Arthur would never have been able to let go if he did not have complete faith in his dragon. He released his hold on the windowsill and fell through complete blackness. It lasted less than a second.

He hit stomach first on something hard and scrabbled for a moment before his fingers found familiar dragon ridges. Brixaby had positioned himself perfectly, so Arthur had only fallen a couple of feet and landed right in the gap between his back ridges and neck ridges. Otherwise, things may have gotten… spiky.

He still couldn’t see a thing around him. So he pulled himself up by feel and regained his seat. “Brixaby?” he rasped. “How?”

His dragon snorted as if this were a stupid question. “I located you using The Call of the Heart, of course.”

“That will get you close, but how can you see me in this darkness?” He twisted his head around, trying to pick out any shape. There was simply nothing except for the lit ground far beneath him.

“This is a Rare light dragon spell. It is not comparable to my nullification magic.” Of course. If Arthur hadn’t been so frazzled, he would have thought of it himself. Though Brixaby was a purple, his natural magic had nullification aspects. Magical spells and effects didn’t always have a full effect on him.

“Though I can’t see far,” Brixaby admitted. Then he grumped, “You ordered me back to New Houston— and I did, but only to collect the means by which to return and rescue you.”

“What?”

Brixaby buzzed to the side and then upward. Arthur could only tell this because the ground below him shrank.

Before Brixaby could explain further, the seat underneath him shifted as Brixaby was suddenly buffeted to the side.

And suddenly, Arthur could see something in the air. Appearing as if coming around a dark curtain was a large Yellow dragon. It wasn’t Sams. This light-based dragon was much paler and glowed so brightly against the blackness that it stung Arthur’s eyes.

The Yellow dragon roared, “Go back to the rest of the Purples, shirker!”

And his rider was no happier. He practically stood up in the saddle with rage. “Rider, tell your idiot dragon we’re not taking off yet. The signal hasn’t been given.”

Arthur felt Brixaby swell to take a deep breath to tell him off, and likely about to add some of his stunning shout along with it.

Arthur touched the side of his neck in warning. “Act cowed. Go back down to land.”

There was a long second where he wondered if Brixaby was going to obey him or not. Then, with a grumble, Brixaby deflated.

Arthur waved at the Yellow and his rider in the universal signal of understanding. He was only glad that he and Brixaby weren’t any closer to them. If they were, they might sense that they were Legendary.

But... dragons were better at sensing rank, especially among other dragons.

As Brixaby reluctantly descended to the lit ground, Arthur reached through their linked decks to sense Brixaby’s status.

“Brixaby... you’re Rare?”

“I am not,” his dragon growled, offended. Though he kept it to an unusually quiet tone. “I am merely pretending to be Rare.”

“Of course,” Arthur said.

Then what Brixaby had said earlier made sense. He had indeed gone back to New Houston and grabbed the Knock Back card. But that wasn’t all. As they were swiftly approaching the ground, ambient light bounced up, illuminating Brixaby’s scales.

Brixaby was... very, very purple. It was as if his scales had been lightened by several degrees. The scales that had been purple against darkness now practically glowed in the suddenly bright light around them. What had been black was now a dark, rich velvet. The sharp twists and curves of his ridges had been dialed back, though Arthur was gripping them, and they felt plenty sharp.

His nose was no longer as crooked down like a scythe, but now a little wider, and rounder that gave him a softer look. Though his eyes were still blood red.

“I thought that the illusion card said you could only change one thing?” Arthur said, stunned.

“Yes, and that one thing is my appearance,” Brixaby replied. “Now, hold still and do not fall off.”

“What?”

Then Arthur realized he was pushing something through the connection. His heart felt like it constricted around the cards for a moment. Arthur bent forward, retching. In the next moment, it expanded again. The pain and nausea and unsettled feeling of wrongness dissipated.

The Knock Back card was also illusionary, but it packed a wallop.

“Now you are Rare, too,” Brixaby said smugly.

Then he increased his speed and threw Arthur back in his seat as they buzzed down to the light.

There weren’t any corners in the hive crater, considering that it circled the tower, but if there were, the Purples would have been clustered there. They were set apart from the rest of the hive as if forgotten.

As Brixaby buzzed closer, Arthur saw the vast majority were riderless. Those few that had a rider were surrounded by knots of other Purples, all faced towards them like they were the center of his world. It reminded Arthur of his retinue.

He touched Brixaby’s neck to get his attention. “Those dragons who have riders. What rank are they?”

“Uncommon,” Brixaby said after a moment.

Indeed, the ones with riders were bigger. Each about twice as large as Brixaby on average, a little brighter eyed with intelligence than the Commons, and had a more well-cared-for look than the dragons surrounding them.

He couldn’t help but compare the group against his own dragon. Certainly, Brixaby was well-fed and muscled. But even with the illusion card, brightening his scales and softening his overall look, he still seemed to be more spiky than the rest of the purples. And overall, he was of average size of a Common.

When do we make our escape? Brixaby asked into Arthur’s mind.

He hesitated and shook his head. “Let’s play along first. Things will be chaos during the eruption.”

At least, it was usually were chaos with any other hive. But all the Blood Moon dragons were arranged in various wings. All except for the Purples, were in mixed wings. Likely, according to complementary card powers.

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His attention was caught as Brixaby’s wings took on a different tone as he sank to land. He picked a spot a few body lengths away from the rest of the purples, and well away from the Uncommons.

Not that it mattered. The moment his claws touched the rocky ground, he was immediately swarmed by small dragons, all crowding close with wide eyes. They peppered him with questions.

“Who are you?”

“Who’s your rider?”

“Can I have a rider?”

“Wow! I’ve never seen you before!”

“Hi. My name is Felafel. Will you be my friend?”

“What’s your name?”

“I like your scales.”

“Hi, rider! What’s your name?”

Startled, Brixaby rose on his hind legs and Arthur had to clutch this neck ridge in front of him hard not to get dumped off.

The questions continued.

“Have I seen you before? Have we met?”

“Where’s your saddle?”

“Who are you?”

There was no viciousness or aggression. It felt roughly like being mobbed by a crowd of overly friendly dogs, but it was clear Brixaby was overwhelmed.

“Cease your nattering!” Brixaby snarled, falling back down to all fours. “I will only answer questions I want to answer... and most of these are stupid, anyway.”

The dragons immediately gave him space. In fact, most of them cringed away.

“Sorry, sorry.”

“Sorry, sir.”

“Sir, I’m sorry.”

“Brixaby…” Arthur muttered, feeling a little bad.

To his surprise, Brixaby must have felt a little contrite. “I only meant...” he began with supreme awkwardness, “that if you should have questions, then line up and address me properly.”

Some Purples perked back up at that, though none seemed to understand the concept of getting into a line. Arthur suspected they were about to be mobbed again.

Fortunately, the break in the action allowed some of the Uncommons to push through the crowd and come up. Their riders had not dismounted and sat on their dragons as if on a throne.

Meanwhile, whispers went through the group of Commons.

“Oh, feel that? He’s a Rare.”

“Wow, I’ve never met a Rare purple before.”

“Mr. Rare, will you be my friend?”

And as the whispers reached them, the Uncommon rider’s expression went from curious and rather self-satisfied to shocked.

Arthur understood then that they had probably come up to rib him and let the new guy know his place in the wing was at the bottom. But the fact that he and Brixaby were “Rare” had knocked the stuffing out of their shirts.

More of the Uncommons clustered around, carelessly pushing back the riderless Commons who didn’t seem to be all that annoyed, or surprised, about being displaced. Instead, they turned to one another and started gossiping in their simplistic sentences.

All the Uncommon riders saluted with a quick tap of their left shoulder with their right hand.

“Sir,” one said after another.

One added, “We didn’t know there would be a rare coming for inspection, sir.”

“I’m not here for inspection,” Arthur said.

A woman with her blonde hair pulled back into a severe bun stared at Brixaby. “If you don’t mind me saying, sir,” she bit out, “Your dragon seems young, sir. And we haven’t heard of any Rare hatching of purple in this hive, sir.”

He deliberately made his answer informal and hoped they would get the hint. “You wouldn’t have heard because Bisby here,” he said, using Brixaby’s fake name, “was not hatched in this hive. We’ve just joined up.”

“Well, welcome to Wing Purple,” one bearded man said, who was so incredibly burly he looked ridiculous sitting on his squat dragon. Or at least, he would if that dragon had not been equally burly with a thick neck and bulging muscles. “How badly did you screw up to get assigned to this hive?”

Well, at least he wasn’t calling him ‘sir’.

Before Arthur could answer, the blonde spoke up. “What hive did you come from, sir?”

“Flower Moon,” that was an insignificant hive, generally overlooked. “And,” he turned to answer the bearded man, “I didn’t know I was messing up at the time. Not that the leaders were in a mood to listen. My dragon,” he patted Brixaby’s neck, who stood unusually silent, “has a strong personality and started collecting Uncommons in his own little retinue. The leadership didn’t like that too much.”

Brixaby remained silent. His persona was to be quiet and intimidating, which had been his own idea. As he’d already had one outburst, Arthur hoped he would be up for it. But as Arthur spoke, Brixaby threw a smug look to the Uncommons, who gazed back with open interest.

“I’m Ernest,” Arthur said, “but you could call me Ernie.”

Seated on their dragon’s necks, the others were too far away to extend hands to shake. Arthur gave a nod which the bearded man returned, as well as the others. The woman gave a stiff nod too, and opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted.

Arthur wasn’t sure what set them off, but the Commons started clamoring and jumping up to hover over the shoulders of the Uncommons to yell out.

“Oh, can I be part of the retinue?”

“Will you keep me safe?”

“Mouse wants to be part of the retinue! Pick Mouse!”

“Can I? Will you help us?”

“I want a rider!”

Arthur was taken aback. Keep them safe? Surely the hive did not send purples after scourglings? Or... was this something more sinister? His mind flashed again to that Common rider who had run as if Arthur could set him on fire with his eyes.

The bearded man whirled around and roared. “Shut it and stand down! You know the rules about flight before we’re given the go-ahead!”

Unlike when Brixaby had snapped at them, none of them cringed back. In fact, they simply landed and continued to look on curiously. At worst, some were resigned, as if they were used to being told this.

The bearded rider turned to Arthur. “I’m Griff. What are your orders for us?”

Taken aback, Arthur struggled for a moment to get his thoughts back on track. “Me and Bisby here,” he patted Brixaby’s neck, “just got in. I thought that we’d have a few days to introduce ourselves around, but then the eruption happened.”

“Yes, well, it’s been doing more and more of that recently, hasn’t it?” a red-headed man said, sounding exhausted. He gave Arthur an odd look. “Why don’t you have a saddle on that dragon?”

He didn’t have a saddle because when he had originally left Wolf Moon hive, Brixaby had been the size of a large parrot. In all that had happened since, he hadn’t found his dragon a proper saddle that seemed right. And with his dragon riding skill, he had learned to ride bareback just fine. He hardly even needed to use belts or straps nowadays to keep him in his seat during Brixaby’s wild antics.

Arthur grinned and leaned into that opening. “My dragon here is wicked in the air. As part of our card’s power, I won’t get knocked off.”

Let them chew on that and really think about it if someone got the bright idea of taking out the new Rare in the air.

At that moment, a new round of bells sounded, and a hush fell over the grounds.

“Finally,” Griff said, “it seems like the leadership has stopped playing their stupid games and decided to get down to work.”

Four greens launched into the sky, and the light seemed to follow them as they went higher and higher. These must be portal dragons. Sure enough, with all four working together, they opened up one large portal.

The wings of dragons took to the air, one by one, while the rest sat and waited patiently. Arthur couldn’t see what signal was given or even how it was decided which was going to launch upward next.

Griff must have caught Arthur’s confusion because he said, “Purples are always last.”

“What are your orders, sir?” asked the blonde. She still hadn’t given her name, nor had anyone else except Griff.

“I don’t want you to change anything on my account,” Arthur said. “We haven’t even gotten our feet wet. Do as you normally would in an eruption. I’m going to observe and make my determinations from there.”

Every bit of that made up on the spot. However, the Uncommon riders nodded, looking satisfied. Even the Commons started chittering back and forth to each other. They seemed very excited, telling each other how they were going to impress Mr. Rare.

Finally, Wing Purple was the last on the ground. The Uncommon riders took off first, one by one, in an order that they had already predetermined.

Griff turned in his saddle and gestured for the blonde lady to go up next. She was followed by a scattering of the Common Purples.

Arthur was about to give Brixaby a signal to fly when Griff gestured to him and said, “Wait a minute. Let the rest go.”

Brixaby broke his silence. “Why?”

“Because my rider wants to talk to yours,” Griff’s purple said, as if it was obvious. “My name is Squish. What’s yours?”

“Uh, Bisby.” He looked at the dragon sharply. “My rider already told yours that.”

“Oh. What’s a Bisby?”

Arthur looked at Griff. “Squish?” With his thick muscles, he was the least likely ‘Squish’ Arthur had ever seen.

“Most of them are given names like that in the nursery pens. And since he knew it as a hatchling, he won’t answer to anything else,” Griff said shortly. “So, Flower Moon? From what I heard about them, they’re a bunch of... well, I hear they are the more sensitive, caring type.”

As he had no idea, Arthur simply nodded.

Griff’s mouth lifted in a sardonic half smile. “You won’t find that here. My advice? Don’t get in the way of them.” He gestured to the now empty crater, indicating the other colors of dragons. “And don’t underestimate our little purples, either.”

That was a surprise. “Why not?”

Now Griff’s smile twisted into something bitter. “Because they’re the fastest and smartest of what’s left.”

And without another word, he and Squish took to the sky.