[GD] Requiem, Leafy, Inna & Bismuth

Strength Trial

They were a strange collection, one definitely stranger than the others, and that was saying something when every last one of them was a dragon in some shape or another. Some had gills, some had fins, some had wings like storms and tails like spilled ink. One had too many skulls for comfort and could not breathe beneath the water at all, which was unfortunate considering most of the others had chosen the sea as their meeting place. Still, accommodations had been made. A half-flooded cavern opened to the ocean on one side and  warm, mineral-rich stone on the other, deep pools lapping at black sand while steam curled up from cracks in the earth. Perfect for water breathers, perfect for land breathers, and absolutely perfect for Requiem, who loved hot springs almost as much as he loved food.

He had arrived first, of course, because nosy creatures often did. The hammerhead dragon waved through the water with cheerful ease, long body cutting lazy loops beneath the surface before he hauled himself onto a shelf of stone. His eyes, wide and pale and positioned in that strange way of his, appeared to be staring at everything and nothing all at once. It gave him the look of a creature eternally delighted by secrets he had not yet found but was absolutely going to stick his nose into.

Across the cavern, Freya waited.

She was twice his size at least, black, red and orange, all spikes and power and heat, the sort of wyvern that made the air around her feel like it had reconsidered being cool. She looked happy enough, friendly even, but there was a very clear difference between friendly and harmless. Freya was a good girl, yes. She was also the sort of good girl who would probably remove someone’s head if her rider asked. Requiem blinked at her. Or perhaps at the wall beside her? It was hard to tell.

Freya tilted her head.

He grinned, all teeth and charm, then reached beneath the water with one hooked claw and dragged up the prize he had been guarding since morning. A fat silver fish, untouched, shining like a proper offering. He nudged it toward her with his snout, then very carefully backed away from it, which was impressive considering every muscle in his body clearly wanted to snatch it back.

Freya’s eyes narrowed with amusement.

Requiem’s tail twitched.

This was a trial, after all. He had to impress her to prove himself worthy. Flirting was an option, but flirting while hungry was a delicate art and one he had not entirely mastered. So, after a moment of heroic restraint, he lifted his head, inhaled, and sent a ribbon of fire skimming across the surface of the water. It did not hiss out. It danced. Bright orange and gold curled around the fish without burning it, then sank into the pool and bloomed beneath the surface like underwater lanterns.

Freya stepped closer.

Requiem looked very proud of himself, until one of the fire-lights bobbed close to his nose and he sneezed steam. Freya laughed. It was a rumbling, dangerous sound, but a laugh all the same. She lowered her head and accepted the fish. Requiem tried not to look devastated. He mostly succeeded.

Mostly.

Elsewhere in the flooded cavern, in a darker passage where the sea became colder and deeper, Leafy had found something much bigger than himself. Which technically wasn’t difficult. Leafy was tiny. Tiny enough to slip through coral branches, tiny enough to hide in strange places, tiny enough to discover shiny things larger dragons would never know existed. But Apparition was not merely larger. Apparition was colossal. They moved through the deep as if the ocean had decided to grow a spine, a long black shape marked with yellow stripes and drifting star-bright specks. Their body curved through the water slowly, endlessly, vanishing into shadows before returning again, like a thought too large to hold.

Leafy should have been afraid.

He was not.

He hovered before Apparition’s immense face, fins fluttering, little body bobbing in the current. He gave a bright, delighted wiggle. Apparition answered with a low sound that traveled through the water more than the ears. It trembled through stone and bone, through Leafy’s little chest, through the plants clinging to the cavern walls. Leafy clicked softly and spun once in place, very proudly showing the frilly leaves and pale markings along his body.

Apparition’s head tilted. Slow. Curious.

That was encouragement enough. Leafy darted away, then returned with a pebble clutched in his mouth. It was very small, smooth and blue-gray, polished by years of currents. He dropped it on Apparition’s snout. The pebble, compared to them, was nothing. A speck. A joke. Leafy beamed as though he had presented the moon.

Apparition remained still.

Then one massive fin shifted, pushing a gentle current through the water. The current lifted Leafy, spun him in a slow circle, and carried the pebble back up into the air between them. It drifted there, turning slowly, while Apparition made three soft notes, rising and falling like whale song.

Leafy’s fins flushed with color. He chittered, wriggled, and made what could only be called an attempt at looking charming. It was difficult to say if Apparition understood flirting in the usual sense. They did not speak in words, after all. They spoke in motions, in sounds, in the careful closing of distance.

But when Apparition lowered his enormous head and allowed Leafy to perch upon it, Leafy decided that counted as success.

In the brighter shallows, where sunlight filtered down in pale beams from cracks overhead, Inna moved with his usual serene menace. He looked like a peaceful thing if one was foolish enough not to notice the horn. Long-bodied, whale-like, pale and dark and ghostly, he drifted through the water with the grace of a creature who knew exactly how unsettling he was and enjoyed pretending otherwise. He was not naturally aggressive. He was careful, especially with the horn. But that had not stopped him from gliding beneath fishing boats at dawn just to watch men scream.

Today, however, he had kinder mischief in mind.

Bhramari waited near a curtain of kelp, all bright wings and delicate limbs. She was medium in size, though compared to Inna she looked light as pollen. Her colors flashed against the green water, bug-bright and beautiful, and she watched him with wide, gentle eyes. Now and then she made little chirring sounds, wings twitching, antennae curving toward him.

Inna lowered his head politely and Bhramari clicked twice.

He should have said something smooth. Something dignified. Something that suited his calm and mysterious appearance. Instead, because his mischievous streak was a mile wide and merely hidden under a layer of elegance, he used his ocean magic. The water around them began to shimmer. Sand lifted from the seafloor in a spiral, but instead of clouding the water it formed shapes. Tiny fish. Tiny flowers. Tiny beetles with fluttering wings. They swam around Bhramari in a playful ring, made entirely of current and pearl-bright bubbles. She chirped in surprise, lifting her front limbs as one bubble-insect landed on her claw and burst into glittering foam.

Inna’s expression remained serene.

The bubble-insects multiplied.

Bhramari’s clicking became rapid and delighted. She shifted, wings buzzing, trying to catch them before they popped. Inna sent a curling ribbon of current beneath her, lifting her gently so she spun once, surrounded by shining foam and little swimming illusions. Then he shaped one water creature after himself, complete with a very exaggerated horn and a smug little face.

Bhramari stared at it and then at him.

Then she made a sound that was definitely laughter, even if it came out as a string of happy chitters. Inna closed his eyes with great dignity, as if he had intended this all along. The water-Inna bobbed up, struck his real horn, and popped on his face.

Bhramari laughed even harder and he considered that a victory.

The last meeting was the least suited to the water, which was why it happened on the cavern’s dry side, near the place where the stone rose high above the pools. Anomaly could not breathe underwater, and everyone had sensibly decided not to test that fact. He lay coiled upon the black sand, long red and black body marked with stars and bone-pale bird skulls. He was the second biggest among them, though Apparition still made him look small by comparison. Two beaked heads shifted and clacked, the sound strangely like a giant shoebill considering its life choices.

He looked horrifying.

He was, by all reasonable accounts, a very nice boy.

Bismuth stood at the edge of the water, a rainbow of colored scales, watching him with the focused stillness of a dragon who preferred solitude but was here regardless. He was not the most sociable creature. He did not rush forward. He did not chatter. He simply observed, bright wings half-folded, tail curling slowly behind him.

Anomaly clacked one beak.

Bismuth narrowed his eyes.

The other beak clacked.

This, apparently, was conversation.

Bismuth stepped onto the dry stone and lifted one claw and then pressed it down. Earth magic answered him with a low groan. The cavern floor trembled. Cracks split through the rock in careful lines, not violent enough to frighten, only precise enough to reveal what slept beneath. Anomaly leaned forward, all darkness and curiosity, as the stone opened like a stubborn mouth.

Inside glittered hidden treasure.

Gemstones caught the cavern light: green, blue, violet, and clear as frozen water. A small spring bubbled up between them, pure and cold, spilling into a shallow basin. Bismuth flicked his tail as if to say there, I found that, and maybe it is impressive.

Anomaly stared.

One head lowered to inspect the gems. The other clacked softly. Bismuth looked away, pleased despite himself. Then the small animals came.

A cluster of cavern crabs emerged from the cracks, each one carrying a pebble, a shell, or a stolen shiny thing. Behind them came little blind fish flopping determinedly on the spring’s edge, guided by Bismuth’s magic and questionable judgment. One crab approached Anomaly and presented him with a polished red stone.

Anomaly froze.

The crab froze too.

Bismuth held his breath.

Then Anomaly lowered one skull-head and very gently clacked his beak around the stone, not eating the crab, which seemed like a good sign. The crab scuttled backward with the swagger of a hero. Anomaly made a soft, pleased sound. Not quite speech but Bismuth stepped closer regardless.

For a while, all eight dragons remained in their chosen places, water, land, and steam weaving them together. Requiem mourned his fish but basked in Freya’s approving warmth. Leafy perched proudly upon Apparition, flirting with a being large enough to be mistaken for the dark itself. Inna pretended not to be delighted while Bhramari clicked and chased his bubbles. Bismuth watched Anomaly admire gemstones like the awkward protective creature he was.

They were a strange collection, yes.

But perhaps strange was the best way for such meetings to begin.

Flexibility Trial

They were a trial group, one definitely more suited to the terrain than the others, and that was saying something when the terrain had been chosen by someone who apparently disliked warmth, comfort, and everyone involved. The mountains were all snow and sharp blue ice, a frozen stretch of cliffs, ridges, crevasses, and half-buried stone. The wind moved over them in long white sheets, carrying loose powder across the ground until every step looked softer and safer than it truly was. The path ahead had not been traveled before. That was the point. The trial was meant to prove whether Leafy, Bismuth, Requiem, and Inna could guide a companion through unexplored terrain and, perhaps one day, be trusted with breeding rights.

It sounded very noble.

It also sounded much easier when said by someone who was not standing on a glacier.

Ariana, for one, looked as if she had already decided the glacier could keep its secrets.

She trembled at the edge of the pass, blue spotted body tucked low, tail wound around herself like it might hold her together. Her wings were tight to her sides. Her eyes were enormous. Every groan of the ice made her flinch, and every gust of wind made her look ready to apologize to the mountain for existing. Requiem rested beside her or rather, Requiem had his head inside a snowbank.

This was not helping.

The hammerhead dragon’s long body waved cheerfully behind him while he snuffled deeper into the powder. He was a wanderer, an explorer, and a nosy creature by nature, and unexplored terrain was very much the sort of thing he believed should be explored with his entire face. After a moment, he backed out with snow dusting his snout and eyes pointed somewhere in Ariana’s direction. Or perhaps slightly beside her. Or perhaps at something fascinating only he could see.

He grinned and Ariana made a tiny noise.

“Oh,” she whispered. “Oh no.”

Requiem seemed to take this as encouragement. He waved his tail gently and began forward, not too quickly, which was already an improvement over his usual method of travel. He checked every suspicious hollow by nosing at it first. If the snow collapsed, he simply wriggled backward and guided Ariana around it. If it held, he turned and waited until she crept after him.

It was not elegant guidance but It was guidance all the same.

Higher along the ridge, Bismuth had been paired with Jora, and Bismuth was discovering that silence was a treasure too few dragons respected. Jora chittered at everything. He chittered at the snow, at the ice, at the sound of his own feet crunching through crusted powder. He chittered at Bismuth’s wings, at the icicles overhead, and at a rock that looked exactly like every other rock except that Jora seemed to think it had done something interesting. If his chittering counted as talking, then he had not shut up since he’d arrived. If it did not count, then he was still making a heroic effort to be heard.

Bismuth walked behind him with stiff patience.

He was not social. He preferred his own company. He liked watching others from a distance, usually without them noticing, and he especially liked not being assigned responsibility for a playful tentacled dragon who kept trying to nip at things that didn’t need to be nipped at.

Jora paused beside a lump of blue ice and Bismuth’s eyes narrowed.

“No.”

Jora looked back at him. His tentacles curled. He chittered softly.

“No,” Bismuth repeated.

Jora nipped the ice anyway.

The crack that followed shot through the shelf beneath them with a sharp, wicked snap. Bismuth moved before Jora had time to look properly guilty. His paws struck down through the snow, wings flaring wide, and earth magic rolled beneath the ice with a deep, grinding force. Buried stone shifted upward, bracing the ledge before it could split away from the mountain. The cracked shelf settled, still dangerous but no longer falling.

Jora froze.

Bismuth narrowed his eyes at the purple dragon and Jora lowered his ears. Very slowly, Jora released the ice lump from his mouth. Only then did Bismuth step forward, place one wing between Jora and the ledge, and guide him back toward safer ground. He said nothing more. He did not need to. His silence was far worse than scolding. Jora followed closer after that. He still chittered but he didn’t bite anymore ice. 

Far below them, where the mountain pass split around a black ribbon of half-frozen seawater, Inna guided Freya from the only place he could.

The water.

He moved beneath the ice shelf, pale body gliding through dark water while Freya walked along the frozen bank above. Freya was black, orange, and red, covered in sharp jeweled scales that caught the gray daylight like embers. She was happy enough, friendly even. The sort of friendly that still had an edge to it, something in the back of your mind telling you not to trust her too easily.

Inna respected that.

He surfaced through a break in the ice with hardly a splash, horn angled carefully away from the frozen edge. “The left bank,” he said calmly. “Do not step where you can see me clearly beneath the ice.”

Freya looked down.

The frozen surface ahead seemed smooth and harmless but that meant nothing. Not here, in this dangerous landscape. Inna dipped below again. His pale shadow passed under the ice, distorted by the blue glass. Where the ice was thick, his shape vanished into darkness. Where it was thin, he appeared sharply beneath it. Freya understood quickly. The clear sight of Inna meant hollow ice. Hollow ice meant no stepping.

It was not magic. It was knowledge.

Inna knew water. He knew ice. He surfaced through cracks ahead of Freya, gave quiet directions, then sank again to check the channel below. He could not catch her if she fell through easily, and both of them knew it.

So he made certain she did not fall.

At one point, the snowy bank crumbled under Freya’s foreclaw. Loose ice splashed into the black water below. Inna surfaced at once.

“Back,” he said.

Freya backed up.

“Now along the stone edge. Slow.”

She followed his direction, claws scraping rock instead of snow-covered ice. She moved carefully, almost delicately, which would have surprised anyone foolish enough to think a heavy body meant clumsy feet.

Inna watched from the water, serene as ever.

Somehow, even half-submerged in freezing black water, he looked smug.

Leafy had also been assigned a difficult companion, though in his case the difficulty was mostly height, attitude, and feathers. Licore stood on the snowy slope with his purple and black body angled against the wind, feathered wings folded tight against the cold. His six ears flicked in irritation, three on each side of his head, and his feathered crest rose between them like a very dramatic perch. He had no horns, which was fortunate, because Leafy was currently nestled right in that crest like a tiny, smug ornament.

Leafy was tiny and adventurous and very determined to lead despite having no proper way to move across a mountain by himself. So he rode on Licore’s head, curled comfortably into the feathered crest, peering over the wyvern’s brow with the seriousness of a captain guiding a ship through dangerous waters.

Licore hated this.

“My rider said participate,” Licore muttered. “Not become transportation.”

“You make very good transportation,” Leafy said brightly.

One of Licore’s six ears twitched.

“That was not a compliment I wanted.”

“It was still a compliment.”

Licore’s tail lashed through the snow. “Don’t get comfortable.”

“I’m already extremely comfortable.”

Licore looked as if he might throw himself into the nearest crevasse purely out of spite. Leafy leaned forward and pointed one of his many tentacles toward a low ice tunnel beneath a slanted shelf of rock. “That way.”

Licore stopped.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No,” Licore repeated, louder. “Absolutely not. I am not crawling through that.”

Leafy peered down over his forehead. “You’ll fit.”

“I am aware I will fit. That’s not the issue.”

“You’re scared you’ll get stuck.”

Licore’s eyes narrowed.

Leafy sat very tall in his feathered crest, which was not especially tall by anyone else’s standards, but he clearly felt powerful. “It’s okay. I won’t tell anyone.”

“You tiny little weed.” Licore stared at the tunnel. Then at the others far below. Then back toward the tunnel. Licore snorted before he lowered himself with all the wounded dignity of royalty forced to enter through a servant’s door. He squeezed into the ice tunnel, feathered wings tucked tight, claws scraping stone. Leafy rode atop his head, perfectly pleased with himself.

Inside, the tunnel shimmered blue. The ice walls curved around them, glowing faintly where daylight seeped through from above. Leafy could not scout ahead on foot or wing, but from Licore’s crest he could see things from just the right angle. A sag on the ice floor. A safer ridge along one side. A low ceiling that would scrape Licore’s feathered head if he did not duck.

“Lower your head,” Leafy said.

“I see it.”

“You were about to hit it.”

Licore let out a low growl but he did indeed duck. His crest brushed the ceiling anyway, dusting Leafy in frost. Leafy had a suspicion that he may have done that on purpose. Unfortunately he couldn’t quite see Licore’s face to check if he was smiling or not.

“Careful,” Leafy said, shaking snow from his face. “If I fall off and get lost, you’ll be in trouble.”

Licore made a sound of deep personal suffering, but he followed Leafy’s directions all the same. When the passage forked, Leafy pointed left. When the left path sloped toward glassy ice, he immediately corrected himself and pointed higher, toward a narrow stone lip along the wall.

“Up there,” Leafy said. “The floor is too smooth below.”

Licore looked down and let out a short huff. The ice beneath the lower path shone clean and pale, pretty in a way that felt unnerving. He tested it with one claw. It slipped instantly.

Leafy hummed, very softly and very smugly.

“Do not,” Licore warned.

“I didn’t say anything.”

Licore stepped onto the stone lip instead, moving carefully along the tunnel wall. It was a narrow path, too narrow for comfort, but his balance was good, and Leafy leaned with him, tiny body shifting in the crest whenever the wyvern needed to adjust. The tunnel opened at last onto a ledge overlooking the main glacier. Wind carved the snow into sharp ridges below, and the frozen channel gleamed like blue glass beneath the storm clouds. The view was wide, silver, and cold enough to look alive.

Licore stopped at the edge and Leafy sat tall in his feathered crest, looking very proud of both of them. After a moment, Licore muttered, “You are less useless than expected.”

Leafy brightened immediately. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me.”

Licore’s six ears angled back as if embarrassed, though he looked away quickly enough to pretend it was only the wind. “Do not get used to it.”

Leafy settled more comfortably between the crest feathers.

“Too late,” he said.

By the time all four pairs neared the upper glacier, the storm had worsened. Snow blew sideways. The ground blurred. Even Bismuth had to pause and study the terrain before choosing each step.

This final stretch crossed a frozen channel that connected to the sea below. Bismuth took the front, his eyes watchful and cautious. He studied the snow where it sagged, the ice where it shone too smooth, and the places where wind had covered cracks with fresh powder. Jora stayed near him, tentacles tucked close, chittering quieter than before.

Requiem guided Ariana along the outer edge, placing his long body between her and the drop whenever the path narrowed. Ariana trembled, but she kept moving. Freya followed Inna’s calls from the water below and Leafy rode high on Licore’s head, peering over the feathered crest.

Step by step, the group crossed. Requiem kept Ariana moving. Bismuth kept Jora from the unstable edge. Inna guided Freya from the black water beneath the ice. Leafy, perched in Licore’s feathered crest, gave firm little directions until the smug wyvern finally stopped arguing and simply followed them. When the last dragon reached the far bank, the heavy air seemed to lift.

No one spoke at first and then Jora chittered. Leafy, still perched on Licore’s head, answered with a very satisfied, “We made it.” No one had been lost and that was all that mattered.

Providence Trial

They were a hunting party, one definitely more prepared than the others, and that was saying something when half of them had arrived to the hunt by wandering off and finding each other by accident.

Inna had come because he had felt something large moving through the deeper water. Leafy had come because Inna had gone and Leafy was not about to miss something interesting just because it was dangerous. Requiem had come because large usually meant food, and food was one of the few subjects in the world capable of sharpening his attention from cheerful curiosity to devoted purpose. Bismuth had come because all three of them had gone into deep water together, and he had decided that was obviously a poor decision.

He could breathe underwater, yes. That did not mean he liked the ocean.

The sea around them was cold and blue-black, the kind of cold that curled between scales and stayed there. Light from above had thinned into pale ribbons. Kelp swayed behind them in long dark sheets, and ahead the reef dropped away into open water. Somewhere beyond that quiet edge, something massive moved.

Leafy found the first sign because of course he did.

The tiny seahorse dragon slipped between broken coral and old stone, barely more than a flicker of pale body and fluttering fins. He vanished behind a rock, reappeared through a crack no one else could have fit through, then shot back toward the others with such sudden excitement that Inna stopped short to avoid bumping him.

Leafy spun once in place, puffed himself up as large as he could manage, then pointed sharply toward the deeper trench with his snout.

Inna watched him with calm interest.

Leafy opened his mouth wide, showing far more enthusiasm than threat, then snapped it shut several times in an exaggerated imitation of jaws. After that, he threw his little body into a dramatic curve, spreading his fins as if attempting to become enormous through confidence alone.

Requiem’s head lifted and Bismuth narrowed his eyes. Whatever Leafy had found, it had teeth. A shadow passed beneath them. Not close. Not yet. But large enough to silence the smaller fish. Large enough that the reef seemed to hold still. A megalodon, old and broad and scarred, moved beyond the reach of clear sight. Its body was a gray wall in the water, its dorsal fin cutting through the dimness like a blade. Even from a distance, it made Inna look slender, Requiem look careful, and Leafy look like something that should perhaps be placed somewhere safer.

Leafy immediately darted after it. Bismuth lunged and caught him gently by the tail-fin between two digits. Leafy twisted around, clearly offended but Bismuth did not release him. Inna’s mouth twitched, just barely, which was about as close as he usually came to laughing when trying to look wise. Requiem, meanwhile, had begun drifting forward, his long body waving with interest and his strange hammerhead face aimed somewhere in the general direction of the ancient shark. 

He had never hunted a megalodon before, so this was very exciting. Or, more accurately, he was excited at the thought of eating it. The megalodon circled the edge of the reef, slow and patient. It was not mindless. Its old eyes watched the dragons with the dull certainty of a creature that had survived everything the ocean had thrown at it. It had scars across its snout, tears in one fin, and one pale mark along its jaw where something had once fought back and lost.

Inna drifted lower, horn angled carefully. His calmness changed, becoming sharper beneath the surface. He was not naturally aggressive, no, but he knew how to be unsettling, and there was something unsettling in the way he watched the megalodon without blinking. Bismuth released Leafy only when Leafy stopped trying to sprint directly into danger. Leafy hovered in front of him, looking innocent but Bismuth did not believe this for one moment.

Inna tilted his horn toward the reef walls. Bismuth’s eyes flicked to the narrow passage between two stone ridges. Requiem’s tail twitching with barely contained hunger. Leafy turned upside down, pointing both fins at himself, then at the megalodon’s eye with the confidence of someone who should not be allowed to make plans.

Bismuth shook his head.

Leafy pointed harder.

Inna looked between them, far too serene for a dragon clearly considering whether Leafy’s terrible idea might work.

Bismuth still looked unconvinced. Leafy, sensing weakness, gave his smallest and most determined wiggle. That settled it, then, though Bismuth stayed so close to Leafy that every flick of his wings said he was prepared to snatch him out of the water at the first sign of trouble.

They moved.

Requiem went first, an excellent bait. He slipped out from the reef and into open water, waving his long body in an easy, careless line. He did not rush. He did not hide. He made himself obvious, bright, sleek and edible-looking in the dim.

The megalodon saw him.

For one breathless moment, nothing happened.

Then the shark turned surging forward aggressively.

It was not quick like a small predator. It was quick like a landslide. A whole wall of muscle and teeth came forward, water hammering ahead of it. Requiem’s eyes went very wide, which was impressive considering they already appeared that way most of the time. He twisted aside at the last moment, the jaws closing behind him with a sound that cracked through the water like stone breaking.

Requiem fled.

He seemed delighted.

This, Bismuth decided, was the worst part.

Inna swept alongside the chase, not using magic, only size and control. He pressed his body through the water in broad, powerful movements, forcing the current to shift around him. Requiem used that moving pressure without needing to be told, cutting close to Inna’s wake whenever the megalodon gained too much distance.

Leafy darted in next, tiny and bright against the megalodon’s scarred face. He zipped near one ancient eye, puffed himself up in an insulting little display, then vanished beneath the shark’s snout as it snapped sideways.

Bismuth nearly lost his mind.

He shot forward, wings flaring, and struck the seafloor where reef met sand. The force kicked up a storm of silt and broken shell. The cloud bloomed across the megalodon’s face, hiding Requiem for half a heartbeat and Leafy for one whole terrible moment.

Then Leafy shot out of the cloud upside down, fins trembling with triumph.

Bismuth caught him by the middle this time and shoved him behind one wing.

Leafy wriggled indignantly.

Bismuth ignored him.

The megalodon thrashed through the silt and turned hard, following Requiem between the reef walls. Exactly where they needed it. Its massive body scraped stone. Coral shattered. Sand exploded upward, clouding the water in pale storms. Inna swam above and to the side, calm and precise, making himself impossible to ignore without coming close enough to be caught.

The shark lunged again.

This time Inna met it.

He did not spear it with his horn. He was far too careful with his horn for that. Instead, he twisted aside at the last moment and slammed his broad shoulder against the megalodon’s gill side. The blow did not stop the shark, but it changed its angle. The jaws snapped shut on empty water. Requiem looped back, far too pleased with himself, and nipped the torn edge of one fin before streaking away.

The megalodon decided Requiem was the problem.

Requiem seemed honored.

He led the shark deeper into the stone passage, long body winding through gaps too tight for the megalodon to follow cleanly. It forced itself after him anyway, scraping its scarred hide against the reef. Bismuth saw the opening and drove himself downward, claws gripping a jutting shelf of rock. He pulled with all his weight until the old coral broke free.

The slab did not fall quickly. Nothing truly fell quickly underwater. It tumbled in a slow, heavy roll, striking the megalodon across the back just as Inna rammed the shark from the other side.

The megalodon bucked.

The reef shook.

Leafy tumbled backward in the sudden rush of water, spinning tail over head. Bismuth abandoned the rock, the shark, and every sensible thought he had ever had in order to catch him. He pinned Leafy gently against his chest with one claw.

Leafy blinked up at him.

Then, very carefully, Leafy raised his little fins in a triumphant pose, as if this had been intentional.

Bismuth looked exhausted.

The hunt was not done.

The megalodon twisted free from the broken coral, bleeding now, furious now, more dangerous than before. It turned toward Inna, jaws opening wide. Inna backed with steady grace, horn angled away, body curling just enough to avoid the first bite. The second came closer. Too close.

Requiem saw the gap.

The megalodon’s gills flared. Its throat, scarred but vulnerable, turned toward him for only a heartbeat.

Requiem went still.

Then he struck.

He was not stronger than the shark. Not alone. But he was quick, and hungry, and very protective of food once he had decided something counted as his. His jaws clamped deep at the edge of the gill slit, and his long body coiled around the shark’s head with stubborn, terrible determination.

The megalodon thrashed.

Inna hit it again from the side, driving it toward the reef wall. Bismuth slammed into the other side with wings and claws spread wide. Leafy, brave and foolish and tiny, slipped free from Bismuth’s grasp just long enough to dart in front of the shark’s eye. He flared his fins, puffed himself up, and gave the megalodon the most smug little look any creature had ever given something that could swallow him by accident.

The shark jerked toward him.

That was the moment the others needed.

Inna drove forward. Bismuth shoved from above. Requiem bit down harder and twisted with his whole body.

The megalodon went down against the reef in a storm of bubbles, blood, and sand.

For a while there was only motion. The deep booming struggle of something ancient refusing to die. The scrape of stone. The flash of Requiem’s body. Inna’s pale shape pressing through the dark. Bismuth’s wings cutting shadows through the silt.

Then the water settled.

The megalodon lay still.

No one moved at first.

Then Requiem, still clamped to the kill, growled.

It was muffled, because his mouth was full of megalodon, but the meaning was clear.

Mine.

Leafy hovered nearby, very slowly lowering the tiny bite he had been about to take.

Inna looked calm. Too calm.

Bismuth looked tired in the way only a dragon who had just saved Leafy from himself several times could look tired.

Requiem growled again.

No one challenged him. That would have been foolish. Also, he had earned the first mouthful, and everyone knew it, even if Leafy looked personally wounded by having to wait. Requiem tore away a strip of meat and swallowed it with great satisfaction. Then another. Then another.

Only once the hammerhead dragon was happily chewing did the others approach.

Leafy took a piece nearly bigger than his head and worried at it with fierce pride. Inna claimed his share with dignified patience, though his eyes gleamed with quiet mischief. Bismuth settled nearby, watching the open water for any other shadows that might come investigating.

Requiem ate like a creature who had personally saved the ocean.

Perhaps, in his mind, he had.

They returned to the reef much later, full, tired, and carrying proof of the hunt. Leafy drifted near the group, half-asleep and still trying to look heroic. Inna glided at the rear, serene as moonlight and twice as smug. Requiem dragged a great chunk of megalodon tail through the water, stopping every so often to glare cheerfully at anyone who drifted too close. 

No one was stealing it.

Probably.