The dragon draped in shadow stormed into his cavernous chambers, slamming the door behind him. Outside, his school was in uproar, dragonets still jittered and worried over the animus battle in the Sparring Caves. He took care of it though. Both animi lay unconscious in the infirmary; damaged, but alive. Although, Eclipse may not fly again, and Startide's neck was gashed up pretty deeply in some areas.

Widowmaker sighed, unclasping the cloak around his neck. He pulled the hood off from over his eyes, and hung up his garment on its hook.

The NightWing flapped silently up to the ceiling, and grasped a bolt of cloth on the ceiling. He rolled it back, revealing a skylight that depicted the setting sun outside over the Sea Kingdom. Widow settled on his perch near the ceiling, a thin rod he could sit on and read his longest scrolls by the light of the sky outside. He knew it wasn't an actual window to the world beyond. It was an enchanted work of his own design. Widow's milky white eyes stared longingly at the skylight, tracing his claws against the warm stone that depicted the fluffy sunset clouds in the world outside. It had been years since his feet stepped outside the academy's walls. Part of Widow's curse, he presumed, he would disappear if he left the place he spent his whole heart and soul creating. The same place he made for his hybrids. His precious treasures.

Widow's ears sprung. He remembered his most favorite treasure. As silently as he'd flown up, the NightWing glided down to the floor, to his nest of silken, expensive pillows. Above the place he slept each night hung a canopy of black silk and lace, creating curtains that surrounded the whole bed. Widowmaker swept them back with his wing, and stepped inside to the warmth he had left behind. Lids above his white eyes drooped heavily. He flicked a pillow out of his way, and felt the sack of hot rocks he kept here to keep the nest warm. They were still quite hot.

As Widow treaded lightly over his bed, a moving pillow caught his eye. He lifted it, and revealed his favorite treasure. Widow lifted the gold egg to his chest, tracing the swirling cloud patterns on its shell with his claw. The egg was plenty warm, under perfect conditions. Oh, how proud his grandmother would be of him!

"Hello there, little prince." He cooed to the egg. Amber eyes shone through translucent shell, and twinkled at him. The little dragonet inside made a few barely audible chirrups at Widowmaker, then grew tired and closed his eyes again. Widow smiled.

Soon, this dragon would hatch, and a few moons later, would be fully grown. The legends of the LightWing tribe, a forgotten tribe of Pyrrhia from long ago, were cryptic; but Widow knew this little prince's job would be to save the continent his tribe once created. This egg was a family heirloom, passed from Widowmaker's ancestors to him, the generation in which Prism, king of the LightWings, would finally hatch.

If Widow was to raise the savior of Pyrrhia, he had to know how the cards would play out. He had to know how to plan every step, to ensure the future of his, and every other dragon's home.

"Radiance!" he bellowed, without turning his eyes to the door. A moment later, the heavy door to his chambers creaked open.

"Yes, headmaster?" Radiance asked, barely poking her snout in the cave. She knew Widowmaker much preferred to keep his home as private as possible.

"Fetch me my seer." he ordered, politely. Widow stressed his gentleness to his staff and pupils.

"Right away." Radiance disappeared before Widow could tell her to fetch him his seer without all the added junk he usually brought along. Twilight really was a wreck, afraid of disappointing Widow. Maybe because Widow is the headmaster? Or his father? It didn't matter. The point was that the last time Twilight was in here, he had thoroughly stained Widowmaker's favorite white satin pillow with goopy blue ink.

Widow placed prince Prism back into his comfortable crater in the pillow nest, and covered up his egg with warm blankets and pillows. He stopped only when the egg's golden glow was completely hidden.

With a flick of the NigthWing's tail, the skylight was closed off, plummeting the room into darkness. Widow swept his wing, and candles flickered to life , illuminating only the long, smooth stone table in the center of his cave. The black cloak floated over from its hook, draping over his shoulders and his milky eyes. No one, not even his son, was to see the curse in Widow's eyes, and what future evil may reside there.

As Widowmaker settled onto the cushions at his end of the table, he heard the familiar three mousy taps on wooden doors. Twilight's knock.

"Come in." Widow said.

He immediately regretted not flagging Radiance down to give her the extra message. Twilight came stumbling into the cavern, walking around on two legs, his arms full of scrolls, inkpots, and books of all shapes and sizes.

"Drop the junk, Twilight." Widow sighed.

"Yes sir!" Twilight struggled to say. The clatter of scrolls and stone inkpots on the floor disrupted the eerie silence Widowmaker had created. The NightWing, covered his face with his wing, to hide his look of disdain.

"Do you know why I called you here?" Widow asked his son, unrolling a long, heavy scroll down the length of the table, as Twilight settled on a cushion opposite him.

"You need my gift?" Twilight guessed, picking up some of the linen scroll in his talons.

Widow sat in his own cushion. "Correct, Twilight. I need all of the information you can see in the next twelve moons, write it on this scroll for me. I'll need it as soon as possible."

"You got it, sir! One prophecy coming right u-"

"No, no, no." Widow interrupted, scowling. "Honestly, who is your teacher? What have i told you about your interpretations?"

"Tell it like it is..." Twilight hung his head. "Though, Superior is a good teacher. He's taught me how to see not just in my sleep anymore. I've gotten much at remembering things, too!"

"Superior..." Widowmaker spat out the word. "A haughty name. I'll speak with him later today if I can. In the meantime. Take this scroll, quill and ink, and get to work." He handed Twilight an eagle's quill and bottle of black ink as the Rain-NightWing began rolling up the scroll.

"But sir, what about..."

"I'll have your things sent to the library. For now, do as you're told." Widow stopped him.

Twilight turned away, the new belongings clenched in his talons.

"Twilight..." Widow called. His son turned around. "Make me proud." The NightWing smiled, wide enough for Twilight to see. His dragonet's eyes lit up like the stars, and a grin spread widely over his face.

"Can do, sir!" Twilight shouted happily. With a flap of grey-green wings, he had zipped out of the caverns.

Widow opened up the skylight again, and sent Twilight's things away with another dragon.

He'll make me proud. Widow thought. He always does. I know I can be a bit harsh, but it's all for him. I need a disciplined son to take charge of this academy someday, and Twilight, besides Prism, is the only dragon I've got left. It pains me that his mother isn't here to help in his upbringing. I won't admit to it easily, but I miss you, Amazon. My RainWing Warrior.

Widow paced about his cavern, tidying scrolls or painting on the walls. The rainforest mural made him think of life long ago, and it made him feel just a little better.

Hours later, Widow lay peacefully in his nest of cushions and furs. A messenger, the blind, pale Sky-IceWing hybrid known as Hellfire, entered shortly to tell Widowmaker that one of the two animi had regained consciousness. It looked as though, while he was indeed alive, Eclipse would have to spend many moons retraining his wing to fly properly again. At least he would be able to fly, in the least.

"Now, Startide. All we need is you to get up." Widow whispered to himself. He reached his talons instinctively for Prism's egg. His claws groped in the egg's spot, feeling the hot rock-sacks.

But no egg was there.

Widow jumped to his feet, and tore up the entire nest in a frantic fit.

The Prince of the LightWings.

The Savior of Pyyrhia.

Prism was gone.