Wings of Fire, When Wings Touch the Water

Prologue

    Seashell galloped across the beach at a steady pace. Darkstalker had returned, and being descendants of Fathom, her family was in grave danger.
    "Whirlpool, Conch, grab your things. We need to activate our emergency plan!" she yelped to her children.
    Conch looked up at her. "Are you sure mother? I mean Fathom was right to worry, but there's no way Darkstalker could be back," she said steadily.
    Whirlpool fiddled with his talons. "I don't know, Conch. Why would he have made plans if it wasn't possible?"
    Conch rolled her eyes and said; "Because he was a worrier. Now are you going to flee like a minnow or...or do whatever...you know what, forget it."
    Seashell watched her daughter warily. She was spontaneous and stubborn, and never thought things through.
    "Conch, he got the Icewings with a plague. He has real Nightwing powers, so he probably knows we exist," she tried.
    Whirlpool nodded quickly, the difference between the two abundantly clear. While Conch was stubborn and semi-hotheaded, Whirlpool was nervous and shy, always preferring a book to a family meal.
Seashell walked over to her daughter silently. If she doesn't want to go, I'll give her a different option, she thought. Conch beat her to it though.
"You two can go hide, while I stay here. I don't want to hide, and I trust that if Fathom didn't outright write down a little plan, he enchanted this island," she said.
Whirlpool grabbed a carving. "You could go to the mainland, there are plenty of Seawings there. I bet they could help you if you do get cursed. Pearl had heirs, so some had to have had the animus gene to help you," he said quietly.
      "Goodbye my daughter," she whispered, wrapping Conch in a hug.
     "I'll think of you, don't worry," Conch said, letting go.
                                       /\/\/\

        Seashell snapped up from the dream. The memory had been haunting her ever since she left her only daughter behind, hardly ever getting good sleep.
       They seemed to be getting more vivid ever since Whirlpool had died from a mysterious sickness those eighteen years ago. DANGER seemed to be flickering transparently on every wall since then.
      She stood up and shook out her wings, trying to get all traces of the horrid memory off her body. She was going to visit Conch.
     Yes, that's what she'd do, to prove herself wrong. Seashell walked over to where Whirlpool had slept.
     "Wake up my love," she sang to the empty bed, then she cackled hysterically. Moons, she was losing it.
      After leaving Fathom's island, they had moved to an uninhabited island in the Bay of a Thousand Scales, and Whirlpool had become sick. Blood came up when he coughed, and eventually he died.
     Seashell mourned his loss for years, Whirlpool had looked a lot like Fathom, and her mate had hoped he was an animus. Oyster had been the name of her late husband, the one of the pair that had been related to the animus prince.
     Seashell shook out her wings again before stepping out of her hut and flying to Fathom's island, a place she had not been to for eighteen years.
       She soared over the bay, marveling it's beauty, something she hadn't done in a long time. The waves normally giant and catastrophic looked like tiny ripples on a silk blanket.
       Seashell flew until she saw what looked like a crumb on the sheet that was the bay and dived down towards it. As she got closer, she was able to make out a hit right in the middle.
      Seashell pulled up before she crashed into the beach and landed elegantly. She hesitated before knocking. What would Conch say? Was she even alive?
      She dismissed both thoughts and knocked on the door. It drifted open quietly, and Seashell stepped inside. In one of the corners where they had slept, she saw a nearly purple dragoness fast asleep, curled tightly around a deep blue egg.
      Seashell recognized her immediately. It was her precious daughter, her only daughter, Conch. She also recognized the dark red stains next to her head. Blood. It was oozing out of her mouth as well. Seashell flapped her wings frantically and Conch's eyes flew open.
     "H-hello mother," she wheezed. Seashell noticed her breath was coming out in short spasms, and her voice once strong was now weak and shaky.
      "How are you alive, my poor baby," Seashell rushes over and wrapped her in a hug.
     "I went to the Seawings to help me after a few months," she managed, coughing a bit. "They didn't know who I was, or what was wrong."
      Seashell motioned to her daughter's egg, and Conch shook her head, signaling not now. "I'm afraid he'll have the same sickness. Though now that you're here, I can finally rest in p-pea-" a shuddering hacking spasm shook her, and soon Seashell watched the life leave her eyes.
        She sobbed for at least an hour before she realized. The egg. Her grandchild, Conch said it was a male, she also said he would have the same illness. She felt her gaze harden. Seashell would stop the curse, she would make sure Fathom's gene carried on, and that her grandson would survive.