~ ACT I: Veil of Whispers ~

Icemoon paced the rainforest clearing like a caged snow leopard, her talons carving furrows into the mossy earth. The humid air clung to her scales—a sensation she still couldn't stomach, even after weeks in the Rainforest Kingdom. Her IceWing blood craved the bite of frost, while her NightWing instincts prickled at the cacophony of unseen creatures chittering in the canopy. Too warm. Too loud. Too much like him.

Deathbringer's smirk flickered in her mind. That infuriating, smug tilt of his scarred snout whenever he brushed past Starflight in the tunnels. "Just keeping you sharp, scholar," he'd purr, as if his claws hadn't once been hired to slit dragon throats.

A shadow rippled across the clearing. Queen Glory descended like a falling blossom, her RainWing wings shimmering faintly emerald in the dappled sunlight. She landed soundlessly, tail coiling around her hind talons with practiced elegance. Icemoon's frill bristled. Everything about Glory was effortless—grace, power, certainty. Traits Icemoon's hybrid chaos would never allow.

"You're still worried about Starflight, I take it," Glory said, tilting her head. Her voice was deceptively light, but her gaze sharpened, reading the frost steaming faintly from Icemoon's nostrils.

"Course I am," Icemoon snapped, her voice brittle as glacial ice. She halted mid-stride, whirling to face the queen. "He's my boyfriend—and your pet assassin has a habit of 'accidentally' leaving daggers lying around his scrolls!"

The accusation hung in the air. Somewhere beyond the ferns, a RainWing giggled, then stifled it.

Glory's expression didn't flicker. "Deathbringer's reformed."
"Reformed murderers still know how to murder," Icemoon hissed. Her claws unsheathed, flecking the moss with ice crystals. "Or did you forget what he was hired to do to you?"

A beat. Glory's scales flushed briefly crimson at the edges—a RainWing tell Icemoon had learned to watch for. Anger. Or guilt.

"He's loyal to me now," Glory said evenly. "And Starflight's under my protection. Even from... overzealous allies."

Allies. The word stung. Icemoon wasn't an ally; she was an exile. A half-blood mistake tolerated only because the Dragonets pitied her. Because Starflight's soft heart had opened to her when no other tribe would.

She turned away, tail lashing. "Protection isn't enough. You didn't see his nightmares. The way he flinches at shadows." Her voice cracked. Starflight's trembling wings pressed against hers in the dark, his breath shuddering as he murmured names of dragons long dead—victims of the NightWings' old brutality. His brutality, once.

Glory sighed, a sound like wind through bamboo. "Talk to him. Not me."
"He won't listen," Icemoon growled. "He's too busy trying to 'atone' by letting Deathbringer play mind games. As if that erases anything!"

A rustle above. Both dragons glanced up as a familiar shape blotted the sun—Starflight himself, his charcoal-gray wings beating awkwardly as he navigated the foliage. His blind eyes were milky pale, but his head tilted toward Icemoon's voice, a hesitant smile forming.

Glory leaned close, her whisper colder than Icemoon's frost. "Then maybe you should be the one to stop playing games. Before your fear becomes the weapon that hurts him."

She took off, leaving Icemoon frozen in the clearing.

SCENEBREAK 

Icemoon didn't move as Deathbringer prowled into the clearing, his movements fluid and deliberate, like a panther circling prey. He pressed his shoulder against hers, the heat of his scales clashing violently with the frost creeping across her own. She kept her gaze fixed on the canopy, where sunlight filtered through leaves in fractured gold streaks. Pretty little boyfriend. The condescension in his voice made her jaw tighten.

"I'm sorry," he said again, softer now, his snout brushing the frill behind her ear. She hated how familiar it felt. Hated that she remembered the exact angle of his claws when they'd sparred in the moonlight months ago, before Starflight. Before everything.

"You don't get to call him that," she growled. Her breath crystallized the air between them, frosting the ferns at her talons. "And you don't get to slither into my space just because Glory's not here to leash you."

Deathbringer laughed—a low, dangerous sound that vibrated through her scales. "Leash me? Sweetfrost, you're the only dragon who's ever made me want to behave." His tail flicked, the barbed tip grazing her thigh. "But where's the fun in that?"

Icemoon finally turned her head, meeting his amber eyes. There it was: that glint of chaos, the thrill of walking a knife's edge. She'd once found it exhilarating. Now it just burned. "I chose him," she said flatly. "Not you. Not this... whatever game you're playing. Live. With. It."

For a heartbeat, his mask slipped. The smirk faded, his pupils narrowing to slits. "You think this is a game?" He leaned closer, his voice a razor's edge. "You think I enjoy watching you fawn over a dragon who flinches at his own shadow? Who'd rather bury himself in scrolls than fight for you?"

Her frost spread suddenly, crawling up his foreleg. He didn't pull away, even as ice bit into his scales. "Starflight's worth ten of you," she hissed. "He doesn't need to fight. He thinks. Something your pretty assassin brain might've atrophied from disuse."

Deathbringer's claws dug into the soil. "You're right," he said, startling her. "I don't think. Not when I'm around you." His gaze dropped to her mouth. "Because every time I see you, I remember. That night in the Ice Kingdom tunnels. How you pinned me to the wall and nearly froze my wings off. How you didn't kill me."

Icemoon's breath hitched. She hadn't killed him. She'd let him go. Let him laugh as he vanished into the dark, blood dripping from the icicle she'd driven through his shoulder. A mistake, she'd told herself. A moment of weakness.

"You like him because he's safe," Deathbringer pressed, relentless. "Because he'll never push you. Never make you feel like this." He dragged a claw down her chest, light enough to tease, hard enough to promise.

She slapped his talon away, frost blooming in her wake. "I like him because he sees me. Not a weapon. Not a hybrid. Me."

"Liar," he breathed. "You like him because he's the one dragon you can't scare. The one who doesn't make you wonder... what if you stopped hiding?"

The clearing fell silent. Somewhere beyond the trees, RainWings chattered, oblivious.

Deathbringer pulled back first, his usual smirk sliding into place like armor. "But fine. Play house with the scholar. Just know this—" He leaned in, his lips brushing the frost-edged curve of her ear. "When he breaks your heart, I'll be there. And I won't be sorry."

He vanished into the foliage, leaving Icemoon alone with the ice spreading like a disease around her.