Fatespeaker was crumpled in a ball by the lava river with her wings over her head, weeping.

Viper and Squid were horrible to her, from what I saw, Starflight thought. Viper was trying to kill her just a moment ago. And yet she’s still devastated by losing them.

Because she’s not a heartless monster, like some dragons.

“Get up,” Morrowseer snarled at Flame. “You are not expendable.”

The red dragonet’s only response was a low moan.

Tsunami would yell at Morrowseer. Sunny … Sunny would probably try to reason with him.

Starflight’s wings were shaking uncontrollably, but he made himself step in front of Morrowseer. Pretend you’re Tsunami. Or Clay. Or Glory or Sunny.

“What are you doing?” Starflight blurted.

Morrowseer glared down at him. “Now is not a good time to annoy me.”

“These dragonets can’t be in the prophecy,” Starflight said. “They don’t even have the right hatching day. Is there anything about them that does fit? Was Viper’s egg found on its own in the desert, like Sunny’s? Was Flame’s egg the largest in the Sky Palace? Why are you pretending they could fulfill the prophecy when there’s no way they can be the right dragonets?”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Morrowseer bared his teeth.

“Maybe,” said Starflight, “but I want to know. Everything I ever read — all the scrolls written by NightWings for generations — said ‘Don’t mess with fate. Things will happen the way they’re foretold and nobody can change that.’ Prophecies aren’t like treasure hoards where you can mix and match which gems you like and trade out the ones you don’t. I bet these dragonets are dying because you’re trying to force them into a destiny that’s not meant for them. You should leave us all alone and let fate unfold the way it’s supposed to.” He took a deep breath, astonished and terrified at his audacity in talking to Morrowseer this way. “That’s — that’s what I think anyway.”

“You are an ignorant dragonet,” said Morrowseer, “with no powers of your own, and no one will ever listen to you.”

Starflight felt as if he’d been stabbed in the heart by a SandWing. He stared up at Morrowseer, unable to breathe.

“Did you think I wouldn’t notice?” Morrowseer snarled. “It’s obvious how useless you are. You’ll never be a true NightWing. You don’t belong anywhere, least of all here.”

If he had read Starflight’s mind — and maybe he had — he couldn’t have found anything that would have hurt Starflight more. All his nightmares had centered around this moment: You are not a real NightWing, there is something wrong with you, and you are a failure in every way.

Starflight took a trembling step back and felt Fatespeaker’s wings brush against his. He hadn’t noticed her coming up behind him.

“Leave him alone,” she said to Morrowseer. “He’s only telling you the truth about the prophecy. I have the wrong hatching day, too, and you know that.”

“I know a lot more about prophecies than either of you,” Morrowseer snarled. He shoved them aside and seized Flame’s forearm, yanking him up. “You’re not allowed to die. We’re going to the healers. The rest of you, stay out of my way or you’ll be joining that SandWing.” He glared at Flame’s face, which the SkyWing was still keeping hidden. Starflight could see blood dripping between the red dragon’s claws. Morrowseer shook his head and muttered, “Now we need that stunted SandWing, too. I’m going to —”

Starflight didn’t hear the rest, as Morrowseer launched himself into the air, forcibly dragging Flame along behind him.

But he’d heard enough. Sunny’s in danger now, too.

He had to use the dreamvisitor again, as soon as possible.

He turned and found Fatespeaker staring at the lava, her wings drooping. The red-gold light of the river reflected off her silver scales, making them glint like rubies.

“Well,” said Ochre. “If no one cares what I’m doing, I’m going to find some decent prey, if there is any on this stupid island.” He backed away, as if waiting for one of them to argue with him, then stamped around and flew off.

Starflight gently put one of his wings around Fatespeaker. “Let’s go back to the dormitory and rest,” he said. “You haven’t had any sleep, right?”

“How can I —” she started, then stopped herself. “Actually, sleeping sounds like the only thing I could do right now. Although I’m afraid it’ll be nothing but nightmares.”

Starflight knew what she meant. He helped her up, and they flew side by side back to the fortress. The dormitory was deserted — Starflight guessed the other NightWing dragonets were at class, presumably learning something more useful than how to push your friend into some lava or your whole life is pointless.

Fatespeaker collapsed onto one of the stone hollows and closed her eyes. “You’re lucky,” she said just as Starflight was about to move away.

He hesitated. “I am?”

“I mean, if what Morrowseer said is true.” She opened her eyes again and looked at him. “If you have no powers. I’ve always been so excited about being a NightWing. I thought my powers must be the most amazing thing. But clearly they’re totally useless, if they couldn’t even warn me about what was going to happen to my friends.” She curled her wings and tail in close. “All my visions were of walruses and welcome-home parties and parents who were happy to meet me. So much for that.”

“Have you —” Starflight started. “I mean … do you know who your parents are? Do any of you?”

“Squid’s dad is the leader of the Talons of Peace,” she said. “All of their parents are in the Talons. That’s why Morrowseer picked us … them. Because we were convenient.” She frowned. “I guess you were the only NightWing dragonet who hatched on the brightest night. My egg hatched a couple of months later, here, actually. I have this really vague memory of fire and rough scales rubbing my back. I didn’t remember that until I smelled this place.” She paused for a moment, then sighed. “But Morrowseer took me to the Talons when I was still newly hatched.”

“I bet that was when they’d decided they needed a backup plan,” Starflight said. “Another set of dragonets who were close enough, just in case they didn’t like how we turned out.” He shifted his wings. “Which they sure don’t.”

“I like how you turned out,” Fatespeaker said softly.

Starflight took her front talons in his and squeezed them. “You too,” he said. “I like you much better than all the other NightWings I’ve met who were raised ‘properly.’ I think we’re actually lucky, in a way, that we didn’t have to grow up here.”

She nodded, but she still looked sad.

And I’m even luckier, growing up with dragonets like my friends. The cruelty of their guardians had been far outweighed by Clay’s protective caring, Tsunami’s fierce loyalty, Glory’s insight and humor, and Sunny’s … everything about Sunny.

Feeling suddenly awkward and guilty, he let go of Fatespeaker’s talons.

“You have the face you get when you’re missing your friends,” she said.

He nodded, surprised that he was that transparent. “Sometimes I think there might be no other dragons like them in all of Pyrrhia.”

“You’re probably right,” she said with a sigh.

Well. There’s Fatespeaker.

He touched her shoulder lightly. “Get some sleep.”

She obediently closed her eyes, and he moved back to his own side of the dormitory, waiting until he was sure she was asleep. After a few moments, her breathing evened out, and he reached for the hole where he’d hidden the dreamvisitor.

“Starflight?”

Starflight was so startled he nearly hit the ceiling. He whirled around and saw Mastermind standing in the doorway, staring curiously around the room.

“I haven’t been back here in a while,” Mastermind said with a chuckle. “Morrowseer said this was where I’d probably find you. I’m in a bit of a conundrum, and I was hoping you could help me.”

Starflight edged toward the wall, trying not to look at his hiding spot. He didn’t have time for a chat with his sociopathic father. He needed to contact Glory, or someone who could tell her to put a guard on Sunny.

But Mastermind held out one wing and Starflight realized that saying no wasn’t an option — not without a lot of very convincing explanations.

“Walk with me,” insisted the older NightWing. “Have you seen our marvelous library?”

Starflight reluctantly trailed after him, casting a longing glance back at his bed.

Soon, Sunny. I’ll make sure you’re safe, I promise.