Turtle glanced up the beach at the cave where his friends slept. But this was just a spying mission. He was the only one Darkstalker couldn’t see. Whereas if Darkstalker caught Moon and Kinkajou trailing after him in the middle of the night, there would be some explaining to do, insignificance spell or no insignificance spell.

He rose into the air and followed Darkstalker, feeling as if his heart and stomach had traded places. Don’t be a coward, he scolded himself. This is nothing. Eavesdropping with a cloak of invisibility. Sneaking around, which is the one thing you’re good at.

He thought of Peril’s fierce lack of stealth, the way she always made the most noise or picked a fight or accidentally blew something up. He missed her. He wondered what she was doing now. Their adventure together, setting out to stop Scarlet and find the rest of Jade Winglet, had felt a lot safer and more fun than this — maybe because he’d known her firescales could protect him, or because his magic had still been a secret from everyone back then.

The three moons lit up a ridge of jagged mountains stabbing into the clouds ahead of them. For a moment Turtle was disoriented, and he turned to look back over his shoulder — but no, there were the Claws of the Clouds Mountains behind him. The ones up ahead rose out of the desert like a wall made of shark’s teeth, ending at sheer cliffs along the ocean.

Oh, Turtle thought, remembering the map of Pyrrhia. There was a small peninsula that jutted out at the southwest corner of the Kingdom of Sand. If the continent was a dragon, and that peninsula was a talon reaching out, these mountains were sort of like Turtle’s armband. And nobody has crossed them in hundreds of years? Turtle wondered. They were quite forbidding; he wasn’t sure he particularly wanted to cross them himself.

But that was clearly where Darkstalker was going. At one point, as they flew over land that began sloping up into hills, Turtle felt a sudden buzzing shock, like he’d accidentally grabbed a baby electric eel.

What was that?

There was no way to know, and it was over in a moment. Turtle glanced uneasily down at the ground below him and hoped he was imagining the pale flash of what looked like bones sticking out of the earth.

Up ahead, Darkstalker tipped his wings to soar high over the peaks and Turtle followed, gasping in the thin air.

And there was the Night Kingdom.

Spread out below them, outlined by moonlight, were the ruins of an ancient city that sprawled across the peninsula. Much of it was hidden within canyons and cliff faces, but at the foot of the mountain, partially built into it, stood a palace, or what was left of a palace. In front of it was an overgrown square paved in marble and studded with bits of toppled columns; a kind of platform had collapsed in the center of it and was nearly submerged in a wild tangle of vines. All around the square were more ruins: once-elegant buildings whose roofs had caved in, statues missing heads, talons, tails, or all three, sculptural details worn away by weather.

Darkstalker’s wingbeats faltered as he took in the devastation below him. He slowed to a stop, hovering outside the palace, staring down at the square. Bats flitted in and out of the windows behind him, like dark thoughts scattering into the air.

He feels like he was just here, Turtle guessed. It’s like if I returned to the Kingdom of the Sea tomorrow and found that everything I knew my whole life has been destroyed, apparently overnight. And my tribe was scattered, weakened, with no queen.

And everyone I ever loved was dead.

The giant NightWing put out one talon and touched the overgrown wall of the palace. Abruptly he turned and flew toward one of the other stately buildings that flanked the square.

Turtle spread his wings to follow and felt a sudden strange chill along his spine.

As though someone was watching him.

He twisted in the air, searching the palace windows. Every shadow was full of eyes, every stirring of air the quiet breath of a hidden dragon.

Was someone still living here? Had some NightWings never left, all those hundreds of years ago?

But no one emerged, and no sound came from within the palace walls.

Maybe he was imagining things. This place was creepy enough to make anyone’s scales crawl.

Turtle flew after Darkstalker as fast as he could. At first he couldn’t figure out what this new building was. It had at least three entrances, on different levels, although one was blocked by fallen rubble. Turtle also counted five towers, three of them half-tumbled away, and a trickle that looked as though it might once have been a waterfall. Darkstalker flew to the uppermost entrance and paced inside, ducking his head slightly to avoid cracking it on the high ceiling.

And here, in the spiral hallways, there were clues: large rooms lined with tables, broken slates on the floor, displays of awkward, crumbling clay statues that looked as though they’d been molded by dragonets.

Because they were, Turtle realized. This is a school.

Why would Darkstalker come to a ruined NightWing school in the middle of the night? If he was searching for something of power, wouldn’t it be at the palace? Or if he was looking for something of his own, something he missed, wouldn’t it be … wherever he used to live?

Turtle realized that he had no idea how old Darkstalker had been when Clearsight put the sleeping spell on him. He’d always imagined an older dragon, close to the age of the queen he was trying to replace.

Darkstalker stopped at a turn in the corridor, brushed aside cobwebs and dust, and uncovered a painting. It was hard to make out the subject under the accumulated dirt of centuries, but Turtle thought it might have been a portrait of someone.

Darkstalker traced the outer edge of it with his claws for a moment, and then he put one talon on the center of the canvas. Centuries of dust swirled away in a sudden blast, making Turtle’s eyes water. He clapped his talons over his snout to stop himself from sneezing.

When he looked up again, blinking away tears, he saw that Darkstalker had used his magic to restore the painting. Now it looked the way it must have looked in his time: brand-new, the colors and lines still sharp.

It was a portrait of a female NightWing, seated with her wings folded back, gazing out at the viewer. Behind her, a web of fiery lines crisscrossed the sky, like a pattern in the stars, with smaller falling stars in between the lines. For the most part, it was not a great portrait; the proportions were all wrong, particularly in the undersized talons and oversized head.

But there was something in her eyes that made you look twice. Something that made you think this dragon truly loved the painter.

Could that be Clearsight? Turtle wondered.

Darkstalker stared at her for a long moment before pulling himself away and continuing on. Turtle followed him through the spiraling labyrinth of the school until finally they emerged in a central courtyard. Classrooms looked out on the courtyard on all sides, and it wasn’t hard to imagine being a student here, eating lunch under the trees or practicing your flying.

Turtle had to navigate the tangles of vines, shrubs, and tall grass carefully to avoid getting stuck, but Darkstalker’s huge talons crushed all the undergrowth in his path as he strode to a spot under a towering pine tree.

Here he stopped. He bowed his head. His wings slowly drifted down to droop beside him.

Long heartbeats passed.

What is he thinking about? Turtle wondered. And … why here?

He inched closer, although it made his scales run cold to step through Darkstalker’s shadow. It was an eerie, unsettling kind of spying, to stand right in front of a dragon and know he couldn’t see you. Also that if he did, you’d be dead.

A silver scale shone on Darkstalker’s face, then slipped down his snout to splash on the ground.

Oh, Turtle realized with an awful twist in his heart. He’s crying.

He did NOT know how to feel about that. Sympathy for Darkstalker … he couldn’t afford that, could he? Not if he wanted to stay strong enough to stop him.

But this is the real Darkstalker. He’s not performing for anyone right now.

He’s just … really sad.

Turtle glanced around, wishing he knew what to do. Here, perhaps, was a dragon who could be reasoned with. Here was a dragon who might tell the truth, if he had the right audience to say it to.

That idea, combined with the eerie experience outside the palace, led Turtle to a crazy thought.

There was another kind of story Turtle used to read when he was younger.

Ghost stories. Spirits of the dead coming back to haunt those who wronged them. Lost loves lingering around the ones who held their heart in life.

Did Darkstalker believe in ghosts?

Turtle backed cautiously away, scanning the ground for something he might be able to use. Darkstalker couldn’t see him or hear him as he moved around — but he’d be able to see something Turtle left behind.

The moonlight glinted off something small and shiny, tucked in the hollow of a nearby tree. Turtle reached in, digging through the moss, and found a stash of beautiful marbles in different colors: blues and greens and silvery blacks. He glanced back at Darkstalker and chose a white marble with a sea-blue heart. It looked like a tiny moon, and he thought it would be the most visible in the dark grass.

Is this stupid? Is this the stupidest thing I’ve ever done?

He hesitated. But all he wanted to do was see how Darkstalker reacted, if at all; he’d still be as hidden as ever. He’d be careful. Darkstalker might just think he hadn’t noticed it before.

He crept forward on trembling talons until he was almost under Darkstalker’s nose. He waited until the huge NightWing wiped his eyes and glanced up at the sky. In a flash, Turtle set the marble down an inch from those massive claws and backed away.

Nothing happened for a moment; Darkstalker was still looking at the moons. But then he lowered his head again with a sigh — which caught in his throat when he saw the marble.

He snatched it up in his claws and stared around the garden. His gaze passed right through Turtle, making Turtle feel like a skewered moth.

“Clearsight?” Darkstalker whispered. He cleared his throat and tried again, a little stronger. “Clearsight?”

The wind murmured through the shadows, scattering pine needles across Darkstalker’s wings and breathing evergreen air in Turtle’s direction.

“Clearsight,” Darkstalker said, stepping out into the moonlight, “if you’re here, speak to me. Please, please speak to me.” He waited with an expression of such hope that Turtle was filled with guilt.

“Then listen,” Darkstalker said after a while. “I won’t hurt you. I would never hurt you. I forgive you. I know you were scared. I saw everything you were afraid of in that last moment when you — when you put the bracelet on me.” He hesitated, and his voice cracked as he added, “I’m sorry I put that spell on you.” He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead with his talons.

What spell? Turtle wondered. What kind of dragon puts a spell on someone he loves?

Then he remembered the love spell on Kinkajou and wanted to claw his own face off.

“If you come back to me,” Darkstalker said sadly, softly, to the shadows, “I promise I’ll never enchant your mind again. I promise I’ll listen to you this time. We can choose the best future together.” He let out a small laugh. “I could use your help with what you’ve left me. A ruined city, a weak and broken tribe. You’d be their Queen Clearsight — doesn’t that sound all right now? When you can have the crown without anyone having to die? It was just waiting for us, Clearsight.”

He started to pace. “You should have to help fix this. Do you see what you did when you betrayed me? It’s all gone — our tribe’s power, our kingdom. Our beautiful future. You did this to our whole tribe, not just to me.”

Darkstalker’s breath was ragged, his jaw clenched, and his claws ripped at the plants and grass, killing everything in his wake. “Clearsight,” he said. “I — I keep looking at all my new possible futures. Millions of possibilities, but they’re all empty. They’re empty without you. I have no one, Clearsight. All I can see around me, as far as the future unrolls, are slaves and soldiers.”

Turtle shivered involuntarily. Slaves and soldiers. Is that how he sees his own tribe?

Darkstalker paused again for a long moment, and then said, so quietly that Turtle almost couldn’t hear him, “I know you can’t be out there. You’re not in any of my futures. But please, Clearsight — please come back and tell me there’s still hope for us.”

The next pause lasted forever and another ten forevers. Turtle’s talons were starting to fall asleep, but he didn’t dare move while Darkstalker was still listening so intently.

Finally Darkstalker lifted the marble up to glare at it, then clenched his fist shut around it. “I’m a sentimental idiot. You’re not here,” he muttered. “You could have been, if you’d waited another day or two. I would have made you immortal, Clearsight. We could have been together forever.” He turned to pace back and forth under the spreading pine branches.

He is immortal, then. Turtle had suspected it, but now he knew for sure. Invulnerable scales, immortal life. The first spells that any young animus would think of. But no one would actually do them, between the cost to your soul and the unforeseen risks. At least, that’s what I always thought.

“So what did you do instead?” Darkstalker hissed softly. “Did you go back to Fathom? Did you two laugh at the wonderful trick you played on me? Did you let him cast spells for you?” He clawed at his neck as though something sticky was clinging to it. “That sneaking serpent of a SeaWing. All high and mighty about protecting his soul and keeping his oath — until it comes to betraying his best friend. Then it’s sure, why not. It’s full speed ahead to sleeping spells and conniving and lies.”

He stopped, his sides heaving. “No,” he said. “You loved me. I know that was true. Fathom talked you into doing this to me. He’s the traitor. He’s the one I’ll never forgive.”

Darkstalker hurled the marble at the nearest tree with such force that the trunk split down the middle. Turtle had to scramble out of the way of falling branches, and when he was able to look up again, Darkstalker had vanished into the night sky.