Starflight sensed that his father wanted a reassuring lie, but he wasn’t about to give him one. “They probably do hate you,” he said. “I think they should, don’t you?”
“But,” Mastermind fretted, twisting a scroll between his claws. “But, but science — and my orders — and —”
“Don’t make excuses,” Starflight said. “When you get there, tell the queen you’re sorry and accept whatever punishment she gives you. That’s my advice.”
“Or don’t come at all,” Tsunami chimed in from behind him. “Take your chances on the ocean instead.” She nodded out to sea.
Mastermind flicked his tail with a worried expression, watching the NightWings pour past them into the cave, faster and faster as the volcano’s rumbles grew ever more ominous and closer together.
“I’ll apologize,” he said with a deep breath. “To our new queen,” he added.
“All right, go on,” Tsunami said, stepping back.
“Take this with you,” Starflight interjected, realizing he still had the map with all the scavenger dens on it. He tucked the folded paper in among the scrolls in his father’s arms, and Mastermind hurried into the tunnel with them all pressed to his chest.
“Just like you when we had to escape the mountain,” Sunny said, bumping Starflight’s side. “Trying to take all the scrolls.”
“I hope we don’t have anything else in common,” Starflight said with a flick of his tail.
“Don’t give up on him yet,” Sunny said. Starflight thought she must be the only dragon in the world who’d be willing to forgive what Mastermind had done.
“Guys,” Tsunami said quietly. “Look who the last NightWing is.”
Starflight turned, already knowing the answer.
The last few NightWings hurried by, blurting “The new queen! Queen Glory!” as they ducked into the tunnel. And then the four dragonets were left standing on the ledge, facing Morrowseer as he landed.
He loomed over them, terrifying and menacing and furious, looking exactly as he had when they first met him under the mountain, only a few weeks ago.
NightWings are superior to every other tribe, Starflight remembered him saying in their secret meeting. You have to act like a leader to be treated like one. Don’t let anyone see your weaknesses. Don’t have any weaknesses.
All his life, Starflight had often felt like he was nothing but weaknesses … but after everything he’d done today, he was starting to think maybe he wasn’t so useless after all, powers or no powers.
“This will never work,” Morrowseer growled down at them. “NightWings will never bow to a dragon from another tribe, least of all a RainWing. Once we’re safe, we’ll turn on you all.”
“Then you’ll end up back here,” Tsunami spat, waving her talons at the ash-covered, blackened landscape behind him. “Or dead. Either would be fine with me.”
“We made you,” Morrowseer snarled. “You dragonets are only important because of us, and we can destroy you just as easily.”
“No, you can’t,” Sunny spoke up. “We have a prophecy to fulfill, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it from happening.”
Morrowseer barked a laugh. “Stop it?” he said. “I’ve been trying to make it happen for almost ten years.”
“Prophecies don’t work like that,” Sunny insisted. “You can’t make them happen the way you want. Whatever’s going to happen will happen — that’s the whole point of destiny.”
The volcano shot a plume of lava into the air and the ground shook hard enough that all the dragonets had to clutch the rock walls to stay upright.
“On the contrary, I certainly can make my prophecy happen however I want,” Morrowseer said silkily, “considering I’m the one who made it up in the first place.”
The earth began to shake without stopping, a continuous tremor that jarred Starflight’s teeth in his head and made him feel as though the ledge was about to drop out from under him. The volcano growled again, and another fountain of lava shot over the side and started slithering down the craggy slope.
Morrowseer’s face was lit by the orange glow of the volcano, cruelty etched into every line of his snout.
“You what?” Tsunami said.
The prophecy isn’t real. The words didn’t make sense in Starflight’s head. He couldn’t fit them into the way the world worked, the way his world had always worked. The Dragonet Prophecy isn’t real.
“That’s not true,” Sunny cried. “You’re just saying that to be awful.”
The volcano let out a roar like twenty dragons having their tails stepped on at once.
“Oh, it’s completely true,” Morrowseer growled. “Queen Battlewinner and I wrote it together after the last eruption destroyed part of the fortress. We knew we’d need a new home soon, and the prophecy was our plan to get it.”