For the first few seconds, Pryce's mind simply refused to process Fortitude's words.

Doctor Callan was dead – she had to have been. The Horizon was still hundreds of kilometers away from Loahm when the storm broke, and even the best swimmers wouldn't be able to stay afloat for more than a few minutes in the midst of a hurricane.

So, how was it possible for her to be alive? Had Clarke survived as well? And who was Qnaro?

These questions, while demanding, only rang in one corner of his mind, with one simple truth echoed far louder.

I've left them alone on this island for nearly three months.

He'd spent so many days biding his time, waiting for the Solstice, all while his colleagues were likely forced to fend for themselves, and that was in the best case.

The realization made him nauseous, and he just barely caught himself from falling to his knees.

"Oh! One of your crewmates survived!" Fathom exclaimed before lowering his head in concern. "...This is good news, isn't it?"

"Yes," Pryce said shortly. "We need to go. Now." He turned to walk up to Fathom's side, but was blocked by Devotion.

"You didn't tell us about other humans," she stated, her eyes narrow and suspicious. "Did you know about this?"

"Of course we didn't, or we would have already tried to find her," Fathom shot back, glaring at Devotion.

"I asked him, not you," Devotion spat, causing Fathom to mantle defensively. "Answer me!"

Pryce took an involuntary step back at her hostility. "No, I didn't," he replied, answering quickly before the argument escalated any further. "I thought she was dead."

"If you thought she was dead, then how is she alive?" Fortitude asked, tapping her partner with a placating wing.

Pryce shook his head. "I don't know. We'll learn that once we find her, which is why we need to go now," he repeated, and turned to make his way back to the wheelhouse.

"Wait," Fathom said, blocking him with a forelimb.

"What?" Pryce snapped, unable to restrain his impatience any longer.

"We need to talk," Fathom said, gently but firmly. "You haven't thought things through, and she has been alive for a long time; a few minutes will not make a difference."

Pyrce furrowed his brow. "What do you mean?" he shortly asked.

"Jooral-ǂ hasn't even finished telling you the rest of the news yet," Fathom pointed out. Behind him Fortitude bobbed her head in agreement.

"You also need to change your plan," Celeste said, looking faintly bemused by his stilted behaviour.

Pryce opened his mouth, then pressed his lips into a thin line. "...Fine," he sighed. "Tell me everything."

"So…it sounds like this Qnaro has the same idea as us," Pryce summarized. "Except he and Callan were accidentally found by another dragon."

"Probably," Fathom nodded. "He will likely try to find allies, but he is a wanderer who isn't known to have friends…so I have no idea who he would try and meet first."

"That is true, but he will probably try and meet the same respected dragons who we want to meet," Fortitude added. "I recommend asking Helsha-ǂ first. He is the most respected dragon in that area."

"I will need to ask our future allies if they have spoken to Qnaro," Devotion rumbled. "If they have, then I might be able to find him."

"Okay…does anyone else have any ideas for finding Callan?" Pryce asked.

"...No, I can't think of anything else," Fathom shrugged. "You know her better than we do. What do you think she would do?"

"I didn't know her that well, but if I were her…" Pryce frowned, then widened his eyes as a sickening realization occurred to him. "Fuck!"

"I…don't know that word. Is something wrong?" Fathom asked, sounding rather concerned.

"...I would have gone to the rendezvous point," Pryce tiredly sighed as he sat himself down, holding his head in his hands, "because that's where the ship was supposed to be. She probably went there with Qnaro already, but we weren't there."

"Well, we had no reason to go there so early," Fathom shrugged. "But they still might be there now, so we should leave as soon as possible."

"I still need to move my valuable things into the ship," Fortitude pointed out.

Pryce bit his lip, not wanting to waste any more time. "...Okay, I'll open the ship for you. Fathom, please help me set up the radio – I won't be able to set it up at the rendezvous point, so this is my last chance to listen for messages. I'll need to know if there's been any changes in plan."

[JOURNAL ENTRY]

Doctor Callan is alive.

She must have washed ashore on a small island, where she was eventually found by a wanderer named Qnaro – a 102-year-old male dragon who seeks to find the mythical 'far lands'.

Fathom and I set up the long wave radio antenna while Fortitude transferred her valuables into the ship. I've confirmed that the Daybreak's ETA has been unchanged from Day 100.

Plans:

Current location: 18.98°N, 91.01°W. Daybreak rendezvous point: 22.5°N, eastern coast. Fourth province solstice celebration location: ~24°N, ~10 kilometers inland of the eastern coast. (Locations estimated based on information provided by the dragons)

The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

The plan: Depart for rendezvous point. Celeste and Fathom will patrol for the Daybreak, covering ~300 km every day. They'll also keep an eye out for signs of Qnaro and Callan, who may have left messages near landmarks. Devotion will leave for the Plateau ~230 km away to gather allies.

"Are you…okay?" Fathom asked as the ship pulled away from Loahm, towards the setting sun. His words were laced with an undertone of worry, and his head was lowered to better look at Pryce. "It is not your fault that you didn't know about Callan."

"I know," Pryce sighed. "But-"

"But you don't feel that way," the dragon huffed, finishing his sentence for him.

"...Yeah," Pryce sighed. "I know there was no reason for us to have left any earlier, and there was no reason for me to believe she had survived…but that won't make it any easier if it turns out she died while I was sitting around doing nothing." He clasped his arms behind his back as he spoke, and found it impossible to keep a note of bitterness from creeping into his tone.

Fathom only hummed in reply, and spoke no further on the subject. It seemed uncharacteristic to Pryce, but he supposed there wasn't much else to say on the matter.

The other dragons also had not bothered to sleep yet. Fortitude was still amazed by the speed of the great vessel.

"What is she doing?" Pryce asked.

The crippled dragon stood at the nose of the ship with both wings extended, though her left quivered like an old umbrella in the wind. She stood motionless as the air rushed beneath her wings – she was emulating the sensation of flight, Pryce abruptly realized. The Horizon only travelled about half as fast as the average dragon, but it was likely a difficult sensation to emulate at all.

Devotion eyed her throughout this process, and she slowly stood up to do the same. For a time, they were silent, and then Fortitude said something to Devotion which Pryce could not hear.

«This feels strange…» Fortitude murmured. «Different from standing on a cliff and facing a gust of wind.»

«Yes, it does feel somewhat like gliding,» her partner said, answering the question she did not ask. «Though it is strange to have your feet on the ground. Does it feel at all familiar?»

«I am…not sure,» Fortitude murmured uncertainly. «It feels like an echoing dream, where some things might be different, but you never know what.» She finished her musings with a sigh, signaling the end of their conversation.

Still and unmoving, they stood like statues outlined by the light of the moon.

Seeing as their conversation was over, Fathom leaned over to quietly translate their dialogue for Pryce.

"...Interesting. Humans have those too, though we call them 'recurring dreams'," Pryce said. It was an interesting idea, to refer to them as echoes.

"I have had a few of those, sometimes they are weird, sometimes they are…not good." Fathom's spines flattened at the recollection, but then his eyes lit up and he asked, "Do humans know what dreams are? Some dragons think we are seeing the past or future, and some even think we are seeing the lives of other dragons, but that doesn't explain why some dreams are ridiculous."

Pryce shrugged. "No one knows," he said, but Fathom looked so disappointed that he felt compelled to add, "We think it is the brain resting and organizing memories. Think of it like bringing home a pile of treasures, except it's your brain moving memories around. Dreams don't make sense, because they don't need to make sense."

"That is…a bit boring," Fathom hummed. "But it sort of makes sense. Do you have any recurring dreams? You do not have to answer, if they are not pleasant," he added, belatedly realizing that such a question might have been insensitive.

Pryce felt a faint smile tug at his lips. "I've never told anyone about them before. I think…it will be good if I talk about it." Fathom looked a little puzzled at this, so he elaborated. "Just because humans talk a lot doesn't mean we share everything. Some things are personal. Some things you don't want to tell other people, especially when they…depend on you."

"That is easy to understand; no one wants to be seen as weak," Fathom muttered, quietly for once. His gaze drifted over to his daughter, who sat with the others at the far end of the ship. "Sometimes I dream about the first time I broke my wing. Anvonh disappears, and I go into the storm to look for her, but I never find her…" He paused. "Sometimes there are…other dreams, about Anvyr and Anvonh, but I have not had them in a long time." This last sentence was accompanied by a shrug, though the gesture didn't quite have the dismissive effect it usually had.

"That…sounds similar to human dreams," Pryce said, unsure of what else to say. "Do you get the first kind anymore?"

"No," Fathom said, shaking his head – that gesture still looked a bit awkward on a dragon, no matter how many times he saw it. "Now I just dream about you saying something very bizarre – like the earth being flat – and then proving it." This was said with such a plaintive air that Pryce almost snorted in laughter.

But they were still having a serious discussion, so he only gave a faint smile before taking a moment to gather his thoughts. Fathom had opened up to him, so it was only right that he reciprocated.

"You know what happened with Arthur – he's the son of my friend James. I worked as hard as I could, did everything I could, but he still died."

Fathom opened his mouth, closed it again, then simply nodded and waited for Pryce to continue.

"In my dream, the same things happen. People get sick. I work as hard as I can. A friend tells me Arthur is sick. I work harder. Arthur dies, but I have to keep working, because thousands of people are dying." He paused for a moment to collect himself. "Sometimes the dream is different. Sometimes I remember how to make the medicine, but it never works – not until it's too late."

Fathom blinked. In the dark his pupils were wide and glossy like an ocean at night. It was surprising how small a change could so drastically alter his expression. "You were not too late for me."

"...No, I wasn't," Pryce agreed, a faint smile gracing his lips.

A few moments of silence passed, where Fathom looked away before asking, "What did you mean when you said, "It will be good if I talk about it?""

"Sometimes it feels nice to talk to someone about something that you could never tell anyone else. Don't you feel better?"

"Not really," Fathom said, narrowing his eyes a little. "Do you feel better?"

"Yeah, I feel better…a bit lighter, if that makes sense?"

"I'm not sure if I understand," Fathom rumbled doubtfully. "But I'm glad if it makes you feel better." The dragon sounded a little awkward, though Pryce wasn't entirely sure why.

He recalled how Fathom immediately understood why he had never spoken to anyone about his nightmares. It must have been a private thing indeed, and yet he'd shared them regardless. Pryce felt a stab of guilt at this realization – it wasn't even the first time his friend had acted out of concern for him today.

Pryce looked up into the dragon's eyes – his pupils the deepest dark surrounded by thin red rings. "You're a good friend, Fathom. Thank you for making me feel better. I'm also sorry about earlier – I never said thank you, for calming me down and making me think things through."

"You don't need to thank me for that," Fathom huffed, though the dismissive action was belied by the faintly embarrassed way with which he held his head. "You were being stupid, and I just made you stop."

"Well…thank you anyway. I needed to hear that."

Pryce felt like there was something else that had to be said, awkward though it may be. Still, it was the truth, and that made it all the easier to say.

"I'm glad – very glad that you were the first dragon I met."

"Oh," Fathom said, sounding a little surprised at this sudden compliment. "I am…also very glad that you were the first human I met," he said, nodding with a gracious air. Then he blinked, and his eyelids shot open as he remembered why Pryce had been alone in the first place. "W-wait, I didn't mean-"

"Pfft." Pryce couldn't help himself – the haughtily offended look on Fathom's face only elevated his snickering to full blown laughter. "Sorry, sorry," he coughed. "I've just never seen you trip up like that, and the look on your face-" laughter bubbled up despite his efforts, and he doubted the rest of his sentence was intelligible.

"Are you done?" Fathom growled, nearly a full minute later.

"Yes," Pryce coughed, and cleared his throat for good measure. "Sorry."

"Hmph," Fathom snorted. "I'm going to sleep now." He turned away and laid himself down, muttering something that probably wasn't a goodnight.

"Were you laughing? It sounds weird," Celeste said, having been drawn over by his outburst. "Did something funny happen?"

"No, nothing important," Pryce said, wiping the smile off his face. "Go to sleep, we have lots to do tomorrow."

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