Cloud

The air was charged. He could feel it on his leathery wings, each wing beat was harder then the next. It was often that the sea was hit with storms, but this one was different. Menacing and much more eager than any he had ever seen. He could sense its desire to devour him in the endless march of rain and crackling thunder. He would fall right into its trap, but he had no choice. He would rather meet his fate here than turn around and meet it there. Furling his wings, he suddenly plummeted, charging towards the icy dark waters at an impossible speed. If he was going to die, he decided, the only way to die was to go down fighting. Unfurling his wings before the water could bring him into its cold grasp, the air suddenly caught him. He started to skim across the water as fast as he could, just as the rain started its descent.

As fat drops of water reigned from above, he flapped harder. There was simply no time, he needed to get out and worry about his own safety. He was the one in trouble, not them. But something inside him drove him harder than before, through the endless rain. He shivered as the goblets fell through his scales and touched his flaky pink vulnerable fresh. As he flew, he dared to look around, instead of becoming lost within his own thoughts. Although everything around him was dark water and angry clouds, he could easily determine that he was only a few miles away from his safe warm destination. The thought gave him comfort as he sailed away.

But his success had only angered his pursuer. He heard the distant crack of thunder draw near, as flashes of brilliant light became visible. And suddenly, the wind left him. His only edge against his pursuer had left him. He felt utterly alone and fearful as he soared on. But he couldn’t fail. The entire kingdom of Aliasing was counting on him. His family. His friends. Even strangers. The information that he held, would and could change the tides of battle. It had to be delivered, whatever the cost. He simply wished that the mission was not solely his responsibility. He ground his teeth and summoned the courage and strength to outrace the storm, now dodging the waves that the storm had summoned, only barely avoiding being sucked under. A harsh spray of cold seawater hit his face painfully. He shook it off and flew on. For their shake, he had to push on through.

He thought back to then. He could still remember the days of bliss, where he could soar through the air without fear, and watch the quiet peaceful village that he called his home from a distance in the giant crags that surrounded it. He still remembered the gentle smiles and concerned faces when he first arrived, the tender care that they had taken with his wing, and the hospitality that they had given when he had nowhere to go. He remembered how quick they had been to protect him from them, and the terrible guilt he had felt when they had urged him to fly away. He could remember the last, final taunting words so clearly that the tug at his heart tightened. He would do this for them. Nothing more.

The wind whipped across his face and dragged his wings. He could feel the numbing agent on his wing slowly fading as it dried and slid off. Looking back for a second, he eyed his injury, the feeble stretched leathery skin that was scared with a deep burn mark and a raw cut that opened whenever he flapped. He could only dismiss them as distractions and obstacles now. He gritted his teeth and pushed on. Taking another quick look around him, he deemed that he was now in the homestretch. A surge of confidence hit him and he again flapped harder against the sharp blades of the wind. Rain had suddenly become a part of the fray, stabbing into his eyes, temporarily blinding him. He flew on, dodging the surges of water and forcefully trying to hold his own against the powerful blasts of wind. He could see land now. A swell of warmth touched his heart. He was safe. He summoned the strength to finally push through, flying over blessed land. He almost wanted to land and roll in the sweet grass, but he ignored that urge and looked at Aliasing and sighed. The green hills were darkening under the cover of the storm, the mountains to the Far East watched over the land majestically. There were flat plains where he eyed some plump sheep grazing in the grass and small villages tightly clustered together under the safety of the soft hills. He looked longingly towards the mountains, he would return there once he delivered the message. The battle had gone on too long. It should not have to spread here. Cheerfully, he soared over the final hill, preparing to furl his wings. The stab of pain was slowly returning, it would soon gain ferocity of his exhaustion.

But he saw next nearly made him freeze midair. His destination, the castle of Aliasing, was ablaze. His sapphire eyes suddenly widened in horror, taking in the ferocity of the destruction. Entire towers of the once beautiful castle had collapsed under their own weight, the fire slowly finishing off what was left. He landed on a hill that had not been caught by the blaze, and stared. Suddenly, everything looked bleak. The land’s only hope, was being destroyed by a fire. The heat washed over his face, the deep crackle of the fire throbbed in his ears. His tail flicked subconsciously, light red against the bright fire.

He almost wept. But he was determined to pass on this information and he knew that the castle was not the only place that needed it. He would search until he found one. He would not sleep. And he would fly until he crashed. And even if he crashed, he would walk until his feet could walk no more. Growling in determination, he leapt into the sky, unfurling his wings and flapping hard until he gained enough altitude so that he looked like nothing except a tiny eagle in the sky.

This determination increased his speed in flight. He felt invulnerable, and for that reason he did not check to see if it was safe to fly. He had already pulled a dangerous move by flying through that storm. In another state of mind he would have known that what he was doing was reckless. But that point was beyond him now. And it was for that reason that he failed to notice the spinning disk that was loping its way towards him, finally tangling his wings frenziedly and pulling him down with its weight…



There was a cold breeze, and with it came a storm. The plumes of cloud covered the sky, a low growl of thunder echoed over the grassy knolls. Many animals heard the growl and instantly fled, burrowing underground or hiding pensively in a crack in a gnarled tree. No one could ever be sure if it was to protect their young or if it was to flee against an unseen enemy that lurked in the storms. Animals were never seen on these days, so it was fortunate that these storms were infrequent, since they caused endless bouts of damage, from endless crops to ravaged houses and cold floods. These storms seemed to come close to annually, and the townspeople could do nothing but prepare for the worst. The storms were almost soothing and normal.

But Aaron was not normal. He could sense a change. He was blessed with a gift to sense the minute changes in the air, effectively predicting weather patterns. He had been able to do it since he was a young child; he could say with near accuracy that most of his family had abilities that had helped many generations of people living in the Corrigan’s Gorge. Some of these abilities included precognitive gifts, exceptional healing abilities and sometimes the occasional rare ability to control the elements, through the heightened practice of telekinesis. Sometimes relatives lucked out, but he knew that it happened so rarely that it hardly mattered. His other family found other ways to assist the people, some becoming farmhands while others became sentries.

Speaking of sentries, one, called Reilly came running towards him, yelling faintly. Reilly was a young boy of thirteen and his grandson, light bushy russet hair that he hid cleverly under a wool cap, which made him an effective sentry. He hadn’t revealed himself to have any powers, but Aaron’s brother Seth did not receive his precognitive abilities until he was eighteen. Aaron turned to him, pressing his weight carefully on his walking stick. He started to hobble carefully towards him. Finally, they both caught up, panting. Aaron could hardly believe how tried he had become from walking a few measly steps. Then again, age was catching up with him. After they had both recovered, Aaron said to Reilly,

“What is it?”

Reilly looked back at him sadly and said,

“The Court is here. They request a truce on behalf that they speak to an elder. They’re armed and a small elite group of twenty.”

The Court. Aaron had hoped the day would never come. The Court was a long standing tyrant power that had existed in Aliasing for decades, too powerful for the people to knock down and anyone who dared oppose it would have their village up in flames. Aaron knew that the most powerful resistance group that had resided in the old castle of Aliasing, the Order, had been close to succeeding. He was unsure of what had happened to them since their last outburst, where they had stormed the Court’s supply base, only to find that it had been stripped bare. Aaron had sighed and said,

“I will go. But I suspect I already know what they want. Warn the village Reilly. I should be back momentarily if the Court complies with its truce.”



It wasn’t long after Reilly had warned the village that they all gathered at the edge of gorge and watched Aaron approach the Court. They had all chosen clothing that made them blend in with the unusually dark craggy surface as they all peered over the edge and watched. Reilly felt suddenly bad about not sending anyone with Aaron, but he knew it wouldn’t matter. Aaron had always said that there was no need for extra deaths. Reilly strained his ears hard for the conversation.

“I always enjoy pleasantries myself Sir Aaron, but of course I do believe that we need to get down to business.” Reilly thanked his lucky stars that being a sentry had made his ears able to pick up even the slightest sound.

“Of course. You called a truce, and requested an elder. I am that elder. Is there something troubling you, Sir…?”

“Ceres, but that hardly matters. I did come here on the matter for your village’s uncanny rumours.”

“Rumours?”

“Yes rumours. Your village has a great collection of people with exceptional abilities.”

“Well every village has that Sir Ceres, think of all the wonderful farmhands and cooks that our world has.” Reilly wondered if Aaron was really being serious or was playing dumb.

“That is the truth, Sir Aaron. But I’ve come here on the basis that your village contains people that have precognitive abilities.” Reilly looked to his older brother Nick, a healer. Nick smiled, took off his hat and ruffled his hair, before pulling his hat over his eyes.

“It’ll be alright.” Nick assured him. “I’m not going anywhere. Not for anybody.”

Reilly smiled and then started to listen again,

“…Only on their own accord.”

“Well, who would be willing?”

“I do not know the thoughts of my people. You will have to ask them.” With that, Aaron started to hobble back towards the village. Reilly assumed that the discussion was over. Nobody would join the Court. He motioned that everyone return home and to their duties. He jumped off the ledge and then scurried back to his sentry post, in a small tree that was hidden in the gorge, but allowed him to see everything in the village and a bit of Aliasing. He watched as the Court marched quietly behind Aaron, wanting to be there if anyone joined. He hid himself in the thick leaves of the tree and tuned into the conversation when Aaron finally reached the village, were everyone was thankfully going about their chores. They stopped instantly once Aaron cleared his throat. Reilly looked for his brother, who was washing his baby sister, Sami in a bucket of lukewarm water. He only remembered to wrap her carefully in a warm fluffy towel after a scowl from his mother. But then all attention was on Aaron. He said carefully,

“The Court has come today in search for our powers. They have promised that they will allow us to come on behalf of our own freewill. Would anyone like to take them up on their offer?”

A sudden pause overcame the village of sixty. Everyone looked at everyone else before resuming their activities. Nick stepped inside to clothe and feed Sami. Reilly watched the members of the Court intently, even with his faraway post he could see that the leader of the expedition, Ceres was turning his attention to Aaron, who said to the Court,

“I’m sorry. But it appears that no one is interested. I wish you luck on finding someone with these powers…”

Ceres nodded softly, before he said,

“I’m sorry too.” His sword was suddenly brandished. Reilly looked on in alarm and then remembered to whistle. His song rang high in the air. Everyone looked to the Court, saw the sword, and started to scream. Reilly saw that it was too late for Aaron, whose arms had been tied behind his back as he hit the ground behind one member of the Court.

Everyone had already scattered. The members of the Court were nowhere to be seen, Reilly couldn’t make out their blue uniform armour in the chaos. Reilly jumped from his post and then ran for the horn, if they were lucky, they could alert Father Nature that they were in trouble and he would send something to save them. If they weren’t lucky, then nothing would come. Reilly prayed to his lucky stars that he wouldn’t be seen and Father Nature would bring something. He ran expertly across the thin cliff path, finally scrambling up a cliff and reaching the horn. It was a beautiful object, a majestically carved ivory horn; Reilly couldn’t place its origins. Father Nature had sent it to them decades ago; a falcon had descended from the skies to give it to them. It had been placed on the highest point of the gorge since, on top a rock pillar that touched the sky. Reilly himself considered lucky to have exceptional climbing abilities. He grabbed the horn and pressed his mouth to it, but a sharp cold metal touched the base of his neck. He froze where he stood as he heard,

“It’s terribly unfortunate that I can’t let you blow that.” A metal hand reached out and grabbed the horn, before grabbing his shoulder and turning him around. A thick yellow sword adorned with decorations rested on his shoulder, nearing his neck. He looked down, not daring to meet his captor’s eyes. “So a sentry, eh? Only one in the village? I saw you in that tree over there and knew right away that you would bolt to the horn. I’m glad I was right. Having Father Nature against us would be bad.”

Reilly eyed the blade resting on his shoulder, before he said quietly, “I don’t have powers. I’m harmless.”

“Harmless until you whistled and almost blew the horn.” Reilly sensed a dark edge in the voice. “Besides,” The voice said cheerfully, “You’ll make a great hostage.”

He was led roughly back into the village, where it was eerily calm. Not even Sami, his baby sister, made a sound. Everyone was either bond by ropes or held at metal’s edge. Everyone was forced to gather around his captor, who he then assumed was the leader of the expedition, Ceres. Reilly felt the familiar edge of the sword on his shoulder, before he heard,

“Well. It’s terribly unfortunate that none of you wanted to cooperate, so you forced us into this position. Just be glad that none of you died.” Ceres shrugged a shoulder while holding the heavy blade steady. “And, we almost died from this little piece of work,” Ceres motioned to both Reilly and the horn, which he held carelessly. Reilly forced down a shiver. “But I suppose that doesn’t matter. Now.” A wicked grin spread across his face, showing one dangerously sharp canine tooth. “How many of you have these special abilities that everyone keeps talking about? If no one steps up, I’ll cut this fellow’s head off.” He said the last few words cheerfully and energetically. A chill wind picked up as a few members stood up, most of which were members of his cherished family. His father, who had telekinesis, his aunt, who had a rare ability of camouflage, Aaron, who could predict the weather and his mother, who could predict the future, were among the few. Nick didn’t rise. He simply watched, with his eyes wide.

Ceres seemed satisfied with the number of people with abilities, so he tossed Reilly into the crowd, where he scrambled to Nick and held Sami, rocking her back and forth. She uttered not a sound and instead gripped Reilly’s arm tightly. Reilly looked to Nick, who whispered,

“I promised. Don’t worry.”

It was at that time that Ceres finally finished interrogating everyone, and decided that none had the powers he wanted. His hand grasped Reilly’s shoulder as he pulled him up and dragged him back to the middle. Reilly barely had time to drop Sami into Nick’s waiting arms.

“So no one has healing abilities.” He scanned the crowd and mused, “I doubt that, since you all look pretty healthy for a bunch of people living off a dead rock.” He looked to Sami and then to the graveyard in the west, where a few crosses stood. “And there isn’t many stillborns, and everyone seems to live awhile.” He shrugged. “I’d love to know your secret, but I think I already do.” His sword fell on Reilly’s shoulder again. “So who’s lying?”

No one moved. Reilly remembered in heartfelt frustration that the other healers were away doing midwife duties. Nick was only one in the village. Reilly’s throat felt raw as he looked at Nick, who was frozen in place. Finally, Nick exhaled and handed Sami to Rose, an excellent farmhand. Anyone who could cultivate here was simply a master. They were both still tied up, but Rose had shimmed most of hers off in preparation for Sami, who was still silent. Nick walked forward; it wasn’t until he tapped Ceres on the shoulder that he finally got some attention. Nick walked as silent as a stone. Ceres finally said,

“Oh? What took you so long?” Nick simply glared. Ceres chuckled and continued, “I suppose it doesn’t matter. But I’ll need you to prove that you’re actually healer.” With that, he brought the blunt of his sword painfully down on Reilly’s shoulder. The force nearly crushed Reilly’s legs and most likely dislocated his shoulder. Reilly yelped in pain before he hit dirt. Nick’s jaw dropped as Ceres turned to him. “Well? Heal him. You can do that, can’t you?” He cut off his bonds, but he shoved his sword into the ground beside Reilly’s neck, before looking at Nick dangerously. Reilly could tell that it took all of Nick’s willpower to hold him back as he approached Reilly and bent down beside him. He lifted up his shirt and touched his hand down to his shoulder blade, where a dark bruise rested where the sword hit. He sighed loudly before the magic streamed through his fingers.

Reilly could feel the bones mending themselves back together. He could feel them melting, snapping and crushing, disregarding old pieces or parts that didn’t fit. The bruise on his shoulder disappeared; his shoulder fell back into place. It took no more than five minutes to heal than what a year of Father Nature did. Nick closed his eyes as he finished, before standing up and meeting Ceres’s ice green eyes.

“Impressive. Stand up, sentry. Let me see you walk.”

Reilly stood. Although his body was still under the trauma of having most of its bones broken, he found that he could walk well. He turned to Ceres, who said cruelly,

“Alright. Go cower back in that tree of yours. Wouldn’t want anything like this to happen again.”

It took every ounce of restraint in Reilly’s body to prevent him from pummelling Ceres. His fist clenched at his side, but he held back a growl. It was the reaction that Ceres wanted, and even curling his fist was enough for Ceres. He looked satisfyingly at the rest of his troop and said,

“We’re leaving.” He grabbed Nick’s arm and started to pull him away, dropping the horn. Reilly looked at it carefully before snatching it and bounding towards his tree. He climbed the crag faster than he never did, with the precision of a mountain goat and the speed of a cheetah. He was scrambling up the last ledge when he heard the troop yelling and climbing up the cliff clumsily. His hand touched the cool bark, and he stopped for moment, catching his breath. There was hardly a moment to spare. He grabbed a branch and climbed quickly, easily reaching the top of the tree despite the disadvantage. He still had plenty of time. He looked out to the gorge and then out to the world around it. It was somewhat of a fantastical feeling. He looked at the horn wistfully, before pressing his lips against it, and then he blew.



Father Nature answered his call immediately. As if he had simply been waiting for a call, a flock of falcons and eagles dove into the gorge. They ravaged the Court members and completely ignored the village. Reilly wondered if Nick had been spared. He jumped down from his spot in the tree and ran for higher ground and closer quarters, he couldn’t see below the cloud of falcons and eagles. Finally, he found solstice behind a rock, which he climbed on and stared below.

The cloud of falcons and eagles was thinning. They finally flew over the other side of the gorge, disappearing back into the cliffs. Reilly watched before scanning the crowd below for anything. There was mostly shock. No one seemed hurt, except for the troop, most of which were raw and bloody were the falcons had raked their talons across them. Reilly couldn’t find Ceres or Nick anywhere. They had either managed to get away from the swarm beforehand, or they were hiding somewhere. His instincts as a sentry told him to look around, where he was met with the hilly landscape of Aliasing, and no sight of Ceres or Nick. His heart fell and then he climbed down to help everyone else bind the remaining stunned troop together and call a council meeting. They certainly needed it.

By the time that Reilly finally got down there, they were already calling a meeting and the middle of the village. As he sat down in the pebbly ground, he eyed the village around him. Most of the houses were made from hard ground dirt and giant slabs of rock, along with some imported wood that was used as a sturdy foundation. Torches lit up the houses at night, and the scarcely used metal was used for cauldrons and weaponry, and occasionally to reinforce foundations and was often used on roofs in order to hold them. For a village so small, they certainly did thrive. He snapped back to attention when he heard Aaron speak.

“We are fortunate to have survived. Many other Court raids are much more devastating than this.”

Reilly’s mother, June cried out, “But we have lost our only current healer! And my first son!” She broke down into tears. Reilly put an assuring hand on her shoulder, unsure what to say or how to meet her eyes. Aaron turned to him.

“Reilly, did you see where they went? They couldn’t have gotten far. You were on a post that could see the only exit out of here.” He looked at Reilly hopefully. Reilly hated to shake his head, but he did. He just simply hadn’t seen them. His mother sobbed harder. Everyone looked miserable. Reilly hung his head in shame.

“June… It may mean that they are still hiding in the village somewhere. They may not have left. Reilly, return to your post. Quickly.”

Reilly nodded and quickly scampered away. Although it was near dusk, Reilly knew that he could probably spot them quickly. He quickly climbed the cliff and made his way to the closest sentry post, reached by climbing on top of his house and climbing a small ledge. When he got up there, he peered around into the fading light. He couldn’t see much, but he could make out distinct figures if he wanted to. He crawled on top of a rock before he got a better view, and listened hard.

There were only the sounds of the quiet nightlife of Aliasing. There was the careful call of the falcon, the whisper of wind as it spoke to the cliffs around him and the sound of hooves taking off into the night. His mind snapped to attention at the sound, and he listened hard. He got up suddenly and leapt towards the sound of hooves. Horses didn’t live in mountains. They only came with members of the Court and or those that could afford them. He suddenly headed towards the sound without any thought on the matter. He leapt gracefully across the rocks, quickly nearing the forest that surrounded Corrigan’s Gorge. He stopped for a moment, trying to determine a quick route. He had stopped for no more than two seconds when someone caught his mouth and wrapped their arms around him, lifting him into the ground and off into the night. He squirmed in protest as his captor walked him off into the forest. Finally, he was pushed to the ground, where he felt a foot stamp him down. He tried to push it off, but it was useless. He was trapped. He stopped squirming for a moment and he heard,

“I figured you’d come. A sentry usually warns and then tells everyone else and allows them to go after the problem. You’re the first of your kind.” A thin sword touched his lip. Reilly sucked his lips in as he heard again, “This is the sword I usually use. I’d get used to it, because you’re going to be seeing it a lot. And I suppose you’re wondering why I’d catch you when I have your brother.” How he knew that relation Reilly would never know, he simply listened, “And that’s for three reasons. One, you were dumb enough to come out here on your own, although even if you brought someone then I would have dispatched them, two , because your brother isn’t cooperating, so I figured if he had company he probably would, and three,” Ceres paused for a moment as he grabbed Reilly’s shoulder and made him face him, where an ugly claw mark had carved a long line that started at the base of his neck and traveled all the way to right before his nose, “Because your horn gave me this, and I couldn’t possibly think up a suitable punishment in the five seconds that I saw you.” He started pulling Reilly along. “Let’s meet up with your brother.”



He woke up hazily, chained to the floor, wings strapped down. He cried out in protest, but it was muffled. He was alarmed to find that even his maw had been muzzled, and his wing untreated. He knew where one of the most powerful weapons lay, whoever lay hands on it would hold the power to control Aliasing. He was surprised that they weren’t torturing him for information at this very moment. He decided to take advantage of the time and plan an escape. Digging was an option, since his chains could easily be removed if he could shake off his muzzle. He tapped the ground and felt his heart fall when it sounded like metal, hard and thick. He glanced around the room and noticed the entire room was metal, which would mean any escape through the use of destroying the room was fruitless. It was frustrating that that was his only means of escape, since the door was no flimsier than the walls around him. He smashed his head against the wall in frustration, before desperately trying to remove the muzzle by rubbing his face against the doorframe, which only made his scales hurt and his frustration grow.

He did this for hours, locked inside that room. Finally, after exhausting himself and finally deciding that he would be okay, he finally curled up and went to sleep, where he dreamed of home in the Far East Mountains and his temporary home in Aliasing Gorge, which was almost a reflection of Corrigan’s Gorge on the main land of Aliasing. He longed to go back, but he did not know if they would ever help him again, he knew that he did indeed cause a lot of damage, shivers coursed through his body as memories ebbed back to him. Finally, he could stand no more and fell into a deep sleep, forcing himself past the dreams and into the darkness.

It wasn’t until two days later that he finally found an urge to wake up. He sensed someone coming into his cell, which could mean an escape opportunity. He opened an eye and examined everything around him, seeing three humans. At this angle he could not guess their age. His wings were released, and he instinctively stretched them freely. He was suddenly aware of how big his cell really was. He looked to the humans, one which he recognized from when he was captured. He growled under his muzzle. The human looked the same, with striking green eyes and dark spiked hair along with some armour, a chest plate, thin metal that covered his calves, along with leather gauntlets. The other two were different from him; the taller one had mousy brown hair and was somewhat tanned and lanky, with long arms and legs and thin fingers. The shorter one was a little stout, but he could tell that the shorter one ran more and did more than the taller one. They both had dark blue eyes, and he couldn’t tell much about the shorter one, he was hidden in the darkness of the room. He growled under his muzzle. The taller one looked sad as he did it, before he turned to the human with green eyes and said,

“His muzzle is hurting him. If you keep it on any longer, then his scales will rub off and he’ll be in a lot of pain.”

The other human looked bored. “If you take his muzzle off then he’ll bite you and burn down the building. Not a chance.”

“If too many scales come off, he’ll die.”

“I brought you here to heal him, not to complain about his pleasantries. Help him.” He pulled the shorter one closer, grinning. The taller one flinched and said,

“I’ll do my best, but I can’t guarantee anything. His wing looks pretty bad...”

The other shrugged, before pushing the shorter one onto the floor and walked out the door. The two looked at each other hopelessly, before the other helped the other one up, muttering something that he couldn’t hear. He growled in response. They looked at him before nodding at each other. He backed up into a corner as the taller one approached him. He held out his hand for him to examine and whispered softly,

“It’s okay; I’m not going to hurt you. I’m a prisoner, just like you.”

He stopped backing into a corner, but he didn’t let his guard down. They could be spies, waiting for him to drop a clue on its whereabouts. He had to be careful. He watched the taller one carefully as he approached him with his hands in the air. Once he was close enough, he put his hands gently on his scaly body, talking soothingly.

“Just try not to move okay? This might sting a little.” His fingers brushed the claw marks on his wing, opening the raw wound. He dug his claws hard into the ground as the taller one frowned at the wound. He took his hand off and then touched it again, pressing it gently against the wound. It felt like he was rubbing salt into it, but he winced and held it in. Suddenly he sensed a gentle aura surround his wound, before it started to seal up before his eyes. His eyes widened in surprise, he stretched his wings and found that only his burn mark was there, nothing else. He looked at the taller boy, who smiled weakly. It was obvious then that healing took its toll on him. He stood waveringly for a moment, before his knees buckled and he collapsed. The shorter one was at his side at once.

“Are you okay?” The taller one was panting in reply, letting out short, exasperated breaths. He finally made out,

“Never healed a dragon...Not even sure if it’s...”He collapsed into the shorter one’s arms, apparently fainting. The shorter one shook him gently before his gaze reached his. He said sharply,

“Hope you’re happy...”

He snorted, before taking a paw and catching a snag in the muzzle. Now with a new advantage on the muzzle, he then attempted to loosen it to get it off. Once the muzzle was gone, he was home free. The shorter one looked at him in disbelief, before sighing and helping him pull off the muzzle. His small fingers loosened the muzzle easily, before he slid it off over his head and said,

“There. Better?”

He shook his head freely, before staring pensively at the chains that held him. Without anything more than a second thought, he bit down on the chains, effectively snapping them. The shorter one watched in incredulity before looking at his wing and then to the taller one. He looked back at him and said,

“If you can blast the door open, then we can escape and then Nick can heal your wing.”

He looked at the burn that had etched itself into his leathery wing and shivered. He supposed that he could take them with him, and just drop them off somewhere. He nodded in response. The boy nodded and then picked up Nick, before dragging him onto his back. He grunted but knew that he couldn’t object. He walked unreservedly towards the door, before firing a lava blast that melted the door into nothing but a gelatinous liquid. The shorter boy just simply looked with his jaw dropped and then he nodded and said,

“Let’s go.”



They ran stealthily through the halls, it was like a gigantic maze where a dead-end could mean the end. It was hard to be stealthy with a dragon at your side, even though the dragon was as black as coals and dispatched anyone who did hear them. Reilly stopped for a moment, putting his hand in front of the advancing dragon and listened. He could hear the clacking of weapons, something metal. A couple of troops were attempting to stop them. He closed his eyes and then tried to determine where they might come from, northeast. He opened them and said quietly,

“Some troops are coming from the northeast corridor. We need to hurry.”

The dragon rolled his eyes, and then batted past his hand and down into the next corridor, darting right. Reilly sighed and then ran to catch up with him. If he lost the dragon, then he’d lose Nick, and he’d probably get lost in these corridors. As he entered the next, he looked around. It was utterly dark; all the corridors were barely illuminated by torches. He had to look hard if he wanted to find the dragon in it, since the dragon stalked through the corridors as silent as a stone. He heard a scrape, hard bone against stone. He raced towards it, his homemade shoes padding softly against the floor, making a squishy sound as they slowly filled with water. He stopped to check if anyone was following him before he ran down another corridor and then another. The dragon seemed to always be one step ahead. He gritted his teeth and then started to run. If he lost the dragon, then he’d never get out of this place. Panic was quickly replacing his composed state of mind. He started shaking. He wanted to be at home. He backed off and touched the wall, resting for a bit. The wall was cool against his worn cotton shirt. He heard a grunt, before he saw two sapphires staring back at him. He yelped, but a thick hand covered his mouth and he heard a growl. He whispered,

“Sorry. You just...”

He growled again. Reilly sighed and jerked his head to his left and muttered, “Whatever. Let’s try this way.”

They ran around the corridors for hours before the dragon finally became frustrated with their lack of success and eventually decided to blast a hole in the wall. Although the method was effective, it alerted every single Court member to their presence, which meant that they couldn’t slip away into the dark fog that surrounded the headquarters. Reilly turned to him, his expression angry.

“That was a brilliant idea until you actually executed it. Punching the wall would have been smarter!” The dragon snorted, before becoming suddenly aware of their doomed escape plan. Without thinking, he grabbed Reilly by his torso and jumped out through the hole.

There were a couple of problems with this decision. Firstly, he could not fly properly, and Reilly’s brother Nick slid off his back while he was launching himself into the air. He also couldn’t flap his wings, the burn on his wing assured that, so he was left to simply sail through the air and let the wind catch him, which was dangerous, since the wind was not on his side. But as luck would have it, he managed to sail a considerable distance before he started to descend. They landed smoothly in a plateau that was west of a small town, which was sparsely populated with overgrown weeds and cherry bushes. He let go of Reilly immediately and then quickly stumbled over to the cherry bushes, eating his fill. When he was finally done, he was met with the cold face of Reilly. Not that he hadn’t expected it, but he growled. He could tell that Reilly was angry enough to be violent, and sustaining anymore injuries wouldn’t be smart. But he also knew that he did just accidentally leave his brother in the hands of a dangerous enemy, after he had graciously healed his wing and had collapsed from the effort, probably among other things. He watched Reilly carefully, ready to swipe at him if he came too close. Instead Reilly sighed and then started to walk away. He said not a word to him, even though he half-expected him to punch him in the snout. Instead of thinking about it, he ran up to him and blocked his path, attempting to demand an explanation. He hated having a limited amount of communication with him. Reilly looked at him mutely, before he turned on his heel and brushed past him. When he attempted again, he received the same response. It was irritating and he growled. Finally, he scratched words into the ground and then grabbed Reilly’s shoulder to twist him around. Unexpectedly, as he twisted Reilly around, he was met with the blade of his foot. He reeled back and growled. Reilly met him with a furious eye.

“My brother’s in the hands of the Court because of you.” He said slowly. “So go away, because I’m going home to sort out this mess. I doubt that they’d accept a dragon.” He paused and turned away. “Especially one like you.” He hissed. He started to walk away again.

He growled and then tripped him, before pressing his foot onto his back. He then scratched the words into the ground,

“You won’t survive a minute out here. You’re likely a thousand miles from home, and you have no idea where you are. Where is the nearest town? Do you have any food? Water?”

“It’s likely that you don’t know or have any of that either.” Reilly growled.

He sniffed. Reilly had a valid point. But he could easily find out. So he scratched,

“Look. I may not know that either, but I’m also a dragon.”

“A dragon with clipped wings.” Reilly muttered, and then sighed. “Fine. You can come with me. We should go back to where I live, because there are healers there. And since you’re a dragon, then why don’t you go find out where we are?”



He sat quietly in the damp cell. There was one window that let the rain come in, up in the far hand corner to his right, allowing him to only watch his freedom. It was cold; he shivered involuntarily and held his knees close. The hairs on his arms rose in alarm. If a genie was here and gave him one thing that he could keep, he would definitely say a blanket, but perhaps an effective escape route would be better. His stomach gnarled in hunger. He thought of home, where a warm bowl of stew would be waiting for him. His mouth watered and a drip of saliva slid to his chin.

He sucked it back up when he heard the door unlock. He looked to see who it was, but the dim light hid them well. He could only see their silhouette as they walked towards him. He didn’t know what to do, so he simply hung his head and looked at his solemn reflection in the dirty water. He almost forgot about the intruding figure until a small bowl of soup sat placidly at his feet, steam still whispering into the air. He looked up dully, before taking the bowl of soup without a word.

He ate ravenously and greedily. He drank the hot liquid without a care, before he picked out the chunks of chicken and carrots and ate them too. He didn’t care that he ate in front of a stranger, he was just glad that now he had a full stomach. He looked up out of courtesy and was simply met with Ceres. His mouth went monotone as he said coldly,

“Thank you, for the soup.”

Even under the cloak of darkness, he could see a toothy grin.

“My pleasure. Now since you seem to be able to function, let’s talk about how you can help me.”

“I thought they escaped.” Nick wondered aloud.

“They did. I didn’t mean them.” The toothy grin grew wider. “Since you’re probably an intelligent being, I’ll assume that you know about those rumours about the sentient storms...”

“I don’t think there’s anyone in Aliasing who doesn’t know about them.” He rolled his eyes.

“Good. Then you should obviously know who’s brewing them.”

Nick’s mouth dropped, but he suppressed a shudder and a yelp. “Okay...So what does that have to do with me?”

Ceres shrugged. “Well you see... That dragon you saw, nearly killed our little storm maker a little earlier on, and so now it’s so badly hurt that it can’t do anything. I brought you here for the purpose of healing it. Do that, and you’re home free. Sound good?”

He didn’t even have to consider. “Not a chance.”

Ceres seemed genuinely surprised. “Really? Why not?”

He turned away. “It’ll cost thousands of people their lives, and I don’t see any reason why I should. Nothing’s in it for me.”

“You get to go home.” Ceres offered. “And if you don’t help me, I’ll kill you.”

He considered, before he said darkly, “So be it. Kill me. I’d rather die than help you.”

Ceres bit his lip. He couldn’t lose his only healer. Finally, “What would you say if I killed your brother instead?”

Something inside him hardened. “You can’t bargain with something you don’t have.”

Alarmingly, Ceres laughed. It was hollow and it sent a shiver to the marrow of his bones. Finally, he faced him again and said, “Fine then. So if your brother is here, you’ll cooperate. Easy enough. It’s not like he could get far on a crippled dragon.”



It had been two fortnights and they still hadn’t left the plateau. The dragon had explained that a storm was brewing, likely looking for him. They had to wait until the storm passed, stocking up on supplies in the meantime. But there was hardly anything worth scavenging for in the lowly plateau, not even a single field mouse. He looked around on tiptoes at the edge, finally gaining enough height so that he could see over the hills that surrounded the dead plateau. He could see a small town that was dotted with small homes, likely living off the cropland around it. He had to wonder if they would even let even him stay the night. The dragon would likely have to camp outside the town anyway. As if thinking about the dragon summoned him, he felt a scaly muzzle nudge his shoulder. He looked over his shoulder and said,

“Do we even bother to stop in towns? It’s not like they’ll let you in.”

The dragon frowned and scratched,

“I don’t need to. But you should check if you can get medicine and supplies. If I can get a numbing agent somewhere, then I can fly again. But even still, we need to keep moving. Once we get close to that town, I’ll stay out here and you get some supplies.” He lowered his head and scratched, “Hop onto my back. I may not be able to fly, but I can gallop quite fast.” He took his paw and buried the words in dust. Reilly rolled his eyes, and said,

“Well, since we’re likely going to be traveling together, do you have a name?”

The dragon pondered for a moment, before he wrote,

“My real name is in the Writings of the Ancients, but I suppose you can call me Nighty.” Reilly could see where he got the name. The dragon was completely black, his scales as dark as coal and deep sapphire eyes. The only part of him that might have not been completely black was his wings, where a deep burn mark had scarred the leathery skin translucent white. Nighty winced as he flexed the wing, before he looked back to Reilly expectantly. Reilly sighed and said,

“So now you’re a horse. I’ll need a saddle, or I won’t have legs in an hour.”

Nighty growled, before jerking his head towards the town not too far away. Reilly sighed and climbed on, gripping his neck, but careful not to hold on too tight. Nighty grunted, before he turned around and scampered back towards a cherry bush, before turning around again to face the town. He stood still for a moment, before Reilly felt him grin. Before Reilly could feel it, Nighty was full-on charging, wind was lashing across his face. He spread his wings far and wide, before he jumped up and his wings caught the wind, elevating him high. They soared high and fast, but Reilly knew that it only lasted if the wind blew. The instant the wind died, they would descend very quickly. Reilly looked out to the world around him, rolling grassy knolls, a land covered in a blanket of quilting grass. Around him, clouds were gathering, dark as coals. Reilly bit his lip and said quietly,

“We probably should have waited. The clouds are gathering.”

Nighty grunted and kept catching the wind, staying aloft. Reilly tightened his grip on his neck, remembering to breathe carefully. It was a well known fact that there was limited air the higher you went. Storm clouds gathered heavily around them, the warm breeze had suddenly turned cool and fierce. Before they knew it, Nighty was on a crash course back to the Court Headquarters. Reilly heard Nighty snarl, before he saw the inside of his mouth illuminate. Nighty’s entire body started to heat up, he could feel the sweat beneath his pant leg.