One True Queen: A Wings of Fire fanfiction

65.

Content warning: violence and gore, unsettling descriptions, generally distressing content, unethical experimentation

Part One

Clearsight

The outside world is a distant, foggy memory to me now. I have a feeling if I went out, I couldn't find what I'm yearning for anyway.

The market on a midsummer evening, buzzing with chatter, SandWings and RainWings and MudWings all selling their wares.

The caves by the beach, full of starfish and anemones.

Late-summer storms, warm raindrops rolling off my scales, the wind behind my wings.

It's hard to picture anymore.

Think the rebellion stands half a chance? I tap out the message on the mirror, trying to imagine Darkstalker's face. Sharp-eyes was so furious after his speech that he didn't give us more than a few minutes together. I think we were both in shock; spent most of it laughing.

They're dead in the water. He has to spell out half the words, so it takes me a while to get the message. When I do, I laugh bitterly.

If we ever get out of this place, I'm pretty sure we've developed a half-functioning language. I can't think of much use outside of this situation to tap out sentences against walls, but who knows. Maybe someone will write a scroll about it, come fifty years or so.

We're not going to get out, though.

I know it's true, and at the same time, I can't let myself accept it–even if it would be easier to give up. I can't give Sharp-eyes the satisfaction, even when persistence starts to feel more like delusion.

I don't know, I tap against the wall. Maybe the kids stand a chance. Maybe he'll humour them.

They certainly know how to announce themselves, Darkstalker says back.

I wonder what we'd have done, if we were ordinary citizens, and realize I don't know.

I'd probably be pretty mad at myself. For breaking under the pressure. For failing, a million times.

But if I'm going to spend the rest of eternity like this, I know that I always would have broken eventually.

I'm just a dragon.

I'm not special. I don't know any better than them, how we're going to fix this place.

***

Above us, the walls start to rumble, startling me out of my daze.  It isn't the first time this has happened, but it's never been so loud before.

Sharp-eyes has told me, pacing back and forth through my cell–that his magic is failing. If he were anyone else, I would have all the sympathy in the world. But when it comes to him, I have nothing left to give.

He says he's going to make himself a new body if his mortal one can't handle this kind of magic.

He says Way helped give him the idea. Something to do with the spell Darkstalker cast by accident when he hatched. Says Way believes in him, more than anyone.

Darkstalker thinks it's a lie. I almost hope it isn't. I'd rather my son live as a double-crossing liar than die a rebel. Any day.

Ideally, I'd rather he be at least an ocean away from the most powerful dragon in Pyrhhia.

But maybe I'm wrong. He seemed so much stronger out in the desert—like he changed.

The walls rumble again, and the lights flash off, then on again. It's back to normal in an instant.