The Poorest Thief
Whiteout stared at the collapsed side of Agate Mountain. The early dawn was streaking bands of orange and red across the rubble. “This wound is fresh, not dried yet,” she said analytically. The other NightWing dragon kept looking around them, biting his lower lip. “Uhm, Dear?” He said. “Perhaps we should come back another time?” She smiled. Oh, Thoughtful. So amusingly nervous. “Don’t vibrate so much. Be still, for no one will see us here for a week.” He adjusted his glasses and swallowed. “If I heard that from anyone but you, I would be in the air right now. Are you sure we’re in the right place?” “Clearsight closed her old life here. There is a banked coal beneath these rocks.” “Darkstalker’s here?” His voice spiked in pitch, like a startled child. “My brother severed his grave from him. His skin is akin to the world’s crust.” “So he’s actually immortal and invincible? I heard the rumors, but I didn’t take them seriously.” “He sleeps enchanted. He can’t hurt me.” Thoughtful nodded. “You still want to do this?” “This line must be severed at both ends. Only I and my brother can do the cutting.” Whiteout unfurled a thick wool blanket onto the rocks. Laying down into the thick softness, she spread her white wings over her head. “No matter what you hear, do not step closer.” “Whatever you need, my love,” he replied as he stepped away from her and sat down on a rock, watching her. Sleep came easily, since she stayed awake for two days. She wanted to be this exhausted to insure that her sleep was as deep as it needed to be. The world slipped into muffled shadowy silence as she tapped into her buried animus magic. Her wings were wide open as she flew into a dream of swirling grey fog. She heard a faint breathing. Steady and slow. “Hello, Darkstalker!” She called out. She slowly landed on the grey rocks, as dream-flying was often ponderous. A moment later, the fog in front of her coalesced, darkened and raised his arms in greeting. (Whiteout! Wait…why can’t I talk out loud? It feels like I’m just thinking at you.) “That’s the language of dreams, dear brother. Voices without volume, only intent.” The curled-horned head dipped, disappointed. (So I’m only dreaming?) “Your dreams, vivid though they may be, could never truly have me in them until now. I have stepped into your private home, for we need to talk.” (WHAT? You have one of my dreamvisitors?) Tilting her head in confusion, Whiteout replied, “No. The scroll is rolling down the hall and the ink spatters out more secrets long hidden.” The fog-shadow roiled as it bumbled closer to her. (My scroll! Do you have it? Listen, you need to destroy it to….) A crack of lightning flashed behind her as her wings spread. “I am the guest in your home! Be silent!” Startled, he pressed on. (Maybe Clearsight still has…) “I looked in every corner and room! She is subtracted from you! I am all that is left from your old book. One page is still stitched to the binding.” Stepping away from his sister, Darkstalker asked, (How long has it been since you last saw me?) Sighing, she replied, “Two weeks. You are kept in slumber by another’s magic.” (Fathom did this to me. When I get out, I’ll have to repay him. Slowly.) The cloudy body darkened like a rain cloud. (I guess Queen Vigilance doesn’t have to worry about me taking over the kingdom anymore.) “The buildings are all empty shells. Father lies just as hollow on the stage.” (The city got evacuated? That seems like an over-reaction to me.) Whiteout’s tail slapped impatiently. “You were gathering knives, piling high and fast. Your blades were thirsty. The city had to dismantle itself before you could steal it.” (I wasn’t going to steal anything! I wanted to lead the world into the best possible future! I still do!) “You claim you want to add, but all you have ever done was subtract.” (I never took anything from you.) Whiteout scowled, her talons flexing. “Tar pours from your mouth. You don’t notice the level I’m on.” (I’m still wondering how you’re able to visit me. Are your powers getting stronger?) Taking a deep breath, she pressed on. “The latch on my past slipped off when you got buried here. I’ve finally recalled what you did on what was supposed to be my hatching day.” (uh…) “I now recognize the hands that kept me in my egg for an extra night. Thief’s hands. Hidden for years but now imprisoned.” (Are you sure that wasn’t a dream? I never…) “You subtracted me!” Whiteout yelled, blue eyes wide with fury. “Your supposedly beloved sister! You forced me to be less than what I should have been!” (That’s not true! I love you! Just as much as I love Mother or Clearsight!” “Your teeth are getting brittle from the lies you spit out so freely. When your hands slipped from my mind weeks ago, I felt my magic rise like firefly light. You only ever loved me because that light was smothered by you. I suppose it’s easy for anyone to love that which is no longer a threat.” Darkstalker’s smoky body darkened even further. (Are you forgetting that I rescued you from Father? He was going to sell you to his mother! You would have been a brood mare and then killed once Queen Diamond had her precious animus eggs!) She nodded. “There are so many powerful dragons that are scooped out and sad. So much power, so little happiness. When do those roads ever stop being so rocky? Are they ever worth traveling?” (I’m sorry that you were caught in the middle like that. You didn’t deserve any of the grief you got.) She looked at her brother for a long moment. “Maybe that was the truth. Perhaps that chimes from what little black sand remains within you.” (I’m not evil! If Fathom didn’t enchant that bracelet with a sleep spell and convince Clearsight to slip it on me, I would have been King in a day! I would have made sure that no one, but NO ONE would have ever messed with you ever again!) “Would you have done this out of what lies in your heart, leaking and rotted as it is? You can’t give what you don’t have.” Whiteout shook her head. “How can someone steal so much yet still remain so poor?” (Did you come here just to scold me? Would you have preferred it if I HADN’T rescued you?) Gritting her teeth, she said, “Did you know that Father still screams near me every night? That I can still smell his blood? I always hear the sound of his body expanding onto the stage! More stealing, Darkstalker!” Red eyes glowed in Darkstalker’s smoky head. (HE DESERVED IT!) Lightning cracked and flashed behind her as she pointed at her brother. “He deserved to be healed! You showed so much love for Mother and gave a queen’s wealth of kindness for her! Her lights have always glowed like the sun.” Wiping tears from her muzzle, she charged on. “You knew that Father’s magic burned holes into his soul and his heart. Why didn’t you try to heal him the way you would have healed her?” His eyes flickered like candles in the rain. (Uh…) Holding up a hand, Whiteout said, “Because you’re a thief. You stole my potential, you stole Clearsight’s trust, you stole Father’s life. I can only guess what you might have stolen from poor Fathom. I’m guessing it’s his lover, Indigo. Rocky travels, brother. Not the road you should have taken. But do you know who else you stole from?” The eyes winked out as he shook his head. (No.) “Yourself. You tried to fill your vault with riches, but you kept using the wrong key. You kept grabbing the sword rather than the olive branch, especially after Mother was stolen from us. That was awful, even I have to admit.” (Mother’s dead. Father let that happen.) “Only because you let Father rot like a fallen apple. You know the value of power, but not the value of life. You get what you give, Darkstalker. And you only ever gave nearly everyone subtractions. Empty vault.” (Is that it? Are you done?) She sighed. “If you stay asleep forever, you might dismiss our talk as a wayward dream, an idle fantasy. Something tells me that you won’t stay like this until the sun burns out, however.” Was that a smile forming in the head’s cloudiness? (I’m getting out of here, little sister. Sooner than you think.) “And when you do, you’ll probably steal even more and gain nothing again. So much intelligence, so little sense. Someone needs to subtract everything from you, big brother. All of your knives and your poisoned tongue. You need to get your black sand back.” (I can get that back on my own, don’t you worry.) Whiteout rubbed her shoulders. “If it were that simple, you never would have been buried in the first place. Our eggs should have hatched together, brother. Then maybe we both would have been immortal under the moons.” (When I get my scroll back, I’ll make you immortal. I can promise you that.) “A thief’s promises are less than nothing. I’m making my own wealth, Darkstalker. With Thoughtful.” (Oh! You got married?) “Unofficially, yes.” She smiled. “Officially, I’m pregnant.” His jumped excitedly. (That’s fantastic news! I’m so glad you finally found a happy life!) “I was hoping you would say something that wouldn’t smell like a lie. Lilacs. You told the truth. See how easy it is to give?” (Have you picked out any names?) “I was thinking Shadowhunter. If I have twins, maybe also Eclipse.” (Now wait just a minute! Those are the names of MY dragonets! Clearsight and I….) (…oh…) “Clearsight told me a few months ago that those were the names you both were going to use. I figured that this way, you could give something back to this world. We’ve picked a spot in a corner of the RainWing Forest, far way from powerful monsters with hollow hearts.” (I hope you love them as much as I loved you.) She frowned. Did her brother ever understand what love really was? Would he ever know? Maybe if his black sand was ever poured into his empty heart again, he would know the joys his sister, his strange, slant-wise sister, felt every day for her lover. And would feel for her future dragonets. “I have to go now, Darkstalker. The rest of my life is waiting for me and I can’t carry you with me anymore. I have to be free and you need to rest and reflect. You can be so much more than the poorest thief I ever knew.” (Do you really believe that?) “I know I often speak in riddles, but I have never told a lie in my life. Not even to myself. Only warped mirrors tell untruths.” (If you ever see Clearsight again, which is a long shot, I know, tell her that I’m sorry. I should have been better to her. To everyone.) “It’s good to have regrets. They’ll hold you close and help you take a good look at yourself.” (I’m not very good company.) “Everything changes. You became something that needed to be buried. If you ever get unearthed, perhaps a smoother road waits for you. Perhaps not.” (That’s one thing I’ve always loved about you, sister. You keep on going no matter what people think of you.) Whiteout smiled. “I leaned that from you. Good night, big brother.” (Take care, little sister.) They turned away from each other as the fog thickened. She took flight into the waking world. Whiteout sat up, yawning. “How long was I away?” “About an hour, I’d say,” replied Thoughtful. “Did you find him?” “Yes. But he’s lost himself. I don’t know how he can find his way back.” Rubbing his neck, he looked at the rubble. “We all have our journeys to make, I guess.” “I know where we’re going, dear, “ Whiteout said as she stared at her belly, which would soon be swollen with her eggs. “Somewhere better than we’ve ever been before.” “We both deserve a chance at a better life.” Thoughtful sighed. “We’ve lost everything, after all. The only way for us now is up.” She rubbed a wing against one of his as he helped her onto her feet. “Up and over, round and round we go. Where do we stop?” Thoughtful kissed her on the lips, grinning at the delightfully strange dragon that he would share the rest of his life with and answered, “Nobody knows.” Deep within Agate Mountain, a dragon slept. And smiled. THE END...
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