The CloudWings

32 - Epilogue

A year after the Great CloudWing Battle (as it came to be called), six of the seven queens met again, this time once again in the SeaWing secret tunnels. They were Queen Lightbringer of the NightWings, Queen Blizzard of the IceWings, Queen Cattail of the MudWings, Queen Sandstorm of the SandWings, Queen Phoenix of the SkyWings, and Queen Puffin of the SeaWings, who was obviously hosting this meeting. Queen Hibiscus hadn't exactly been invited, meaning that she didn't know the time or place of this meeting. If one wanted to point talons, one might blame Queen Phoenix for this.

"What are we here for again?" Sandstorm asked, suppressing a yawn. Although she was now SandWing queen, she still retained her I'm-not-coming-to-whatever-it-is-unless-it's-important-or-there's-food motto. By "important," she meant "there's food, preferably lizards or something, and the event is actually NOT boring."

"Remember? We're pretty much just here so we can see each other again, considering how far apart Puffin's place is from, say, yours," Cattail told her.

"B-o-r-i-n-g," Sandstorm muttered under her breath. "Who needs to sit here without any refreshments, watching someone write stuff we don't really care about?" She started cleaning her claws.

Lightbringer held up a stone tablet, which Sandstorm could see had been covered in writing--both front and back. She didn't understand how anyone could bother to write so much--it looked like someone had poured a bucket of Lightbringer's writing onto the tablet, soaking every inch in scrawled words. 

Lightbringer began reading off her list. "Okay, I made a list of stuff we can do to remember the Great CloudWing Battle. One. Create an animus-touched statue of Crystal in the Ice Kingdom. Two..." She continued while Sandstorm zoned out and resumed picking at her claws. But when Lightbringer got to "Eighty-seven. Write a book," she looked up. 

"Write a book?!" she yelped. "What for?"

"Of course, about how Crystal may not have been the most helpful in the beginning, but how she died trying to save Phoenix in the end," Lightbringer said, looking at her as if she couldn't understand how a dragon wouldn't see what writing a book about the Great CloudWing Battle would do for dragonkind everywhere. "And of course, you know, about all the events in the battle, like...like..." 

"A history textbook," Sandstorm muttered. "Who's going to read something like that?"

"What?" Lightbringer asked. "I was going to say 'a wonderful work of art that dragons will remember forever!' What were you saying now?"

"Nothing," Sandstorm mumbled, wanting to disappear into the ground. Oh, what she would do to feel the warm, comforting desert sands sifting around her claws again! All the things one could do with sand! Sift it, roll around in it, At least she could sink into desert sand, bury herself, but here, with this cold, miserable ocean rock, she felt trapped. She looked up at the skylight, at the blue light filtering in through the translucent ceiling.

"Anyway," Lightbringer continued, looking down at her twentieth tablet. "Eighty-eight..." She had arranged her tablets in a growing mountain on the floor next to her.

"Wait!" Phoenix cried. "We really should write the book! We should start now!"

"Well, sure," Lightbringer said, pulling out a bag full of blank scrolls. "Let's begin!" She frowned down at the paper. "We probably shouldn't make this sound like a history textbook, or else no one will want to read it." She cast a meaningful glance toward Sandstorm.

Sandstorm jumped and looked up. Had Lightbringer read her mind? Probably, she realized, watching the silver scales next to Lightbringer's eyes glint in the sun. Oh well, first things first: she had to GET FOOD. Not the seawater-flavored seaweed-octopus salad or whatever it was that the SeaWings ate, but actual, good, real food. A lizard, maybe. Or a camel. 

Apparently "everyone" had to help write the book, but mainly it was just Lightbringer telling everyone what to do. Sandstorm, for that matter, usually sat nearby eating or daydreaming.

A few years later, after hours, days, months of careful editing, of scratching out sentences, of dipping claws in ink and refilling ink jars, the book was finally finished, a series of thirty or so scrolls, each rolled up with gentle talons and lowered into a box. 

For years after that, no one ever saw the scrolls again, and no one knew where the box was kept. Then, one day, Porpoise the SeaWing found a cave entrance, well-hidden by seaweed, coral and rocks, and carved into a limestone undersea cliff. By venturing deeper into the cave, a group of SeaWings found a small, hidden alcove in the back of the cave. In the alcove was this box, along with a tiny statue of what was assumed to be Puffin, not that anyone ever knew exactly what she looked like. Lightbringer apparently hadn't been a good enough artist to include illustrations.

Yes, you are holding in your hands (or seeing on your screen) the very scrolls written by Lightbringer, with help from the other queens. You're welcome, I transcribed and wrote them all down for you.