Early the next morning, we were all gathered in the great cave, and I hadn't truly considered the grandeur of the NightWings until Morrowseer arrived. His presence was overwhelming, a dark and intimidating force that made me realize just how much we had to live up to.

Morrowseer's gaze was like cold daggers, slicing through each of us with unsettling precision. His eyes seemed to pierce our scales, unraveling every secret we held. Kestrel, ever the orchestrator, swept a wing towards us. "Here are the dragonets you wanted, Morrowseer," she announced.

The large NightWing rumbled, his voice deep and resonant, and stared intently at each one of us. I didn't care if he could read my thoughts in that moment—though, for some reason, I felt he couldn't. I was more concerned with the way his gaze made me feel as if I were laid bare.

"Her," he said, extending a claw towards me.

I froze, a chill running down my spine. The weight of his attention was like a physical pressure, and I could feel my heart pounding in my chest. I tried to steady myself, but his piercing eyes seemed to see right through me, unraveling every fear and hope I had hidden away.

"What about her?" Kestrel asked, tilting her head slightly. "Is there something wrong with her?"

Morrowseer's gaze shifted to me, his eyes narrowing as if trying to probe deeper into my very essence.

Kestrel blinked, her expression unchanging. "Nothing except that she struggles with fatigue," she said. "It's been a constant issue."

Morrowseer's eyes remained fixed on me, his silence heavy and oppressive. The cavern seemed to hold its breath, the shadows around us stretching and shifting as if in anticipation. His scrutinizing gaze made me feel even more exposed, like a fragile flame in a vast, dark void.

"I see," Morrowseer said, his voice a low rumble. He turned his gaze towards Starflight, who looked particularly uneasy under the weight of the NightWing's scrutiny.

"Hmm, you and you," Morrowseer continued, pointing at me and then at Starflight. "Come with me. I need to speak with you."

Starflight's wings fluttered nervously, his scales standing on end. I could see the tension in his posture as he held his wings high, tight against his body, trying to maintain some semblance of composure.

Without another word, Morrowseer turned and began to glide towards a shadowed alcove at the far end of the cave. The air seemed to grow colder in his wake, and I exchanged a glance with Starflight, both of us feeling the weight of the NightWing's command.

We followed Morrowseer, the cavern walls seeming to close in around us as we moved. The low hum of the dragon's voice echoed in the tunnel, adding to the sense of foreboding. Each step felt heavier, and the shadows seemed to stretch longer as we approached the alcove.

Inside the dimly lit space, Morrowseer settled into a more comfortable position, his eyes still piercing and intense. "Now," he said, "let's discuss what you two are really about."

Morrowseer's intense gaze shifted to me as he spoke, his eyes like twin shards of ice. "I hear you struggle with fatigue. Why is that?"

I shook my head. "I don't know. I've had this since I was little."

Morrowseer lowered his head until we were eye to eye. He sniffed the air, his nostrils flaring as he took in my scent. "You don't smell sick. Perhaps when the SkyWings took you, something went wrong, or perhaps it was something your uncle did. You don't know about your father, do you?"

I shook my head again, confusion and anxiety swirling inside me.

Morrowseer sighed deeply. "You shouldn't know, but I can tell you that crossbreeding between species always has side effects." He gave a faint, enigmatic smile, his eyes glinting with a mixture of pity and intrigue. "Whether large or small, you might have inherited some of our significant powers—telepathy, foresight, that sort of thing."

I felt a shiver run down my spine. The implications of his words were staggering. Morrowseer's gaze remained fixed on me, and I could sense a subtle, almost electric energy in the air around him. His knowledge of our hidden potentials made my heart race with both fear and hope.

"Do you have any of these abilities?" he asked, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Or do you sense anything unusual within yourself?"

"N-no, I don't think so," I stammered, my voice trembling slightly.

Morrowseer rumbled, the sound deep and resonant. "It could be related to your fatigue. Do you have strange dreams sometimes?"

I stiffened. "Yes, occasionally."

Morrowseer's expression shifted into a rare smile, though I wasn't sure if it was reassuring. He stood up, his tail swishing smoothly behind him. "Well, at least one of you is good enough for this prophecy," he said, turning away from me. "You can go now. I need to speak with Starflight alone."

I nodded, bowed my head slightly, and quietly padded out of the cave chamber. As I emerged into the cool, dim light of the cave's entrance, Clay immediately came over to me. He draped a wing around me, offering comfort.

"Shh, shh, it's okay," he murmured soothingly. "It looked like he was interested in you. You did fine. Shh, shh."

I leaned into Clay, finding solace in his warmth and the steady beat of his heart. The stress of the meeting began to melt away, replaced by a cautious hope. The prophecy, Morrowseer's probing questions, and the strange dreams—all of it felt like pieces of a larger puzzle that was beginning to fall into place.

"Now," Kestrel snapped, her voice sharp and impatient.

I sighed deeply and closed my eyes for a moment, gathering my thoughts. "What did he say? Did he approve of you?"

I could feel Kestrel's eyes boring into me, waiting for an answer. Her impatience was palpable, and the pressure of her gaze made it hard to focus. When I finally opened my eyes, I met her gaze with a mix of apprehension and resolve.

"He didn't exactly approve," I said slowly. "But he mentioned something about me having some unusual abilities. He said it might be related to my fatigue and asked if I had strange dreams. He seemed interested in that."

Kestrel's expression didn't soften. "And? Did he say anything else?"

I shook my head. "No, he just told me I could leave and that he wanted to speak with Starflight alone."

Kestrel let out an exasperated sigh. "Well, I suppose it's something. At least you weren't dismissed outright. But we'll have to see what he says to Starflight. His approval—or lack of it—could be significant for all of us."

I nodded, trying to steady myself. The uncertainty of the situation weighed heavily on me, but I knew we had to stay focused. Whatever Morrowseer's intentions were, it was clear that our journey was far from over.

After a while, we waited in tense silence until Starflight and Morrowseer finally returned. Starflight looked despondent, his wings dragging and his posture slumped as he went to sit in the farthest corner of the cave, away from us. I watched him with concern, but my attention quickly snapped back as Morrowseer spoke again.

"So, what happened with the SkyWing?" Morrowseer's voice was sharp and demanding. "I thought that IceWing of yours would be successful."

Kestrel sighed deeply, her frustration evident. "I'll handle that later. But why did you take an egg from the laziest tribe on the continent?"

Morrowseer's eyes narrowed with irritation. "It was his idea," Kestrel snapped, pointing her tail accusingly at Webs. "He brought that egg here!"

"At least we have six dragonets," Webs interjected, trying to defend himself. "That's what matters."

Morrowseer scoffed. "More like five and a half," he grumbled. "Are you supposed to be the SandWing? You don't eat? What's wrong with you?"

A long, uncomfortable pause followed as Sunny struggled to find a response.

"Yes, she does eat," Tsunami cut in sharply. "She eats just fine, as much as anyone else."

I nodded in agreement, my tail flicking with frustration. Morrowseer rolled his eyes, clearly unimpressed. "Well, at least you have four who aren't completely useless. But where is the RainWing?"

The question hung in the air, heavy and accusatory. The absence of the RainWing seemed to bother Morrowseer more than anything, and I could sense the tension rising once more.

Dune shifted uncomfortably, his claws scraping against the cave floor. "We haven't seen her this morning or any morning since you said you would come," he said tersely.

Morrowseer's eyes turned as cold as shards of ice. He flicked his tail with an irritated swish. "Incompetent fool," he muttered under his breath.

He then turned his attention back to me. "You have abilities, at least," he said, his voice dripping with disdain. "You're not useless. Make sure you train."

Rising to his full height, Morrowseer gave one last sweeping glance around the cave. "I've seen everything I need to see," he declared. With that, he turned on his heel, his cloak of darkness swirling around him.

Kestrel, ever the dutiful servant, led Morrowseer out of the cavern. The shadows seemed to close in behind them, leaving a heavy silence in their wake.

I stood there, feeling a mix of relief and unease. The scrutiny from Morrowseer had been intense, but his words about training and my abilities hung in my mind like an unresolved riddle. I knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, I would need to confront them head-on.