//------------------------------// // The Scale // Story: Flight // by wkblack //------------------------------// Canary lay on a leafy bed, counting the stalactites above her. Her cell in Korporis had 647 stalactites if you counted ones smaller than her hoof; 628 otherwise. The cave they were in now had thousands, she reckoned—its roof stretched five times the height of her cell in Korporis and near the same in width. Counting stalactites soothed her mind. It was more spacious than Korporis, and her ability to pace helped her to stave off the rising panic. A changeling shifted next to her, then resumed its buzzing sleep. The few surviving changelings piled around her to sleep, nestling her in a cluster of hums. After leaving the deer, they made their way for the Ravine and headed south along its ridge. In the last three days, they'd run into two squadrons of Cloud guards, and had nearly barged into a Storm camp—they'd barely managed to survive. Canary had tried to follow the ideas that came to her, but they still felt random. With this many close encounters, Canary doubted whether the thoughts could truly be anything but random. Still, the Heartwind had saved her from Korporis and had led her to the trio. That counted for something. They'd walked along the cliff wall of the Ravine until the last sunlight faded. Just as she had wondered whether to go down to the river below or above to the ridge above, a cave appeared around their final corner. Canary counted that more to sheer luck than to some mystical force, controlling her movements. A rumble resonated through the cave, and Canary smiled. Mornings in the hive were often like this, with every changeling waking at once. A second rumble shook droplets of water to the ground. As one drop hit her nose, a frown grew across her face. There was no sound of rain, or even a single drop; the cave had gone silent. She lifted her head to search for the source of the noise. Something obstructed the entrance, snuffing out the starlight. The cave was pitch black. “Why,” a deep voice rumbled, filling the cave from every direction, “are you here?” Each word was deliberate, as if it took gargantuan effort to say even one. Canary jumped to her hooves, hair standing on end, heart racing. Her mind cycled through dozens of texts, searching for sentient cave-dwelling creatures. The creatures that came to mind were increasingly undesirable. Echo leaned into her, and she felt the arctic wind of fear coming over them. “Until you woke us? To sleep.” “But we'll be on our way now!” Echo added hastily. A flame blossomed over their heads, setting crystals in the ceiling aglow like dying embers. In their orange glow, they saw a massive copper dragon coiled near the entrance, pinning their escape. Echo pulled Canary back with the huddled changelings and pegasi, deeper into the cave. The dragon sprung out in the blink of an eye and coiled around the group, it's body taller than a house. “Why,”the dragon asked, voice equally omnipresent, “should I let you?” His mouth didn't move as he spoke, yet the earth shook from his voice. Though his voice sounded relaxed, muscles across his body tensed, allowing him to strike at any moment. The dragon bore his teeth, twice the length of battleclaws. Canary inhaled to taunt the dragon, but Echo yanked her back. Waves of terror emanated off her companions, spreading an icy blue between their shells. Seeing the drastic color change, she realized she would have been scared as well, but the changelings had drained every drop of fear from her. As much as she wanted to swear at the dragon, she bit her tongue. “I haven't eaten in weeks,” the dragon continued. Its body and tail curled closer around the group, forcing them into a tighter and tighter circle. “I could destroy you all; I have slain heroes, flattened villages, and destroyed kingdoms.” The dragon watched with ice-blue eyes as the group quivered before him. Canary leapt in front of the group and yelled out, “And we will destroy you!” A rumble filled the cave, halfway between a hmm and a chuckle. The dragon stopped spiraling in and turned to face Canary. “But to what end?” Its voice had lost all its harshness and half its power. “Heroes rise, fall, and are forgotten. So too with nations. Your dewdrop lives are little more than a blink to nature. Why do you carry on?” “To fight evil like you!” The dragon snorted. “Evil?” It continued spiraling. “Is the sun evil for boiling a lake?” The dragon's movement was slower and not constricting; less like a predator and more like a dog circling its bed. “No, you aren't questing heroes. Why carry on? If all die, then why procrastinate the inevitable?” Canary thought she heard a hint of earnest in his voice, but his voice was perfectly even. Why did she carry on? Was it merely fear? Love? Hope? Or was her body moving on its own? It certainly felt like that at times. Again the dragon asked, “Why carry on? You—will—die.” Echo, spoke up, voice shaking more than his legs. “All the more reason to live!” The dragon hummed and uncoiled, retreating back into to the cave's shadows. “Stay the night. I'll eat anything the sun licks in my cave.” The dragon pulled its wing over itself to sleep. Canary snorted. “What do you live for, rotting here in this cave‽” An eye glared out from the darkness for a moment before shutting again. Canary glared back at the dragon and huffed, turning back to the terrified group of pegasi and changelings. “Flitix? Keep first watch. Swap with Cirrus for middle watch. Cirrus? Swap with me for morning watch. We'll stay the night.” « ~ » Sunlight streamed into the cave, striking the wall but not the floor. Canary smiled—the cave faced north—the sun couldn't strike her sleeping friends. “So you weren't planning on eating us after all…” Canary hmmed. “Why try to scare us them, scaly?” She couldn't pin it down, but something in her urged her to stay. A yawn and footsteps behind her alerted her to her husband's arrival. “Morning.” “You're up early.” Echo nuzzled up into Canary. “How could I let you enjoy the sunrise on your own?” “You do every other morning.” Echo inspected Canary. “You're doing a great job, Canary!” Canary rolled her eyes. She still wasn't used to the bug reading her emotions so clearly. “No I'm not. I still can't tell if it's the Heartwind or just me. I feel my heart tugging me back to the cave, but I know we have to move on. Maybe I'm just exhausted. But I just can't shake the thought from my head.” “Then maybe it is the Heartwind!” “I don't know! Aether made it seem so easy to distinguish, as if she heard it whispering right in her ear. For me, it feels like a whisper a mile away.” “But I don't think you'd be telling yourself to stay, given the situation.” Echo gestured back into the cave. The changelings were buzzing in their giant sleep pile with the pegasi nearby. Further back in the cave, the golden dragon's chest gently pulsed with its breath. Canary sighed. “I wish you'd just tell me I'm hallucinating; I'm not made for this. They treat me like a leader, but… I have no idea what I'm doing. They follow me as if they think I have everything together, but I'm just as clueless as they are! I'm just a mare—nothing special.” “I'm sure all leaders have thought the same.” “But most leaders are something special, like Vitus, or Libra, or Aether. They were all so calm, so collected… The scariest part of being a leader is realizing that I have no control over anything—that I'm just as impotent and clueless as everyone else.” “But you love us.” Canary met Echo's eyes. Even if her empathy ran cold, the love in his expression was overpowering. Her mouth hung open, the protest dead before it had even reached her throat. “That's all that matters, Canary.” Echo nuzzled into her, pushing his head against her neck. Canary let herself relax into Echo's carapace, enjoying the touch of his smooth, warm shell. Echo met Canary's eyes. “Now if you feel we should go back to the cave, let's go back to the cave. If it's what you feel is right, I'll stay there until I rot, or until the dragon eats me. “ It was difficult to frown when Echo smiled like he was now. “You trust my instincts more than I do.” She nodded. “Fine. Thanks, Echo.” Behind her, the changelings and pegasi were just starting to rise, stretching out the knots that form from sleeping on rock. Canary walked back to the cave's entrance. “We'll be staying here for a while, everyone. Make yourselves comfortable. Maybe we can find something softer to sleep on. We'll need some food that will last, in case the Storm starts scouting nearby.” As the pegasi and changelings dispersed, Canary grew impatient at the sleeping dragon. How could it have such an apathetic view of life? “Do you ever wake up, or do you just wallow here your entire life, hoping that food will walk into your mouth?” The dragon's voice filled Canary's mind. “You did exactly that, with your little group here—enough food to last me almost a month.” The hairs on the back of Canary's neck stood on end, but her annoyance persisted. “You've barely even moved since we got here—you wouldn't eat us unless we cooked ourselves and sat on a giant platter.” Canary stomped her hoof. “But you have wings! You should be flying! Why won't you rise? Why won't you fly‽” “Why don't you fly away? Go pester some other miserable creature!” Canary stared down at her hooves. “I can't.” She lifted her mangled wings as best she could. The dragon lifted his head to inspect, eyes widening. “I see. That is… regrettable.” “Yeah, well… I lost my ability to fly ages ago. The least you could do is be grateful for what you have.” The dragon lowered his head to Canary's level—it was nearly twice her size. “What's your name, pegasus?” “Canary. Canary Tiger.” “I am Eon. Young Canary, there is more to flight than flying.” Canary snorted. “Flight, in its purest sense, is about being at one with the land of Avondale.” “Yeah, I've heard it all before, from Aether. 'Listen to the Heartwind! It will guide you!'” “Heartwind? A fitting name. Though it gives more than power and direction—it can inspire images, impressions, or even form sentences in your mind.” “Yeah, well, I thought Aether was on to something, but now she's completely insane. Look at what 'listening to Avondale' did for her! Unless,” she continued, “Avondale wanted her to become a psychopathic killer.” Canary sighed. “I don't know what to believe any more.” Eon straightened up his posture and crossed his forelegs. “While she may have heard Avondale's call before, she has long since forgotten its voice. Avondale inspires happiness, growth, freedom, and truth.” “Yeah, Aether once said the same. Her pursuit of 'freedom and truth' is what landed us in this mess. She destroyed the changeling hive!” Eon held silent for a moment. “Extremes are never balanced. If you assume that every thought is from the Heartwind, you fall away from the truth. Though the Heartwind will always blow when needed, we can't expect its guidance in all things. If you try to force an answer from it, you'll feel after things that don't exist. That's like flapping your wings without wind—you'll exhaust yourself. “But you don't have that problem, Canary. Trust that more of your thoughts and emotions are truly inspired—they're not just random. Sometimes, they are your own, or sometimes they come from others, but ignoring them all is not the solution.” Canary sighed. “It feels like random guessing. It feels ridiculous.” “You know it isn't—you've felt its push before.” “No. Those ideas don't come from anywhere; they're random ideas from my head.” Eon snorted and curled back into his sleeping position. “Then that's all they'll ever be to you.” “Hey, you can't just—” “Canary!” She looked behind her, towards the cave's mouth, and saw five drones displaying several buckets' worth of blueberries, carried in their wings. “Look what we found!” Canary lifted a hoof to cover her face. “Did we do something wrong?” Eon's voice responded. “They'll rot before you eat half of them.” The changelings jumped, sending a few dozen blueberries running across the cave's floor. “He's awake!” Canary gave a wry smile. “I don't think he'll eat us today.” “Don't try me.” « ~ » Canary soared through the skies, relishing the wind in her wings. The breeze was cool, and slipped by her feathers like a river running over rocks. She beamed; it had been too long! Why had it been so long? Eon flew down from the clouds and hovered next to her. “If you think the wind is random, then that's all it will ever be to you.” The wind grew fierce, and the dragon returned to the clouds above. Memories of Korporis assaulted her mind, and Canary gasped at a sharp pain in her back. She looked back in terror and saw her feathered wings torn in half, bones protruding, blood streaming down her side. Her eyes widened and heart rate galloped. The ground rushed towards her, opened its mouth, and swallowed her whole. Canary gasped, suddenly upright, a cold sweat dampening her body. After some deep breaths, her heart calmed itself, and her thoughts fell in order. She glared at the sleeping dragon, who had ruined her dream. Her mind felt as echoic as the cave itself—Eon's prophecy kept repeating in her mind: “Then that's all they'll ever be to you.” Thoughts aren't trustworthy, and emotions doubly so. She couldn't quite convince herself that the thoughts that guided her through Korporis were purely from her self, yet she couldn't let herself believe that the thoughts coming to her now were from Avondale. If they were supposed to head for the Feathermore hive, then why did she feel they should stay? Each second they waited was another second the Storm had to find them. As the thoughts grew into a growl, Canary walked up to the unmoving dragon. “And I suppose the Heartwind is telling you to sleep? Lazy lizard.” She scoffed, and kicked the dragon's side. Before she could blink, she found herself in Eon's claws, staring down at the Ravine's river, coursing below her in the dark. For a terrifying set of heartbeats, Canary wondered if Eon would drop her, but they landed on the other side before she formulated an escape plan. Eon teetered at the Ravine's edge, gripping Canary in his foreclaws, and gave a whooping cough. Blood trickled from his mouth and spilled down the Ravine. “I may be old,” the ancient voice said, “but I am not so feeble so as to accept abuse willingly.” “Sorry~” Canary squeaked out, struggling to inflate her lungs. Eon placed her on the cliff's edge next to himself. Behind them, a golden rim prophesied the rising sun; ahead of them, the sky still shone with stars. “You're young. You have much potential.” He spoke slowly, as if discovering his words as he spoke. Eon nodded. “You will have a chance to change this world.” “And how do you know that?” “How do you think?” Canary rolled her eyes. “Obviously, you don't.” Eon looked down at Canary for a moment. “How can you know if anything is true?” “Tell me, O sage one.” “Think about it. How do you know I'm sitting right here, next to you?” Canary rose an eyebrow. “I can see you, for one thing.” “Your mind can deceive you—perhaps you're hallucinating.” “Others can see you too!” “Yes, but how reliable are they? How do you know that they aren't hallucinations as well?” Canary shook her head. “Fine. I don't know anything! You got me!” The dragon's voice grew soft. “You know that you love Echo.” Canary was silent. “You know that you love flying.” “So what—only trust your heart? Never trust your body? Become a creature of pure thought?” “Of course not; you couldn't know those things without a body! Your body gave you the opportunity to learn those things for yourself.” Eon bore his teeth in a razorblade grin. “You don't know anything in life until you feel it. So how can you know something? By how you feel about it.” “Emotions are fallible. You can get caught up in a moment. Your eyes are far more trustworthy than your heart.” “Your senses are equally fallible. Ultimately, you have to decide what you trust to be true, and act on it.” “What's your point, scales?” Eon snorted out a micro cloud of smog. “My point, feathers, is that there's no reason you can't trust your emotions as a potential source of truth. In fact, they're a better source of truth than your other senses. So trust them! You're so worried about whether it's Avondale or yourself that you forget that both are valid sources of truth. Trust yourself and move on.” Canary kept her eyes glued down and kicked a rock off the edge of the cliff, watching its tumbling descent down the cliff. “But—” “Think before you speak, pegasus. You have no rebuttal. You little fliers spend so much of your time listening for the wind, trusting it will come. This is the core of apotheosis: to hear Avondale's will and obey.” Shifting her vision upwards, Canary counted the stars appearing. “I once believed in the Heartwind. But ever since Korporis, it's been difficult for me to believe. It's as if a part of my soul is still in chains there, deep in the dark.” Eon pointed his nose towards the stars above. They were just winking out of existence, now that the sun was threatening to rise. “Tell me, pegasus. Are there stars in the sky? Do you know?” “Of course, Eon.” “Did you know yesterday, when the sun was at its apex?” “Of course.” “But you couldn't see them. Perhaps you were fooling yourself, over-valuing your past memories.” Canary pointed upwards, at the last remaining pinpricks of light. “Obviously, there are stars.” “But in a moment, they will all be invisible, upstaged by the sun. How will you know then? Perhaps, you're deceiving yourself; You just want to believe, so you trick yourself into believing.” Right on cue, the sun cracked over the horizon, vanishing the nighttime stars. “I saw them before; I saw them every night for years. Of course they're still there!” Eon nodded. “Because you once knew with surety, you can still know with surety today. The Heartwind once guided you; it will guide you again, as it has been. Even if you can't feel of a surety today, you can cast your mind back to those moments when you were sure. If you truly knew, then it's still true. Truth is eternal, so time is irrelevant.” Canary looked at the golden dragon. He was staring intently at the far side of the ravine. In direct sunlight, his scales reflected patterns of light on the ground all around him. The golden diamonds hinted at other colors, though Canary couldn't quite distinguish them from the yellow light. It felt to her as if a weight had lifted from her chest, like taking off a pack you'd forgotten was on your back. She mirrored his searching gaze, scanning the opposite cliff. “What are you looking for?” Eon let out a long breath. “I've been looking for a reason to stay alive, to keep going day to day.” The corner of his lip curled upwards as he shifted his attention towards Canary. “And thanks to you, I've finally found one.” A shimmer of light over the forest caught Canary's attention—a cloud of wings hurtled their way, gleaming with metal.