrost thinks that it'll help integrate the refugees into the community, and give them a sense of normalcy. If I was two and I'd just lost my entire family, going to school would be the last thing on my mind. But what do I know?
I raise my eyebrows, meeting Aloe's eyes. "School forms? That's it? Really?"
"What do you want me to do, Shadowhunter?" Aloe's tone is still measured, but it's sharp at the edges. It's as close as I've ever seen her get to shouting with anyone other than her sister.
"I don't like it when you try to recruit them."
"These are lost, desperate dragons who've just had their lives uprooted. I'm helping them."
"You're indoctrinating them."
"He started the conversation, not me." Aloe narrows her eyes. "You're scared I'm gonna take your place, aren't you? Miss I-don't-even-want-power is scared of losing it."
When Aloe gets angry, she doesn't mess around.
"Well, is that what you're planning?"
"Why would I ever want to do that, Shadowhunter?" Aloe asks, sighing heavily.
"Just leave me out of this; I don't want them to worship me any more than they already do. That's it–that's my boundary. Okay?"
They all believe in me–way, way too much. Enough to follow me into battle and die in my name.
***
I try to cool down, making my way over to the hospital on the far side of the city, where Permafrost has been spending most of her time these days.
I poke my head inside the large tent. "Hey, Spark–is Permafrost around?"
Spark sighs. I get the sense she doesn't love it when the walking workplace distraction comes to visit. She can deal with it; I love my girlfriend.
"Permafrost is busy sorting out patient records in the office. Toward the back."
I make my way through the rows of patients. Marigold stands over one of the beds, her talons pressed against a bandaged stump where someone's leg used to be while the patient is unconscious. These are the consequences of my decisions–this is the price dragons pay. I have to keep reminding myself that.
"Frost?"
I poke my head in through the linen curtain, separating the office from the hospital.
Permafrost looks up from a heap of scrolls and smiles. "Hey. What's going on?"
"Nothing. I just wanted to make your boss mad." I lean against the desk. "Hi."
"Hi. What are you doing?" Permafrost laughs. "Why are you holding your wing like that?"
"Well, Permafrost, it's a very special day," I say, fighting back laughter.
"Mmmhmm," she says, trying to hide her giggles.
"Do you know what it is, Permafrost?"
"No, I–I don't, actually. Why are you acting so weird? You turned six a few weeks ago. It's not my hatching day. Is this some NightWing thing? Like a festival?"
"Frost. It's our six-month anniversary. And I managed to track down this dragon with, like, plant-powers, and begged her to give my girlfriend..." I pause dramatically, reaching underneath my wing to pull out the small pot of daffodils, the kind I know Permafrost loves.
They're gone.
Permafrost blinks. "Shadowhunter?"
"Okay, I swear, I had flowers. I was holding them a moment ago."
"Did you... drop them?"
"No, I would have noticed I dropped them."
"Did you forget it? Like you lost Jerboa's dice?" Permafrost raises her eyebrows. "You do tend to lose things."
"They were big and pretty and bright yellow–I wouldn't have lost them. I swear, I had a gift for you. I'll go back and talk with the dragon who got them for me tomorrow if I get a chance, I'm really sorry. I thought–I know you like studying plants, and gardens, so I'd get you something to start off a little garden outside our tent, I don't know." I bury my face in my talons.
"I know. I believe you," Permafrost presses her forehead against mine, closing her eyes. "It's okay. It's just six months–you don't need to get me a present, you goof."
"I just wanted an excuse," I admit. And I try not to think about how weird it is–that I was holding something, and then it just vanished.
"It's okay–you can make up for it in another six months. Now get out of here, I'm trying to research."
"Spark said you were doing patient files."
"I got bored of that; I'm taking a research break."
I laugh. "Only you would call that a break."
"Oh, shut up." She throws a scroll at me, and I burst out laughing, picking it up and throwing it back in her general direction. She smiles, and she looks so pretty it hurts. "I'll see you at the meeting tonight, okay?"
***
Ember and I have been meeting up to train every day. It gets my mind off things; I've found–if I exert myself past a certain point, for a few blissful moments, my brain just... stops. Just a few moments of quiet.
It reminds me of my magic–except the worst side-effect is a few sore muscles the day after.
The hot sun beats onto my scales, my talons sinking into the hot sand. It's slightly overcast, a bit more humid than usual; I can feel it in my bones that by tonight, there's going to be thunder. The city never gets thunder.
"You wanna race?' Ember shouts. A spurt of fire shoots from the cracks between her scales; when she gets excited that always seems to happen.
"Why, you think you'll beat me this time?" I shout.
We sprint around the arena. I reach the finish line drawn in the sand a second, maybe two before she does, and we collapse on the ground, laughing.
"Shadowhunter one, Ember zero," I say through gasping breaths. "Oh, my talons hurt so bad."
Ember laughs. "Tell me about it."
We spar and we race through the air and sprint around in circles again, then end up sitting at the edge of the arena, gasping for breath.
"Permafrost's been busy with the hospital, it's nice having someone else to train with," I say offhandedly, between gulps of water. "It's our six-month anniversary today, you know."
"Six months, huh?" Ember's scales burn on a steady, low flame. I keep my distance; it's warm enough already.
"I just wanted an excuse to give her a present. I've had something in mind for ages. I was gonna get her a bunch of potted daffodils, she really likes them, and she always says she wants to get into gardening. So I get over to the hospital, and I reach to grab it out from under my wing, and it's gone. Just like that. I feel like I must be going crazy, but I checked–it's not back at the tent. The thing just up and vanished."
"Weird."
"Right?"
"Aloe and I used to run scams like that, back when we were kids. I was the distraction, she was the one who reached and grabbed your jewels or your gold or whatever it was that we wanted. It was pretty crude, but we survived."
"Would you have stolen daffodils, though?"
"No," Ember says, laughing. "You can't buy food with flowers."
"I had this friend, Brightmind–they used to do stuff like that. I don't have the subtlety. I guess with the magic, I never needed to." I adjust my bracelet.
"Aloe says my dad used to do stuff like that," Ember says offhandedly. "He taught her some of the tricks she taught me."
"Your dad? Not hers?"
"She was from... some earlier relationship. She doesn't remember her dad at all; just Mom's boyfriend. I never met either of them, and I never wanted to." The flames dancing across her scales grow a little bigger.
I shift my wings, clear my throat. I'm not used to this weird, feelings-talk stuff.
"How are you feeling, about the Scorpion Den attack coming up?" Ember asks me.
I shrug. "I'm–I'm fine. I mean, we just had a bad go of it last time. It happens. Right?" I know how fake I sound right now–but what choice do I have? I'm in charge, and I have to hold it together.
"It scares me too," Ember admits.
"What if we all die?" I blurt. "What if I'm the reason?" What if this is it? Once upon a time, I wasn't scared of dying. I didn't have dragons relying on me. Didn't have a girlfriend, a city, a future worth fighting for. It was easier back then.
Ember sighs. "I don't know–it could happen. I mean, we've all been looking at the bowl, we've all seen how massive Sharp-eyes's army is. I guess–"
"Please don't give me advice. I know what you're gonna say, and it's not going to help anything."
All of a sudden, the fire on Ember's scales explodes. I duck away from the sudden blast, surrounding her in flame.
"Aaa! Stop it, stop it, stop it!" She shouts, waving around her wings. "I didn't tell you to do that!"
"What is going on?" I shout. "What's happening?"
Before Ember can respond, her fire fades–a sharp hissing of smoke, then nothing. She grimaces.
"Are you okay?" I ask, slowly getting up.
She's quiet for a moment, her brow furrowed. "I don't know. I'm trying to get it back." She shakes out her wings, stamping her talons into the ground, shifting around her face. A brief spurt of flame sizzles off her back, then disappears.
What. Is. Happening.
"I thought you had control over your power?"
"I do," Ember says, staring worriedly at her enchanted talisman. "I've never made flames like that before. And it hurt, too–it never hurts like that."
I look up at the sky, trying to shake the feeling that something is deeply, fundamentally wrong.
***
Ember and I head back to the city. She insists she's fine. I try to squash the lingering worry in the back of my mind.
That's two of Jerboa's spells acting weird today.
They've never acted up, not once. And now, out of nowhere, everything goes wrong?
A bright light flashes at the corner of my vision. I squint up into the distance. "Did you see that?" Ember asks, turning back to me.
"Oh, great. I'm not the only one."
Ember takes up off the ground and follows after me. I race toward the city centre, looking down over the tents as I do. It takes me a second to figure out what's wrong.
They're gone. The tents have just flat-out vanished. Not all of them–but—
"Look! There!" In a flash of light, another tent vanishes, leaving its contents exposed. A horde of Jerboa's animals chases through the streets in a violent herd, chasing after one of the foxes.
And the roads, they're gone; replaced with empty sand. The clouds overhead are so thick they're almost black at the edges, a sharp, warm wind rushing through the air.
I dive down into a landing. Dragons stand out in the square, shouting.
"What's happening?"
"What does Jerboa have to say? This isn't in her prophecies, not anywhere!"
Aloe stands up on one of the little shop tables. "It's just–just a temporary malfunction," she shouts at the crowd.
I climb up beside her. "What's going on? How long has this been happening for?" I ask.
"Few hours," she says, even her ever-calm exterior starting to crack. "Where have you been?"
"Training with me!" Ember shouts at her sister. "Is your power working?"
Aloe hesitates, then shakes her head. "I went invisible for a few hours–I just turned back, and now I'm too scared to try again."
If we don't have working powers, we can't do anything in Scorpion Den.
"Step aside," I say to Aloe. "This is on me."
Hold it together, Shadowhunter.
This isn't about Jerboa, this isn't about the Gifted. This isn't about what I deserve.
These dragons need someone to keep them calm. It may as well be me.
"ALL RIGHT, CALM DOWN! It's a nightmare, yeah–the whole world is right now, get used to it. Screaming's not gonna make it better."
The crowd goes quiet. I let out a breath.
"Right. So–powers are acting weird, the city's acting weird, things aren't looking good. We don't know what's going on yet–this only just started happening, you gotta give us some time here. But. I promise, we're going to work as hard and as fast as we can to sort this all out. Just–you know, rough show of talons, how many of you are having trouble with your powers?"
I hesitate, hoping they can't see how fast I'm breathing, how tight my talons are dug into the wood of this table.
Most of the crowd raises a talon. I can hear Permafrost's voice in my head saying that's not a very big sample size–you don't know that's representative of the whole city.
But I've seen enough to know that we've got a problem.
"Okay. Got it. This is bad. Maybe it's Sharp-eyes, maybe it's something else. What I need you to do right now–is to get it together, and start preparing for an attack. It might not be an attack, but if there is one, we need to be ready. You, Oleander! I need you to help manage this. Can you do that?" We were going to have our strategy meeting anyway. I guess this is good timing for things to go disastrously wrong.
The SandWing soldier hesitates, then nods. "Thank you." I let out a breath, looking back at the crowd. "I know, it's scary. The war is scary and this city is the only thing protecting us from it, and losing it would be catastrophic. I get it. I'm terrified too. But if we all run around screaming and crying and declaring the end of days, or whatever—it's not gonna fix anything. So calm down as best you can, and find a way to make yourself useful."
Thunder rumbles across the sky, and a heavy rain starts to fall. The magic of this place–strong enough to withstand whatever attempts I'm sure my father made to break it–is starting to come unglued.
Oh, three moons, what are we gonna do?
***
"Sharp-eyes knows we're coming," I say, storming into Jerboa's tent and taking my place at the kitchen table. "That's the only explanation for all this. He knows we're coming and he's taking us out before we can do any real damage."
"You don't know that," Permafrost says immediately, her eyes meeting mine. Of everyone in this city, she's the only one I trust to tell me the truth. "And if you commit to that conclusion, you're going to start discarding any evidence to the contrary. Slow down, and logically think this through."
"You're saying that because you think it's Polar."
"I don't know that. I'm just saying, it's a possibility."
"Polar's powers only relate to the weather, Frost," I say, as gently as I can. Maybe she's right, maybe she's got a point–but it seems so improbable. What motive would Polar possibly have in attacking us? If anything, we're doing the IceWings a favor going after Sharp-eyes. Snowfox might be able to get intel off of our failures, and any victories we win will only make life easier for her."
She can't be that stupid, can she?
"His powers only relate to the weather that we know of."
"No, that's how Jerboa's talismans worked," Aloe interrupts. "She gave us specific powers, strong enough to be useful but not enough to eclipse her own. She never would have given one dragon more than one ability, and she definitely didn't give more than one to Polar."
Permafrost furrows her brow. "You're right–it–it doesn't make sense. But it doesn't make sense it's Sharp-eyes either; he's just using your dad's magic, and your dad's magic, presumably, could never get through Jerboa's defenses. He would have tried to rescue you; I'm sure he would have."
I glance through the beaded curtain to Jerboa's bedroom, watching the slow, shuddering rise of her breath. She hasn't woken up for a few weeks now, and every time I see her, she looks a little bit thinner, a little bit paler.
I can see her dying before my eyes.
"What if it's Jerboa?" I blurt.
"What do you mean?" Ember asks. "That–'cause she's–"
"She's dying. You can say it. She's got–what, a few weeks left?" I grit my teeth. "Marigold's treatments aren't working. The jewelry keeps her alive, but she still needs to eat, and there's not much we can do about that if she never wakes up. Maybe the magic knows she's about to go; that's why it's acting strange."
"But... that doesn't make sense. Because Arctic is dead, but this earring still works, doesn't it?" Permafrost touches the diamond earring I gave her.
I think for a moment, then slam my talon down on the table. "Rrrrrgh. I don't know."
"Shouldn't we be... asking the magic bowl, or something?" Ember gestures to the bowl perched on the kitchen table. "Just... a thought."
We're all quiet for a moment. Three moons, why didn't I think of that?
I lean over the bowl. "Hey, bowl–care to tell us what's happening out there?"
The water starts to swirl and shift, slow ripples spreading as the water turns bright, blinding white, moving faster and faster, furiously etching out the details of a face. An IceWing.
"What's it doing?" Ember squints down at the basin.
"Well, if you stop blocking everyone else's view, I could tell you," Aloe mutters, shoving her sister aside.
The water moves faster and faster, forming a cyclone, splashing over the edges of the bowl and onto the table. For a second, an image is clear: a gaunt, haunted face, familiar and foreign all at once.
The bowl shatters, shards of glass spraying through the room. I scream, ducking beneath the table. It slices into the edge of my wing. The shards skitter on the ground for a moment, like they're still living.
Permafrost shouts, "It's Polar."
Before I have the time to respond, water starts gushing off the table, onto the floor. A sharp, violent wind blows through the tent, sending the fragile structure tilting to one side.
The air sparks with electricity, the deafening crack of lightning tearing through the earth.
The ground starts to shake, and a cloud of dust blows through the room. I cough into my wing, pushing forward against the wind toward Permafrost, but I can hardly see her through the dust.
Jerboa was supposed to never give a dragon a power that could outshine her own.
How did Polar get this out of control?
Through the haze, I see Permafrost's silhouette collapse to the ground. I run toward her, shaking her shoulders. "Permafrost? Permafrost, wake up." She doesn't stir, her face twisted in an agonized expression, like she's having a bad dream.
Aloe screams, then collapses a few feet over.
"Ember?" I shout, squinting through the duststorm.
No one responds.
An awful, cold feeling settles over me, like nothing I've felt before: a sense that this is it. This is the end. This is how I die–all alone, my story uncompleted.
"What the is happening?" I shout. "Whoever you are, just come out here and fight me!"
A sharp, guttural pain tears through me. My talons grow weak.
I'm never gonna get to take Permafrost to the ocean.
I'm never gonna marry her someday.
I'm never gonna see my family again–
"Help me!" I hear an unfamiliar voice shouts, right as my vision goes black. "Someone, make it stop–somebody, help me!"
***
The sun is high, and it's shining just for me. I'm on the battlefield, and I feel incredible.
I'm tearing through lines of soldiers. I murmur the words to a spell under my breath, and charge at them with the strength of a hundred dragons. I murmur another, and they freeze in a block of ice. It's been so long since I used my power–but it's good this time. I've got this, I'm under control. I'm taking on a whole army alone, and I'm winning.
They can't touch me. I don't wear armour, 'cause I don't need to. I'm gonna win this war, and I'm gonna see my family again. I'm gonna do enough good to make up for the bad, to prove some quiet part of myself wrong.
I fight until the battlefield is littered with the bodies of the metal soldiers.
I stand back, breathless.
"Permafrost, we did it!" I shout. I look back over my shoulder, but no one comes. I can't find Ember or Aloe either.
I look back, and the armour on the soldiers starts to fade, melting slowly in clouds of silver vapor, revealing the dragons underneath.
They all look so familiar.
I step closer, transfixed.
They're bleeding from the spears I used to pierce through their armour. They're frozen in agony in blocks of ice, they're covered in burns past recognition.
I stop over the body of an IceWing wearing a pearl necklace, with little dark markings around her snout. A spear has been plunged straight through her heart.
Permafrost was saying that–that she was sure they were still dragons underneath; only with metal scales grafted on top of real ones and a spell over their minds; it was more efficient to build on top of a biological nervous system than to go through the long trial-and-error of building a new one. It didn't hit me until now, what it really meant.
These are real dragons.
"Permafrost?"
I lean down over the body, meeting the IceWing's eyes, and scream.
"Permafrost–Permafrost–Permafrost, I'm so sorry. I didn't know it was you–Permafrost, come back to me!" I try to pull the spear out of her chest, but it won't budge. Her eyes are dim and lifeless, and when I try to pinch her awake, she doesn't respond.
"Permafrost, please," I wail.
I look up, and I notice that the body beside hers is equally familiar. A soft, round dragon whose wings used to hold me, whose sweet, slightly rasping voice used to sing me to sleep. I look out over the battlefield, their faces clicking into place.
"Mom! Dad!" I run to their corpses. I close my eyes, trying to channel all the magical energy I have in me. If I have to rip my soul in two to save them, I'll do it. I'll do anything.
"I heal these dragon's wounds. I bring them back, stronger and healthier than ever." My voice is thick and strangled with tears.
Their corpses shrivel beneath me. The whole battlefield decays, as though their time is moving faster than my own. The sickly-sweet odor of rot fills the air. The faces of the dragons I love become mangled with decay.
"No, no, no–heal them. Bring them back, please–I'll do anything!"
I look out at the sea of them, as far as the eye can see. Mom and Dad and Permafrost and Eclipse and Way and Nebula and Grandma, and Star, and–
***
And then I wake up–a cyclone swirling all around me. Through the swirl of debris, I can barely see a few feet in front of me. I'm half-submerged in water, but thankfully, it doesn't seem to be rising too quickly.
"Permafrost?" I shout at the glimpse of white through the fallout.
There's no answer.
Is this real? Or is this just another dream?
Hail slices through the air, a cloud of dust looming hundreds of feet high. I wade through a furious river, my muscles burning as I strain against the current.
"Permafrost?"
I know it's useless; I know I'll never find her. But I stumble through the swirling dust, ducking at the flying debris in the air. But I need to know she's okay. I need to know the dream wasn't real.
The silhouette grows closer. I keep pushing on, gritting my teeth. I keep on pushing until the winds subside. I look up, and all around me, going up hundreds of feet in the air is a whirlwind of debri.
At the eye of the storm, there's an IceWing frozen in agony. He's skeletally thin, his eyes wide and bloodshot, wings stretched out; lightning bolts crackling from the edges, a cloud of debri swirling around him. Two armbands rest on his forearms, glowing and shaking, this close to melting into his scales.
Not Permafrost.
"Polar!" I roar. "I don't know what your business here is, but if you value your life, you'll get out of my city and never come back." I try to put on a front, and I hope he's stupid enough to fall for it. In all honesty, if my dragons' powers aren't working, there's not much I can do to hurt him.
His jaw twitches, like he's trying to respond. I step closer.
"What's your problem? Get out of my city, now."
He lets out a small, pathetic whimper. It takes me a moment to recognize the glistening on his cheeks for tears.
"You're Shadowhunter, aren't you?"
"What does it matter to you?"
"I don't want to hurt your stupid city!" Polar shouts. "I–I–"
Lightning shoots from the tip of his wings, racing up toward the sky. The cyclone of dust grows ever-faster.
Polar crumples to the ground.
"Help me, help me, help me," he begs. "Make it stop. Please, I'm so tired, I just want it to stop..."
"What happened to you?" I take a step closer, a slow, eerie recognition creeping down my shoulderblades.
"Leave me alone!" he growls, a gust of wind knocking me back.
I pick myself up off the ground. "Your mother didn't send you here, did she?" I shout over the wind.
"I ran," he roars. "I ran away, and I'm never coming back. I hate her! I don't care what she thinks of me! I just have to find somewhere I can disappear, I just have to get rid of this stupid power she left me with! And–and–"
"You ran away?"
"I hope my mother dies," Polar hisses. I can tell he doesn't mean it. "I don't care what happens to her, I don't. I just need to get rid of this power–or–or–I haven't slept in so long. I haven't slept or eaten anything for days, it hurts so much, it won't let me stop–"
"You mean, it's controlling you."
"No! I'm in charge, I'm in charge, I'm–"
"Take off the armbands," I command.
"I can't. I've tried–they're so hot, they burn me." He shows me his talons, covered in blisters. "I don't know how to make the storm go away."
"And... you're angry, right?"
"I want to burn the whole world down," he says. But it sounds more like a plea for mercy than a battle cry. This is someone whose world has been ruined. Someone with nothing left inside them beyond a pain so insidious it can't help but spread.
"Yeah. I know how that feels."
"What?"
"I–I have magic too. Well, I used to, I don't anymore. I just couldn't stop it. It's so easy, when everything else is broken. It's just one step away, whatever impulse you want to chase. Whatever messed up revenge fantasy you've got. So... my dad gave me this bracelet." I hold up my talon. "I haven't cast a spell since."
"I can't stop it," Polar says breathlessly. "It's gonna kill me. I know it's gonna kill me."
"Yeah–it probably is going to kill you you don't get it together."
"Then tell me how to stop it!" Polar roars over the whistling wind around us.
I close my eyes, trying to take myself back into that headspace. Frantic and desperate and burning with rage. I can still feel it at the edges of my mind; a version of myself I'll probably never lose. I remember how Mom and Dad watched as I killed Queen Vigilance–I remember how they held me, when it was all over. How small and pitiful I felt.
"There must be someone who's shown you kindness. Maybe it's not your mom–fine. But there's gotta be someone in your life who wouldn't want to see you like this."
I remember how we all stood there, covered in the same blood, crying, wallowing in the sense that our world was never going to be the same again.
Polar is silent for a moment.
"Just–just try to hold onto that thought. That one good dragon, who wouldn't want you to be like this. I don't really care about you, but there's gotta have been one dragon in your life who did. So imagine that they're here right now. Imagine what they'd tell you"
"She would hate me," Polar admits, the winds starting to slow. "She would be so scared. I hurt her–I hurt her, and I didn't mean to, and I can't stop it, I can't stop it, I can't–"
"Yes, you can," I say, stepping closer. "You can stop it. For that one dragon, whoever it is. I stopped myself–I had to wreck a whole palace to get there, but I did, and if I did it, then you can too."
Polar closes his eyes, his brow furrowed in concentration.
The winds start to slow, the dust slowly drifting back toward the ground. The clouds lighten ever so slightly. Three moons–it's actually working. I can't beleive it's actually working.
A soft rain starts to fall. Polar's shoulders tremble as he starts to weep, sinking toward the ground.
Permafrost pushes her way through the haze, distant and bleary-eyed.
"Shadowhunter!" She lights up, running toward me. "Shadowhunter, you're okay!"
"Permafrost," Polar hisses, his eyes narrowing. Instantly, the storm starts back up again in full force. "You didn't tell me she was here."
Oh, right. They know each other.
"Polar," Permafrost hisses at the same moment. "I knew it was you."
"Polar!" I shout. "Polar, you need to stop. I know you guys–didn't like each other when you were coworkers, or whatever–who cares, we're in the middle of a war. Calm down. Frost, I promise I can explain this all later--you need to calm down."
Neither of them are listening. I don't think they can hear me over the wind. "My mother wished you were hers!" Polar clenches his talons into fists. "She always said, how smart you were, how you would end up going places–I hate you, I hate you, I–"
A bolt of lightning shoots toward Permafrost. I don't think–I run toward it, throwing my body in front of hers, intercepting the blast. I feel it rip through me: bleeding and sharp. I feel the bright pain settle into my bones, I hear Permafrost screaming, the whistling of wind, the sound of my breath.
Then nothing.
***
"Shadowhunter! Shadowhunter!"
I come to lying on the ground in the wreckage that remains of Jerboa's tent. Permafrost leans over me, and Marigold stands at her side.
I blink. My ears ring, and the air smells like smoke.
"Shadowhunter of the NightWings, you sappy, chivalrous, complete and utter dolt!" Permafrost shouts, cupping my face in her talons. "What were you thinking?"
I blink, the memory slowly coming back to me. The attack. The gaunt, desperate IceWing with fire in his eyes. Where did he go? Didn't I talk with him?
I blink.
"What happened? What did I do?"
"You jumped in front of lightning for me, stupid!" Permafrost says, crossing her talons over her chest. "You gave me an earring designed for this exact situation. I'm literally invulnerable. And you still did it."
Oh, yeah, I did give her that...
"Well. You're welcome." I start to laugh. Some part of my brain is definitely not working correctly right now.
"Yeah, I think it's so attractive when my girlfriend is lying comatose for hours and I think she's never gonna wake up!"
Permafrost clears her throat, straightening her necklace. "You scared me."
I pull her into my chest, holding her close. "I know. I'm sorry."
"Where'd Polar go?" I ask, furrowing my brow.
"He flew off after you jumped in front of me," Permafrost murmurs into my shoulder. "I think he thought he killed you."
"Well, at least he's gone, and he probably won't come back."
I cough, leaning over the edge of the cot they've set up for me. There's a slight itch at the back of my throat. Something sharp crackles across my tongue; a momentary flash of light. The rug below me is blackened and singed.
I blink.
"Wait. Did you guys see that?"
I try it again–a sharp spark of lightning striking the ground with a crack.
"That was-" Permafrost stammers. "That was lightning."
"What was that?" Marigold asks, wide-eyed. "What are you doing?"
I stumble out of the bed, stepping outside. The city is a wreck–tents blown down by the wind, trees snapped like toothpicks, dust coating every surface. I pick an empty spot of sand, and take a deep breath in, trying to summon it again.
Lightning crackles across the ground, incinerating everything in its path.
I turn back to Permafrost, grinning.
"Frost! Did you see that? I think I can breathe lightning now!"
"Um, guys!" Marigold shouts. "You might want to get back in here."
We exchange a glance, then race inside the tent.
"What? What is it?" I ask, a headache pounding at the edges of my skull.
I step inside the tent, ducking below the broken entryway.
In the centre of her ruined home, a small dragonet stands. Her talons are shaking, and her scales are sickly pale. She looks terrible, but she's alive–her wide brown eyes open and staring at me.
I freeze. "Jerboa?"
How can she be awake? She was on the edge of death just a few hours ago. Nothing was working to wake her up–and now she's just walking around, talking to me
She tries to laugh, and it comes out like a wheeze. "Hey, Shadowhunter. Can you make me breakfast? I'm starving."