"You must have been very scared." Magtha held Ciara's gaze, smiling at the young proxy.

The pair were together outside, near to the edge of the field leading toward the Hilltop camp and the further rainbow valley. Ciara stared, overlooking the late afternoon view of the range—sun cresting the sky.

She tried to clear the fog in her head and lift herself up. "What happened?" How did I get here? She still felt very much transformed by Skye's voice. I hope this wide swimming feeling goes away soon!

Magtha spoke her praise. "You are so brave to have taken this role as the dragon's own voice! I, myself, have seen images of huge wingspans, long necks and tails. —Their power is fearsome. You are so young. How did this dragon become your trainer, my girl?"

Ciara tried to recall her previous bearings. She remembered the chamber, the awful feeling— She had been swallowed by nothingness. The floor, its marble, hard, cold, felt even worse. It made her sick when she'd hit it. And now she was here. But why with this woman?

She struggled to answer. "I'm not sure I did any choosing. His voice spoke to me. Skye's words got my attention—he needed attention. And when I learned what he was wanting, I felt suddenly I found a purpose here—and a friend. So, I agreed to be Skye's proxy."

Magtha smiled again, as if she too had at last found a kindred spirit in one so young and so brave. "What have you learned of him?" she asked, enraptured.

Ciara looked off to the distance for rainbows and listened. Will I faint again? Her ears still rang. She began to speak from the same place within her—a still, white, inner place, where her own words were reassuring—more knowing than thinking. And she spoke what she'd learned from the tree and from Alphonse and from her time with Skye now to Magtha.

"The Grand Council Dracon will not wait. Here, Mearth will soon be their future—to meet with the Ancients—and in another sense, it is their or our past, if you see? Time is short, as Skye says—sometimes. But what time is—goes round and round in more circles. Some things exist—others do not."

Magtha started. "So hard to comprehend—"

"Yes. When dragon protection is again needed to save the planet—Skye is telling us they will be here. But Skye and his friends see deeper things. They believe there might be a chance—if we can figure that out. They want us to listen, to work together with them, but there is great risk to Skye and those friends. Their Council does not know what they are doing—that they help us this way."

"Why is it now they've chosen to help us?" whispered Magtha, almost unsure if she should interrupt. "Do you know what's gone on in the past?"

She shook her head. "Some of Skye's friends want to solve the problem by travelling through time—with those who have gifts. That's why he's here."

Magtha's eyes widened, but Ciara kept going.

"Skye's group hopes future humans can somehow bring wisdom from these now happier times back to the past—before such occasion where there was ever a need for protection and where there might—with their help—be no need to struggle again. Do you see—?"

"We need to assist him!" Magtha exclaimed in a soft realization.

"If they feel they must protect Mearth while Skye is still here, he too might disappear, like we all will. They don't know that he is."

"Why haven't the dragons talked to the people in past times?"

"The people can't hear them. The dragons—where they call themselves 'squamata' live deep under the sea. And the people on Earth didn't have magic to hear with back then."

"So the Sky-friends want to reach them from here?"

Ciara breathed the stillness, tired and ignoring sweaty strands of hair that still clung to her forehead, unnoticed. "The Magi are Skye's best hope for a meeting of minds—and solutions."

Ciara's voice became more distant and she struggled to reach for last words. "Squamata must cleanse to save life that beats—in the Heart of Our Worlds."

Then Ciara's sounds took on the tone of instruction. Skye!  

"You must reach them or else the kin Clans of Dracon must initiate Cleansing for their sakes and their futures. They must save their Heart of the World. We in Mearth will not have our chance."

Magtha had a round object in hand. "I see dangers," she nodded. And the crow cawed in a thicket close by.

Ciara stopped feeling the words flow from her calm white space inside her. She blinked.

Magtha looked awestruck. "Yes!" She spoke far too loudly, "Sorry." she covered her mouth, looking embarrassed. Where are my manners? I am called Magtha."

"You have a white crow."

"Why, yes! How did you know that?"

"He found me."

Magtha smiled. "I have been waiting for this moment most of my life. Some call me 'dragonsworn'. Others are not so kind!"

They both could hear swooshing of boots through the grass. Alphonse approached from the rear of the Spire.

He did not try to hide his face now like he did in the Chamber. Ciara looked up as he neared. "Why were you upset?" she asked him, understanding he knew just what she meant.

"Torgney of Trebekk—he is—Aspher's great grandfather. Your Skye-voice—he is here from the far distant past!"

"And from the future, I think—I don't know how that works." Ciara slumped back, still pale, but she saw what he meant. "How did you know they are related?" she asked Alphonse, surprised.

Magtha watched them confused with their exchange, so Ciara explained, "Aspher's a dragon—I call him Whitestuff. He—went to my world, through the flux in our tree. My tree exists between worlds."

"Of course he would do that!" agreed Alphonse. "He just wanted to learn, like we all did. —And I made him hide." Alphonse's face was a mixture of joy and regret.

"The Dragonfly School!" Magtha clasped her hands together in glee. "He used the dragonfly web! How did you find it—the web and the tree?"

But Ciara grabbed Alphonse's ankle in glee. "That means you're his great-er grand-son!" She wanted to hug him.

"I brought Aspher up here, when Eesha had to—go. She's the long lost Bashan of Trebekk, and Torgney is Eesha's father's father in the line of Trebekk—almost my great-grandfather too, in a way. I was raised in the far distant mountains by Eesha, alone and my grandmother too."

"Your scars! You were raised by a dragon. I should have seen it." Magtha clapped one side of her crystal.

"Yes. She wished to place her honour above all other things, when she saved me."

"You're more than 'sworn', then—you're blessed by one. You're dragon-born—Utherling blood! There are three dragons?" Magtha exclaimed.

"Only two," Alphonse said sadly. "Eesha had to—leave—"

"Let me find us a meal and a quiet spot to wait for the sunset. It is the moment my dreams have been made of! The Dragonfly Web is the way to their school. It's where all dragon skills become learned in primordial time. I want to hear more." Magtha practically danced, as she got up from her knees. "It's always been hidden! And it was right here? Tecofferus! Keep an eye on Ciara!" she said to the crow. "Help her to follow. We still have to talk. We need the other two members, Alphonse. We're all dragonsworn. We need to find TJ and see what Torgney is going to do."

"Caw!"

≈≈≈/