She scratched her neck, the anklet of silver scales glittering as she moved. “Let me think.” She closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them again. “Oh, absolutely! It involves us! But both of us! And we’re going to be heroes and the whole tribe will help us stop the war and maybe they’ll even make us king and queen.”
Startled, he blinked at her. King and queen? But he couldn’t — she wasn’t — well, she wasn’t Sunny. And he’d been in love with one dragon his whole life.
“MOVE NOW OR I WILL KILL YOU BOTH, PROPHECY OR NO PROPHECY,” Morrowseer bellowed from the tunnel.
The dragonets scrambled up and hurried after him, tripping over each other. Fatespeaker bounded into the lead, and Starflight was left trailing behind, his mind a whirl of confusion.
He didn’t want to think about a possible future as Fatespeaker’s king, so he focused on his father’s experiments instead. Why are they torturing the RainWings? I can figure this out. Think, Starflight, think.
His first guess was that the NightWings wanted to use RainWing venom themselves. As Vengeance had said, it was one of the most powerful weapons in Pyrrhia. If they could somehow replicate the venom or adapt it for their own purposes, that plus their telepathy and precognition would make the NightWings unstoppable.
Maybe their secret plan involved joining the war once they had this new kind of weapon for themselves. Starflight already knew they’d chosen a side — Blister’s — although why her, and why they were thinking of fighting the war now, eighteen years into it, he couldn’t figure out.
Perhaps Blister had promised them something, the way Blaze was giving up territory to the IceWings in exchange for their help.
Territory.
Starflight stopped in the middle of the rocky tunnel as understanding flooded over him.
That’s what they need. More than anything, the NightWings need a new home.
The volcano was extremely dangerous — maybe it had been dormant when the tribe moved here, but it certainly wasn’t anymore. The NightWings were living under its threat every day. And the island was a horrible place to live. They must be running out of prey, with hardly any freshwater to drink, no view of the sky through the thick cloud cover, and nowhere to go except through the tunnel to the rainforest.
The rainforest, which was the opposite of here: the perfect place to live.
That’s their plan. Starflight clutched his head. Why hadn’t he figured it out sooner? The NightWings weren’t trying to reproduce the venom — Mastermind’s experiments were all about how to defend against it. Because the NightWings were planning to invade the rainforest and steal it from the RainWings. But they were afraid of the RainWings fighting back. Even the famously peaceful tribe would surely have to defend their home.
So the NightWings were figuring out how to protect themselves from RainWing venom, in preparation for the day when they stormed into the rainforest and took it over for themselves.
Is that what Blister has promised them? The tunnel from the rainforest to the Kingdom of Sand … That’s for a SandWing army, once she is queen, so they can come through and help the NightWings fight the RainWings, if need be.
The RainWings were in awful danger. This wasn’t a matter of a few dragons disappearing here or there. Glory was right, and Queen Magnificent was wrong. They have to fight back, or soon they’ll all be dead.
And I’m the only one who knows.
But he was just Starflight, the weakest, most cowardly dragon ever chosen for a prophecy. How could he save the RainWings? How could he stop his own tribe from destroying them?
Fatespeaker came charging back down the tunnel.
“I keep thinking he can’t get any more grumpy, and then he DOES,” she said. “Come on, hurry up! He says you have to meet the others, in case you’re the dragonet in the prophecy instead of me.” She waved her talons in front of his face. “Wake up, dreamy face.”
Starflight shook himself as hard as he could. “Coming,” he said, although he felt like he could barely string words together.
Maybe I’m wrong. But he knew he wasn’t. All the pieces fit together too well.
I’ve figured out the NightWings’ secret plan, he thought. But now … what do I do about it?
Others.
What Fatespeaker had said didn’t sink in until Starflight was actually standing in the cave a short flight from the fortress, facing four unfamiliar and unfriendly faces. Red, green, brown, and white-gold.
They have a SkyWing, Starflight thought. And a SandWing who looks like a real SandWing. He hadn’t met many SandWings in his life, but this one’s scowl and restless hostility made her look like the opposite of Sunny.
“The alternate dragonets of destiny,” Morrowseer growled, scanning them with a displeased expression.
“Who is that?” said the emerald-green SeaWing, squinting at Starflight. “Looks like her. Is he going to be annoying like her?” He jerked his head at Fatespeaker.