Clearsight had been awake all day, fidgeting scrolls into tiny shredded pieces and knocking over inkwells with her tail as she paced around her room.

“Time to wake up!” her mother called cheerily, poking her head into the room. “Oh dear.”

“I know, look at this mess,” Clearsight said, her wings twitching jumpily. “Maybe I should stay home for one more night to clean it up.”

“The real mess in this room is you, sweetheart,” said her mother. “It’s time to go and you know it. Come eat a nice rattlesnake for breakfast, and you’ll feel all energized and ready for school.”

“No, rattlesnake will make me hiccup during the introduction circle,” Clearsight said. “Fish could make my talons slippery so I land awkwardly. I’ll have a squirrel; I can see that that has no unfortunate consequences.”

Swiftwings rolled her eyes and retreated.

Breathe, Clearsight told herself. Tonight. You’ll meet him tonight. You know it, and he almost certainly knows it, too.

It was strange to feel so excited and so terrified at the same time.

This doesn’t have to change everything. I’m still holding the threads. I can control what happens next.

For instance, she knew Darkstalker was going to be waiting for her right outside the school. He wanted to meet her as soon as she landed. He might try to pretend for a moment that it was all a coincidence — Who are you? Have we met? What do you mean, what destiny? But she wasn’t going to play those games. He surely had her face in his head as clearly as she knew his.

She could trick him, but only by being early. He could linger if she tried to arrive late, but he wouldn’t be able to get there with his sister as early as she could. And he wouldn’t expect it; her foresight was stronger than his.

Clearsight hesitated for a moment over one of her scrolls. The branching timelines for today — should she bring it for reference?

No, stopping in the hall to consult a scroll every time she had to make a decision was bound to get her some weird looks. And if anyone took it and read it, they’d think she was crazy.

It’s all in my head anyway.

She bolted through the other rooms, scooped up the squirrel, knocked over a bookshelf by accident with her tail, called “Sorry! Sorry sorry! I have to fly!” to her parents, and made it to the front entrance before they intercepted her.

“What’s the rush?” her father asked. “Suddenly you’re desperate to get to school, after dragging your wings about it for years? What’s going on?”

“Don’t you want us to come with you?” her mother chimed in.

“No — no, no,” Clearsight said as brightly as she could manage. She had to delay the meeting between them and Darkstalker for as long as she could, mostly to avoid a lot of awkward arguments she could see lurking in the immediate future, but also partly for their own safety, for complicated reasons. “I’m fine! I know where I’m going. I’ll see you in the morning!” She tapped her snout against each of theirs and they reluctantly moved aside.

Outside, the night was just starting to spill into the ravines, reaching its long dark claws down to the rivers and less desirable homes at the bottoms of the cliffs. Clearsight’s wasn’t quite at the bottom, but it was more than halfway down.

One day, if she could use her power to do something valuable for the queen — a vision that helped defeat the IceWings in the war, for instance — her family would be able to move to somewhere higher and more skylit, closer to the stars. That was something else she had to think about when she studied the futures.

She spread her wings and soared up the rocky cliff face into the sky. From up here, it was easy to navigate the Night Kingdom; all the canyons and outcroppings were spread out below her like a scroll.

The school was to the north, not far from the palace, each of them forming one side of the Great Diamond with the museum and the library on the other two sides. The palace was the biggest of the four buildings and wrapped around Borderland Mountain, but the school was designed to look very similar: lots of black and gray marble terraces, hanging gardens, and long glittering waterfalls. And at this hour, as night fell for the nocturnal tribe, both the school and the palace were mobbed by hundreds of beating black wings.

Clearsight had flown all the possible routes to the school six times in the last two days. She was prepared; she knew exactly where to land. Of the three entrances to the school, the quietest and least crowded was on the side facing away from the palace.

She spiraled overhead for a moment, checking the dragons below her — no sign of Darkstalker — and then swooped down. Her talons landed neatly on the marble tiles and she folded in her wings.

Several other dragons were arriving and hurrying into the school, but no one even looked at her.

Right, she remembered. They don’t know yet that I’m important. They don’t realize that soon everyone will know my name, or that I can save them from so many horrible things.

A shiver ran down her spine. She spent so much time thinking about the future, but this was now, actually now. Now was when the future would be shaped.

She stepped into the arboretum entrance, a damp, leafy space where the last rays of sunshine poured through the skylights and plants lined the room. A colonnade led from here past the library to a vast hexagonal courtyard, with classrooms lining the six sides. The courtyard was designed as an obstacle course for flying practice, full of trees, twisting vines, loops, mazes, and tricks.

Clearsight followed the sound of the longest waterfall to a pavilion on an upper level, to the main office, where a tired-looking dragon crouched behind a desk, moving piles of paper around.

“Hello, Professor Truthfinder,” she said. “I’ve come for my placement.”

“Oh,” said the dragon, pressing her talons to her temples. “Where did I put that?”

Oh, please don’t make me take all those tests again, Clearsight thought. She’d spent an entire day filling out scroll after scroll to demonstrate that she was ready for class with the other three-year-olds, instead of having to start at the beginning with the one-year-olds. She was sure she’d done well.

“Yes, yes, you did,” said Truthfinder absently. “Well enough that we could put you with the four-year-olds instead, we were thinking.”

That’s HIS class. “No, thank you, that’s all right,” Clearsight said quickly. “With the other three-year-olds would be fine.”

Truthfinder tilted her snout suspiciously. “Something you need to tell me? Are we going to have a problem?” The silver scales glittering from the corners of her eyes declared Don’t lie — I can hear everything you think.

“I would like to be with dragonets my own age,” Clearsight said as winningly as she could, clearing all other thoughts from her mind. “My parents think it would be best for my social development.” Maybe she should have brought them with her after all; maybe the clutter of their thoughts could have obscured hers.

Not that there’s anything to worry about. I am SO excited to be starting school at last! Hooray for wonderful school!

Truthfinder stared her down for a long moment. Clearsight was pretty sure the smile on her face was getting a little manic, but she couldn’t get rid of it now.

“Very well,” Truthfinder said slowly. “Three-year-olds, advanced reading group, special seer training elective. I’m including a note that your maneuvers could use extra work in flight class, with an eye to possible remedial lessons. Any extracurriculars?”

“Not right now,” Clearsight said. “Thank you.” Extra work? Flight class? Remedial lessons! She tried to squash down her indignant feelings. It’s true, I’ve spent more time in the library than flying. But for good reason!

Truthfinder gave her a stern look and made another note on the scroll in front of her. “Give this to your teacher — room 3A.” She rolled it up and passed it to Clearsight.

“But when is my seer training class?” Clearsight asked, glancing at the scroll. “I don’t see any information about it in here.”

Truthfinder raised her eyebrows at her. “When you are ready for it, you will know.”

Oh dear. It’s a test, Clearsight realized. But kind of a backward one, surely. If you were good enough at reading the future to figure out where and when your class would be, then did you really need any training?

I shouldn’t think that way. I’m sure I need training. A really skilled seer will help me figure out how to read the timelines better and how to steer other dragons along the best paths.

So she would find the class on her own; she could do that.

“Thank you,” Clearsight said again, backing out of the room. She started down the hall and paused at one of the windows that overlooked the school’s main entrance.

There was one dragon in the milling crowd down there who stood out from all the others — one with white wings and white claws. Clearsight knew who that was — which meant the dragon standing next to her, scanning the crowd with a puzzled expression, must be him.

Darkstalker.

He’s looking for me. He thought I’d be down there, arriving just about now.

She felt a small tingle of glee in her talons. So he doesn’t know everything after all.

As if he’d heard her thoughts, Darkstalker suddenly raised his head and looked up at her window. Their eyes met, and as Clearsight ducked away she saw him start to smile and wave.

Ack! He did hear my thoughts.

Of course he did, Clearsight, you idiot.

She had only one advantage over him: her visions of the future and how carefully she studied them, whereas he barely bothered to glance ahead. But to use it, she needed help. She needed to learn to control her power better.

I need to get to that seer training class as soon as I can.

But on my first day? Will that throw off all my visions?

She closed her eyes, trying to see ahead. She saw herself in partial sunlight — so it was an early class, before night completely fell — in a circular room with no windows or doors. A tall NightWing paced the circumference, frowning at her and the other three dragonets in there.

Mostly frowning at her, actually.

How am I supposed to find a room with no windows or doors to give me a clue about where it is?

But wait — there was sunlight all through the room, so where was that coming from? She squinted into the vision, furrowing her brow. The walls were impenetrable black marble, sparkling with flecks of silver and copper, and hung with mirrors that caught the light. The light from …

She looked up. The room had no roof. Far above their heads, it was completely open to the sky, with only the tip of a mountain peak poking into view.

So it must be up reasonably high. At the top of a tower? Maybe that’s also why the walls are curved.

Clearsight crossed the corridor to a window that looked inward, toward the courtyard and the other levels of the school. There were five towers, but she couldn’t tell from here which ones had windows and which didn’t.

With a glance around at the bustling halls, she carefully climbed onto the sill and launched herself into the sky. There were dragons flying every which way, and she had to dodge and weave to avoid colliding with anyone.

But once she got close enough to fly around the towers, there was only one possible choice. Four of the towers were regular dragon towers, with multiple levels open to the air and pavilions on top. But the central tower was different. At first glance, it didn’t even seem to have an interior; it was hung all about with ivy and vines that cascaded down through levels of gardens where dragons were gathered, socializing before school started. The top of it was so shrouded in greenery that it was hard to tell there might be a room inside there.

Clearsight spread her wings to hover in the air and checked her school map again. This tower was marked “Tower of Knowledge,” which sounded promising. She looked up at the setting sun again and guessed that this class was happening right now — first class on the schedule.

She hesitated. Did it make sense to start here, before checking in with her regular teacher? This wasn’t what she’d done in most of the timelines she’d examined for today, but maybe it was the best choice — maybe it would speed up her ability to control the future.

Also, she didn’t want to miss any seer training, especially since she’d already missed two years of school. And according to her parents, this was the most important part of her education, from the queen’s point of view.

But she had such a careful plan for today … this could tip everything out of balance. She hadn’t studied this alternative enough. Besides, the scene she’d glimpsed felt awash in dread and awkwardness and confusion. She got a big “you’re going to regret this” vibe from the whole picture.

Maybe I should wait until I know the school better. Or, really, until I can study what happens when I drop into the class — so I can find the best way to introduce myself to the other seers.

Suddenly something rippled, hard and fierce, through all of Clearsight’s visions at once.

Something terrible was happening.

Something terrible that would affect her future. It was happening a world away, but it was happening now and now and forward and forward, and it would rip apart a lot of dragons’ lives.

She staggered sideways in the air, losing the updraft for a moment before catching herself.

The green SeaWing …

Fathom.

The tragedy in the Kingdom of the Sea was happening now — the one she’d foreseen.

Oh no. Clearsight pressed her talons to her head. His poor, sad futures.

If he even survives tonight.

This, this was really why she needed training. Not to outwit Darkstalker, but to save lives. To make dragons in power listen to her, so she could make the changes she needed to make and help dragons like Fathom.

She twisted in the air and arrowed to the very top of the central tower. Yes — it was open to the sky — and below her was the room she’d seen, full of light and mirrors, with four dragons clustered in the center of the floor.

Here goes nothing.

Clearsight swooped down, dropping dizzily between the walls and landing with more of a thump than she’d intended. The marble was startlingly cold under her claws and she resisted an urge to hop back up into the air.

The other dragons all jumped and turned, blinking at her. Three of them were students, but older than her — perhaps five or six years old — and the fourth was the large, scowling teacher she’d seen in her visions.

“H-hello,” Clearsight stammered nervously. “I’m sorry — I’m looking for seer training — this is it, isn’t it? I’m —”

“Don’t bother,” said one of the other students. He flicked his tail at the teacher. “She already knows who you are and everything about you. She’s the queen’s own seer!”

The other two students turned eagerly toward the teacher, who narrowed her eyes at Clearsight. “You claim to be a seer?” she barked. “How do you know? What have you seen? We don’t tolerate play-acting in here.”

“I — I’ve seen lots of things,” Clearsight said, faltering. What did she mean? Major events, like the next NightWing queen challenge? But which ones, along which timelines?

“How do you know they weren’t ordinary dreams? Or products of your imagination?” the teacher pressed. She took a looming step toward Clearsight.

“Because they came true,” Clearsight said. “Or will come true.” What an odd question. She’d never doubted her power for a moment. It was always there, spinning out possibilities in her head, throwing up pictures and flashes of scenes and dragons she would know.

“Ha!” The teacher lashed her tail, looking wickedly amused. “How old are you — three? Your powers have barely begun to evolve yet, even if they are real. Whatever lucky guess brought you here, you should go away again until you are truly ready. Talk to me when you’ve had a few more visions than oh no, my mommy is going to yell at me for splattering rabbit bits all over the floor.”

The other students giggled, and Clearsight felt a flare of temper. “I’ve had more than a few visions,” she said. “And I can prove how real they are!” She pointed to her teacher. “I know that your name, for instance, is Allknowing.” She whirled toward the other dragonets. “And you three are Jewel-eyes, Morrowwatcher, and Vision. I know a huge storm is going to roll in three days from now and class will have to be cancelled for a week of rain. I know the queen is planning to evaluate all her potential seers in a month and she won’t be pleased. How’s that for knowing things?”

There was a long pause. Allknowing seemed to be swelling up like a poisonous viper.

“Dragon of chaos, tangling the webs,” she said suddenly. “Too many eyes and too many threads.”

Jewel-eyes let out a small gasp.

“That’s her?” whispered Vision.

“You must be Clearsight,” said Allknowing, her voice dripping with icicles.

“That’s right,” Clearsight said, feeling a bit smaller suddenly. Had she really been in one of Allknowing’s prophecies? Dragon of chaos — how could that be her? She wanted to create order out of the chaos, not cause more. And surely she didn’t have more eyes or threads than anyone else.

“Obviously I knew you were coming.” The teacher stalked around her, studying every inch of her scales. “But you seem to be early.”

“I wasn’t sure,” Clearsight said. “I mean, it’s my first day, so I didn’t know —”

“Your first day?” Morrowwatcher interrupted. “At the school? How did you find us so fast?”

“I … looked?” Clearsight answered. “Into the future?”

The three students stared at her with wide eyes, and then turned as one to Allknowing.

“Can she really do that?” Jewel-eyes demanded.

“Will we be able to do that?” asked Vision.

“Why haven’t you taught us that?” Morrowwatcher chimed in.

“Isn’t that what you do?” Clearsight asked, bewildered. “Aren’t we all seers?”

“Yes, but we can’t just look at whatever we want to,” said Vision. “We have to wait for visions to come to us. Here we mostly practice writing them down, making them sound like real prophecies, and interpreting them.”

“Also figuring out what’s a dream and what’s a vision,” Jewel-eyes said ruefully. “Like, we’re pretty sure I’m not actually going to lose all my teeth all of a sudden one day. Or forget to study for my final exams.”

Clearsight’s wings were sinking slowly to the floor. That did not sound like the kind of seer training she needed at all. Turning her visions into cryptic prophecies? How would that help anyone? Did these dragons even realize that there were multiple possible futures?

“Well,” Allknowing said in a clipped, unfriendly way. “Obviously Clearsight’s gift is a little different from everyone else’s. I’m sure we’ll all learn so much from listening to her tell us about it. But for now, I suggest we get back to our curriculum.”

The other dragons shuffled obediently back into a semicircle around her, although they kept stealing sideways looks at Clearsight. She crouched on the end beside Vision, wishing her scales were thicker.

“As I was saying,” Allknowing hissed, “here is the first verse of one of my earlier prophecies.” She flicked her tail at the large slate board mounted on the wall, which had something like a poem scrawled on it in chalk.

“From far to the north, a prince will arrive,

Seething with darkness and sparkling with ice,

In his blood runs a gift for the whole NightWing tribe,

But it comes with a terrible price.”

Clearsight felt sudden uncontrollable giggles bubbling up inside her. She dug her claws into her other arm, trying desperately not to laugh. It mostly worked, but Allknowing glared at her anyway.

“Any theories what this was about?” Allknowing demanded. “Clearsight, you seem tremendously amused by something.”

“No, no,” Clearsight said quickly. “It’s very impressive. I like how it, um … scans? And is so … mysterious?”

“Certainly it was more mysterious before it was fulfilled,” Allknowing spat. “Care to analyze it for us?”

“Well, it’s about Prince Arctic,” Clearsight said. “And his animus powers, which have made him darker on the inside each time he’s used them. The terrible price is the interesting part, because it could mean the current war with the IceWings, or the consequences of having animus power in the NightWing tribe. Or is it the price for him, meaning how his soul is affected? Or the price for the dragons who love him? It could refer to what his descendants will do if they inherit his power, which, obviously, there are a lot of … possible terrible things …” She trailed off under Allknowing’s withering scowl.

“The terrible price is the war,” Allknowing snapped. “There’s no need to show off by concocting wild fantasies. We already know that neither of Arctic’s offspring inherited his animus power. Vision, did you have something to add?”

Clearsight hoped her face didn’t give away how confused she felt. She knew it was still a secret to most dragons, but was it possible Allknowing hadn’t had any visions about Darkstalker’s animus power? That seemed like a fairly huge future development for a seer to overlook.

I’m not going to learn anything from her at all, Clearsight realized with despair. She should have listened to the little warning bells in her visions. Allknowing was dangerous — dangerously ignorant, and dangerously resentful of Clearsight’s power.

Whatever lay ahead between them … Clearsight had a feeling it would not end well.