Alrightie, folks! If you're reading this and have no idea what Whisper is, I would strongly suggest that you go check out my fanfiction. You will not know any of these characters otherwise.

If you're here because you read Whisper, prepare! In this story, I will be posting extra behind-the-scenes from Whisper. The scenes that didn't make it into the book itself, bonus information, the like. Some... ahem... *Fragments* of Whisper.

Let's start with the legend of Maat Zmey, shall we?

The Legend of Maat Zmey

There truly was no place like home.

Dobryak entered through the garage door. The warmth of the kitchen stung his windblown, frosty face. His eyelashes were so thick with snow that it took several blinks for it all to melt, streaming into his eyes.

He was exhausted. Drenched to the bone and aching all over.

He crept inside and shut the door softly, dreading every rustle of fabric and creak of wood. He glanced at the neon clock over the stove.

Nearly midnight.

Excursions to Down were becoming longer and longer.

He set the Julien's box of cupcakes on the table, undoing his winter layers. Scarf, coat, sweater, hat, boots, and wet socks were all removed as quietly as possible.

Then he stripped off the faithful Shauto gloves, stuck to his arms, wet from cold and sweat.

Dobryak muffled a relieved sigh.

No sooner than he'd set foot off the welcome mat, little December in a frilly blue dress and a pair of kitty ears catapulted through the kitchen and into her papa's arms.

"Papa Papa Papa! Guess whaaaaaat!"

Winded, it was only by reflex that Dobryak remembered to hug her.

"December, malyshka? Why aren't you in bed?"

But December drew back with a squeal. "Ewww, Papa! You're all wet!"

His daughter's face was a meticulous masterpiece of a cat nose and whiskers, faded from hours of play, smeared from burying her face in her father's wet clothes. Her beam was that of a creature awoken by a sugar high.

Dobryak groaned.

"Papa guess what!" December boinged up and down. Her dress boinged with her. "I'm seven now! It's midnight! And midnight is morning-time! So I'm seven!"

"Happy birthday, milaya." Dobryak somehow found strength to gather December, along with her extensive skirts, into his arms. He kissed her forehead. "You naughty girl."

December burbled a laugh, not in the least bit repentant.

"Now where's your brother?"

"Downstairs."

Dobryak carried her that way. "He didn't put you to bed?"

"He did." December's giggling was hysteric at this hour. "But I got up."

"Of course you did."

Dobryak set her down in front of the stairwell. He could already hear the TV, chattering eight-bit battle beats. It only took coming to the bottom of the staircase to find Gahiji camped two feet from the bright screen, playing the eighth Rise of Vachirka. Still in his school uniform, homework and textbooks stacked on the futon, an empty bag of chips (presumably dinner) crumpled beside the trash can.

Dobryak waved. But Gahiji couldn't have even spotted Dobryak in his peripheral - the screen took up his entire field of vision.

"Gahiji," Dobryak called softly.

Gahiji started. Then he turned, giving his father a pursed look.

Dobryak leaned on the stair railing, fighting sympathy.

"Gahiji."

"Zdravstvuy," Gahiji greeted flatly.

"Save and quit, alright?"

Gahiji's scowl deepened to an impressively teenage level. Then it straightened. "Da."

With that confirmation, Dobryak turned to head back upstairs. He found that December had followed him halfway down.

"Come on, December," he said, shooing her gently. "Let's get to bed."

December eyed the TV reproachfully. "What about Gahiji?"

"He'll go to bed, too."

"But he's playing Vachirka."

"He's saving. He'll go to bed after I put you in bed."

"How long after?"

"December."

Dobryak couldn't manage a firm tone of voice, but December was tired, too. Usually she could keep up an argument until she got her way (out of sheer pestering), but sugar highs could only last so long.

Dobryak took her hand and led her upstairs. "Come on, malyshka. Let's clean you up."

He helped her out of the dress and into her Daffi Dale pajamas. A warm rag mopped up the last of her nose and whiskers. Her long hair was brushed silky-smooth before he carried her to bed.

"No," she said, when he tucked her in and kissed her goodnight. "No, Papa, my kitty ears."

"You can't sleep with your kitty ears on."

"Yes I can," she said.

Dobryak didn't argue further. He retrieved the kitty ears from the bathroom and slipped them over her head. "There. Nice and snug."

She giggled. Yawned.

"You are so tired." Dobryak turned on her lamp. "Dobroy nochi. Goodnight."

"Maat Zmey," she pleaded, her eyes snapping wide open. Dobryak cringed; she was not quite as sleepy as he had wished.

"Nyet, baby. It is hours and hours past your bedtime."

"I can't sleep!" she protested. "Maat Zmey! Pleeease! It'll help me go to sleep. You always say so."

Dobryak groaned inwardly. He was so fried, he wasn't sure he could manage the legend even if he wanted to. "There's no time tonight. I'm sorry."

"Maat Zmeeeeey." December sat up in bed. "Pretty please?"

Dobryak's moan really did manifest, if quietly. December felt her papa caving, and bounced the mattress.

"It's pretty! It's a pretty please with bows and ribbons and my princess dress and kitty ears -!"

"Da, da, da," Dobryak said, sinking to his knees beside her. "Maat Zmey. But only because it's your birthday, ozornaya devushka. You naughty girl."

And he never had enough time to give his children. He softened.

If midnight was all he could manage, so be it.

"Thank you, Papa!" She cuddled into her pink quilt until only her nose, eyes, and kitty ears peeked out from under the covers.

Dobryak smiled despite himself. The sweet thing.

He situated himself against the dresser, regarding the ceiling as he mulled over the details of the legend.

Then he caught December's eye.

Hers squeezed shut with a grin hidden under the quilt.

Dobryak smiled, too.

"Long before time had a name..."

As weary as Dobryak was, the tale he had fed off of his whole life - the legend of Maat Zmey - it fueled him. It always did. There was always a new way to spin it, a new aesthetic to weave, in the way of his fathers. The storytellers of Vinvaara.

He saw Gahiji, his arrival as owlish as the quality of his silver gaze, lean against the doorway to listen.

"NinjaGo was created by the hero Amidarius.

"He created the sky. The sea. The land. He fashioned NinjaGo from the dust of a dying star. With the power of Spinjitzu, order and balance was established on our planet."

December closed her eyes to imagine. If Dobryak had looked at Gahiji, he would have seen him doing the same.

"He created this people, living among them as a leader and father. It was a time of life, prosperity, and light."

Dobryak closed his eyes, too.

"But where there is light, there must also be shadow."

December's little paws gripped the edge of her quilt a little tighter; a reaction not dulled by all the times she had ever heard the story.

"Now at this time of peace, a star goddess descended from the heavens. She took the form of a great white snake."

"Huge as a mountain," December interjected, popping up from under the covers. "As beautiful as she was big!"

"Crowned with the feathers of the cosmos," Gahiji added quietly.

"She was a queen," Dobryak agreed. "A warrior queen, wise and powerful.

"Her name was Maat Zmey."

December sank back under the quilt, eyes shut again to take in the goddess' beauty.

"Maat Zmey had watched Amidarius as he created NinjaGo. She had seen him bring life out of the depths of death.

"But she had also seen what Amidarius hadn't - the darkness that was growing in the planet's core."

Dobryak paused.

"Uzhaznyei."

A chill swept down his own spine. December must have felt one, too, because her brow furrowed where she lay.

"A black being, called terrible, keeper of shadows and their magicks. Uzhaznyei would not rest until Amidarius was dead, and NinjaGo rested in his own claws. He sought to rule this world, and Maat Zmey had come to warn Amidarius of those intentions."

Gahiji leaned forward.

"Amidarius took heed of her warning. He gathered and trained an army of Elemental Masters to defend NinjaGo. Years passed before Uzhaznyei attacked, during which time, the Elemental Masters learned the secrets of fighting with Spinjitzu.

"However, in the preparations for war, Maat Zmey made a crucial mistake."

December and Gahiji hung on every word. They had memorized the length of every pause, knew by heart the way their father's voice would reverently bear the glossy threads of story - and yet both of them were breathless.

"She fell in love with a man."

December inhaled at last.

"The Elemental Master of Fire, called Raine. He had fashioned the sword Kamenzmeya from the stars with the power of his Element. They loved each other dearly."

His daughter shifted, uneasy. Gahiji looked troubled, too.

"Then Uzhaznyei attacked.

"The Elemental Masters fought bravely, but it wasn't enough. Uzhaznyei's power was unmatched, and they suffered terrible loss.

"To defend the people of NinjaGo, Maat Zmey created the Kaamen, an army of indestructible white warriors, in the stead of the dying Masters. These fought Uzhaznyei to the break point."

A pause.

Dobryak had heard so many different tellings of the legend. He had heard so many reasons, so many thoughts and questions as to why Raine did what he did.

But the answer was lost to time.

So he told it the best he knew how.

"But meanwhile, the Master of Fire, Raine, began to lose himself in his own power. He became corrupted. Fire consumed him, and he became dark.

"Uzhaznyei enlisted him in his army and taught him the forbidden shadow magics. Raine shared with him the means of creating twisted, evil versions of Maat Zmey's Kaamen - and by Raine's treachery, Uzhaznyei created the Zlyye Dukhi.

"The Stone Army."

A breath.

And it was clear that December had fallen asleep.

Dobryak almost didn't go on. He started to get up.

Then he saw Gahiji, sunk to his knees at the doorway.

Watching his father. Thirsting to understand why it had happened, so sick with the hunger to sympathize that he couldn't breathe.

Dobryak looked away.

"Maat Zmey was devastated by Raine's betrayal. In her despair, she called her brother from the stars, to aid them.

"Pythios, the Devourer."

Gahiji fell lower. He leaned against the doorframe, clutching his arms, but his eyes were steady on Dobryak.

"Pythios was a god of space. His scales shimmered invisible, striking like light itself. And his stomach was vastly empty - always empty. Only this maw of unending space could hinder the Stone Army.

"And it was as Pythios cleared the way that Maat Zmey was forced to fight and kill her beloved. Raine died lying against her feathered crown, whispering apologies and his own burnt love for her."

Gahiji's gaze faltered. His eyes dropped to the floor.

"In the wake of Raine's death, Amidarius seized his sword - the sword Kamenzmeya - and pierced Uzhaznyei's eye. Wounded, outnumbered, and on the brink of death, Uzhaznyei vanished to preserve his life.

"The war was over."

Gahiji released a breath.

"Maat Zmey was grieved by the loss of her love. But Uzhaznyei was not dead, and shadows still lurked across NinjaGo. Amidarius passed long ago, but Maat Zmey still watches. She watches over us, ready to aid the next Spinjitzu Master, when Uzhaznyei will return."

One last pause.

December was out like trout. Faint little snores sounded through the silence.

"Why end there?" Gahiji said at last.

He never failed to ask.

Dobryak smoothed December's covers, tucking them tighter. "Because the rest isn't told yet."

"It's a stupid place to end," Gahiji said.

"I trust that Uzhaznyei will someday return. You can trust him not to give up."

"It's a legend from long ago. He's not real. And he's not coming back."

"Uzhaznyei has three eyes," Dobryak pointed out. "Only one of them is wounded."

"If he were to come back - if he existed at all - then he should have come back centuries ago."

If only Gahiji understood how real this threat was.

Dobryak stood and stretched. "Uzhaznyei is patient. He will bide his time."

"And meanwhile?"

Dobryak regarded Gahiji for a moment.

The boy's eyes were ever solemn.

"Meanwhile," Dobryak said, approaching him, "You have school in the morning and a birthday party for your sestra in the evening."

Gahiji gave him a dry look.

Dobryak smiled. He extended his hand to Gahiji. "Come now. You can't live in stories."

"Why not?" Gahiji said.

"Mm. How about you write one?"

"I'm a horrid writer."

"That's not what I meant, malysh."

Gahiji took his hand and stood up. "I knew that," he said sincerely.

Dobryak swept Gahiji's bangs back. "Get some sleep, child. Really. Don't go into your room and play your phone."

"Da, Papa."

"Don't roll your eyes at me."

"Nyet."

"I mean it. No phone."

"Da." Gahiji turned on one heel and strode down the hall towards the basement.

"Where are you going?" Dobryak demanded.

"My phone is downstairs."

"You," Dobryak said, coming to the stairwell as Gahiji descended the flight. He jabbed a finger down at his son. "You."

Gahiji came back up with his schoolbooks, homework, his phone, and a smirk.

"Dobroy nochi, Gahiji."

His grin took on a warmer quality. "Dobroy nochi."

Dobryak kissed Gahiji's forehead. "Ya lyublyu tebya."

"Konechno, Papa. There's hot water on the stove."

It was all Dobryak could do to suppress a sigh of relief.

"Spasibo, Gahiji. I don't know what I'd do without you."

Gahiji's mouth twitched. He finally waved and disappeared into his bedroom, shutting the door behind him.