The Bright Future (COMPLETED)

Flow of Power

Darkstalker was furious.

Qibli conked out, Clearsight ran away from him, he could sense random animus spells and he just got a thorn stuck in his wing membrane--which was still vulnerable. RRRRRGH. I enchanted only my SCALES to be diamond-hard! Not my moons-blasted eyes or ears or wing membranes! #$%^&*!!!!! Darkstalker mentally cursed. Yes, now he had to blame someone. And he knew just who to blame. (OKAY FINE IT WASN'T THAT DRAGON'S FAULT but Darkstalker wanted to blame someone.)

"I enchant Moonwatcher of the NightWings to teleport in front of me RIGHT THE HECK NOW!" He shouted the last part. Suddenly Moon appeared.

"Darkstalker,"she gasped. "Your soul! And--oh, Qibli! What happened?"

I enchant this dragon to obey my every command. Thought Darkstalker. "Freeze." Moon froze. "Unfreeze. Now, love Qibli with all your heart. Be terribly sad about him being knocked out. Go on, do it!" he snapped. This solved no problems, but it was fun to watch dragons obey him.

Moon blinked, then gasped. "Qibli!" she cried. "Oh, Qibli! What happened?" She rushed over to him and shook him. "NO!" she sobbed. "DON'T DIE! I--I LOVE YOU! YOU CAN'T JUST D--" She completely broke down in fits of crying. "Help me, Darkstalker. He's--" *sniffle* "he's dying. You can save him. Please! Or else he'll be--" she collapsed sobbing again.

Darkstalker's snout twisted in a cruel smile. Yes, this made him feel better. Now all he needed was some real friends. Someone who trusted him with their whole heart. Not someone who was enchanted to. Well, since Qibli's spell had worked to bring back Clearsight... it would work again. But who did he want back? His mother? No, he had sensed that Foeslayer mistrusted him sometimes... Not Fathom. Not Arctic. And then! Darkstalker snapped his claws.

***One enchantment later***

Darkstalker had shrunken himself down as not to look to terrifying.

The only dragon who could possibly comfort Darkstalker was standing in front of him. Darkstalker stepped forwards and spread his wings. Spread them to the dragon he really wanted to see. "Whiteout," he whispered. He felt like crying. "It's me."

Whiteout blinked her pale eyes. "The gaping hole has re-opened..." she murmured. "It closed many hundreds of years ago, it closed over you and Daddy."

Darkstalker laughed hoarsely. He had missed his little sister's odd ways of speaking. "Whiteout, I got reborn. This is the future. I brought you back to life."

She blinked again. Then again. Then she shrieked. "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-
AAAAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-" 

Darkstalker covered her snout. "Three moons!" he chuckled. Still, Whiteout screamed, shaking off Darkstalker's talon.

"AAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" she howled. Finally, she took a breath. "How?" Whiteout asked, as if she hadn't been screaming at all. She reached to his horns and gave them a worried pat. "I was concerned you were slaughtered in a preposterous fashion and buried in a shallow grave in the Sand Kingdom." 

It was Darkstalker's turn to blink. "Uh--"

"HOAX!" shrieked Whiteout, jumping up and down. "CLASSIC MISDIRECTION! I GOT YOUR EARRING!" She held up a talon to reveal Darkstalker's spell-shield earring and one of Qibli's earrings. "These earrings seem majorly critical to life first and foremost. I shall put them on."

"Hey! Don't mess with that! That's my earring!" shouted Darkstalker, reaching for it.

Whiteout giggled and flew off, but not before clipping in the earrings. Darkstalker would never hurt her and he wouldn't--couldn't--put spells on her. "RRRRGGGGHHHH. I guess I gotta make a new earring! Who cares if Whiteout flew off! She'll come back."

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"Anything yet?" asked Jerboa.

"No, no..." muttered Clearsight. "No new visions yet. No important ones at al-" she cut off. Her voice deepened and came out in a rasp.
"The Watcher of Moons is facing doom
The Lightness of Darkness is flying with fright
The Darkest of Darkest rises from the tomb
With the Dreadful Twos as dark as night."

Silence filled the room. "A prophecy?" Starwatcher whispered. Jerboa nodded slowly.

Clearsight took a ragged breath, then began speaking as her mind worked furiously: "'The Watcher of Moons is facing doom'... That's pretty clear. Poor Moonwatcher. 'The Lightness of Darkness is flying with fright'. Hm.... no clue." She suddenly gasped, for a vision had stuck her--but not a painful one. She saw a dragonet with midnight-bluish black scales, but with icy white horns, underscales, and wing membranes. The underside of her wings had jet-black speckles. Whiteout. Clearsight remembered seeing her at Darkstalker's house.
Whiteout is screaming. Darkstalker laughs--LAUGHS at his sister, screaming her head off--and pats her snout. She screams more. 

She shrieks and jumps up with two earrings, clipping them on. Darkstalker yells something garbled.
She throws herself into the air
and flies
and flies
and flies, full of fright. 
The Lightness of Darkness is flying with fright.
"It's Whiteout," blurted Clearsight. "She came to life. Darkstalker brought her back--but as a four-year-old or something, not a full-grown dragon." At Starwatcher and Jerboa's confused expressions, Clearsight said "Whiteout was--is--Darkstalker's little sister. She's coming to the hut. 'The Darkest of Darkest rises from the tomb'... I'd guess that's Darkstalker. I mean, he never died, but he rose from the ground. 'The Dreadful Twos as dark as night'." Clearsight shuddered. "My father used to tell me stories of the Dreadful Twos: power and greed. They take over the souls of nearly-evil dragons, forcing them to the hateful side. So, basically the prophecy says: "Moonwatcher is in danger. Whiteout is coming to the hut, with a protection spell. Darkstalker rose from the ground with power and greed." 

Starwatcher and Jerboa stared, open-mouthed at Clearsight. "Wow," Jerboa said. "That was... a lot of information."

"I'm having another vision..." muttered Clearsight. "Give me a moment to track it-"
A scroll.
THE scroll.
It can stop him.
It must stop him.
Burning over Talons of Fire.
Torn into pieces, used for shape-shifting.
The shape-shifter roars with fury. He is skinny with lime-green scales. He roars because his life is torn away from him. He roars because all that hate inside of him has erupted, like a huge volcano. Now he is seething with fury. The fury pours out of him, in a big pool of hatred. 
But hope is not lost.
One scrap is left over.
He knows everything could be over for his enemies if he used this scrap.
But he doesn't.
The Dreadful Twos are this close to overcoming him.
But they don't.
His claws itch to seize a quill and scribble down a spell to end Kinkajou's life.
But they don't. 
Instead, he places the last piece of scroll under a log. He takes one last longing look at it before taking off, into the setting sun, into the trees, to his rightful home. A home he never belonged in. A home where a queen glowing with the good kind of power will give him a chance.

"A log." Clearsight whispered. "We must go to the rainforest."