Final Farewell

Fathom's talons ached as he tried to untie the banner that had been hung over the door.

It read "HAPY 73TH HACHDAY GRANDPOP" in big clunky letters. He rubbed his arthritic claws, the webbed skin between them loose with age. His youngest granddaughter Manta, named after Fathom's mother, had generously made the decorations for the party. He smiled, thinking of how little Manta took after her mother Clearpool. She was like a little sea devil once she got cake into her. Fathom would be cleaning icing out of the floorboards for weeks.

"Need some help, old-timer?"

Fathom swiveled his head around and beamed as Indigo stepped into the room. Her face had been perfectly kissed by age, decades of laughter imprinted in the lines at the corner of her eyes and mouth, which was currently giving him a wide toothy grin.

Still, she was the most beautiful dragon in the whole world to him, even if she was a huge hypocrite. "You're only three months younger than me," Fathom pointed out dryly, "aren't you being a bit unfair here?" He eyed the sagging banner thoughtfully. "Maybe we should leave it up. We'll be having another party in several months anyway. It would be efficient."

Indigo shook her head, a twinkle in her eyes. "Nope. Sorry. Manta starts school next week and my banner is going to be beautiful and perfect and have all the words spelled correctly. It's what I deserve for being Pyrrhia's best grandparent, after all."

Fathom gaped at her, making sure to look as offended as possible. "How could you say something so mean to me? And on my hatchingday!"

Indigo stepped closer and wrapped a tender wing around him. Her muscles had faded over the last few decades, but her sturdy frame hinted at the strength underneath. "Aww, well alright. I guess I can be nice until the day is over."

He leaned against her, the warmth of her scales a caress. "Sure, I'll believe it when I see it."

Together they took down the banner and, not having the heart to throw it out, put it in the chest with the rest of their grandchildren's drawings. Fathom wiped down the frosting covered table while Indigo swept the floor, pushing the dirt and crumbs out the opened door. The warm ocean breeze drifted through their hut, carrying with it the taste of salt and the last warm breath of the setting summer sun. The sound of crashing waves filled the air and Fathom's heart; like the world's oldest lullaby. A sense of peace washed over him, filling him from head to tail.

All things considered, his 73rd hatchingday was going pretty well.

It was still hard to believe he'd made is this far. So many years spent in hiding, pretending to be anyone other than who he really was. Even when Pearl finally died, killed by her daughter at the age of 37, Fathom had turned down the idea of returning to the heart of the Kingdom of the Sea. They had made a life for themselves on the sandy archipelago towns that speckled the far end of the Kingdom. He saw no reason, and had no desire, to return.

But there were still parts of his life that left him unsatisfied, a hole in his story that, with every passing year, seemed to expand more and more.

As he often did on his hatchingday, he thought of Clearsight.

The tide of years had slowly eroded his memories, whittling their sharp details into soft rounded curves like driftwood cast upon the beach. He could no longer remember his mother's voice or his father's eye color; he couldn't picture his dragonethood room anymore, or the taste of the specially prepared coconut rice that used to be served at the royal feasts. It was odd to him, then, that his memories from his time in the Night Kingdom had remained so vivid.

Especially that final night when the whole of the future had been put in Fathom's shaking talons.

Clearsight must have succeeded in her plan to stop Darkstalker, he would have surely known otherwise, but where had she gone? He hadn't heard from her after the events of that night, but even more concerning, the whole of the Night Kingdom seemed to have gone silent as well.