Starflight was surrounded by scrolls. Stacks of scrolls, walls of scrolls as high as ten dragons, scrolls as far as he could see in every direction.
His intense joy — so much to read! Surely everything he could wish for had to be in here, all the answers to all his questions — warred with deep, paralyzing anxiety. How would he ever learn all this? How could he possibly get through it all before the test?
What was the test? Something about wings of fire. There had to be a scroll on wings of fire in here.
“Oops,” said a voice from the next aisle as a pile of scrolls went tumbling, scattering all around Starflight’s talons. Clay’s face poked out of the wreckage and he grinned at Starflight. “Oh, hey. There you are.”
“Clay, be careful,” Starflight said. He started picking up scrolls and re-stacking them as neatly as he could. “We need all this.”
“Do we?” Clay wrinkled his snout. “Does the prophecy say ‘A bunch of scrolls are coming to save the day?’ Funny, I don’t remember that part.”
Starflight gave him a look and picked up the next scroll. How to Free the RainWing Prisoners. “See?” he said, waving it at Clay. “All the answers we need.” He unrolled it eagerly, only to find it completely blank inside. Smooth, empty parchment stared back at him, indifferent to his disappointment.
“Come on outside,” Clay said. “We could use your help.”
“I can’t. I have to read all of these first.” Starflight started to spread his wings, knocked over another stack of scrolls, and turned in an agitated circle. Had the walls of scrolls gotten taller? He picked up another scroll: Secrets of the NightWings. “That’s what I need,” he muttered, rolling it open. But it was blank, too.
Clay was still waiting. “I can’t help you until I know everything,” Starflight told him. “I should stay in here. It won’t take long. Soon I’ll know a lot more than I do now. But I can’t go out there yet.” He pulled a shimmering golden scroll out of a pile. Surely something so beautiful had to have something useful in it.
How to Tell Sunny That You Love Her.
Starflight sighed. He knew before he unrolled it: blank, blank, blank.
“Starflight,” Clay said. “Starflight. Come on. Hurry. Starflight, he’s going somewhere, come on.”
It wasn’t Clay’s voice anymore — and someone was shaking his shoulder — and Starflight blinked awake, muddled and still sleepy.
“Come on,” Fatespeaker whispered again. “Flame just snuck out. Let’s follow him, quick.”
“Why?” Starflight mumbled, rubbing his eyes. “He won’t know where the queen is.”
But Fatespeaker was already hurrying to the doorway. He stretched, knowing he definitely had not gotten enough sleep, and followed her.
Flame’s red tail was just disappearing around a corner at the far end of the hallway. Fatespeaker and Starflight scurried quietly after him. She didn’t speak, so he kept silent as well. His dream had left him feeling disturbed, like he’d forgotten something really important … someone he had to warn.
Soon Flame found a long staircase that wound down, and down, and down through the fortress, each level darker than the last despite the coals glowering in the walls. He stopped a few times, listening, and Fatespeaker and Starflight stopped, too, ducking their heads and letting the shadows envelop their black scales.
Finally they reached the bottom of the staircase and Flame chose one of the tunnels, which seemed to lead directly into the rock of the volcano. Heat pulsed beneath their claws. Starflight paused to touch the walls, worried that he was feeling rumbles of movement from deep within the earth.
And then they came to the first cage.
It was empty, but Starflight could guess what the bars and the shackles were for. This was the NightWing dungeon, where Flame and Ochre had been imprisoned overnight.
Most of the cages were empty, but in the fourth one was a skeletal, drab gray RainWing, fast asleep. Fatespeaker and Starflight paused outside her cage, looking in. Starflight wondered why this RainWing was kept separate from the others in the caves outside.
“What are you doing here?”
Flame’s accusing face appeared from the shadows, making Starflight jump.
“Following you,” Fatespeaker said breezily. “What in the three moons are you up to?”
“None of your business,” Flame snapped. “Go away.”
“What if a guard catches you down here?” Starflight pointed out. “You’ll be in much more trouble as a SkyWing alone, prowling the fortress, than if you’re with two NightWings.”
The red dragonet considered that for a moment, smoke rising from his nostrils.
“Fine,” he said ungraciously. “Do whatever you want, I don’t care.” He turned and stomped away. Fatespeaker and Starflight exchanged a glance and followed him.
The last cage in the hallway contained a NightWing. This was where Flame stopped and rapped on the bars with one claw.