Ysmí, Ysamaldrí in the Cí'mehian tongue, was the second variant of the dragoness' name in the Isles. Thought to be an emerald dragon of great power, they worship her as the goddess of emeralds and war. She does not mind the name varient, and while in the presence of a Cí'mehia who is a Ysmí follower, her scales will be emerald-colored instead of the pale yellow-gold.
     Her personality doesn't change like the human race's Roman and Greek gods, but she holds herself in a different light, according to one of the Eltrí. Some think Ysamaldrí and Ysmí are sisters, but that was never the case...

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     Once the eyes met Myrkr's from the other side of the fire, she shifted from her Hybrid form to full cheetah, her calming game long gone. The cheetah on the other side of the fire stared toward her, trying to circle the fire, but Myrkr growled a low, fierce noise and he halted. The look in his eyes was uncertainty and defense, but most surprisingly survival.

     "Who the hell are you?" Myrkr's voice penetrated the silence that only the crackle of fire intruded. "What are you here for?"

     The cheetah—Most likely a Cí'mehia, Myrkr thought—kept his emerald gaze unbroken. Not actually expecting an answer, Myrkr prepared for an attack.

     But he did speak, and his voice was so much more unsettlingly feline, unlike hers which had less purr to it. "I came looking for someone." Myrkr had a feeling who he was looking for. The next thing he said confirmed it. "It would seem, sister Cí'mehia, that I found who I was looking for." He relaxed his muscles, but kept their eyes locked.

     Myrkr let out a growl that quickly escalated into a snarl. "I will die before you take me to your damned queen." Her tail flicked madly, and she felt the fur along her spine and neck bristle in anticipation of a battle.

     Liesurely, the Cí'mehia strode forward, no click of claws on the stone floor. "Unfortunately, your death would serve her all too good. It would make things much easier politically and, well, work-wise. If she tried picking you apart as you still have life, many would oppose her. Many. Not just the Revak Feykro."

     With the mention of her home, Myrkr visibly stiffened. "Why would they, in particular, care if I get picked apart?" Her voice was quiet.

     "You and I both know why. I guess you don't let it become common knowledge, though, hm?" He took a few more steps around the fire, and this time Myrkr only retreated the other way instead of growling. "Oh, please, sister. I'm not here to kill you. That would be Her Majesty's goal, and I am one who opposes her."

     "Cute," Myrkr spat. "Cute. And you think I'd trust any Cí'mehia after what I know and learned? Forget it."

     "What if," he started, weighing his words carefully. "I told you of a Cí'mehia who you should not trust, here, in the academy?"

     Myrkr narrowed her eyes. "How about you tell me how you knew of me first."

     The Cí'mehia sighed and sat down. "My name is Delrahj M'lakara. I have a few Cí'mehia Elites—formally known as Shaljí—as friends. They are the Queen's trained assassins, spies, guards—pretty much everything. I heard of you from them. That's also how I snuck in here, too. One of the Shaljí showed me a few tricks in stealth, and I was able to slip by the dragon guards outside, which worried me. I'm a novice of stealth compared to them, and I could have easily killed a few dragons on my way in here. They have greater skill and numbers, and in an instant they could kill all the dragons who guarded an exit."

     "That's all well and good, but why tell me about them? I'm a new student here, not even known by many due to my... upbringing, which you apparently know about. Are you trying to warn the academy of a Mion invasion? Oh, and as if I had any need to tell you, I still don't trust you, Delrahj. You gave me information, but I have no reason to trust it."

     Delrahj nodded. "I suspected as much. It makes my life harder, but it can also make yours longer, your withholding of trust. May I at least know your name?"

     "Myrkr Mkhoal."

     "Well, Myrkr the Unknown." Delrahj wrinkled his nose at her last name. He then changed to his Hybrid form that made Myrkr feel like she was looking in a mirror, and walked over, "I thank you for not attacking me, and for tolerating an intruder's presence this early in the morning. I will be back tonight, if you wish for more information. Just... be careful." He turned and started down the stairs.

     "Wait," Myrkr said. "Where are you going?"

"To wait out the day. This place holds many secrets, sister." Out of view he went, leaving Myrkr alone again. She got up and headed to the second-floor rooms, to go back to sleep.

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     Delrahj walked down the stairs, and his head suddenly jerked to the side as if he noticed something was wrong, or he caught a scent. "Who's there?" he asked, quietly.

A scent you did catch, but will learn to fear if you do not leave. "I am."

     Cedric stepped out from under the stairs, and toward Delrahj. "What did you want with her, M'lakara?"

     Delrahj's ears went flat, and his pupils narrowed. "You seem to have overheard, lycan."

     "So you were the 'little Shaljí' I heard about." Cedric took a menacing step—that looked like prowling—toward the older Cí'mehia. "Even if you are older than I, you aren't as skilled." With a hissed word, Cedric moved the ten or so feet between the two of them in an instant, taking on the form of a shadow as he did so. He was two feet from the other, now. "You should have stayed in the jungle."

     "You know much, do you? I know who you are. It's impossible for any Cí'mehia—minus Myrkr—to not know you. You've been gone a long time, Cedric." Delrahj kept his cool, though there was a fire in his eyes that was neither anger or fury, but a calmer variant.

    "I have. What do you want with Myrkr?" She has more power. I will let no one will take her until she can use it to protect herself. I shouldn't even let her be alone, anywhere. If Maple figures this out soon...

     "To warn her," Delrahj said. "You heard what we said, did you not? She isn't safe here. She should go back home."

     "That would be worse! The Queen would sense her being nearby—"

     "Her home, Cedric, is not our home. Have you ever seen her before you... left, Cedric the Strong?"

     "No. And you can't tell me she actually let me keep my title as Shaljí." Cedric let himself relax. He could read body language well; Delrahj had anger toward Tahl'drí, that much he was sure of. And the surname of M'lakara strummed a faint chord in his memory...

     "Of course not. But I give respect where respect is due, even if you are younger. I assume you know the Wil'qué, the magic of the Shaljí." This was a statement, not a question. "You know Maple the Swift does, too. If you wish to be her match in protecting Myrkr, you better know what she is made of."

     Cedric glared at him. "Trust me," he said, his voice a low growl, "I know exactly what Maple the Swift is made of."

     Delrahj rose his hands in peace. "Hey, I'm just a messenger—and a guard, maybe. Mogh Sil is in agreement to this. One of them brought me here. Not their Song of the Moon, but one of the more... important ones. I'm sure the Forest could be swayed, and maybe Geol. Ysamaldrí hasn't given Mion the Gemstone, not quite yet, since Evjit's death." He paused one those words, and for once anger was pure in Delrahj's eyes. "Either way, the time would be now. Your help would be very well appreciated, Cedric the Strong. Ah, but time is short. I must hide, so no one finds me."

     Cedric crossed his arms. "And why would you hide? You are an alumni, are you not?"

     "I must hide, so none find me. If the Queen knows I've left, then everything will accelerate and my being here would be for naught. I will be back by nightfall, if you wish to speak more, Cí'mehia brother. Ysmí allowing, of course."

     Delrahj moved past Cedric, and once more Cedric was alone in the room.

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     Delrahj made his way down the halls, using magic to age his scent. Almost there, he thought, approaching one of the northern hallways. There were many secrets to this ancient castle, indeed.

     He stopped. Facing the wall to his left, he placed his hand on a specific brick. The brick wasn't much different than the others; in fact, it looked identical to the rest. Except Delrahj knew of its existance, and had the eyes to see the vast difference.

     The brick glowed white, sparkling like crystal or diamond, and was moved inward. Other bricks followed suit, glowing and now folding inward to allow the Cí'mehia to pass through. Although the light was very, very bright and blinding, Delrahj knew that even if he were seen, it would be a dark, lightless picture. It would be a mirage, a hallucination. A daydream. A mistake.

     He entered, and the wall folded out again, covering his tracks. They were soundless, lightless, and definitely not real. However, they did their job as a barrier, so that they seemed solid and real.

     "Del," said a calm voice. "Did you meet with her?" A forest dragon walked out of the shadows, into the faint light. His scales were a pale brown, and some had cracks on them, as if he'd seen battle in his past.

     Delrahj nodded. "I did. But one of the Shaljí intercepted me before I could leave. It was a success, on both accounts."

     The dragon scowled. "The Shaljí? Why would you let one of them live? They are the second most dangerous threat to our cause and to the target."

     "Rul, the Shaljí is Cedric the Strong." Rul's eyes widened, and he nodded approvingly. "He also wishes to protect her, and claims to know Maple the Swift well. We might turn out to need him. After all, they both know the Wil'qué, and they can be at stalemates if we ever need to get the target—who I dubbed as Myrkr the Unknown—away. I know she also has a friend who she treats as a brother, who I'm sure would help us."

     "Very well. Del, you must seek out this 'brother' and explain to him what is going on. The war of the Isles is coming to be ripe, and we can't let it survive that long." The dragon walked back into the darkness, the Cí'mehia in tow.

     "Yes, sir," replied Delrahj, "but shouldn't one of the Jewel Dragon Drómdí approach him? I do believe the only reason Myrkr didn't attack me right away is because I am a Cí'mehia who was calm, and not sneaky. I don't believe the ruby Drómdí knows what her race is, even, or that there is an entire Isle of us. It would startle him less. Plus, they aren't here for training, they are here for information, which makes them dangerous... And they were sent by the Forest, Rul."

     Rul thought a moment, then nodded. "Good idea. Now, go. Someone is here for you, I do believe she said she helped you get here...?"

     "Amakí? The night dragoness? Is she here?" Delrahj was sure he looked excited, and like an idiot, but he wasn't thinking he would ever see her again.

     "It is a night dragoness, but I do not know her name." He gazed off into the darkness of the tunnel. "If only I had my wife, I could send word to the Forest, but she is already there. Rumor has it, she is the mother of the 'One of Tree.' I would like some help, but I could never endanger the life of a dragonet." Rul shook his head. "That is beside the point, we have another messenger. I will send Avient Crím, he is the young Drómdí's uncle, I believe."

"I will leave that to you, then," Delrahj said, nodding. He headed deeper into the passage to find the night dragoness, to see if it was indeed Amakí.

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     Sanguine was awoken by something. It wasn't a noise, otherwise Cedric would have heard it. It wasn't a scent, either, or Sanguine would have been able to catch a whiff of something being off. Did I just wake up on my own? It didn't feel that way. For a few more moments he laid there, alert.

     Something is off, but what? As quietly as possible, Sanguine slipped out of his bunk, grabbed some clothes, and changed. Once that was done, he left the room and entered the common rooms. The hairs on his neck rose, he sensed a presence. His eyes began to glow a dark red as they swept the room, and his wings started to form. Before Sanguine could enter his dragon form, the presence identified himself. He stepped into the light.

The man wore a dark blue outfit and his eyes were a pale red. His hair was either a dark brown or black.

"Sanguine," he said. Sanguine knew this man's voice, and his presence, but couldn't place them. "It's been far too long."

Something still wasn't right. "Who are you...?" He knew enough that the man in front of him was a Drómdí, a dragon-human shifter, but there was no color of scales on him. Sanguine's eyes kept its dark red glow, prepared to shift into his dragon form.

"Apparently, it has been far too long. Don't I look like your father? It's me—your uncle, Avient." Avient took some more steps forward, bringing himself into the clear firelight. He does look like Cargent.

"What are you doing here? Did something happen at—" he stopped himself from saying Revak Feykro— "at home?"

Avient shook his head. "Not just at your home, lad. The Isles are on the brink of war."

"Wha- the Ziixi can't—"

"It's not just the Ziix or the Forest any longer, Sanguine. Come, I have much to tell you." Avient led the way out of the common rooms, but it was toward the north end of the castle. Sanguine never went there, he had no reason to. That was supposedly where the next level of classes were. "Follow, and stay silent."

Sanguine glanced around, and noticed that the walls looked older, more worn. Avient stopped suddenly, and Sanguine ran into him. It was like walking into a brick wall.

Avient gave him a look, though Sanguine wasn't sure if it was meant to be pained or an emphasis to be more careful. He suspected the latter. Avient then walked up to the wall, and touched a certain brick. How the older Drómdí distinguished it from the others, Sanguine had no clue.

A few seconds was all it took for Avient to decide he held his hand on the brick long enough, but it felt just a bit longer. The hallway seemed to have gotten darker, as well.

Follow, came a hissed voice, barely more than a breath or breeze. Avient walked into the wall, but instead of colliding, he walked through the bricks. The voice came again. Follow.

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This story is starting to roll, isn't it? Hope you guys enjoy!