A dragon was waiting for them on one of the peaks of Jade Mountain. The three moons illuminated her silhouette, and Qibli heard Darkstalker inhale sharply. He abruptly looped back in the sky to hover in front of Moon.

“I’m not going to fall for this. Turtle made her, didn’t he?” he said. “The way I made Clearsight? This is a plan to mess with my head.” But his expression wasn’t angry, or suspicious. Qibli thought it was more … desperately hopeful.

“No,” Moon said. “She’s real, Darkstalker. She’s been in the Ice Kingdom all these years, trapped in a kind of suspended animation spell. She has only lived for tiny fragments of time here and there, so she is not much older than when you last saw her.”

“I thought they killed her,” he said, his voice breaking.

Moon hesitated. “It’s … it’s actually worse, what Queen Diamond did to her. But she’s all right now. She wants to see you.”

Darkstalker wheeled around without further argument and soared down to the dragon on the mountaintop. She turned to face him, her wings whispering across the frozen violets that dotted the grass around her talons. It was the dragon from the palace library, Qibli realized.

Moon beckoned to Qibli and Kinkajou and they landed softly nearby, close enough to hear without intruding.

Neither dragon said anything for a long moment as Darkstalker stepped closer and closer to her, his face still anxious with disbelief, his long neck and vast wings towering over her.

Finally he stopped right in front of her and crouched, making himself as small as he could.

“Mother?” he said.

She opened her wings to him. “Darkstalker,” she said. “My beloved disaster.”

The two dragons folded into each other. Qibli could hear Darkstalker’s quiet sobs carried on the wind.

Huh, he thought. So Darkstalker has a mother who loves him.

Oh, very good idea, Qibli, this is an excellent time for some self-pity.

“Where did she come from?” he asked Moon softly.

“She’s the NightWing Winter rescued from the Ice Kingdom,” Moon whispered. “Foeslayer. She’s been hiding in the shadows, watching him and the other NightWings, trying to figure out what was happening and what she should do.”

“She didn’t want to see him immediately?” Qibli said, surprised.

“Well, she’d heard what he did to his father,” Moon said, making her voice even quieter. “And she really loved Arctic, you know? I think she was afraid Darkstalker had lost his mind, and she didn’t know if her reappearance would make it worse. She said she was thinking of fleeing the continent instead … and then she met you.”

“Oh,” he said, remembering their conversation in the library — and all the things he probably wouldn’t have said about Darkstalker if he’d known she was his mother.

“I guess you made her realize she had to try reaching him,” said Moon. “She came to us after the battle, when she saw Darkstalker take you. We were chasing after him and she joined us. She said she wanted to help.”

“I hope she can,” he said. “But I don’t know how.”

“You’d be surprised what that kind of love can do,” Moon said with a wistful look. He wondered if she was thinking about her own mother and her strange upbringing, hidden away in the rainforest, but loved very, very much.

“Mother,” Darkstalker said in a sudden rush, sitting up to look at her. “Do you remember the soul reader I made?”

“Yes,” she said wryly. “I remember you prowling around the house trying to catch your father with it to read his soul.”

He hesitated, perhaps reading on her face that she knew everything about what had happened with Arctic.

“It … it says I’m evil,” he said to her, sounding centuries younger than he looked. “Like, all the way almost entirely completely evil. Worse than Father ever was. I’m not, though, am I? I’m not evil.”

“Well,” said Foeslayer, “I can’t say I entirely approve of your choices lately. Or two thousand years ago, for that matter.”

Darkstalker hunched his shoulders, his wings hanging askew. “It was his fault you got caught by the IceWings,” he said petulantly.

“No. It was my fault for letting a stupid fight make me so mad I took off my protection.”

“What did they do to you in the Ice Kingdom?” Darkstalker asked. “I’ll make them pay. You can watch while I make them all sorry.” His claws jerked open and closed again.

“None of the IceWings alive today did anything to me,” Foeslayer said firmly. “Except for one, who freed me from my prison.”

“But you were imprisoned,” he said, pouncing on that word. “All this time? Wasn’t it awful? Don’t you want revenge?”

“I was never a vengeful dragon,” she said with a sigh. “You get that from your father. Calm down, it’s true. But it doesn’t make sense to punish the IceWing tribe for what happened to us all those centuries ago, Darkstalker. Queen Diamond is long gone. The war should have ended then. Time has moved on without us and we should let it, not drag it back into the blood and fire of our old fight.”

“But they —”

“Started it?” she interrupted. “They don’t see it that way. I remember what Arctic did during our escape from the Ice Kingdom. I understand why they were so angry, and why he never really recovered. I’m sorry you had to live a life shaped by that anger.”

She reached out to trace the lines of his face. “I wish I could start over and give you a happy life instead.”

“Maybe you can,” Moon said, moving forward into the moonlight.

“That’s true,” Darkstalker said. “You can help me rule Pyrrhia, Mother. I wouldn’t need anyone else then.” He touched his forehead. “Why can’t I see that future?”

“Because I would never say yes to that,” Foeslayer said sadly.

“Wait. Darkstalker,” Moon cut in. “I’ve had a new vision since the moment Jade Mountain didn’t fall. I wasn’t sure it was a vision at first, but it keeps looping back over and over.”

“Which one?” Darkstalker asked, his gaze shifting to the faraway look. “Qibli as an animus? I liked that one, although it wasn’t strongly probable. The others … none of them are perfect. I can see I never get Clearsight right. The Ice Kingdom is a frozen wasteland that’s a misery to conquer. The SeaWings never stop popping out of the ocean to fight us, no matter how many times I think I’ve stamped them out. The RainWings are impossible — it’s like trying to fight butterflies. An army of invisible butterflies who can melt your face off the moment you fall asleep.” He rubbed his eyes. “Thanks to those wretched earrings, becoming king of the whole continent is a lot harder than it should be. It’s exhausting. I’m tired and I haven’t even begun yet.”

He sat down heavily, resting his chin on the ground in front of Foeslayer. “And what’s the point?” he said sadly. “Clearsight’s gone. I never have dragonets, I never fall in love again. You’re still my only friend, and you and Mother spend the rest of your lives yelling at me.” He snapped one of the ice-covered flowers off its stem and crushed it into tiny purple fragments between his claws. “Is that what you see, Moon?”

“Not exactly,” she said. “The vision I see — I don’t think you’d be able to see it.”

He raised his head and looked offended. “Oh, really? You can see a future I can’t?”

“I think so,” she said. “If I’m right about it. It’s a vision of a dragonet. He’s growing up in the rainforest. He loves to weave and fish and sing. His favorite fruit is strawberries, which he and his friends fly to the mountains to find. He teaches himself to make jam and pies and he writes a song called ‘Strawberries as Big as a Scavenger’s Head,’ which becomes the anthem for a yearly strawberry festival.

“He lives a peaceful, ordinary life. He marries the tribe’s blacksmith and they have two funny little dragonets who steal his strawberries and make him laugh every day. They’re with him when he dies quietly in his sleep.”

She paused, watching him expectantly.

“Well, I don’t know who that is,” he said. She kept looking at him and he frowned. “I mean, who loves strawberries that much? I’ve never tried one. They look like they’re full of seeds.”

“Really?” Moon said with a little laugh. “They’re not at all. You’d like them.”

“I saw some over here,” Foeslayer said, searching a patch of leaves near her talons. She plucked one of the dark jewel-red fruits and passed it to her son.

He held the green stem between his claws and eyed it suspiciously. “Wait,” he said. “You think the dragon in your vision is me?”

“You without your powers,” said Moon. “You without your memories. A new you, with a chance to start over.”

Darkstalker snorted, little puffs of flame shooting out of his nose. “Why would I ever give up my powers?” he said. “I’m the most powerful dragon Pyrrhia has ever seen! Everyone wants to be me!”

“I don’t,” said Qibli.

“Me neither!” said Kinkajou. “Evil and smug and fatheaded and evil, no thank you!”

“I’m not —” Darkstalker started and then, surprisingly, fell silent. Foeslayer settled her tail over his and patted one of his free talons as though it was a lonely sloth.

“You could be happy,” she said to him. “You could be loved.”

“But you have to choose it,” Moon said. “You’re the only one who can make it real. Imagine it, Darkstalker. If you turn yourself into a different dragon, you could actually do good things for the world.”

He shook his head vigorously. “That’s ridiculous. Without my powers? What do I do, make pie? You must be joking. Couldn’t I do more good things with my powers intact?” he asked. “Like take Pyrrhia into the glorious future I’ve seen?”

“I’d rather have pie,” Kinkajou said.

Moon shook her head. “The future of Pyrrhia is not your own personal scroll, waiting for you to write it, Darkstalker. The only future you control is yours. And you have not brought happiness to the dragon tribes. We don’t want that future you see if we have to travel your dark path to get there.”

Darkstalker spun the strawberry in his claws for a moment, thinking.

“Do it,” Foeslayer said quietly. “Become a dragonet again. I’ll take care of you. I want to. We’ll be happy this time.”

“All I see this way is darkness,” he said, touching his forehead.

“Darkness is all the rest of us see if you do become king,” Moon said. “But this way —”

“No,” he said. “I can’t. I can’t do it. I won’t.”

Moon blinked, looking bewildered. “But my vision — I’m sure this is the path you choose.”

Darkstalker’s tail lashed back and forth, throwing off his mother’s. “I don’t want to lose all my memories! I’d forget Clearsight … she’d be even more gone that she is now!” He rose to his feet. “No, I’m going to be king. King of the whole continent. King of all the tribes! That’s my future; I’ve seen it a thousand times!”

“Darkstalker, please,” Moon pleaded. “I know there’s good in you still. If you listen to it, you’ll choose this for yourself, I’m sure you will.”

“You are a bunch of small-minded little lizards,” he said, rising to his full height and spreading his wings. “What, did you think I’d taste a strawberry and decide, mmm, wow, that’s worth giving up my magic for?”

He looked down at the tiny fruit in his claws and ripped off all the green leaves. “Or did you have Turtle enchant this? Or perhaps another secret animus I don’t know about? It doesn’t matter, you boring, ordinary creatures. I can’t be enchanted by anyone! I’m smarter now; I’ve made myself completely safe. Nobody’s animus magic will work on me. Which means nobody will ever be able to stop me.” He threw the strawberry in his mouth and swallowed it, casting a dark look at his mother.

“Actually,” said Kinkajou, “there is one dragon’s magic that will still work on you.”

He glowered down at her. “You’re wrong.”

“I’m right,” she snapped back.

“Oh, really? Whose?”

She glared right back, and her scales were the color of burning strawberries. “Your own.”