A full moon sits high in the near-cloudless sky. Only strips of gray fluff float across. Crinkly, colorful leaves crack. Dead bushes rustle. Wood snaps as talons crush it. A creature of the night widens its eyes, watching its curiosity.

With a faint hum, a purple light begins to glow. Someone calls out an enchantment. Instantly, branches of violet shoot from the stone. Steaming into the air, they soon dissipate, invisible to the naked eye.

As the window creaks, hatches rattle. One of them snaps. A shining piece of yellow metal bounces. All that registers in a faint clatter. Frosty glass panes swing inward.

A creeping breeze slips in. Freezing tendrils wisp their greedy claws. Sneaking about the stagnant house atmosphere, the target is located. Sleeping soundly, her metal leg gleams in the moonlight.

They strike. Nightmares elapse. Pain erupts from deep within.

Pound! Bzzzhhtt. Pound!

Endless volleys of fire slice through the Spear of Selene, tearing gashes inside and out. Fiery plasma ricochets all around the Duck family.

Slam! Slam! Slam!

Metals shards rip all around them. The air is leaking; the vacuum of space calls out.

Della can almost hear Lunaris from afar. The general had stopped at nothing, no matter how cruel, in his war of conquest.

"All outcomes were planned for, you dastardly ducks, a ha ha ha!"

Electrical sparks twist and twirl as if dancers in a premeditated ballad. Hot buzzes of yellow-orange spew everywhere.

Gzhhhtt. Spsrchh.

Shrill chanting abounds. No one can concentrate. Primal instincts soon mush their ideas of escape. Desperate rambles of pleas occur. Feathered hands join in an embrace. All except two.

Rising temperature. The golden mothership's blue flames expand. The rocket's nose cannot be within the brutal thrusters. Blackened peeling edges its way towards those onboard.

Della feels the heat swell in her tense fingers. Muscles cramp onto the controls. Her arms shuffle in every conceivable combination. Her brown eyes dart every angle possible, alone and together. Gloomy thoughts worm their way in.

Trapped. Go backward, they will die. Shot to shreds. Go forwards, they will die. Scorched alive. On either side, they will die. Gruesomely vaporized. Up or down, they will die. Utter oblivion.

Panic. Fear. Death

Her heart pumps at the speed of light. Blood flows even faster. Breathing, well, that seems to stop. The cabin was nearly empty of gas now.

Frantically, Della prays for a miracle.

She cries. She pleads. She begs.

A miracle that will never come. For no one. No one. No one except her. It doesn't matter that she prays for everyone except herself.

Fate is cruel.

As the heat intensifies, Della prepares. No one knows what is next. No one knows.

She feels as if she is being cooked. Boiled alive. The compartment shrinks in size. Agony ensues as molten gold drips onto her feathers.

All hope is lost. Lunaris's cackle carries itself into her head. The radio transmission somehow hasn't failed yet.

"Enjoy your death," he gloats. "You've deserved it for a very, very long time."

She is unable to unstick her hands from the mainframe of the rocket. The golden joysticks seemingly melted onto her. Unable to look at her children for one last time. Della prepares to draw forth her breath one last time.

And then it happens.

A red, rusting rocket flies by.

Flying by, a red rusty rocket smashes itself into Lunaris's mothership. His haunting cry, his last moment, transmits itself before the feedback cuts off.

A sad smile passes Della from the rocket. Blue eyes gaze in slow motion. It ends.

Purple skin eviscerates in a great ball of flame.

What remains of the Spear of Selene hurtles to the moon.

Boom!

With thunderous force, the moon doles out another minuscule crater. Lunar rock, golden shrapnel, and fireballs rain down in a blistering inferno. The rocket's remains skid away from the center of impact. White clouds of dust follow in its wake.

The trigger mechanism inexplicably activates. The only one to do so. Moments later, the rocket halts to its screeching. A spark ignites, blooming into a fire of epic proportions. A death trap for all inside. Engulfing all aboard.

Save one.

A fragile body lies still, only a few dozen feet away. Still occupying her golden command chair.

Haggard gasps of breath stutter.

Weakly, Della opens her eyes. Coughing, and sputtering, she tries to raise her arm to no avail. Was this it?

No.

A flash of yellow light conjures as her vision recedes. Fading... fading... sweet release...

Then fingers jam themselves into her beak. Her gag reflex intensively gives in. An explosion of black licorice bursts into her bloodstream. Della's lungs intake a gargantuan of freshly produced oxygen. Blackness swallows her anyway.

The last thing she sees is a distressed swan and a blue dress. Just as horror and relief consume her mind in clarity, Della collapses into unconsciousness.

Six coffins. Five charred bodies. The poor girl couldn't be put to rest properly.

Wind changes direction. The cold tendrils return to whence they came. Smudged windows retreat in place; the broken hatch is restored as well.

Della screams into consciousness. This time, it is in the real world. She walks to the bathroom sink. Lights flicker on, as bright as a hospital room. With a hellish squeak, warm water begins to trickle. Small tears envelope, dripping down her scarred beak. White feathers run under the water. Afterward, they quench her thirsty face.

Della wistfully glances in the mirror. Why was she the only one to survive?