Yen..."

"I am a sorceress, Geralt. The power I possess over matter is a gift. A gift I reciprocate. I paid for it... with everything I had. There's nothing left."

She fell silent. The sorceress wiped her brow with a trembling hand.

"I was wrong," she repeated. "But I'll fix my mistake. Emotions and feelings..." she touched the black kestrel's head. The bird ruffled its feathers, opening its mute curved beak. "Emotions, whims and lies, fascinations and games. Feelings and the lack thereof... gifts that should not be accepted... lies and truth. What is right? To deny a lie? Or to state a fact? And if the fact is a lie, then what is truth? Who is so full of feelings that it tears them apart and who is a cold and empty shell of a skull? Who? What is right, Geralt? What is the truth?"

"I don't know, Yen. You tell me."

"No," she said and lowered her eyes. It was the first time. He had never seen her do this before. Never.

"No," she repeated. "I cannot, Geralt. I cannot tell you. It will be this bird, born from the touch of your hand, that will tell you. Bird, what is the truth?"

"The truth," declared the kestrel, "is a shard of ice."

From Andrzej Sapkowski's book "The Sword of Destiny". If you haven't read it yet, do it now! This author's style heavily influenced my own and I consider this author as an absolute master of fantasy. Period.

English is not my first language so if you would find any mistake in my text… just point it out. I promise I won't cry! Seriously, I won't!

A deep bow to Fjord Mustang that forced me into writing my own story. She wrote "To Soar into the Sunset: A Night Fury's Odd Memoir" fic that you can find on this site. If not for her, I wouldn't be here typing this text that is most probably causing you to scroll down faster.

A big Thank goes to Backroads and almne for proofing and reviewing this story before I decided to publish it. Thanks again!

I appreciate the input of Chocobo Scribe and ChristinaTM. Thanks.

If you like the story, review! If not, review as well. As a scientist, I love constructive criticism.

AN: Dragons measure time using the cycles, moon cycles and sun cycles. One cycle=74/75 years. You can see a comet on the sky then. Moon cycle=28 days. Sun cycle= 1 day. Plain and simple. Also first few chapters are just an introduction of the characters and the movie world. Just to let you know.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters. They belong to Dreamworks and Cressita Cowell.

He caught another fish with a lazy flick of his hind leg. He was full already, but fresh food would be welcomed by his mate. She couldn't fly well after that fight with the Sharp-winger. He had cut her back deeply, almost severing the muscle responsible for lifting her left wing. He had told his mate to wait before attacking, but she was always hot-headed. Not really a thinking type, but she was loyal and, for him, that was much more valuable than intelligence. The Sharp-winger had been quite strong, but after he had joined the fight, they managed to kill the Sharp-winger and take over his den. It turned out to be a perfect hideout: a cave on a lonely island quite a long distance from any other land. Far away enough that his smell would not be detected and he could hunt without worry of being spotted. Still, he was hunting only at sunset or sunrise. It was a time frame of least likelihood to meet his kind. Especially "him". Almost one whole cycle had passed since he had started running away from that monster.

Today the ocean was presenting itself in all its beauty. The sun, already at twilight, gave the water a very strong orange colour, making the water movement much more visible and clear. There was something mesmerizing in that. Wind gently played beneath his wings in a harmonious and very well known melody. Adjusting his wings and tail, he descended toward the stone pillars that were standing lonely from the water, their exterior destroyed and distorted by the elements acting countless years on them. Some were seen laying pathetically in the shallow waters. Waves broke on their surface, changing into sprays of ginger. Instinctively he felt wind currents changing near the stone columns. He banked strongly to the right, following the steadier flow of air. After a short flight, he saw the entrance to the cave. Above the small stone ledge that was placed in front of the opening and used for landing and taking off, he decreased his speed and flapped his wings harder, letting his hind legs absorb the impact. He had a fish in one, so he would have to manage with one leg only. His species didn't have front paws but small claws on each wing. He landed heavily with a loud thud, usual sound announcing his arrival.

Then he knew that something was wrong. Maybe it was because of the lack of his mate's usual roaring when he was back or maybe it was because of a faint trace of blood in the air that his nostrils picked up. Or perhaps it was due to the sudden chill that he felt on his back, crawling slowly from the base of his tail and up to his neck. It felt like cold claws about to dig into the flesh. This feeling was so strong that he turned back suddenly, with muscles tensed and ready to fight.

But there was nobody behind him, only the sight of the sun slowly submerging behind the horizon and the sounds of waves breaking on the stone interlaced with distant cries of seagulls.

He turned again towards the entrance. He knew this time would come sooner or later. A sigh escaped from his snout. He knew now that this would be the last day of his life. He would die today, most probably a long and painful death, but he had been getting himself ready for it for a very long time now. He was a very experienced hunter and an even better fighter. He had never lost a duel or a fight with other dragon and had never let his prey escape. However, he knew he couldn't possibly compete with the monster patiently waiting for him in the darkness.

"If dying, better on a full stomach,"- he thought calmly. However, his body gave away his real feelings. He looked at his hind leg holding the fish. His claws dug so deeply and with such force that it made it unrecognizable. He couldn't deny it now. As much as he tried to deceive himself, he was terrified, but not because he was about to die. Nobody has ever met a dragon that died a natural death. All dragons were ready to fall someday under the claws of other dragons, humans or any other predator. He was terrified of the Monster and the way he was killing his prey.

He knew that humans called his kind a word that means a bad dream. The Nightmare. He never had a bad dream before, but humans seemed to find nightmares terrifying.

"What fools they are that they think so. There are so many scarier things than my kind, and I'm about to experience one of the worst,"- on this thought, a small smile showed on the Nightmare's muzzle.

This abomination waiting for him was never seen while killing.

"More like slaughtering,"- he corrected himself in his mind. The Monster did it with the ease of a hatchling playing with an almost dead fish. He was silent like the wind spirit that some thought he was. The possibility that such a seasoned fighter as the Nightmare wouldn't be able to see his adversary before dying was indeed very frightening.

He tossed with his hind leg the remains of the fish to the ground near his muzzle, he lowered his head and swooped it in a lightning motion, eating it up in one gulp. He ignored the taste of sand that got in it, not taking his sight off the shadows in front of him even for a moment.

He made his way forward, folding the upper parts on his wings, placing front and rear claws as gently as possible, listening to the sounds in the grotto. All he heard were secluded splashes of water dripping lazily from the stalactites and sounds of the ocean behind him.

The smell of blood was getting stronger as he carefully crawled forward, darkness slowly falling over him. His red body, marked with brownish stripes, was making him a very visible target. Sniffing, he tried to smell his enemy but couldn't smell anything beside blood, salt, calcium from the water inside the cave and fish guts- some still clinging to his claws.

But the smell of blood was the most overwhelming of all, and soon he saw why.

On every small boulder, rock or other rock formation he could see every half-length of his body or so, a blood smear. It was shaped like a paw with four claws emerging from it. He almost hissed at the sight of that. Not because he felt sorry for his mate whose blood had been used for it, but because it was making it impossible for him to track this fiend using his nose.

Reluctantly, the dragon moved now towards the larger part of the cave that both he and his mate used as a sleeping chamber. He saw bloody footprints of the Monster all over the place now, each forming different paths it was following, and each disappearing into the darkness. He knew that each of them was leading into a trap. He wouldn't stand a chance in a narrow labyrinth of stalactites and stalagmites. He was too large and not agile enough to dodge attacks there. He tried to "taste" the temperature with his tongue. As he expected, he couldn't find anything, only the body of his mate getting colder.

Looking into the centre of the chamber, he saw his mate's motionless body on the ground. She was lying on her side with both wings folded and her head lying near her body. Her yellow eyes were opened without any spark of life in them, looking directly at him. A small trace of blood was escaping her muzzle and, if not for this, it would have taken him longer to see how she had died. He saw a small wound on the upper part of the neck, exactly where her head ended and neck begun. He knew it was exactly there where the spinal cord entered the skull and, from the look of it, the cut was made between the first and second vertebra, severing nerves and going deeper into the throat.

The bleeding from the muzzle explained how deep the cut was and, from the look of her still wide pupils, death was instantaneous. He was somewhat grateful for that. He knew exactly what had happened. His mate had been asleep and heard someone landing in the entrance. Thinking it was he, she went back to napping. When she smelled or heard that it wasn't a dragon she was expecting, she looked up, but it was far too late. The monster was already near her and just swung his paw once, killing her immediately. Using the blood of his kill and dirt on the ground he had covered his body killing his smell with it. Afterward, he made all those lovely markings on the wall and ground and went into hiding.

The Nightmare contemplated for a moment if his mate would have had stood a chance if she had reacted sooner. He immediately rejected this thought. His enemy was not somebody that could be killed by a wounded Nightmare, not even by a healthy one. Fighting with him in the sky was an even more suicidal option than on the ground. The Monster knew it very well. The Monster also knew that the red dragon would not notice anything until he was be near the entrance. The Nightmare had to enter the cave.

Now as he was standing in the middle of the chamber, he thought furiously.

"I was being watched for a few sunrises, even longer, and I didn't notice anything. But how did he find me in the first place?"

His eyes met the gaze of his dead mate and he got his answer.

"We shouldn't have killed that Sharp-winger. News is spreading fast it seems,"

The Monster was called the "flying death," and there was a very good reason for it.

Suddenly, the small amount of light that was coming into the grotto was shadowed for a second as if somebody was passing through it. The Nightmare acted on instinct. His head turned that direction as quick as a thought. Yellow fire shot from his muzzle, engulfing the passage and rocks near it in flames.

He regretted this action soon. His eyes could see very well in the dark but now, as the flames were dancing, shadows got distorted, confusing his vision. It was a very basic rule of fighting among dragons. Never fight in the dark with fire as a light source. And he had let himself fall for it like some inexperienced hatchling.

Cursing his stupidity in his mind he started circling agitatedly, looking for his opponent. Breathing heavily and with his heart beating loudly, his senses got even more impaired. His smell, sight and hearing were useless now, and his movements uncoordinated and full of panic.

His enemy had waited just for this moment. Launching himself from the stalagmite he was hiding behind, he passed fast like a shadow behind his prey. The Nightmare thought that the Monster just passed without injuring him until he tried to move and fell to the ground. He looked at his hind legs and, to his horror, he saw that his left hind leg was almost detached. A deep cut was running right below his knee, severing tendons and muscles. The Monster had done it so fast that the Nightmare hadn't even felt it. Now as it started to hurt, he ignored it and tried to crawl his way to the exit, leaving a large path of blood behind him.

He felt a movement on his right side and swung his wing widely, hoping to hit something with it. He almost got the Monster, but right before the wing could hit him, the Monster jumped and gracefully performed a somersault, twisting himself in the landing behind him. The next thing the Nightmare knew, one of the Monster's paws was crushing his neck, and the other pressing his jaws together so he couldn't breathe fire. He thought about struggling, but as his muscles slightly tensed, he felt a familiar sharp pressure near the base of his skull. He stopped moving instantly and all he allowed himself were shallow breaths.

He turned his gaze to the left as far as possible, but all he could see was one muscled ebony paw with four claws digging into his muzzle. He saw how dark scales glistened in the light of the now dying fire, shimmering in the dark with little hints of blue in them. He still couldn't hear the Monster, though. His heartbeat and breaths were inaudible. He was really like the ghost that others rumored him to be, a vengeful spirit seeking those responsible for his suffering.

The Nightmare was surprised, as well. He should be dead by now, but these paws seemed to ask one silent question and that Monster wanted to hear an answer: why?

"You were always weird, different," the Nightmare began, trying to open his muzzle as little as possible. He felt the pressure from the Monster's front paw lessen just enough so the Nightmare could speak.

"Since you could crawl, you weren't like the others," he continued, "You, your family and your kind always were on the same side. Always acting like you were superior to others. Thought you were so intelligent, you could outsmart anyone? Huh? Well, that changed when IT came, didn't it?" he asked mockingly.

The Monster didn't even flinch whilst listening to the Nightmare's words. Not even one scale moved on his front leg, and the Nightmare still couldn't hear or feel the Monster's heartbeat and breath. The Nightmare couldn't help but to admire the Monster's composure; those memories weren't merry ones for any dragon who was living there at that time. The Nightmare snorted in a way that meant he had expected a different reaction and continued.

"Even if your oddness was somewhat tolerable, it all changed after there was only three of you left: you, your sweet little brother and…," –he smiled on that, knowing very well what the Monster's reaction would be," …your sister." He finished with a smile.

He wanted to smile wider but was stopped as the pressure on his neck suddenly deepened. He felt blood streaming from the wound that formed. The front paw crushed his muzzle violently. He felt blood in his mouth; he must have bitten his tongue. But he was still alive.

And he had achieved what he wanted. The Monster's breath and heartbeat were now clearly audible. The Monster growled deeply and, even though there wasn't any word in it, the threat was clear: You mention her again, you die.

After that, the pressure on the Nightmare's muzzle lightened slightly, but the pressure on his neck remained, the stinging pain reminding him of the situation he was in. He spat out a little blood from his mouth and started talking again.

"After…" he didn't finish as the pressure on his neck deepened, clearly indicating that the Nightmare was not to talk about those things.

"After those events, "he started again, "You know very well how life changed. After what happened to you, your siblings and your family," he added quickly.

He waited for a reaction from the Monster, but when nothing happened he went on, "What happened to your family wasn't our fault. We couldn't resist IT- you know this as well as I do. We weren't in total control of what we were doing at that time."

The Nightmare looked for a moment like he wanted to add something, but then his eyes widened, looked forward, unfocused on anything. Sparks started to dance in them, sparks of insanity.

The Monster's head filled with a familiar ringing but he ignored it. He knew what would happen next.

The Nightmare's eyes then lost their light, and he started talking, his voice now changed, full of venom and loath.

"How does it feel to fulfill your vengeance my cute little dragon, or should I call you the Winged Death as most call you now? You have ended your lifelong quest to destroy those responsible for your anguish, to punish all that are evil, vanquish all that are wicked and fouled, " he stopped for a moment to take a fast breath and went on, "What kind of sick justice is that? You have just spent most of your life travelling around the world and killing others. No other dragon would have done the same. Oh I forgot, you have those, how do you call them, 'feelings'?"

Then, the Nightmare started to giggle hysterically, and after a few moments stopped, "You have killed all of my best slaves, but have you forgotten you can be one of them as well? It hurts me to see how you have used the freedom I gave you so graciously."

The Monster- or "Shade" as he called himself- listened. His muzzle revealed a grimace that showed an inner sorrow. After a second, though, it was replaced by a scornful smile.

The voice that emerged now from the Nightmare's throat was full of wonder and excitement, like that of an inquiring hatchling.

"So, what will you do now, my cute little friend? You were out there on your glorified mission for almost two cycles, so focused on killing others. Oh, it was so amusing to see how you struggled and tried - and all for nothing!"

The Nightmare started giggling again, "You will never be free, never! You can struggle all your short and pathetic life, but it will always be meaningless. I could change you into one of my followers in a second, like this piece of meat before you, but you are just too much fun to watch! Entertain me, little dragon, entertain me like your sister did!"

Then the Nightmare started laughing madly now, foam had started to form around his lips, completely ignoring that he had the Monster's paw on his muzzle or that a claw was still digging in his neck.

Shade let out a loud growl and pressed the claw in Nightmare's neck deeply. Then he swiped powerfully to the right.

The laughter died almost instantly as the cave wall was sprayed in crimson. Shade let out a loud roar full of fury and frustration that started echoing inside the small cave.

He looked at his now dead enemy, the Nightmare's muzzle still with a mocking expression on it. Looking away from it, Shade walked slowly towards the exit.

Shade stopped on a stone pedestal outside the exit and looked at his front claws that moments ago were carving into the Nightmare's neck. His black body was now covered in blood and dirt.

Shade flicked his paw, letting the drops of blood fall onto the rock beneath him. He stood like that in silence for a moment, looking at his bloody paw with a tired expression in his eyes. He almost expected it would give him the answers he craved. The sun was almost gone now. The small part of it that remained gave the ocean a red colour. Shade looked at it for a moment, his toxic green eyes scanning the horizon. Waves of water calmed for a moment, the wind stopped blowing, embracing the world in silence.

"This ocean" he said out loud. "This looks like an ocean of blood."

The wind started blowing strongly like it was agreeing with his words. Waves started to shatter violently on the rocks beneath at the base of the cliff as if answering to his feelings. Shade looked at the scarlet water for a moment more and then took off. Heading towards the place he thought he would never return to. Towards the sunset.

Towards his home.