Starflight lay curled on top of the blanket, trying to calm his pounding heart.

I’ve done what I had to do. I warned Glory. Now I just have to wait until they rescue me … survive until they get here. Surely I can do that.

“Up,” snarled Morrowseer from the doorway.

All the dragonets in the dormitory scrambled to their feet, neck spikes bristling. But Morrowseer’s gaze was fixed on the prophecy dragonets, who came forward to stand in front of him. Starflight noticed that Flame kept his head down so he didn’t have to meet the NightWing’s eyes.

“Yesterday was stupendously unimpressive,” Morrowseer growled. Starflight glanced over his shoulder and saw Fierceteeth watching them with an alert expression.

“Next time you’re in that kind of situation,” the NightWing went on, “I want to be sure you can fight your way out of it, even without backup. So. Today, battle training.”

Starflight’s wings drooped. Battle training was always his least favorite thing.

“Next time?” Viper snapped. “I’m not stupid enough to go through that again.”

Morrowseer hissed at her. “If you would like to take yourself back to the Talons of Peace, too, there’s the door.” He swept his wing toward the outside.

Viper hesitated, scowling, then ducked her head and stopped arguing.

“My throat hurts,” Flame said to Morrowseer without looking at him.

“There’s water in the trough down there.” Morrowseer waved at the other end of the dormitory. “Catch up to us as fast as you can.”

The others followed Morrowseer out through the archway; a few moments later, Flame caught up, coughing and scratching his throat. Morrowseer led them out to the prison-caves side of the mountain, where a few rivers of lava flowed as swiftly as if they’d just erupted yesterday. The biggest was the one that ran in front of the RainWing prison caves. They landed a few lengths away from it, and Starflight spotted guards in every cave mouth, bristling with armor and spears and alarm gongs.

I should remember to tell Glory that tonight, he noted. Looks like two guards for every RainWing prisoner.

He saw Morrowseer notice the direction of his gaze and hurriedly filled his mind with other thoughts. “Aren’t we a little close to the lava?” Starflight asked, nodding at the golden-orange liquid fire that flowed from the top of the mountain.

“Everywhere on this island is close to lava,” Morrowseer growled. “Let’s begin with you two.” He flicked his tail at Ochre and Flame, to Starflight’s relief. “Try to kill each other and I’ll step in when I think it’s necessary.”

Ochre regarded Flame dubiously. “Try to kill each other?” he said. “With no breakfast?”

Flame flexed his claws. “Fine by me. Any rules?”

“There are no rules on the battlefield,” Morrowseer pointed out.

Flame immediately leaped at Ochre. His claws slashed across the MudWing’s nose, leaving a bleeding gash, and then he spun and kicked the MudWing in the chest.

“OW!” Ochre roared, lunging at the SkyWing.

They grappled on the dark, rocky ground, red and brown scales flashing and soon smeared with blood. With the lava river so close, there wasn’t a lot of room to maneuver or get out of the way. At one point, a burst of fire from Flame nearly singed Starflight’s wing, and Ochre stepped on Viper’s foot, earning a ferocious hiss.

“Here.” Fatespeaker grabbed Starflight and tugged him up onto a tall boulder. He sank his claws into gaps in the rocks, nervously eyeing the lava below. Even from up here, he could feel the heat blasting along his scales. His fear should have helped keep him awake, but he was a little dizzy with exhaustion, and the heat made him drowsier. He rubbed his eyes, wondering what would happen if he fell asleep. He guessed he’d either tumble right off the boulder into the lava, or he’d wake up in Morrowseer’s talons, dangling over the volcano.

He tried to pay attention to the moves the two dragonets were using, but unlike Clay and Tsunami, he could never figure out what was going on in a fight like this. Everyone was moving too fast.

Ochre suddenly burst into the air, winging in a circle around Flame, yelling, “Stop it! I want to stop!”

Morrowseer snorted. “An opponent on the battlefield wouldn’t stop just because you asked them to.”

“He’s bleeding pretty seriously,” Fatespeaker pointed out. “Look at the cut on his wing.”

“Hmm,” Morrowseer said, studying Ochre. “All right, MudWing, you’re out — and you’re in.” He seized Fatespeaker’s shoulder and threw her toward Flame.

The SkyWing didn’t wait to be told twice. He jumped forward and sank his teeth into her neck.

“Yow!” Fatespeaker shrieked. She beat his head with her wings until he let go and fell back, and then she clawed at the air in front of his face and darted away.

“Send me in, too!” Viper said to Morrowseer. “I want to bite her! I can definitely kill her, just give me a chance!”

“Go ahead and try,” Morrowseer said, tilting his head at the small NightWing.

Viper hissed with delight and rushed forward with her tail raised, just like a scorpion attacking. Fatespeaker yelped with dismay and shot behind the boulder, appearing around the other side as Viper chased her.

“That’s not fair!” Starflight cried. “Fatespeaker against both of them?”

“Battles are never fair in real life. If she doesn’t survive, well, we have you.”

Starflight clenched his talons, watching the writhing shapes below him anxiously. Viper and Flame were both so angry. They hated being here, and he wouldn’t be surprised if they took it out on Fatespeaker.

Flame shot a burst of fire at Fatespeaker’s snout. She ducked and rolled away, barely escaping before Viper’s poisonous tail stabbed into the ground beside her.

“If she’s even scratched by Viper’s tail, she could die,” Starflight said to Morrowseer. “Maybe not right away, but the infection —” He’d watched the wound Blister had given to Webs for days as it got worse and worse. Only a particular cactus from the Kingdom of Sand could reverse the effects, and there certainly wasn’t any of it on this island.

“If you’re so worried, jump in yourself,” Morrowseer said. He was studying the fight intently. “SkyWing, has nobody ever taught you how to hold in your fire until it’s at maximum temperature? Like this.” He shot a bolt of flames over their heads. “By the moons, Fatespeaker, stop rolling around and use your claws.”

“Starflight, help me!” Fatespeaker yelped.

He had no choice. It was beyond terrifying to think of facing Viper’s tail and Flame’s talons, but he couldn’t leave her to fight alone. He knew what his friends would do, if they were here. He closed his eyes, braced his legs, and vaulted off the boulder onto Flame’s back.

The SkyWing roared and twisted, sending Starflight tumbling across the black rocks. Sharp stone edges slashed his scales and the membranes of his wings. He struggled up, bleeding from several small cuts, and saw Viper knock Fatespeaker to the ground and loom over her with her tail raised. Morrowseer watched, his claws tapping thoughtfully.

“Stop!” Starflight cried, running at Viper. “Leave her alone!”

“This is your fault,” Viper hissed at Fatespeaker. “I could be back at camp with my parents if it weren’t for your stupid tribe.”

Starflight smashed into Viper just as her tail jabbed down toward Fatespeaker’s neck. A sharp smell of venom filled his nose and his head collided with one of her wings. As she staggered back, her tail flew out for balance and sliced neatly across Flame’s face.

Flame roared with agony, clawed frantically at his snout, and slammed his body forward into Viper’s side. The force of the blow sent her reeling away.

Starflight watched in horror as Viper teetered on the edge, and then fell with an ear-splitting shriek right into the lava river.

“No!” Morrowseer roared, leaping forward. But he wasn’t reaching for Viper — he seized Flame’s head between his talons and glared at the wound she had inflicted. “SkyWing! Don’t move! Can you see?”

Flame’s only response was a keening, guttural sound of agony.

“Viper!” Fatespeaker cried. Starflight followed her to the edge of the river, but the SandWing had vanished below the lava. “Viper!” Fatespeaker screamed.

Through his horror, Starflight’s brain flashed him a message, and he whirled around. “Ochre, you can go get her,” he yelled. “Maybe we can save her if you pull her out right away.”

Ochre blinked slow, painfully dull eyes at him. “What in the three moons are you talking about?”

“Your scales.” Starflight grabbed Ochre’s forearm and tried to drag him toward the lava. The MudWing sat down firmly, as heavy as an entire fortress. “Ochre, please! You have fireproof scales — you can go into the lava without getting hurt! You can find her and drag her out. Please, please, just try!”

“Fireproof scales?” Fatespeaker said.

“Because he was born from a red egg,” Starflight said, “like it says in the prophecy, and that means fireproof scales come on why aren’t you moving?”

“Let go of me,” Ochre growled, planting all his limbs even more solidly on the ground. “I have no idea if my egg was red or whether my scales are fireproof and I am CERTAINLY NOT JUMPING INTO A PIT OF LAVA TO FIND OUT.”

“But —” Starflight protested. “But if you’re in the prophecy — if you could be the MudWing — then you must have been born from a blood-red egg, just like Clay.” His heart wasn’t in it anymore. He turned to look back at the lava, knowing it was already too late. Viper hadn’t even come up to the surface once. She was gone.

“Prophecy shmophecy,” said Ochre. “I wasn’t hatched on the brightest night either, so I’m not going to base any life-or-death decisions on some old words in a scroll.”

Starflight pivoted slowly to stare at the MudWing.

“You weren’t hatched on the brightest night?” he echoed.

Ochre shrugged. “Neither was he. We had the same hatching day, a few weeks before the brightest night.” He nodded at Flame, who was curled on the ground now, still making that horrible sound of pain with his talons pressed to his face. Morrowseer stood over him, lashing his tail furiously.

“But —” Starflight’s words failed him.

Suddenly everything seemed a lot clearer … and yet more confusing at the same time.

The alternate dragonets weren’t real. They couldn’t be the dragonets in the prophecy. They were entirely false, an illusion Morrowseer was trying to create.

The giant NightWing wasn’t just tinkering with fate — he was trying to rewrite it entirely.