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While his mate had brushed Ymerc's outbursts to the side, Cyndrithil knew there was something more going on. Not only did his outbursts concern Cyndrithil, but when Ymerc said he had a dream concerning Britosa, Cyndrithil knew it was serious.

After pretending to fall asleep, he felt Ymerc's paw move. Slowly at first, then eventually, soft moss touched his foot. Cyndrithil could tell his son was trying to be quiet on sneaking out, but Cyndrithil could hear every step he took. He would have to teach his son about stealth.

After a while, he followed until he heard Ymerc's voice.

"Do what?" he heard Ymerc say.

Who was he talking to?

It wasn't until he felt the flow of mana around Ymerc's paw that he knew there was someone there that Cyndrithil couldn't see.

He listened to the one-sided conversation, pushing down the anger at not being able to teach his son magic. He let his curiosity take control. When Cyndrithil remembered Ymerc's mention of a red-and-white dragon, the pieces all fit together. The sudden interest in going to Dravellian, a clan he doubted Ymerc had heard of, and the sudden outbursts from earlier. Britosa had shown herself to Ymerc.

Finally, Cyndrithil stepped forward, announcing his presence.

Most dragons don't learn about the mateship ceremony until around the time they can breathe fire. Ymerc was far too young.

Cyndrithil let Ymerc be the messenger, knowing that there was a reason she couldn't be seen or heard by others.

Every time Britosa shows herself to a dragon, it foretells terrible times ahead. The last time she did, just over three hundred years ago, over two dozen dragons fell. According to the rumors, she had tried to warn them, but they paid her no mind. The arrogant fools.

The fact she is here now and only appearing to Cyndrithil's son was an omen. And while Cyndrithil didn't like the situation as it was, especially putting his son in even more danger, he also knew that if he didn't do as Britosa asked, things would get much worse than if he had listened to her.

After asking his questions, Cyndrithil headed back home, where he had to convince his mate to go to Dravellian. After seeing how she reacted earlier to Ymerc's request... he knew this was gonna be hard.

Once back home, he nudged Ymithia awake with a gentle prod from his snout. She very quickly realized Ymerc wasn't here and sprang upright, eyes frantic.

"It's alright. Ymerc is safe." He soothed her, trying to keep her calm for what came next.

"Where is Ymerc?" she asked, her voice oozing concern.

"He is in the forest."

Cyndrithil reclined and motioned for his mate to do the same. She followed suit.

"Ymithia, last time Britosa showed herself to a dragon, an entire clan fell in a single night. Based on her previous actions, it all could have been avoided. They say she tried to help, but no one paid her any attention."

"Ok? What does this have to do with Ymerc?" she asked.

"Britosa has come back."

Before Cyndrithil could continue Ymithia cut in.

"Ok--what does Britosa have to do with our son?"

"Do you remember Ymerc's earlier outbursts?"

Ymithia thought for a moment before nodding her head.

"His outbursts were only one side of a conversation. Ymithia, Britosa appeared to our son. It is why he asked us to go to Dravellian."

Ymithia's eyes widened in understanding.

Ymithia repeated everything back to Cyndrithil.

"Are you crazy!? You want a hatchling to follow Britosa to Dravellian, where no doubt some evil force is lying in wait to slaughter everyone? No! Absolutely not! Ymerc stays right here!"

This was gonna be much harder than Cyndrithil originally thought.

"And what happens if we don't do as she says?" Cyndrithil posed the question, knowing what her answer would be and already having a response for it.

"Dragons die," came her response, no doubt being reminded of Furest.

"We have a chance to save others just like all those times in the past fighting alongside each other. Do you remember that small family of phoenixes we saved years ago?"

We had stepped in right before they were about to be killed. Another dragon filled with malice and darkness was trying to kill them. Together, we had stopped her from causing any more harm.

"Britosa said to me--"

"You spoke with her?" Ymithia cut in.

Cyndrithil's lips curled in an awkward smile. "Well, not exactly. For whatever reason, Britosa has chosen to stay hidden from everyone except Ymerc. He only relayed what Britosa said back to me. And I know this sounds odd, but the fact that I felt mana around Ymerc goes to show this isn't fake. Which, even though Ymerc has performed miracles in the past, they were not of his own volition, and from the sounds of the earlier conversation, Ymerc had never felt mana before tonight, making it impossible for him to use magic. She also said that no harm would come to him, and if we go along, we can ensure that he stays safe while helping Britosa save others. Just because we have a son, doesn't mean we shouldn't try to save others if given the chance," he told her, hoping his words had finally changed her mind.

"What about Creeping Death? Someone has to find a cure for that? And your brother-- you're just gonna up and leave him?

While Cyndrithil did feel bad about having to leave his brother right after the day's events, he knew Xithris would understand and do the same thing had their places been switched.

"The other healers are more than capable of handling that wretched disease. Stop thinking you have to do everything yourself." it was one of Furests worst habits and it shouldn't be hers as well, but with all the time Ymithia had spent around her Cyndrithil suppoed it couldn't be helped.

Finally, she relented with a snort of smoke.

"If we go, Ymerc must agree to never leave our sight."

Cyndrithil couldn't agree more, and while he was also hesitant about taking his son, he knew the consequences would be so much worse if he didn't. Which left no other options.

"Come on, the sooner we go, the better. Ymerc did say 'as soon as possible.'"

Reluctantly Ymithia rose, stretching her body much the same way a cat does.

"Let's go tell Britosa the news."

***

After father left Britosa continued. And while he had been gone, I had gotten a sense for my own mana. Though on the downside, I had found out using it was nigh impossible. I stretched, I posed like the character I used to read about in books. Nothing came of my efforts except Britosa's poorly withheld laughter.

After my parents returned and told me and Britosa that we were going to Dravellian, Britosa was relieved. It seemed a huge weight had been lifted off her shoulders. Though Mother did have a very short conversation with Britosa, much along the same lines as Cyndrithil's.

Shortly afterward we left, Cyndrithil wanted to say goodbye to Xithris since there was no telling how long we would be gone. And Ymithia had an errand to run with the healers.

"After we leave, you need to teach your parents about Magic Flight. It will make up for lost time."

What now?

"It is called Magic Flight. Where you increase your speed while flying."

So, that's what it's called? Never knew it had a name.

We arrived at the healer's mountain, the place I had spent the majority of my time inside Dravawynn.

"Why are we here?" I asked my parents.

"Xithris was injured in battle. We are here to say goodbye before we leave," Ymithia responded without looking behind, her voice unusually cold.

Inside were the same stone walls and torches as the last time I was here, except instead of turning where I usually did, I followed my parents downward and deeper into the mountain until eventually we entered a much larger room than the one I previously stayed in. No windows here allowed for light. Instead, over a dozen flowers grew from the stone floor all illuminating the room. It was just as bright as mine was during the day. An energetic feeling washed over my scales as I entered. I didn't ask what that was about. In the tense atmosphere, all eyes studied Xithris's comatose body.

Xithris was sound asleep. Ymithia and I waited patiently while Cyndrithil said goodbye to the sleeping dragon. I was surprised he hadn't woken up already. He must have been hurt badly.

I saw Dad slip a piece of paper under Xithris's paw, most likely telling him where we were going and why.

It made sense since Xithris wasn't awake to hear it himself, and considering our hurry, we didn't have time to wait for him to wake up, at least according to Britosa.

Afterwards, we left the room. I followed Mother upwards towards the peak until she entered a large cavern where close to a dozen dragons worked or studied. A green dragon stood in the back guiding several younger ones in what I assumed was healing magic, using what looked like a dead animal as their test subject.

Mother walked through, her gaze scanning the crowd before heading towards the back where a golden scaled dragon sat, a large pile of books and scrolls surrounding her.

At Mother's approach, Hithay looked up, her eyes looked weary and ready for sleep.

Has she been up all night?

"Hithay, how are things going?" Mother asked.

Hithay stood. One of her wings which had been gently laying on the ground bumped a stack of books causing them to topple onto the stone.

Hithay scrambled to pick up the books before responding, her actions sharp and hurried. Once she finished, she turned to us, jumping right into what she had found.

"There isn't much information on wounds that weren't able to be healed by using magic. There have been rare instances of that through the last several hundred years, but all of them attributed to dark magic, not dragon fire."

Hithay looked over to me, her eyes going wide.

"Is this your son? Oh! He's so cute." She grabbed my paw, shaking it vigorously while introducing herself.

I felt blood rush to my face at being called cute, something I had never been referred to as until now. I looked away, not able to stand her intense gaze.

"Hithay, focus," Dad said, interrupting whatever Mother was about to say.

"Right. After finding nothing on burn wounds, I changed the topic.

After a while, I noticed parts were purposely missing, so I changed tactics and looked for books with healing dark magic wounds. Separately there wasn't anything important, but together, the missing facts I mentioned earlier came together."

Hithay moved back behind her pile of books where she picked up a tan, leather-bound tome and held it out for Ymithia to see. I caught a short glimpse of neat handwriting, most likely Hithay's.

"Our recent events with Creeping Death aren't the first ones!" she yelled joyously.

What's Creeping Death?

"Ask your mother. She will tell you." Britosa responded coldly to my question, all of her attention focused on Hithay.

"What do you mean they aren't the first ones?" Mother asked, her curiosity piqued.

"Ok, allow me to start at the beginning. Eight-hundred years ago, a healer mentioned a sickness that couldn't be healed, resulting in the dragon's death, but in this book--" she held up a worn book with holes everywhere "--it specifically mentions the name of said dragon. His name was Mynnin.

"The books say Britosa had appeared to him shortly before he died of this sickness. Fast forward another two-hundred years and an elder of the clan, one who had been guiding the clan towards intensely strengthening their abilities died of the same thing. The same thing happened another hundred years later, all the way up to the South Clan's fall three-hundred years ago where no mentions of said disease exist, until now. I dug into each dragon's past who was afflicted and died shortly after. What do you think each dragon has in common?"

I had no idea, but from Hithay smiling she was excited to have found something. Mother was equally confused.

"On with it, Hithay," Mother said. Her patience running out.

Hithay looked disappointed that no one was guessing but quickly moved on.

"Each dragon, had they survived would have changed the dragon species for good, or saved a bunch of lives. Six months after Mynnin died, eighteen dragons perished, dropping dead for no reason, each one a significant leader in fighting dark magic in the North Clan. Most likely, Britosa appeared to warn him, but was too late.

"The next time Creeping Death killed someone, it was someone trying to strengthen the dragons in the clan to the south, claiming it was Britosa's orders; but before he could actually do anything, he died. Hundreds of years later, they died due to lacking power. Time should have allowed the clan ample time to grow strong enough to beat the threat that killed them. Whatever it was, a hundred years after that, a healer by the name of Givryn died under mysterious circumstances in Dravawynn. And get this, the books say his knowledge was on par with Furest's."

A pang hit my heart at her name. I owed it to her, her name a reminder of my goal to bring her back, even for a moment if only just to thank her for saving my life.

"Each dragon killed had the power to change the way we live for good, but we have constantly been kept in the dark, and each dragon was killed before they could fulfill their intentions. Only now are we seeing more outbreaks of Creeping Death. Last time it targeted Xithris, someone who keeps this clan running to its fullest capabilities. Replacing him would allow someone of the darkness to take control of at least parts of the clan.

Mother and Father remained silent waiting for her to continue, while next to me Britosa hung her head, eyes glazed over.

What I am getting at is the darkness has been purposely keeping us in the dark, manipulating us for possibly over a thousand years, keeping us weak while it grows stronger. Meanwhile, Britosa's appearances correspond with over half the reported deaths caused by Creeping Death if not more. The fact it is showing up now means something bad is going to happen."

Hithay rushed near the end to finish her sentence. It wasn't until she gulped in air that I realized why.

"Dragons have grown weaker than they ever should have been thanks to the creature embedded in dark magic. Ymerc, you are my fix for that. I owe it to the dragon species. Under any circumstances, I will not allow you to die."

I turned to Britosa. Her words caused questions to bubble up, but when I asked she remained silent, which was really beginning to bug me.

"Hithay, very good work. When I get back, you have proven yourself as a healer, I would be willing to graduate you into a full-fledged healer if you would like," Mother said.

Hithay's eyes bulged with excitement before going back to normal, concern written in the way her brows crinkled.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

Mother looked around before leaning in. Clearly, she trusted Hithay, but no one else.

"Britosa is back and has requested the three of us," she pointed a claw at me and Dad, "to go east to the clan of Dravellian."

Hithay's jaw dropped, everything she just said was coming to pass again, and I was right in the center.

Before we left, Ymithia told Hithay to keep in constant contact by sending letters. Not only that, Mom gave her written permission to take as many healers--although only the ones she trusted--as she needed to further her research.

***

A flash of light announced Anirin's arrival in the forest once home to the harpies. The smell of decaying flesh struck him. Half a dozen harpies lay decomposing on the ground while up above more hung from branches or singed nests.

Truly, that dragon did a number on his slaves. With a heart as cold as Anirin's, he paid the corpses no mind as he took off, his aim: finding the book of dark magic. That detestable hatchling had said it was a two-day journey by foot. Anirin could make that distance in little over half a day. He was ecstatic, his long dream finally coming to fruition.

The day passed. Anirin guessed he was in the general vicinity of the cave. For hours he flew, looking down, waiting to catch a glimpse of the cave, yet he found none. The day turned into night and still no sign. Anirin was worried the hatchling had lied, but his reaction was all too true. He wouldn't have been able to lie under those circumstances, and nothing gave Anirin the impression he was lying, and it was too late to go back now. Ymithia and Cyndrithil would be guarding him closely.

Touching down on the grass, Anirin rested his weary wings. The shadow of night covered everything in darkness. The number one thing Anirin couldn't fix with the harpies' sacrifices was the loss of his night vision which came with age. Everything was black to him.

Anirin would resume his search in the morning. For now, he needed rest.

It was early dawn and Anirin had resumed searching. Hours passed and the area he searched grew wider and wider, while his stomach growled angrily. Even if he did find the book, he wouldn't be able to focus on reading it with how hungry he was.

A moment later, he swooped down, picking up a scared deer in his claws before killing it. He sunk his claws into the flesh, puncturing the sides. Anirin licked his lips, watching the life pour from the deer through rivers of blood. Animals were not the best. They lacked the intelligence dragons had, but they still did the job when his bloodlust got the better of him.

Anirin touched down, dropping his kill on the ground with a wet splat. Blood sprayed across the green grass, turning it a dark brown.

After his meal, he realized the birds that he had been hearing all day were now silent. No animal scurried through the bushes. Not even the wind moved.

Anirin knew he was close. Taking off, he scanned the area, wandering through the tangled, dead forest. Once the chirping resumed, he knew he was too far from that which he sought.

"Where is it!" Anirin bellowed his fury.

To be so close, yet find no trace of it except the silence, made no sense to him. With his wings aching fiercely, he stayed on the ground, allowing them to rest while he searched.

Several times, the sound of birds or the scent of animals caused him to turn back eventually forcing him into one big circle. Each time, he narrowed his search, turning each area he was in into a grid in his mind.

The only area he hadn't covered on foot was the center, but he had flown over it, so he doubted he would find anything there. Yet when he arrived, he found a cave unlike any other, leaking malice and shadows that moved of their own accord even under the bright sunlight.

Finally!

Anirin had waited for this for far too long. Victory and the world's freedom would soon be his. But before he entered, there was one thing he had to make sure of. He took flight. Once he was above the trees, the cave disappeared from view. The cover of forest masking the cave. No dragon would be able to find it while flying, and few dragons would be willing to search on the ground. No doubt Britosa's doing. He let go of his frustrations towards Britosa. Soon, she would be an inconsequential ant. Landing, he headed inside the cave.

The shadows grasped for his body as he moved, though they didn't actually do anything to him. Anirin jumped down the short ways that Ymerc had fallen down so long ago, and there it was--the book of dark magic. His for the taking.

Anirin rushed forward, the feeling of wind on his body absent as he did. Opening the book, there were nothing but blank pages.

All except for one near the very back, which taught Anirin what he already knew.

"No, this can't be! Impossible!" his roar echoed through the cave and out into the forest.

But this was clearly the book he was after. Nothing else could cause the atmosphere to change as it had.

"Aniiiirin," came a soft whisper. Sweet and melodic--the one from his dreams. The voice that belonged to the one who taught him everything he knew about dark sorcery.

"I am here! just as you asked!" he cried. "The book is blank. What would you have me do, Master?"

"Give me your body," the darkness hissed.

No sooner had the voice finished the shadows throughout the cave converged on Anirin, forcing their way into his body through his eyes, nose, and mouth. Anirin's screams cut off as the shadows choked him on their way in. Slowly, Anirin realized what he had done, pictures of the future the darkness had planned penetrated his mind. The visions of the world that were told to him were all lies. Instead, what remained was a lifeless, barren land covered in shadowy creatures that dripped blood along the ground as they walked, corpses of every creature being turned into these bloody horrors.

With everything Anirin had left, he resisted the shadows penetrating his body, trying to take over; but he was too late. The moment he handed his soul over long ago was when he could no longer be saved. There was nothing of him left to save.

The dragon once named Anirin took flight in the sunlight, golden rays illuminating what horror rose up from the dark cave. Anirin's body eroded away, his scales and innards sloughed off his body until nothing remained except white bone that dripped blood along the ground. The creature opened its bony jaws as if to roar but nothing came out. The creature's skinless wings stretched across the yellow skies, light filtering through the tendrils of broken flesh.

And it followed the rising light.

East.