The stars in Night’s eyes flickered, and Alika found herself staring at the Twins of Tasien, glittering bright above her head. Ice, more ice than she had ever seen in her life, stretched before her, leading to mountains so high that Alika was sure they held up the sky itself.

Alika glanced back. The blizzard roared as it approached, an obliterating wall of white scraping the ice clean, freezing all who touched it. But they had made it. They were safe. Alika looked to the heavens again, lights rising before them.

Rings and stars filled the night sky. Green flames scorched the mountains. With each step that Alika took across the ice, cracks appeared in it, glowing turquoise lines rising from it before her. They danced with the aurora in the sky, wrapping each other like dragons coiling tails. They formed figures and squiggles, dancing as if trying to tell Alika a story that only they could read.

She squinted, attempting to puzzle them out. The lines of fire and ice converged into the figure of a dragon. It opened its jaws, laughing silently. Alika raised a wing to greet it, but it turned and ran.

“Wait!” Alika called. She tried to run after it, but her paws slipped, and she fell on her underbelly.

The dragon laughed at her again, smashing its tail into the ice. A deep crack formed, but the ice did not break. Instead, green flames rose, reaching into the sky and pulling down the aurora. The fire coalesced into ropes, forming a flat platform jutting up to the stars.

“Come on!” Tarka shouted as he climbed the bridge up into the sky.

Snow bobbed up and down on top of Tarka’s back, waving her tails and gesturing Alika forward.

Alika got back to her paws and followed. Higher and higher she rose, complex graphs and lines surrounding her. The air became cold and thin.

She looked down. The mountains were so far beneath her.

Gust slithered through the sky, spiraling around the floating bridge. He held out a paw, offering to bring her into the sky with him, but she didn’t take it. This was a path she had to walk alone.

“Hurry up!” Tarka said. “Look, we’re almost there!”

Alika gazed past him. At the end of the bridge, she saw it. A floating island of green fire, burning in the sky.

“The Emerald Isle,” she whispered. “It feels so warm and alive.”

Tarka ran faster.

“Wait up!” Alika shouted. She tried running faster, but the faster she went, the further away he got from her. The Emerald Isle began fading from view, the flames dying out.

“Stop, please!” Alika said. “Don’t leave me here!”

A whisper of wind behind her made her turn.

The wall of white had reached her. She’d been caught in the blizzard.

Alika pressed on forward, even as the snow obscured the others from view. The green lines of the bridge danced at her side, playfully climbing into the air. Intricate graphs were weaved from their light, offering Alika tantalizing glimpses into the stories they told, if only she could understand their patterns and poems.

Black ink dripped from Alika’s scruff, pooling at her paws. She dipped her talons into it, the ink sticky and warm, shimmering with a rainbow glint. It crawled up her fur and into her heart.

Alika raised a paw, painting strokes of it across the patterns of light. The ink coalesced into orderly words and symbols, wrapping around the chaotic squiggled lines as if they were at war with one another. A struggle commenced, forming a shell around the bridge that buffered Alika against the blizzard.

But from the struggle of ink and light came beauty, pictures of a thousand colors painted across the sky, as real as Alika herself. Hundreds and thousands of figures moved across the shell, playing and loving and fighting as their stories played themselves out. And Alika understood: the path she walked was just her own. For how could it be, when she had always walked with others?

The paintings danced as Alika walked along the bridge. A dragon cub with light-blue fur and antlers on her head stood at a cliff overlooking the sea. She opened her silver eyes and stared into the distance, looking at seemingly nothing.

Another painting showed a dragon, identical to the first, but for her eyes: glowing a vivid violet. The branches of a gnarled tree wrapped around her limbs, coiling as they lifted her into the air. Black sap oozed from the tree’s bark, coating the dragon’s fur with it. Yet, the dragon showed no fear, cackling as the tree consumed her, clutching a long carved object against her chest: a dragon’s horn.

The tree pulled her into its trunk, and nothing of the dragon remained. Alika turned away from the grisly scene. She wasn’t quite sure what she was looking for, but this wasn’t it. She didn’t know this dragon.

Alika wandered across the bridge, glancing across each picture in turn. A city of white stone rose from the ground in one. In another, stone crept up the dark blue scales of a dragon. Strips of fur and skin began to peel away from Alika’s body, covered in black symbols and words. She was running out of time. She needed to find what she was looking for, something that made sense to her, something she could understand.

The image of a white fox moved, and Alika ran towards it, fighting the oozing ink. A painting of an older Snow was floating above the bridge, nine tails extending from her back. Human hands had wrapped around the fox’s neck, covered with crimson markings. Violet bolts scattered across Snow’s fur, and the fox seized up. Her head fell forward, her golden eyes lifeless.

“Snow!” Alika cried, shoving her claws through the painting as if that would save her.

Ink smeared across the painting, plunging it into darkness. It cracked, and as Alika pulled her talons back, the blizzard blew through the small hole she’d created in the shell. The paintings near it began to freeze, crumbling away into the endless, all-consuming blizzard.

“Please!” Alika called out, though she wasn’t sure to whom. “Show me something I can use! Show me something good!”

The hole in the shell opened wider, and more of Alika’s body peeled away into fluttering pages. More of the paintings disappeared, the ink freezing and cracking. The snow blotted out the ink, dousing the lights.

As the world around her fell away, Alika clutched onto the final painting, the cold taking her into its claws. Serka moved across its icy surface as if she were alive once more. Alika cried, the tear freezing as it rolled along her snout.

Alika stroked the painting, though her mother didn’t notice. Alika watched as Serka’s talons plunged into green fire. The flames wrapped around Serka’s forelegs, and her fur glowed with lines of green light. With a roar, Serka raised her talons, and the lines spread out from them, spiraling into the air, arcing like the aurora. They twisted into patterns and glyphs, pointing Serka’s way, and Alika suddenly understood what she had found.

A map.

The painting shattered, and the bridge was gone. The last of the ink in Alika’s fur froze, cleansed by the blizzard. Alika stared into the , unable to move. There was nothing as the approached, nothing but left.

And now, she would join it.

When Nigel comes you fly and hide, you close your heart, you close your eyes.

But the had consumed Alika, and she had no heart, no wings. She had no voice to scream with, no talons to fight with. And the opened its jaws to take her.

Yet, Alika was seeing a vision, and in a vision, even seeing nothing was still seeing. She still had eyes, and even Nigel could not touch them. For this was Night’s domain, and until the End of All Things, Nigel had no power here. And so, Alika closed her eyes, retreating into the warm wing of darkness.

When Alika opened her eyes once more, she found herself in the tunnels beneath the Scribes. Dim light flooded the tunnels, but the shadows were gone. The black smoke was no more, and Alika knew that the next time she saw Night would be her last.

Alika raised one of her forepaws, staring into the wisps of her fur as she moved her talons. The encounter with Night felt like a dream, slipping away from her after she was thrust back into the waking world. But in her heart, she knew that if it were a dream, it had to be a true dream. She’d seen what she needed to see: her mother had given her a gift, and Alika knew that she must use it wisely.

“Alika!”

Alika snapped out of her trance. She turned to see Snow bounding down the tunnel, her tails shaking. The fox’s normally white coat had been stained red with streaks of blood, leaving crimson pawprints behind her. Alika could smell that it was not her own.

“Are you alright?” Snow panted, clenching her talons. “I’ve been wandering for ages; these tunnels seem to go on forever! I thought that I’d never find you down here. You’re not hurt, are you? There’s no one you need me to take care of, right?”

Alika’s eyes glazed over as she stared at Snow. She suddenly saw the image of an older, nine-tailed Snow, the life draining out of her eyes.

“Y-yeah,” Alika stammered. “I’m fine. Unharmed.”

“Great,” Snow puffed a sigh of relief. She raised one of her forepaws to her head, accidentally smearing blood across her snout. “So, what’s with the scruff? It looks good on you.”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

“My scruff?” Alika asked. She tilted her head, looking down at the ring of fluffy fur around her neck. The cream white had been stained a pitch black. She rubbed at it with a paw, but the color didn’t come out. “I found Night.”

“Wait, really? Did you get what you needed?”

“Yeah. I think so.”

Alika shut her eyes, raising up her right forepaw. Her talons stretched out. She felt the wings of Night around her once more, the wings of her mother, shielding her from the cold. Serka had given her a gift, and though Alika had held it all along, only now that she was aware of its presence could she see it.

Alika’s eyes opened, and her talons were filled with green light. It stretched out from them, forming a beam, coiling in the air. The light extended along the tunnel, beckoning Alika forth.

She had found her path.

“Well, that’s new,” Snow remarked, green reflecting from her golden eyes.

“It isn’t,” Alika said without explanation. She placed down her paw and walked along the light, Snow trotting alongside her.

The tunnel split into three: left, forward, and right. The beam twisted toward the right, and Alika followed it.

It seemed like they would be stuck in the labyrinthine maze forever, even with Alika’s light leading them at each fork in the road. More than once, Alika wondered if they were still going in circles, but she stayed on her course.

“So, your meeting with Night,” Snow spoke up. “Are you going to talk about it? Or shall we just wander the creepy tunnels in awkward silence?”

“Are you going to talk about why you’re covered in blood?” Alika asked.

“Touché,” Snow replied. She twisted a tail, and the blood disappeared from her fur coat. “Let’s just say that the Scribes aren’t going to be happy to see us again. The details are better left unsaid.”

Alika didn’t respond to that. She’d seen her friend’s death. Maybe one day she would be able to tell Snow, but now was not that day.

“Fine,” Snow said. “You don’t have to tell me about it, but you know Tarka is going to have a hundred questions.”

“She showed me my path.” Alika turned her head, rubbing at the black fur around her neck.

“She?” Snow asked, perking up her ears. “Was she pretty?”

“As beautiful as the night sky,” Alika replied. “No offense, but she’s way out of your league.”

“Darn.” Snow glanced backward. “Maybe I’ll get to meet her one day.”

“Maybe.” Alika choked up, once again seeing hands wrapped around Snow’s neck, choking the life from her. “One day.”

The beam of light turned a corner, and for the first time in what might have been hours, Alika and Snow saw something other than the sprawling tunnels. A narrow stone staircase led up, on and on, Alika’s green light fading at the top of it.

“We made it!” Snow laughed. “The exit!”

“Yeah,” Alika sighed, glancing back as she climbed the steps. There was nothing but stone.

By the time the two reached the top of the staircase, they were panting and out of breath. A thick door marked the end of Night’s labyrinth. Alika pushed her weight against it, and it ground against the stone as it opened.

A salty sea wind blasted away the stale air of the tunnels. Alika hid her head beneath her wing as the first rays of morning sunlight shined into her eyes, glaring and bright. The tunnels had been so dark, that she’d almost forgotten how bright the world was.

“Ow,” Snow muttered, doing the same and covering her eyes with a tail. “Hey sun: as glad as I am to see you again, can you please tone it down just a little?”

Eventually, Alika’s eyes adjusted to the light, and she found herself staring out east over the sea. A cluster of boats bobbed in the waves far, far below. They’d made it to the other side of the City of the Scribes.

The two of them had come out onto the eastern wall of the city, over the strait. Alika’s heart raced as she realized how close to the edge she’d been standing, and she backed up, her wings tense.

Her hindpaw stepped into air rather than stone, and Alika squealed, almost tripping and falling backward. She pulled it back and pitched her weight forward, trembling.

Her head turned. Behind, there was no sign of the door they’d come out from. Instead, the inner side of the wall was below her talons, the spires of the city stretching across her view.

Alika positioned herself as far from both edges of the wall, holding her breath as if it would collapse if she breathed too loudly. The wind buffeted against her from the west, like it was trying to push her to her death.

“Hey, do you see the Windrider?” Snow asked. “I don’t see it with the other boats. It should’ve been through by now.”

Alika gulped, peering over the wall. It went down, down, down until it reached the strait, and became air. Sharp rocks pierced the water’s surface like gnashing teeth.

“I-I don’t know,” Alika said. She didn’t see the Windrider either, but she wasn’t looking very hard.

“They’ve gotta be fine, right? Yarik knows what he’s doing,” Snow replied. “Hey, why don’t you use your glowing magic thingie? Can it tell us where they are?”

“I don’t think so,” Alika replied. “I think it just tells me my path. Whatever that means.”

“It’s worth a shot,” Snow pressed.

Alika carefully raised a paw, wary of how stable she was on three legs. A beam of green light came forth from her talons. It shot out straight from the edge of the cliff, before dropping down and fading from view.

“Don’t like that,” Alika mumbled.

Noises of shouts came up from the city behind her. Alika turned, yelping and ducking her head just as a ball of fire shot over her, singeing her ears. Two Scribes had gathered below the wall, jeering and pointing at the two, drawing glowing glyphs in the air.

“I think we really need to go, now!” Snow jumped onto Alika’s back, whacking the dragon’s neck. “I don’t think they’ll treat me so kindly this time!”

Alika stared at the dizzying drop into the ocean, far beneath. Waves splashed over sharp rocks, threatening to impale her on their spikes.

“I can’t,” Alika whimpered. Her talons shook, clutching onto the stone wall. It felt as if they’d been frozen to it.

“What?” Snow asked.

“I can’t fly!” Alika cried out.

“Um, yes you can,” Snow replied, cocking her head. She poked Alika’s wing with a talon. “Your wings are definitely big enough. Didn’t you fly back in the forest where we met? And Tarka is always talking about that time you flew off a cliff to catch a goat.”

“Those were glides, and they weren’t even that far,” Alika huffed. She began hyperventilating, and all of her body felt like it was on fire. The sheer drop made her feel light-headed as if she’d stumble and fall to her death. “It wasn’t flying! I’ve never flown before!”

“Well, now’s a great first time!” Snow squished herself down against Alika’s body as a lightning bolt flew over her head. More Scribes had joined the two, and a mob was quickly gathering.

“What if my wing was injured when I got speared?” Alika asked. “What if I can’t do it? Ever? And I’m just a flightless dragon?”

“That’s nonsense. You would’ve realized while swimming,” Snow snapped. “What is with you? Wait, are you…” Snow raised her snout and sniffed. “Are you scared of heights?”

“No!” Alika snarled. She stamped down her paw, and her claws touched over the wall’s edge. With a squeal, she pulled them back, trembling. “Well. Okay, maybe a little!”

“You know, this would’ve been something to tell me before we were perched on the edge of a cliff, being chased by a bunch of bloodthirsty mages,” Snow sighed. “Okay, so what if I created an illusory bridge so that when you walked across it you’d actually just fall? Would that help?”

“How would that help?” Alika growled. “I can’t do this! I just can’t. I can’t fly.”

The Scribes’ shouting was getting louder, cheering and clapping as if this were some rare spectacle. Three of them had thrown their ropes onto a nearby spire and were now ‘climbing’ up the wall.

“Unfortunately, I don’t think we have much of a choice,” Snow muttered. “I hope you can forgive me again.”

“What?” Alika asked.

Snow twisted her tail, and the edge of the wall crumbled.

Alika screamed as she fell forward and into the sky. The cold winds blasted past her as she plummeted. Snow’s teeth bit down on her black scruff, the fox struggling to hold on. The water rushed up towards her.

“YOUR WINGS!” Snow shouted, barely audible over the rushing wind and pulsing blood in Alika’s ears. “YOUR WINGS! OPEN YOUR WINGS!”

Alika’s heart pounded, barely able to comprehend Snow’s words in her terror. It took her a few seconds before she realized what Snow was asking her to do — a few seconds too many.

Alika pushed her wings open, and the wind tore at them, whacking her from side to side. Each time she managed to get one wing out, it seemed like the other was pushed back against her body. She began twisting mid-air, rolling upside down, locked into a death spiral pointing straight down.

Snow was ripped away from her body by the acceleration, taking a chunk of black fur with her.

As the cold surface of the sea rushed toward Alika, the dragon shut her eyes. This was it. This was the end of her journey, the end of her path. All because she couldn’t fly.

She hoped that Tarka had made it through the sea caves alright.

The winds sending her to her death suddenly carried a few notes of music with them. It graced her ears, and in what she was sure would be her final moments, Alika felt calm.

The music grew louder, and the winds resounded with the sound of what might have been a dragon’s voice, or perhaps that of an angel. The strings of Yarik’s lute strummed across her ears as the winds calmed. If this was death, then Night had been right — it wasn’t so bad after all.

“Alika! Alika!” Tarka laughed, breaking the spell of the music.

Alika’s eyes fluttered open, and she found herself lying mid-air, resting on top of a glittering turquoise wind.

“I’m flying?” Alika asked, confused about how she was staying aloft while upside-down. Even her mother had never done that.

“Sort of?” Snow chuckled.

Alika rolled over, righting her body. Snow was a wing-length away from her, floating through the air, carried by the wind.

Alika prodded at the sparkling breeze beneath her, solid and pliable to her touch. Somehow, it was holding her up. She wasn’t flying, she was floating!

The winds carried Alika and Snow above the mass of boats waiting on the east side of the scribes. The numerous passengers stared up as the two flew overhead, laughing and clapping. Snow waved a paw to the people down below.

And then, the bows of two canoes protruded from the cliffs beneath the Scribes. The Windrider sailed, carried by the breeze. Upwards and upwards it floated, leaving the sea behind for the sky, its twin sails full and billowing.

“Ahoy!” Yarik called, waving to Alika and Snow. “Fancy seeing the two of you up here!”

“We’re quite glad to see you too!” Snow laughed. She paddled her paws, swimming through the air toward the boat. “Seems like you had one more trick up your sleeve after all, hm?”

“Aye, though this one isn’t mine!” Yarik pointed a finger at Gust. The dragon stood at one of its bows, singing and guiding the winds. “You can thank our new crewmate for the winds being so kind!”

“Alika, come on!” Tarka shouted. He dragged a talon across the instrument’s strings in a descent, and the winds brought Alika and Snow over toward the flying ship. “Gust is amazing!”

Gently, the breeze carried the two, setting them down on the deck. Alika stared over the edge, her terror momentarily lost. The sailors far below were all cheering, while the Scribes, shrinking in the distance, pouted.

“Yeah,” Alika said, looking at the green-scaled dragon at the bow. “Yeah, he is.”

The sails fluttered as the Windrider flew towards the rising sun, carried by song and wind. Arcs of green light came forth from Alika’s talons, and for a moment, her path was as clear as crystal.