[h1][center][b]Chapter 8:[/h1][/center][/b]
[h2][center]5013[/center][/h2]

    Watchful had been in the Sand Kingdom for several months now, he had somehow managed to find enough shelter to survive through the desert and walk further than he had ever thought possible. He would chase little preys at night and then sleep on the calm side of a dune where the wind didn’t blow. When he was lucky, he’d find an abandoned cave or an old tent. A couple times, he unwillingly stole a Scavenger camp as they fled with little shrieks, but he soon grew way too big and just avoided them.
    In the meantime, his wings had stopped hurting, they still didn’t look right and made flying difficult but with enough patience, he learned how to use them for an almost normal flight, finally allowing him to scout the place and eventually noticed the serpentine river going between Sanctuary and Possibility. He had carefully avoided the Scorpion Den as from what he had gathered from hearing other thoughts while traveling, he was afraid they might kill him on sight.
    It took him so long to reach Sanctuary, he was almost shocked when he finally noticed its shape from atop of a dune. He took off and flew as much as he could towards the settlement but his journey through the desert had left him famished and without any stamina. He had to land earlier than he desired and finish the distance on talons.    
    There was something quite peculiar about this place that he hadn’t felt anywhere else. Like he had an unsettling feeling that told him: [i]this place is under magical protection, enter as a friend or enter at your own risk[/i]. And yet, the gates were unguarded and he found no issue walking through them. Inside the city, many dragons were busy running around or doing their stuff. A few noticed him but no one seemed to care who or what he was. As he tried to listen to their mind, he could feel a calm emotion coming from them but no decipherable thought, just a sort of content buzz. He blinked a bit, rather surprised and somewhat disappointed that he couldn’t hear them and yet relaxed at the same time that he didn’t have, or [i]couldn’t[/i], worry about others’ thoughts of him.
    Here and there, he noticed Scavengers among the dragons, some walking along them, others riding their backs and a few more just minding their own business without any dragon nearby. He wondered if they were either pets or slaves or none of those altogether.    
    “[i]Do d-d-ragons and Scav-ve-engers get a-a-a-long well he-here? That see-seems… un-un-usual.[/i]”, he pondered.
    “[i]Welcome to Sanctuary, please come visit me, I was expecting you.[/i]” said a voice in his head.
    He jumped and turned around, frantically looking for whom had spoken but he could not find anyone.
    “[i]Ah, yes… I tend to forget I do that the first time a mind-reader hear me. Please, accept my apologies and come to my humble house.[/i]”
    An image of a whitewashed house appeared in his mind, it looked as if it had been either recently built or well-maintained. The house had a single door also painted white with a neat carving along its borders painted with a cerulean blue line. The two windows on each side of the door were similarly decorated. The image in his mind pulled away from the house, revealing a large street that looking empty, at least compared to what he had seen after entering the city. The houses in the street each looked uniquely different, as if to represent the dragons inhabiting them. One pink with red lines here, another with all the colors of the rainbow there, a third one ostensibly bright orange. The image pulled again as if it took off and showed a bird-eye view of the city but every part of it was greyed out except for a single path going from his position to that specific house.
    Watchful’s first instinct was to run away but he was tired, hungry and overall curious about who that was. He escaped from the NightWing Village and the Academy, it wasn’t to be caught by an unknown dragon. And as if it replied to his fears, the voice said:
    “[i]Do not worry, I will not tell anyone that you are here, you are free to leave at any time.[/i]”
    He shivered a bit and looked back through the gates at the desert, weighing his options. There was no way he would once again take his chance with it again. It had been awful, with days so hot, he thought he was going to die, and nights so silent, he almost missed the loud buzz of all the minds in the Academy.
    “[i]I hope you like hot chocolate[/i]”, said the voice with what seemed to be a warm smile.
    He sighed and took a step in the direction he had been shown, if he had to, he would just run away again. If only he could use his mind-reading to his advantage in this strange place…
    After a short straddle among the street of Sanctuary, he arrived at the location. With the very bright colored houses surrounding it, it wasn’t hard to spot the only white house. On the door, a sign that read “[i]Piteraq, Healer of the Community[/i]” in nicely carved cursive writing, which seemed weird to him in the dragon language, and also another line just as finely written under it but in a language that he couldn’t comprehend. Watchful couldn’t recall if the sign was on the vision he had been given or not. He started wondering who that Piteraq was. Such a name felt alien to him, he wasn’t sure which tribe had those.
    As he was about to knock on the door, this one opened with mixed eerie sounds of creaking and the strident hiss of insufficiently greased hinges. He almost took a step back and looked around. No one else was in the street. What time was it anyway? He left his desert camp in the middle of the night -[i]as all good NightWings do[/i]- and reached Sanctuary at sun rise but he had no way to know exactly what time it was. Would other tribe sleep during the day also or were they diurnal? If so, when did they wake up? For sure, that [i]Piteraq[/i] was clearly awake, and as they mentioned clearly expecting him… [i]somehow[/i].
    Watchful stared inside the house, there was a white corridor, decorated with a few paintings on the wall, which he couldn’t see from his angle, and a small table obviously meant for whoever entered to get rid of menial things that they might need while going outside but not anymore once inside.
    “Please come in,” said the voice nicely, “I may be an IceWing but I despise air current”
    Watchful felt relieved that his mysterious host wasn’t a NightWing, and also some kind of happiness that he was specifically an IceWing.
    “[i]Ma-mayb-b-be they will k-k-know w-ho my fa-father is…[/i]”, he thought to himself as he stepped inside.
    The door softly closed behind him with the same eerie noises. The place immediately felt warm and welcoming. The paintings that he noticed earlier were mainly of IceWings posing in a very regal position and a few others tribes he wasn’t sure of. They all had one thing in common: a large medal around their necks that claimed they won some sort of scientific prize. One large brown female dragon portrait seemed to catch her eyes more than the others. Unlike all the portraits, she didn’t stand proudly, nor actually seemed to try to look in a flattering posture at all. She just looked like it was just another day for her, probably one she was forced into instead of going on with her usual day of work.
    The text under the portrait read:
    “[i]To Dr. Mayfly, for the advancement of medical science[/i]”
    Unlike the other dragons portrayed, her medal wasn’t a gold color but a rather having a greyish metallic tint that resembled silver but seemed much more precious as her portrait has been hooked in such a way that it shadowed all the others.
    Watchful took his time to study each portrait before moving further down the corridor. That’s when he realized how soft the floor was under his talons. It appeared to be that some soft brown-grey fur was covering it and that the feeling under his talons was like walking on fluff or clouds -[i]if he could walk on clouds that is[/i]-.    
    As he looked all around him, he almost jumped in shock when he realized he had left mud prints all over the fur and felt really embarrassed to have dirtied someone else’s mansion.
    “Don’t worry about it, it will clean itself in a moment.”, said the same voice, but this time, it wasn’t in his head, it was coming from right at the end of the corridor.
    Before him, stood a large IceWing, with sparkling white spikes with hints of blue, mauve and amethyst adorning his head. His sharp blue eyes looked straight at him but neither in a menacing nor condescending way. It felt as though there were heavy burden and pain in his gaze, as if he had carried centuries of responsibility but knew it wouldn’t be enough for salvation. [i]As if it would never be enough[/i].    
    As he walked past the corridor, the large dragon handed him a warm mug, filled up with what looked like thick hot chocolate. Watchful didn’t remember having any before and took the handle carefully with his talon.
    “Th-thank yo-ou.”, he muttered silently.
    The IceWing smiled and all the pain he saw in his eyes disappeared in an instant.
    “Just be careful, please. It’s quite hot.”
    Watchful looked down at the beverage, it was steaming and its pleasant smell reached his nostrils. He felt compelled to breath it and enjoyed the sensation it carried.
    For a long time in what seemed forever, he felt safe and comfortable. He brought the cup to his lips and sipped a bit of it. It was very thick and warmed his whole body as it slid down his throat.
    “My name is Piteraq, welcome to my home. Please sit down, we have much to talk.”
    Watchful blinked a bit, he never heard of Piteraq before, why would this IceWing feel like they had anything to talk together. Would he actually distract him while he calls others to bring him back to the NightWing village and face consequences for what he was? But before he could continue his train of thoughts, the other dragon answered his thoughts.
    “Don’t worry, you’re safe here. I promise you I will not call anyone to bring you back from where you come from.”, the IceWing said in a surprisingly warm voice.
    “How d-do yo-u kn-ow wh-what I a-am think-ing? Can you re-read mi-mind?”
    Piteraq shook his head gently.
    “No, I cannot, I mean, not in the sense that you can.”
    Watchful shivered.
    “Only NightWings like you can read minds but other tribes have also powers such as animus magic, and I am one of them”, he continued in the same tone, without any fear or threat in his voice.
    “So I can cast spells.” he sipped a bit from his own cup, “And I cast one that allowed me to know when someone entering Sanctuary needs my help. It gives me basic information about the person but I made sure that it didn’t pry on private information.”
    Watchful cocked his head trying to understand.
    “Well, for once, it didn’t give me your name, so may I ask you how I should call you, please?”
    Piteraq smile was making him feel comfortable and relaxed, he felt safe there even though back in his mind some primary instinct told him to run away as fast as possible.
    “I… I, I mean, my n-name is Wa-Watc-tchful.”, he almost whispered.
    Piteraq smiled again but didn’t say a word and sipped his beverage again.
    Watchful blinked and did the same. The hot chocolate warmed him as nothing ever did before, it reminded him when his mother hugged him after he had had nightmares or he hurt himself. How she would protect him from bullies. How she was even more present after his dad left and how she made sure he was well-fed with meals she had delicately prepared. That is… until this fateful day. The day she almost killed him.
    Watchful started to cry and a couple tears almost landed in his mug. Piteraq moved a bit closer and pulled a handkerchief to wipe his tears.
    “There, there,” he whispered, “You wouldn’t want sour tears in your sweet chocolate, would you?”
    Watchful sighed a bit and looked up at him with hope in his eye.
    “You can stay here as long as you need to, Watchful. And when you are ready, you could tell me more about you.”
    Piteraq put his mug down and took Watchful’s half emptied one.
    “Don’t worry, it won’t get cold. Let me show you a bit around for now.”
    The IceWing walked towards a door and pulled it open.
    “This will be your room for the time being, if you want.”
    The room looked almost twice as big as his own back in the NightWing Village. The walls were painted a dark grey color with a hint of blue, a bed was in a corner covered with blanket, it looked very soft and comfortable, so soft in fact that Watchful thought he might just get trapped in it if he laid down. A soft crocheted cover had been thrown over the white blanket for decorative purposes.And on its corner, stood a small table with an opaque bulb placed over it. On the opposite side of the room, was a large window so that when the sun rose it would reach the bed straight on, as if Piteraq didn’t want his host to sleep late. The floor was carpeted just like the corridor he had seen earlier. And on the last corner, rested a large brown cupboard.
    “If you need anything else, please feel free to ask and I will make sure to accommodate you.” Piteraq added.
    Watchful was speechless. Nobody has ever been this nice to him. To the point where he almost forgot why he fled there. Piteraq was different, sure, but he was no hybrid. Although, a dragon with magical power was quite unique. As the thoughts raced in his mind, there was one question he felt like he had to ask. He looked up at Piteraq, the IceWing looked back at him.
    “D-do y-you kn-know D-Da-rk-ark-st-stalk-er?”
    The white dragon gaze turned from soft to questioning to sad and finally to serious. He tried to hide a sigh and pulled a wing over Watchful.
    “Come with me, you need to finish your chocolate.”
    As soon as they entered the room, Piteraq slid into the sofa, his legs looked like they gave way under the weight of all the burden he carried. He gently grabbed his mug and blew on the smoke coming from it.
    “Yes... Yes, I do.” he eventually said, his eyes staring in the void. “Every single IceWing knows of him. Ever since we’ve been kids, it had been taught to us in school who and what he was and how we had to hate him.”
    Piteraq looked down at Watchful and seemed to study the little dragon for a while.
    “He looked nothing like you though but he was also a NightWing and IceWing hybrid so I can see why others could be confused. And why they’d treat you differently, especially since you have inherited the mind-reading power…”, he cut himself as if he wanted to add something more but decided against it.
    Watchful looked down at himself curiously then back at Piteraq, he felt eager to learn more about that DarkStalker, which Piteraq obliged for the rest of the day, until he’d told everything he knew about the mythical dragon.
       
    Over the next weeks, Watchful slowly adapted to the life in Sanctuary, the place was full of nice dragons, especially other hybrid, though few like him but most if not all knew what it felt like to be rejected, some even had very similar history. From time to time, he would watch Piteraq work in silence when the patient didn’t mind, otherwise, he would just tend to other activities. He liked walking through the street of Sanctuary and studying the humans there but also the dragons going on their usual chores, he would make scenarios in his head trying to figure out their behavior.
    As time passed, Piteraq would eventually start teaching him to read and write. The IceWing had many books that Watchful was eager to read, a good bunch of them were too advanced for him to grasp their concept however. The healer would never ask anything back from him though, even when Watchful offered. Everyone in Sanctuary knew about Piteraq and his animus magic. For them, he was just the best and only healer. Watchful had inquired as to why he wasn’t renown all over Pyrrhia and the IceWing had replied that he didn’t wish for that kind of attention and had cast a spell to protect him. The dragonet didn’t understand so he explained:
    “You see, Animus dragons are very rare, and in my tribes, they are considered to be only for royal duty and only allowed one spell in their lives.”
    Piteraq paused and grabbed a pipe made of meerschaum -a white mineral used for making highly sought-after pipes, he had read in a book- delicately sculpted with a serpentine dragon going all the way up the stem. He filled it up with just one talon and without even looking at it, which Watchful found quite impressive in itself, and brought it to his lips before lighting it up and blowing heavy puffs of smokes. Watchful’s eyes were wide-opened as he stared.
    “Oh, hmm, sorry, I took this bad habit from one of the humans I healed, he coughed a lot, erm… due to this actually… But don’t worry, I made a spell to protect anyone nearby… and also myself. I just love the taste and relaxing feeling it provides.”
    Piteraq took a few more puffs out of it and resumed.
    “Other tribes are no better. Queens all over the years have tried to abuse animus power for their own benefits… Strangers too, if they can get their ways to you. So, long ago, when I found out about my powers, I decided to hide and then eventually completely leave the Ice Kingdom… Funny, right?”
    Watchful blinked and cocked his head.
    “That it’s called a Kingdom when it’s ruled by a Queen… All of them actually, when you think about it…”
    Watchful nodded gently.
    “Anyway! Hiding physically was one thing but as I kept learning more and more about animus magic even before I discovered I was one myself… So many things you actually learn in IceWing school, and yet so few they teach you about... I realized that even if I hid correctly, any other animus dragon could eventually find me. So I started casting a few protection spells…”
    Piteraq put down his pipe and poured Watchful some more hot chocolate, -[i]which he had become very fond of, and to be fair, he started to feel like Piteraq was really spoiling him[/i]- and then some steaming tea for himself.
    “Where was I?… Ah yes!”, he sipped some tea, “The first one was to hide myself from being detected by any animus dragon. I learned the hard way with my first spells, that one had to be very careful on how to word a spell, and I do mean it. That’s probably the first lesson I’d teach another animus dragon… Later on, I found out that spells can be easily overturned if you do not use specific words, so I made sure that none of my spells could and then added a very important one: I made sure no other dragon magic could ever affect me. So, that’s how I kept my powers when the magic started disappearing. Eventually I arrived here and decided to cast a spell on the city…”
    Watchful tried to stay awake as Piteraq recounted his past but the more he tried to fight it,     the harder it was and soon he fell into a dream where the words became entangled in his mind until they turned into blinding white dragons casting spells here and there. Dragons having spells on protective cast, one here with a single cast on his front leg and another a bit further away with all her legs in casts. He looked up as something was blinking there and he saw the letters d r a g o n being spelled in large friendly letters all over the sky above him, they were shining in a gold color with hints of a rainbow here and there. He saw a king made of ice and then dragons flying in Sanctuary under an impenetrable dome that prevented the ones under it to talk to the ones outside of it. As the dragons entered the city, they magically gained a spiky armor, those leaving lost it and regained their normal look. A mighty large white, shiny and very spiky dragon towered all over the city, his head spikes firmly planted in the dome above from where sparks flew which seemed to feed the half-globe. Many snowflakes also fell from them. He looked fierce but in his eyes, several dragons were agonizing under extreme pain or illnesses, a tear running down each eye. His pupils looking like hourglasses, with the top almost empty, only few white grains of sand remaining and falling slowly down to the, almost full, bottom part as they turn black. The giant dragon was undeniably Piteraq but his body was covered in countless scars, burns and some of his limbs looked horribly broken, but he didn’t just have the normal count of limbs, he had three forelimbs on each side with their palms facing up and around each of them a constant trail of injured dragons walking toward them and then away, healed as if they never even had any scar. The IceWing smile was unwavering, despite the constant waves of attack from outside dragons were his spikes traversed the dome. His gaze seemed to change and he shivered and the dome shivered with him. Suddenly, the dragons on his palms started to fall down to their demise. He looked through his nose at Watchful and one of his talon moved towards him offering to carry him up. As Watchful proceeded, he noticed that the amount of dragons being healed dwindled to zero and he almost feared it when the dome shook but it remained all in one piece. The attacks had stopped and he was suddenly aware that silence had fell all over the city. It was threateningly silent and empty. Just him and Piteraq, the giant.