Charlotte

The Umbra Witches and Lumen Sages had weathered many trials separately...and together. The last ordeal, a days-long battle against the Emperor Jubileus, had decimated both orders. In the wake of that hard-won victory, they forged an alliance and agreed to help each other rebuild—and to learn from each other.

The Sages would send some of their own paladins to the Clock Tower, where they could learn alongside the Witches; similarly, the Witches were allowed to send their best and brightest to the enclave at Isla del Sol. There they would be able to train alongside their luminous brethren, to learn spells that had hitherto been denied to the Shadow-born....

The Umbra leader’s lips curved in a wry smile. “Much as I’d like to encourage you to conduct some espionage, you’ll have to keep in mind that this is a diplomatic mission.”

There was some tittering from the assembled Witches; the one directly before the Elder, however, responded only with a graceful bow. “Yes, Elder Bellatrix. I understand,” she answered quietly. Her face, while lovely, was as dark and impassive as the night.

Bellatrix nodded in approval. The alliance was incredibly important, not just to both orders but also to their deities, the Shadowbinder and the Lightweaver. It was imperative that the first group of Witches she sent made a good impression on the Sages.

And this young Nocturne was at the head of that group: Charlotte, one of the Umbra Witches’ most talented sorceresses. Bellatrix didn’t doubt that, with her to lead the other Witches, their visit to the enclave would go well. The first successful visit, she hoped, of many yet to come.

Half a dozen Witches had been selected for this first trip to Isla del Sol. They were escorted by a pair of Sages, and as they flew along, they chattered and laughed together. Their excitement was infectious, and soon the Sages relaxed and began conversing with them.

All except Charlotte—she kept her distance, not just from the Sages but also from her fellow Witches. When the group stopped for a break later on, she could hear the Sages asking if she was all right.

“Hmm? Oh, Charlotte’s always like that,” purred one of the Witches. “Even at home, she spends all her time with books. I honestly think she’s more comfortable talking to them than to other dragons!”

The others laughed, but Charlotte didn’t mind at all. From an early age, she had been encouraged to spend more time with spells and manuscripts, to work towards complete mastery of Shadow magic. Her natural aptitude and diligence had resulted in her becoming one of the most talented Umbra Witches her order had seen so far.

Despite her serious expression, she was in fact deeply pleased to have been chosen for this mission. She felt she had already learned everything that the Clock Tower had to offer, and the opportunity to study alongside the Lumen Sages had been too good to pass up.

Soon the Witches arrived at the Sages’ enclave and were escorted inside. There, the Lumen Elder himself welcomed them: Balder, a Gaoler of great age and strength, his eyes flashing like brilliant stars against the snowy whiteness of his face.

“Welcome, young sisters, to Isla del Sol,” he boomed. “I trust the journey has not been too taxing for you?”

It was Charlotte, the most senior of the Witches, who responded: “Not at all, Elder. The Sages who escorted us were most kind.”

“I am pleased to hear that. Nonetheless, you will wish to rest. My attendants will show you to your quarters. Please settle in—a great feast is being prepared for you, and we hope you will honor us with your presence later.”

The Witches replied with murmurs of gratitude, and they followed the attendants out into the hallway. As they walked along, Charlotte couldn’t help noticing the various branching corridors and the rooms they led to. There were magnificent artifacts on display, magical tapestries on the walls—and to her, most precious of all, great libraries and study rooms containing all the Sages’ knowledge.

She barely remembered the lunch feast; she was too excited by the prospect of finally being able to access the Lumen Sages’ libraries. For centuries, they had jealously guarded their knowledge from the Umbra Witches—she could be the first of her order ever to read those sacred tomes!

After the feast, the Witches were summoned into the Elder’s presence again. This was more a casual meeting than a ceremony, but in many ways it was far more profound: Balder would be introducing the Witches to some specially chosen Sages. These Sages would be their guides during their stay in the enclave, more like study partners than mentors.

“Your Elder and I hope that the camaraderie you forge here will strengthen the ties between our orders,” Balder declared. “In time, these young Sages, too, hope to be welcomed in your esteemed halls.”

He introduced the Sages one by one, concluding with, “And this is Stefan, one of our most diligent scholars. Stefan, this is Charlotte. She is herself a keen student of the magical arts.”

Charlotte looked up at her study partner. He was a young Imperial, his scales as sun-touched as hers were dark, and his disposition seemingly as bright. Softly, he cleared his throat. “I greet you, Witch Charlotte. It is an honor to study alongside one as learned as yourself.”

“The honor is mine, Sage Stefan. I look forward to learning together with you,” Charlotte responded. She reached out, and Stefan, with great care, delicately extended a single huge talon. It was almost as large as Charlotte herself, yet she shook it without fear, and the Imperial’s face broke into a smile.

The great formality of those greetings and ceremonies was a mask—or more accurately a bandage, meant to heal the wounds many centuries’ worth of enmity had inflicted upon the two orders. They would never become one—the Lightweaver and the Shadowbinder had expressly forbidden that. Still, this exchange of knowledge would help foster a deeper understanding between Light and Shadow.

Balder, looking upon the young scholars, smiled benevolently. “The hour grows late. Perhaps our guests would like to adjourn for further rest, but on the morrow, our halls shall be opened to you. Let that day mark a new era for our orders...”

A day when the Sages and Witches stood side by side, not in battle, but in pursuit of a better future.

~ ~ ~
While Balder and Bellatrix were striving for loftier ideals, Charlotte’s mind was focused on more practical things. She fully understood the significance of the visit—but as a scholar, she was more excited about the Sages’ libraries than flowery platitudes.

She rose before dawn the next day. Excitement banished any fatigue she might have felt, and she fluttered to the Grand Library alone—Stefan, it seemed, hadn’t risen yet.

The first rays of sunlight were peeking through the windows when the Imperial finally found her. He approached, his talons tap-tapping on the marble floor. “You’re up early. All your friends are still asleep.”

Charlotte shrugged carelessly. “Our time here is limited. We ought to make the most of it while we can. What’s this?” She indicated the tray Stefan placed next to her.

“I thought you might want breakfast. Studying on an empty stomach is not advisable, I’ve found,” he explained, his whiskers bristling as he smiled.

That was when Charlotte noticed she was indeed hungry. She excused herself and began to eat, popping locusts and beetles into her mouth. Stefan arched his neck over her and peered at the table. “Ah, a beginner’s primer on Light magic. Starting with the basics is always best.”

Still, he couldn’t help looking questioningly at her. Charlotte correctly understood his confusion: “Though I am a longtime student of magic, I have mastered only Shadow magic. Light magic has never been taught within our halls.”

“Hmm, yes. The ancient animosity between our Flights has impeded the flow of knowledge, I fear,” Stefan sighed.

His words echoed Charlotte’s thoughts, and now she recalled what Balder had said about the Imperial being a great scholar. She reminded him, “But the animosity is gone now. So perhaps knowledge can flow freely between our orders from now on? And your Elder has said, Sage Stefan, that you’re a Light mage of no mean talent.”

“Elder Balder is perhaps too kind,” Stefan murmured modestly. He wasn’t saying no, however, and so Charlotte said, with genuine excitement, “Will you show me your magic, then? Help me learn—and in turn, I will share with you the spells of the Shadow-born.”

~ ~ ~
The arrangement Charlotte and Stefan made was one of many that various Witches and Sages forged with each other over the coming months. The Elders looked on with approval, for these arrangements helped strengthen the alliance. Each order benefited from knowledge shared by its counterpart, and the camaraderie between both sides resulted in peace and stability that brought prosperity to their Flights.

Stefan proved to be a good tutor. The Umbran lectors tended to be stern in their approach, so Charlotte was impressed by his patience and warmth. It helped that he was always willing to demonstrate his techniques too. The Nocturne, with her innate ability to mimic things, simply had to watch him perform a spell a few times. She still remembered the day she first conjured a light wisp. It was only about the size of an apple...but it was light cast by a Shadow dragon nonetheless.

Charlotte stared, transfixed, at the new magic she had wrought. It wasn’t that she was displeased. Quite the opposite, actually—but still, she couldn’t help recalling a prophecy oft repeated by both orders: The intersection of Light and Shadow will bring calamity to Sornieth. It had been handed down by the goddesses themselves, but even they hadn’t been entirely sure what it described, and scholars hadn’t been able to agree on an interpretation. “Could this be what the goddesses were warning us against?” she asked when Stefan, noticing her unease, asked her what was wrong.

He thought about it, stroking his long whiskers. “I doubt it. Our alliance permits us to exchange knowledge with each other—including magical knowledge. I’m sure our goddesses anticipated this; if it did not worry them, it should not worry you.”

Sure enough, when Charlotte tried applying her skills to higher-level spells, she simply could not cast them. These spells, it seemed, required a bigger reservoir of Light magic. Stefan had to laugh at the disgruntled look on her face. “Perhaps someday, eh?”

But there was another reason she was frowning: the Witches’ visit was drawing to a close. They’d spent a few happy months here, learning from the Sages and sharing their own teachings and tales. Stefan’s face fell when she reminded him of this, and Charlotte, too, was surprised to realize that she didn’t want to leave just yet. She’d gained so much in such a short time....

She patted Stefan’s huge paw and promised, “I’ll share what I’ve learned with the Elder. When she sees that things are going well, she’ll doubtless agree to let me visit again. Then,” she decided, “I’ll return here, to the enclave.”

~ ~ ~
Shortly after, Charlotte and her fellows returned to the Clock Tower. There, they presented their research to Bellatrix, who pronounced herself satisfied with their progress. “You are a credit to our order,” she declared with rare warmth. “We will share this with the rest of the Witches. Now, it’s time you all had some rest.”

The other Witches were only too eager to comply. Charlotte went back to studying and training alone, though. In the seclusion of her quarters, she’d be able to concentrate more carefully—or so she thought.

Now that she was back home, it seemed more difficult to absorb and practice what she’d learned. More than once she found herself wishing she were back in the Sunbeam Ruins. “I was too comfortable there. The sudden shift in surroundings really isn’t helping. If only Stefan were here—”

That last thought made her pause. It wasn’t necessary to have Stefan around; if anything, his absence should have made things easier for her. No huge Imperial peering over her shoulder, no comments or words of encouragement...

Charlotte’s laugh was rueful. “How sad....I’ve already become dependent on his support. But then again, being able to watch him cast these spells was useful.”

She did make some progress as the weeks passed. She felt the results weren’t as satisfactory as when she’d been in Isla del Sol, however. “Perhaps I need Stefan’s expert eye to tell the difference? No, any Sage should do. I ought to ask our visitors....”

It was now time for the Witches to welcome their own guests: a group of Sages was en route from Isla del Sol. Like Charlotte and the others, they would be assigned study partners and would spend a few months learning from the Witches.

Charlotte was among those chosen to welcome the delegation. She and her fellow Witches lined the halls as the Sages were escorted inside. One of them she knew well—her violet eyes widened as she recognized Stefan.

He seemed to be looking for her too. Their eyes met, and he smiled, but he didn’t move towards her, for Bellatrix was still conducting the welcoming ceremony. Charlotte watched as the Elder introduced him to another Witch, the one who would be his study partner for the duration of his stay.

Afterwards, the Witches dispersed. Charlotte returned to her quarters, thinking that she ought to continue her research. It was easier thought than done, however. She couldn’t seem to concentrate; the excitement of knowing that the Sages were here...that Stefan was here...was distracting her.

As dusk approached, she decided to go for a walk. The Clock Tower had many terraces and balconies that peeked out over the Tangled Wood. She sat at one of these—the view here always calmed her thoughts, and she needed some time to think.

She wasn’t alone for long. A familiar shadow darkened the nearby wall, and Stefan stepped up to her side. “One of your friends said I’d find you here,” he said by way of explanation.

Charlotte couldn’t help frowning. “Hasn’t another Witch been assigned to assist you?”

“Yes, but I needed a break from studying. I thought I would look in on my old friend instead. I am allowed to do that, am I not?”

He spoke as though they’d only been apart for a few hours. It was comforting, and Charlotte’s stern expression softened. She laid a paw on one of his huge talons. “Welcome to the Clock Tower, Stefan,” she said—not with the formal rigidity their Elders used, but rather the ease with which friends—real friends—addressed each other.

She added, with genuine warmth, “I am very glad to see you again.”

~ ~ ~
Stefan spent some time learning from the Umbra Witches, and then he and his fellow Sages returned to their enclave. Shortly after, Charlotte and some of the other Witches were sent there again. She rejoined Stefan, and they continued practicing magic and combat together.

With the techniques they learned from each other’s orders, they made great progress in their studies and training. Charlotte meticulously documented the fruits of their research, writing page after page....

This activity usually gave her plenty of satisfaction, but soon she noticed that this was waning. She was happier to spend time with Stefan instead. To learn with him, talk with him, even laugh alongside him.

Perhaps because it happened quickly, Charlotte didn’t spend too much time dwelling on it. She simply embraced it: the fact that she loved this bright, beautiful Imperial with his warm laughter and ways. He returned her affections with the same pure adoration, and both of them fell, softly but surely, in love.

Stefan was soon assigned other duties that prevented him from visiting the Clock Tower. Initially when Charlotte heard of this, she was afraid they’d been found out. He laughed and put his wing around her. Another dragon, seeing them from afar, might think they were just friends walking companionably along. This close, however, there was no mistaking the adoration in their eyes.

“It’s nothing serious, Charlotte. We have recruited many Light-born recently, and Elder Balder has asked me to train them.”

“But we must be careful. Our Elders, they’ll never condone our relationship. We shall just have to...” And here Charlotte trailed off, because while she wanted to have a future with Stefan, she couldn’t actually see one. The prophecies and edicts of the goddesses stood in their way, and there was the risk that their transgression would reignite the animosity between their orders.

Still, they would not be kept apart. Stefan remained in Isla del Sol as his Elder had decreed, but Charlotte was permitted to visit the enclave and continue her research. A few hours of writing was a small price to pay for the time spent with her beloved. The months flew past, and their love endured, growing stronger all the while.

One night, Stefan invited Charlotte to train with him. They never made it to the training rooms, however—he veered into a side courtyard and Charlotte, intrigued, followed him. There he revealed the present he had prepared for her: a tanzanite talonclasp pendant, created specially for their first anniversary.

“The jewels were mined in Dragonhome,” he said, his head bowed bashfully, “and the smiths of the Ashfall Waste kindly helped with the metalwork. Do...Do you like it?”

“It’s beautiful,” Charlotte whispered. Her heart was so full, she wasn’t sure she could find the right words to express how she truly felt. Stefan smiled back, his own eyes filled with emotion. “Aye...and so are you.”

The pendant lay against Charlotte’s heart, still warm from Stefan’s touch. She could suppress her feelings no longer, and she reached up to him. He drew his wings and arms around her, and finally they relaxed into each other’s embrace.

~ ~ ~
One year. That was all they had together: a little over a year. Days of learning and nights of love—all came to an end when the Sages, acting on their own suspicions, forced their way into Stefan’s quarters. There, they found the nest that he and Charlotte shared.

They hadn’t been as discreet as they’d hoped, and now there was no hiding their relationship. Stefan and Charlotte were brought to stand trial before Balder. Bellatrix was present as well, her fierce face projected upon a crystal panel of the Sages’ Solarium. She raged and gnashed her teeth, berating Charlotte so viciously that all assembled there couldn’t help flinching whenever she spoke.

Yet Charlotte was beyond that. For her, the knowledge that she would be torn away from her beloved was punishment enough. She stood in chains, her head bowed, quietly weeping.

The worst was yet to come: the final judgment from the goddesses themselves. Suddenly their enormous images filled the remaining panels. Everyone fell silent before those ominous presences; even Bellatrix had nothing to say. Charlotte herself was quiet. She remained desperately hopeful for a reprieve....

But the goddesses’ faces held no sympathy. In thunderous voices, they pronounced their judgments—

“Let Stefan be excommunicated and cast out to wander the wilds.”

“And let Charlotte be imprisoned, to contemplate the severity of her transgression.”

“It shall be done,” the Elders agreed, their hate-filled glares on each other. Charlotte and Stefan had been right—with the alliance broken, the old enmity between Witch and Sage had risen again.

The Sages and Witches were no longer allowed on each other’s territory, and so any Sages in the Clock Tower would have to return here immediately. The Witches in Isla del Sol, Charlotte included, were banished from the Sunbeam Ruins. The last Charlotte saw of her beloved, he was still reaching out to her, calling out her name. The anguish in his eyes mirrored hers...and then he was gone, forced out of the Solarium.

Charlotte was carried back to the Clock Tower in chains. The entire time, the other Witches were silent, their faces grim. Their eyes, whenever they looked at her, held anger or sorrow or sympathy. But no one would lift a finger to help her. No one would dare defy the goddesses again.

Finally, Charlotte stood before her Elder. The Gaoler towered over her, her violet eyes smoldering with rage. “Shameful,” she spat, her sharp fangs flashing. “This shameful display of yours...All for what? A mere fairytale? Imprisonment is too good for you. If the decision were mine...” She left it hanging forebodingly.

But the Shadowbinder’s orders stood, and so Charlotte was taken into the coldest depths of the Clock Tower. By then, her tears were spent, and she stood defiantly, watching as the Witches raised walls of pure magic around her. Preserving her exactly as she was now, just outside the flow of time.

“Time,” Charlotte thought. Sorrow and fatigue weighed heavily upon her mind; her thoughts floated, dreamlike, in that dark and dismal space. After the Witches left her, she contemplated it: the time she’d spent with Stefan, the endless years that stretched before her. Time itself, beckoning from the darkness, whispering from the research she and her lover had shared...

She comforted herself with the knowledge that Stefan was still alive, and so was she. As long as there was life, there was hope. She folded her wings around herself, clutching the pendant close to her heart, and she dreamed of warm sunrises and sunsets with her beloved at her side.

~ ~ ~
The years went past. Charlotte, peering out through the walls of her cell, saw only darkness at first. And then gradually, the lower levels became occupied—not by prisoners, but by other, younger Witches. New recruits in the Shadow arts, training to fight against the Lumen Sages. In the wake of the fractured alliance, a Lumen-Umbra War had arisen.

“This traitor is the reason we fight,” older Witches declared, pointing accusingly at Charlotte. They painted her and Stefan as villains, saying that their relationship was sacrilege of the lowest order, proof of the Lumen Sages’ treachery. Charlotte’s purported misdeeds were laid before future generations, and she was mocked and taunted from beyond the walls.

It hurt at first—how could it not? But as time went on, Charlotte actually got used to the condemnation. She was also struck by how the Witches embellished the accounts, adding wholly contrived stories of herself and Stefan bartering forbidden knowledge with other gods. That her former comrades needed to lie when telling her story only strengthened her conviction: She had done nothing wrong.

Not all the Witches who spoke to her did so in mockery, however. Youngsters, still curious and rebellious, sometimes snuck over to her cell. It was left largely unguarded nowadays, as the magical wards were secure and Charlotte, behind them, was completely powerless.

“Did you do something bad?” the young dragons sometimes asked. Charlotte smiled sadly back and answered, “I did something our elders disagreed with.”

“But it must have been bad, right? It must have been wrong...” And, still frowning in thought, they would walk off. They did come back sometimes, but when they did, they usually ignored her. The elder Witches’ remonstrations, it seemed, were very convincing.

Charlotte did recall one young dragoness. She asked the usual questions at first, about right and wrong. Soon, however, she focused on something else: “Did you learn many things from the Sages?”

Charlotte looked closely at her, or tried to: The youngster wasn’t carrying a lantern, so all that could be seen of her was a faint shape. The Nocturne sighed heavily. “We studied magic and combat together. We laughed and talked...It was a happy time for everyone.”

“So, those Sages—did they learn from us too?”

“That was one of the rules of the alliance,” Charlotte responded, as noncommittally as she could. She roused herself, her neck arched alertly, and queried, “Was there anything in particular you wanted to hear?”

There was no reply—the youngster had disappeared back into the darkness. Charlotte folded her wings around herself and settled back in her cell again.

The War went on. Charlotte caught scraps of news from the other Witches, of dragons killed and strongholds toppled. The day that Isla del Sol fell was a blow to her as well. She knew Stefan had been excommunicated, but she couldn’t help worrying for him, hoping that he had steered clear of the conflict.

And then there came the day that the Witches announced that they’d won: The remaining Sages had been hunted down and exterminated. Balder was slain, and his daughter, Himiko, had been captured by the Witches. Charlotte never saw her, however, for the Pearlcatcher was imprisoned elsewhere within the Clock Tower.

The Nocturne expected the Witches to celebrate their victory. But instead, the tension increased. There were uneasy whispers of civilians slain and lairs accidentally destroyed; the Witches worried that they’d angered the other gods. For a while, they allowed themselves some peace. And then the training began again, more urgently than before.

Now the Witches moved their training rooms down into the deepest dungeons of the Clock Tower, far away from the light. They often trained right outside Charlotte’s cell, but they no longer mocked her as stringently as before; they focused largely on their training instead.

With no one to talk to, Charlotte watched the Witches instead. She didn’t dare imitate their moves and spells when they could see her—if they realized she’d kept her strength, they would probably confine her somewhere else, completely alone and forgotten.

The day of Charlotte’s release was not a peaceful one. The gods, angered at the wanton destruction wrought during the Lumen-Umbra War, had set their exalts against the survivors, the Witches. The order had suffered heavy losses over the past years; to make matters worse, Bellatrix was growing old. She had decided to pass her mantle on to another talented Witch, a young Ridgeback named Jeanne.

Before claiming leadership, Elder-candidates were allowed the chance to settle their conflicts with other Witches. On the day of Jeanne’s ascension, she cast a great enchantment that lifted Charlotte’s cell to the surface. Inside her cage, the Nocturne stared, confused, at what was happening outside. She beheld the great hall of the Clock Tower once again, the thronged Witches as baffled as she was.

Elder Bellatrix, too, was confused. “You would issue a challenge to Charlotte? But she has been bound for years. How can she be a threat?”

“The nature of her imprisonment means that she remains as strong as she was all those years ago,” protested Jeanne. Her violet eyes bored into Charlotte as she continued, “She has also connived with a Sage. We cannot allow this known traitor to live any longer.”

“I’m in danger,” Charlotte realized. As Jeanne broke apart the prison walls, she tensed up, preparing for battle.

“Well?” the Ridgeback bellowed. “Will you meet my challenge?”

But before Charlotte could respond, the Witches all became aware of something else: the sound of the wind being stirred by wingbeats. Approaching dragons—hundreds of them. The animosity drained from Jeanne and Charlotte, and instinctively, they looked to their Elder.

For the first time, Charlotte saw fear on Bellatrix’s face. The old Gaoler turned towards the door and whispered, “They’re here.”

~ ~ ~
The exalts stormed the Clock Tower, and it took all the Witches’ strength to drive them back. They rallied—and against such overwhelming odds, Bellatrix decided the time had come to give Charlotte her freedom.

That was when the magical cell was shattered for good. Charlotte rose up, still clad in her rumpled robes, and she rejoined the Witches. There was no time to review past injustices and insults, for the exalts were upon them, ready to slaughter any dragon who bore the Umbran Mark.

Charlotte could have fled. She could have abandoned the Witches to face the exalts alone. But that day, she chose to stand with them, and so once the battle was over, she was a full-fledged Witch once more.

“You fight well,” drawled Jeanne, “for a lovelorn fool.” It was just after the exalts had been driven off, and the Witches were repairing the concealing spells that surrounded their home. Charlotte looked up at her would-be rival and asked, with a trace of her old defiance, “Do you still wish to challenge me?”

Jeanne briefly looked startled, and then she laughed, shrugging it off. Still, the challenge was never repeated, and when she finally assumed leadership of the order, she acknowledged Charlotte as a friend.

And the Witches needed friends now more than ever. The forces of the other gods were numerous and, finding themselves thwarted by the Clock Tower’s protective enchantments, they began attacking the Witches’ smaller strongholds instead. Jeanne had to send squads to protect these places. Sometimes the squads made it back with evacuated artifacts and comrades. Other times, no one returned.

Charlotte and the others now waited anxiously for the return of one of these groups: a gathering party led by the Wildclaw, Vesper. When the Witches heard that Vesper’s squad was returning with another dragon, their interest was piqued. Who was this other dragon? Some Shadowling they’d rescued, perhaps?

...An Imperial. He was garbed in a hooded cloak, and Charlotte was about to turn away at first. It couldn’t be her beloved. It couldn’t be.

But hadn’t he been alive, last time she’d seen him? Those golden whiskers, those sun-touched scales...And then he drew back his hood and her breath caught in her throat.

“My Charlotte...” the Imperial whispered, looking at her with warm golden eyes. And there it was again: that smile...

“Stefan!” she gasped, and she fluttered across the room and into his embrace. They held each other close, and for one blissful moment, they were heedless of the Witches and the world crumbling around them. They were together again....That was all that really mattered.

~ ~ ~
As they’d done so long ago, Stefan and Charlotte sat together, looking out over the Tangled Wood. The view was distorted now, shrouded by the Tower’s protective spells. Soon night would arrive.

“I wanted to look for you,” Stefan admitted softly. He held Charlotte close, his wings folded around her. “I tried entering the Tangled Wood...but the Witches recognized me, and they drove me away. Against so many, I couldn’t prevail. I—”

Charlotte shushed him gently. “You did well,” she murmured, nuzzling his cheek. “See, we’re together again.”

“And everything will be all right,” she wanted to say, but she knew that wasn’t true. The Witches’ situation was growing dire. Even the Lumen Sage, Himiko, had been freed from imprisonment—albeit bound by heavy enchantments to fight alongside the Witches. But powerful as she was, she was but one against many. Stefan’s words rang true: “Against so many, I couldn’t prevail.”

Stefan himself was welcomed into the Witches’ ranks. They needed all the help they could get, and he was merely glad to be alongside Charlotte again. They would relish what little time together they had left.

The Witch Hunts, as they were now known, were coming to an end—for soon, there would be no more Witches left to hunt. In desperation, Jeanne ordered her forces to disperse. They fled the Tangled Wood in small groups, carrying treasured artifacts or knowledge. Many of these groups were ordered to submerge themselves in the general populace, the better to protect the treasures they’d been entrusted with. A few others touted for support among other Flights—there were still a few dragons who sympathized with the Witches’ plight.

Charlotte and Stefan were with this latter group. They were sent to the Windswept Plateau, where they found lodgings with a sympathetic clan. Soon they’d raised a stronghold, a safehouse where traveling Witches could rest or exchange knowledge.

Managing the stronghold fell largely to Stefan and Charlotte; even Bellatrix deferred to them on the rare occasions she visited. For some time, the Windswept stronghold was secure, concealed among the bamboo forests. Still, it couldn’t last forever, and inevitably, the exalts came.

~ ~ ~
The Windswept stronghold had fallen. Its protective shell had been breached, and most of the Witches who’d gathered here had been forced to flee. They had rallied to Bellatrix’s banner, and the old Gaoler, with a final anguished look at the fortress, had fled with them into the dawn.

But some of the Witches remained, cut off from the greater group by the invading exalts. Charlotte and Stefan, the stronghold’s commanders, were among them. Together with a few unfortunate Witches, they barricaded themselves into the lower levels of the fortress, waiting for the bitter end.

“Our shields will hold for some hours, but after that...” One of the Witches cleared her throat uneasily. “What is to be done?”

She was addressing Stefan, but the Imperial couldn’t answer. Charlotte had sustained grievous injuries in the earlier battle, and she now lay silently in his arms.

The Witches withdrew to give them some privacy. Even with the violence raging outside, the loudest sound Charlotte heard was the thundering of Stefan’s heart. Her eyelids fluttered open. “Stefan?”

“I’m here. I’m still here.” His smile shone, warm and true, through his tears. “Bellatrix has led the others to safety....They’ll be all right, and I’m sure they’ll return. Then we’ll be safe, Charlotte. We can go somewhere else, start anew...”

He was rambling now, anything to keep her from slipping into the darkness. Just behind him, the Witches gasped in alarm. “The shields are fraying—their spellcasters must’ve figured out our enchantments. They’re breaking down the door!”

The end, indeed, was near. Charlotte could accept this—but not for her beloved. He had been through so much hardship to stay at her side, and he still had so much to live for. She looked up at his face, and her own heart swelled with love.

In response, the pendant she wore pulsed with a deep violet glow. A faint smile touched Charlotte’s lips as she felt the stirrings of this great and mighty spell. Perhaps her greatest one yet—a spell to protect her beloved.

Stefan noticed the light too. But before he could speak, Charlotte’s whisper stopped him: “Even during the hundred years we were apart...I kept it safe all this time. Our love...and the magic we shared...

“Your face will be the last thing I see. I’m glad...I’m so glad we found each other. I love you, Stefan.”

Charlotte reached up to him, and as he bent to kiss her, light pooled around them in a blinding cocoon—and then it blasted outwards like a gale. It flung away the exalted warriors hacking through the door—

And it ripped through space, through time: a doorway opened in the air, right behind Stefan. He felt it tugging him with supernatural strength; though he struggled to remain steady, it pulled him backwards inexorably. He didn’t even look to see where it led; he was reaching out in vain for Charlotte, screaming her name as he had all those years ago, when they’d first been torn apart.

But this time, Charlotte was smiling, for she knew that her beloved would be safe. The portal closed...and she allowed herself to fall into the darkness at last.

~ ~ ~
And there, titanic and foreboding, the Shadowbinder waited. The great goddess, spinning the darkness as though it were silk, wrapping Charlotte’s wounded body in layers of healing spells.

Charlotte’s consciousness stirred, fluttering like a bewildered moth. She heard the Shadowbinder murmur, “True Love’s Kiss, eh?”

“He is beyond you now,” Charlotte said, defiant even before her deity. “Your punishments will not find him!”

“Nay, child...” And the goddess sighed deeply. “I no longer seek to punish you or your lover. My sister and I have agreed that the time for retribution is past.”

The air shifted: Somewhere in the darkness, the great dragon raised her head. “My sister speaks—where is her son, your lover Sage? Where have you cast him?”

“Beyond your reach...forward in time,” Charlotte whispered. Copious images welled up from her mind, dizzying diagrams and long hours spent laboring over complex, entangled spells. The ultimate fruit of her research: Time magic, the ability to send someone into the past...or the future.

The Shadowbinder was silent for some time. And then she stated gravely, “Such tampering will have consequences. You chose wisely, however. Even now, my sister and I struggle to hold off the other deities. They would have eliminated you years ago; as things stand, they can only send forth their exalted spawn. But in the future you have chosen, things are...quieter.” The goddess laughed softly. “It is the future you have both desired.”

Something about that was strange. Charlotte felt another bright emotion fluttering in her breast. It was...hope?

“You will sleep for centuries.” The goddess’ voice was softer now. “You will mend—and then others will be sent to awaken you. Rest well, daughter....The future awaits you.”

~ ~ ~
With the extirpation of both the Sages and the Witches, the Hunts soon came to an end. Both orders passed into the realms of legend, nearly forgotten by the dragons...but not by the gods. And so, 500 years into the future—

“Here,” whispered the Gaoler. She strode across the Forum of the Obscured Crescent, trailed by a gold-garbed Mirror. Ahead of them, gleaming in the mushroom-glow, were two stone sarcophaguses.

“I know these scents.” The Gaoler’s smile gleamed, sharp and fierce, on her dark-furred face. “The Shadow, indeed, remains cast.”

And as she spoke those words, the sarcophagus lids slid aside with soft grinding noises. From the larger one rose a Ridgeback garbed in the robes of an Umbra Witch. And from the other...

“You,” Charlotte whispered. She peered out into the night—and her eyes met Bellatrix’s, reading in them many years of hardship.

The Gaoler tossed her mane. “Welcome to the future, Witches. Ah, it does my old heart good to see the two of you again....It appears this world still has need of us—and the Sages.”

Charlotte gasped as memories flooded her mind: the Shadowbinder, the portal...Stefan. “The Sages,” she whispered. “Do any still live?”

~ ~ ~
The Mirror who’d accompanied Bellatrix was Empress Mirage, and it was to her empire that the two young Witches were brought. Along the way, they learned of the changes that had befallen the world. There was scarcely time to mourn those they had lost, for the journey was a long one, and there were still many other things to discuss.

But to Charlotte, none of them really mattered—all she was concerned about was whether her beloved had survived. And when the Empress confirmed his name, it was all she could do to keep from leaving the group behind and flying the rest of the way to the Empire.

It seemed he had arrived not too long ago, as time ran here. Her spell had cast him 500 years into the future; she had spent that same amount of time sleeping beneath the Shadowbinder’s watch. For them, the separation had only felt like a few days—but after all the hardships they’d faced, those days had been unbearably long.

At long last, they found each other again. No words passed between them this time—but the radiant joy on each one’s face was more than enough for the other. Charlotte and Stefan embraced each other, and here and now, under the peace of the Sectonian Empire, they vowed they would not be parted again.

~ ~ ~
Other Sages had indeed survived, and alongside the remaining Witches, they vowed to rebuild their orders. They would raise a new tower and a new enclave, and future generations would be welcome to learn the wisdom of Witch and Sage alike....

“But the prophecy—does it remain?” thought Charlotte, as she curled around her eggs. She and Stefan had finally married, and now, with their children about to be born, she couldn’t help feeling anxious about the future that lay ahead.

Stefan had been overjoyed to know that he was going to be a father, but Bellatrix hadn’t approved, and neither had Balder, who had been resurrected by the Lightweaver. Charlotte knew that the old prophecy still rang strongly in their minds, and it hurt her to realize that she and Stefan would never receive their blessing.

Still, the Lumen-Umbra War was long past, and she had made many friends in this new land and time. With the support of these other dragons, the future now seemed a lot less frightening.

A soft tchip! —and a crack appeared upon one egg. Charlotte gasped, and she nudged Stefan, who was dozing by her side. The two of them watched breathlessly as the hatchlings tumbled out into the world....

“Our children,” Charlotte whispered. Two beautiful Nocturne sons, their colors halfway between her darkness and Stefan’s light. The hues, soft and warm, of sunset and of sunrise.

Tears of joy filled her eyes. She crooned to her children, gently cleaning off the eggshells and fluid. Stefan assisted her, his own eyes brimming with emotion.

“The first natural-born Sages in 500 years,” he realized, his voice thick with pride. He nuzzled Charlotte gently. “My love...let them hear their names.”

“Valor,” she whispered to the older child. To the younger, she murmured, “Urbane.” The hatchlings perked up at the sound of their mother’s voice, and they peeped back, instinctively mimicking the names.

The prophecy still stood...but prophecies could be overwritten. Valor and Urbane were living proof of this. In her children’s scales, the glow of their eyes, Charlotte read a new prophecy: one of a brighter tomorrow, where Witches and Sages could coexist harmoniously at last.

~ written by Disillusionist (254672)
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