It was Shadowstar who found the map.

They had all been encouraging Holly and waving goodbye to her as she slipped through the tree branches.

CloudWing, however, had his eyes on Shadowstar—like he usually did.

It wasn’t that she couldn’t take care of herself. She did that just fine. It was the fact that, after years of secret meetings and whispered conversations, she was here. Physically present. Probably for as long as she lived.

Shadowstar walked straight towards the StealthDragon.

“Shadowstar, no!” CLoudWing cried.

Shadowstar looked back at CloudWing and tilted her head in that cute way she always did, her eyes sparkling. CloudWing’s heart melted inside of his rib cage.

“It’s okay, CloudWIng,” she spoke in her melodious voice. “I’ll be fine. I just want to see what led this StealthDragon to the ForestDragons. I have a gut feeling that it’s somewhere on his character.”

CloudWing’s eyes widened. He sped up to catch up with her, then slowed to match her pace. “I’ll help you look.”

“Thanks.” Shadowstar nudged one of his wings with hers.

They walked up to the StealthDragon. CloudWing had to stop himself from calling him “Treasure Snout”, because he knew that wasn’t his real name.

“I won’t give it to you,” the silver dragon snarled. “Not that it exists.” He shot a burst of blue flame at Shadowstar’s feet. She leapt back in surprise. The flames sputtered for a minute, then froze solid.

“Interesting,” CloudWing remarked. “I always thought that it was the other way around.”

“It doesn’t matter,” the StealthDragon sneered. “Either way, it kills you.”

“What’s your name?” Shadowstar asked.

“Like I would tell you.” The StealthDragon struggled against his chains, wincing at the blood running down his scales. “Tell you what, if you cover my wound, I’ll tell you my name and the location of the map.”

“So there is a map!” CloudWing accused. The StealthDragon glared at him.

“I’ll clean your wound if you promise,” Shadowstar offered. “Promise upon the Arehvae of the chasms and the Aether of the cliffs.”

“I promise upon the Arehvae of the caverns and the Aether of the cliffs,” the StealthDragon repeated grudgingly.

A cold wind swirled through the air. Just for a moment, CloudWing thought he heard whispers and faint clacking. The whispers reminded him of something, but he couldn’t remember what. Before he could remember, the wind settled.

“My name is Cayuse. You’ll find the map inside one of my knife pouches, sewn into the leather.” Cayuse would say no more.

By the time Shadowstar and CloudWing had worked the map out of the leather pouch, the rest of the group had realized where they were and had come over.

“What is that?” Pathtalon asked.

Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

“A map,” CloudWing responded. He had been suspicious of Pathtalon at first, mainly because he was royalty. CloudWing had learned long ago not to trust royals. His time in the WindDragon palace had proved that.

He shuddered to remember.

In the WindDragon palace, it was all about the aristocrats. Politics were a huge part of the WindDragon community. From a young age, WindDragons were taught manners, how to treat royalty, or what to do if they met an aristocrat. They were even taught what traits in a leader to seek and vote for. The more votes an aristocrat got, the higher they rose in respect and power.

Servants were treated like dirt. CloudWing would know because he had been one, tending to one of the Council advisors. Every kingdom had them, no matter how bad they were. In the WindDragon Palace, they were ten times worse.

The Council member that CloudWing had been a servant to had been particularly nasty. He constantly tossed things around for CloudWing to scurry after and pick up. When CLoudWing brought it back, the aristocrat would give him a smug, amused look. CloudWing had quickly learned to hate him, and had never even bothered to learn his name.

One day, the aristocrat had gone too far. When passing a female servant carrying an egg, he had “accidentally” bumped into the egg and sent it tumbling down the mountainside. The mother of the egg had watched, helpless, tearful face full of horror, as her egg was smashed to pieces on a rock far below. CloudWing had even seen the baby dragonet that had been developing inside, strewn across the rock.

“I am deeply sorry, miss,” the aristocrat had said smugly, a smirk etched on his face as he looked down his snout at the sobbing servant. “But you really shouldn't leave your eggs lying around where dragons can bump into them. It’s quite careless.”

CloudWing’s vision had gone red, and he had attacked the aristocrat with all his might. Later, the judge would tell him, the aristocrat was left horribly disfigured, with deep scars along his face. He would never be able to enjoy the delight of flight again—his wings were too marred by the slashes CloudWIng put in them—but CloudWing didn't care. He had been focused on how much life he could draw from someone who could kill a baby dragonet in cold blood.

“It wasn’t even alive,” the aristocrat had said loftily in his defense a day later, holding bandages up to his head casually. CloudWing had been savagely satisfied to see that they were drenched in blood.

On one side of the courtroom was the aristocrat and his family. On the other was CloudWing and the female servant, whose grief had quickly turned to anger. In the WindDragon kingdom, murder of dragonets was strictly against the law.

“It was an egg,” the female servant said, gritting her teeth. “That counts as alive, doesn’t it?”

“Not in particular,” the aristocrat argued in a slow, smug voice, like he was talking to an unintelligent bug. “Since it technically wasn’t even born yet, it never existed in the first place. Plus, it was a servant’s egg, mind you. We don't need any more of those.” He wrinkled his snout at CloudWing and the mother of the egg. “Plus, it was an accident. This dragon was lazy enough to leave her egg in my way.”

“YOU--” CloudWing snarled.

The judge interrupted him. “He is correct. The dragonet is not out of the egg yet, and therefore was never living in the first place. The egg was in his way, and it was a common servant’s egg. Also, I might add, he was physically attacked for no reason. I proclaim him innocent.” The aristocrat sneered at CloudWing and the other servant, and the judge looked up, straight into CloudWIng’s eyes. “I proclaim these two servants guilty. You are forever banished from the WindDragon kingdom.”

Those words had been the beginning of CloudWing’s life in exile. He and the other servant had split ways after that. CloudWing was not allowed to visit his family. He was forever condemned to living among the mountains—that he could not bear to leave—in invisible misery alone.

At least, until Jade came along.

“What kind of map? Hello?” Razortail’s repeated sentence shook CloudWing out of his revere.

“A map to the legends.” CloudWing spread it out on the ground for everyone to see.

Alex whistled in appreciation. “Now that is something I can approve of.”

It was a map of Terrarestria, although not very detailed. The kingdoms were labeled, and the palaces. No rivers or lakes were shown, but the StarDragon Kingdom was clearly outlined, with ‘get to later’ scribbled on it.

“Look!” Pyrite pointed to a section of the map. “‘LavaDragons: located inside the volcano.’ It’s crossed out!”

Indeed it was. Two the ForestDragon villages were circled, with ‘conquer soon’ written on the third village.

“What’s that?” Andy pointed to the northwestern part of the map, in the ocean just off of the WindDragon territory. “‘Water/WaveDragons, found here.’ Do you think...?”

They all looked at each other. They knew where they had to go next.