The Lifespring skyland is alive with light and color even in the night.
When the four of us set talons on the marble landing along with our small crowd of six other dracos, I advance without a moment's hesitation. The air smells like lush flowers, sweet nectar, and fresh greenery, with thousands and thousands of pixies, fireflies, and spirits glowing every color of the rainbow. Crystal clear streams run coursing through thick vegetation and moss, with the soft roar of distant waterfalls echoing over the trees from the lone mountain high above.
I pass through the moss-covered stone archways into the forest, following the marble path that's thinly littered with deadfall and crunching leaves. The air is heavy within these thickets and gnarled trees, with a feeling to it that demands all heads to be bowed and all souls to refrain from excessive chaos.
Still sparking red, I am disturbing the sacred tranquility.
Music trails from up ahead. A hand harp and a woman singing. It's beyond beautiful. There's a feeling to it that strikes an immediate resonance within me. As if all that troubles me is being melted away.
Or at least being chipped at.
Once I'm through the trees, the grove opens wide. The forest is filled with dozens of rippling pools, tastefully overgrown with flowering shrubs and vines, with manicured pathways throughout them all, as well as a handful of much larger rocky pools at the feet of the numerous waterfalls rushing out of the verdant green mountain. The floating lights are thicker in concentration here, with many of them converging around the largest pool of them all.
This is where the draconids who attend this grove gather, and one of them in particular is playing an ornate polished bone hand harp while she sings to the others in the water around her. I stop at the edge and wait. However agitated I may be, I'm not interrupting this.
Seated on a chunk of broken marble column, a dracofae woman of a similarly huge size as the Fell serenades her faithful attendants and assistants. Her pale green hair is longer than she is tall, and runs like rivers around her as it pools atop the surface of the water. Her silvery green butterfly wings are spread wide, as big as the grove's trees, and her narrow antennae are softly glowing with the light of the myriad pixies resting upon them. The long white robe she's wearing is drenched and clinging to her body, which is speckled with scales the color of mint leaves and ivory over skin of rich brown, and her long thicktail is floating upon the water as the other draconids brush and clean it for her.
I can't hear the words Primarch Serenity is singing. Only the tones. But even that is enough to numb my thoughts and relax some amount of my feverish nerves.
Around me, Zip and Hilde hover close, while Penny hugs my arm and finishes reading The Luminous. My sparks have settled to an occasional buzzing, and between the assurance inherent to having my friends close, Hilde's tail curled around mine, and the numbing music, I do find some amount of peace in awaiting my turn to receive the Mother's attention.
In time, I am graced with receiving it.
She glides across the water to us, trailing her hair, robes, wings, and tail as she draws near with a tranquil smile upon her lips. Her eyes are the color of jade, slitted in the light of the pixies' glow. Though the banks I'm standing on are up to her knees, she is still much taller than all of us, even Hilde.
"Ahh." Her smile brightens as she inspects the four of us. "Welcome back, fledglings. Such a pleasure when the children return to us. As I recall… Zip. One hundred seventy four years ago, I held your egg."
"Wait, what? I thought it was seventy seven. Huh."
"Penelope. Two hundred two years ago, soon to be three, no?"
"Yes. That's correct. Hello, Mother Serenity…"
"Hildegard. Was that… Three hundred eighty one?"
"How in the Hells do you remember all this, Mother?"
"With love overflowing. Crimson. One thirty five."
I nod, arms crossed. "That's right, Primarch."
Zip mumbles, "Somebody likes older women…"
"Not the time to be joking, Zip," Hilde states.
"Somebody's robbing the nest…"
"We met when she was ninety seven."
"Those three years s–"
"Done," announces Penelope, flashing pink. She reaches into my bag as she elaborates, "The Luminous. First edition. That was the read of a lifetime. There isn't a soul amidst our generation that can claim to have done the same."
"Oh, she's a racer in spirit. Project mode activated. Peps is now lucid. Let's hear it, sweetwing."
"Truly astounding to have read the Elder's original word, before it was revised from Lumos to Vitalius. So much more makes sense now, because not once did the fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh, eighth, or ninth editions ever refer to even just one single feather. Not once. Seraphim Vitalius is an albino quetzal. That is extremely remarkable. Some description of his feathers is included in every other written work that so much as mentions him. Except The Luminous, which is supposedly a book about the Seraphim. There is no mention of his feathers. Therefore, The Luminous is not truly about the Seraphim. A theory which is now proven by the primary written record. Lumos was the hero of The Luminous. Not Vitalius."
"That is an insane thing to notice, Peppers."
"Once I read a book, I never forget it. Any of it."
"Somebody should write a book about you, drag. I'd buy it."
"I have been saying that for years. Thank you."
Hilde and I have been wincing since the moment Penelope started speaking. There was no stopping it. Penny has to announce the completion of a book and immediately speak her honest review aloud. It's just one of those Penny things, and I love her for it, but this is the worst possible time for it to have happened.
Primarch Serenity has seen a ghost. "Lumos? Lumos…"
I seize that opportunity. "Yes, Lumos. Not Vitalius. The Fifth Thorn. Not the Seraphim. I have some questions for you, Primarch Serenity. Primarily in reference to your son. Vander the Black."
"Vander," she whispers, astonished. "Vander. You want to talk about Vander? My little Vander?"
"Yes. I have confirmation enough of everything else I wanted to know. Except one thing. And this one thing is the crux. All the rest is conceptual and unspecific. To be certain, it requires a fact that is true, but has been intentionally made false. The Great Incineration states that Vander was Wretched before the blaze. I am asking you. Was he?"
"Ohh…" Penny hums, hugging my arm. "Evidence…"
Primarch Serenity is frozen, but her jade eyes move as they see the past. "My Vander."
"Yes. Was Vander Wretched before or after the Great Incineration?"
A sudden burst of fear warps her expression as she covers her mouth with a hand. "No. I will not answer that. I will not. Y–You need to go, children–"
"Please, answer the question."
"Do not ask me that. Do not ask me that about my Vander. My poor, sorry, little Vander… No, I cannot bear to hear it… Wretched… Not my Vander…"
"We should go." Hilde tugs on my arm. "Now."
"Hey, is she okay?" Zip asks the attendants. "Does she need a drink or something?"
"Why won't she answer?" Penny whispers, antennae stock still. "Inference says she fears retaliation. Whether she confirms or denies, the fact she has been asked puts scrutiny on her. From one source… Or another."
I lean on her analysis. "Primarch Serenity, are you afraid to answer this question? Or are you afraid to say the record is falsified? Who inspires such fear in you?"
"Vander, Vander, Vander…" A tear falls and hits the water, causing one ripple. "Not my Vander. Please… Not him. My poor hatchling Vander…"
"How's this for an inference?" Hilde states with authority. "I think you're just retraumatizing a grieving mother, you two. It is time we go."
"Oh, drag, true. I'm on Hildy's side this time."
"That is also highly probable… Um. Crim Crim?"
I drop from the banks into the water and approach her. "Primarch Serenity, is there someone threatening you? Are you in danger? If you answer my question, are you afraid of someone retaliating against you? Someone who might hurt you?"
"No… No, no, no… Not Vander…"
"Has he been taken away from you by someone else?" I pass into the radius of her hair upon the water. "Has someone separated you from your son?" I reach the hem of her robes and latch on. "Did he fall because he was Wretched? Or did he fall because he was smited?" I pull myself forth against the river of her tears. "Were the Divine Archives burned because Vander chose to do it or because Vander was made to do it?"
"No, please…" She weeps into her hands, hiding her face. "Please, please, no… Anything but that! Fallen! Wretched! My sweet baby Vander! Please, please, not Vander…"
"Primarch, I need to know. Please, I need to–"
"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! Vander! Please… My baby boy…"
"Crimson." Hilde grabs me by the arm. "We are leaving."
Though I want to fight against her, though I need to have my question answered, it's obvious I'm not getting a damn thing out of Primarch Serenity. Whether this is grief or terror, sorrow from losing a son or fear of punishment for telling the truth, Serenity is lost to her pain. And there's nothing I can do to change that.
I let Hilde drag me away, sparking brighter.
Beset by obstacles on all sides. Barriers. Walls. The truth has been buried. And I'm only scratching the surface. This secret is entrenched so deep I can't fathom it. How do I dig up something that doesn't want to be excavated?
By digging, I suppose. But where?
I don't know. I don't know yet.
Hilde pulls me out of the Lifepools.
This lead has hit a dead end.