The future is a strange thing.
Starflight watches the spilled puddle of ink spread across the floor, inching towards his tail and seeping into crevasses. Black ink drips from his talons, as if his scales are melting off, and he takes a deep breath.
Inside his mind, a million timelines ripple. Some fade from existence, others become brighter. Dropping the inkwell was like skipping a stone over a lake of possibilities- with each ripple comes a new future, a new timeline for him to worry about and scribble down.
It’s incredible how one small action can change the future so drastically, Starflight thinks to himself, not for the first time, as he bends to retrieve the inkwell. He braces himself against the table, his wings helping him balance on the way down.
He straightens again, placing the inkwell gently next to his scroll, I didn’t ruin this scroll, at least. If I did I’d have to start over.
Well. He might have to start over anyway, considering what he’s just done to the timelines. He flicks as much ink as he can off his talons and leans over to begin writing again.
The oldest RainWing will die in a week by starving to death. The littlest one will need a band for her snout- her venom control has gotten better. Deathbringer will be back in three days-
Pain shoots through his head- he brings one talon up to press against his forehead. Ink drips down his arm.
Someone with extremely annoyed thoughts is coming up the tunnel- it must be Morrowseer, he’s always upset about something- and there’s Mastermind, talking animatedly about research, plans, and-
“-for him to go to the rainforest, next time. He hasn’t gone back since he hatched- I think some sunlight and fruit would be good for him.”
Starflight looks up as they enter the room. They’re talking about him.
Morrowseer says nothing as Mastermind continues to ramble. Starflight draws his wings in closer and tries to drown Morrowseer’s thoughts with the lake in his head. It doesn’t work very well.
"Dragonet,” Morrowseer says suddenly, making Starflight flinch even though he’s been looking straight at Morrowseer for an entire minute, “What do you know about the prophecy?”
“Prophecy?” Starflight repeats, scrambling to think of what prophecy Morrowseer could possibly- oh. “About the end of the war?”
Morrowseer keeps his face neutral. The annoyed thoughts lessen just a bit at that. He nods.
“Well, it ah-” he tries to remember. The false prophecy never seemed important enough to remember, considering the very real, (and very possible), futures parading around in his head. Luckily for him, Mastermind has it at the forefront of his mind, probably not on purpose, “It’s going to come to pass soon, isn’t it?”
Morrowseer’s thoughts twist towards annoyed again. Whoops.
“Two years,” Mastermind corrects.
Starflight twists his talons together.
“Five dragonets born on the brightest night,” he tries again, “A MudWing, a SeaWing, a SkyWing, a SandWing and a NightWing. They’re going to pick a queen and bring an end to the war, twenty years after it began, which is two years from now.”
Never mind that he’s the only NightWing dragonet hatched on the brightest night and definitely not cut out for some big, heroic destiny, but clearly Morrowseer doesn’t care about that because-
"We’ve found some dragonets fit for the prophecy,” Morrowseer says, “And it’s your job to keep an eye on them.”
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