A gasp tore from Cactus's throat. His wings, usually so steady, trembled. He stood at the threshold of the chamber, the harsh, sterile light of the Oracle's domain illuminating the horror before him. Moonwatcher. She was there, not moving, not breathing. Her scales, once a soft, shifting midnight, were now a grotesque, unyielding granite. Every curve, every spike, every delicate scale was frozen in a mockery of life. Her posture was one of sudden, unbearable shock. Head twisted to the side, one foreleg lifted as if to ward off an unseen blow. Her mouth was open, a silent scream trapped forever between stone lips. But it was her eyes, wide and staring, that truly stole his breath. They were emeralds, dulled by the stony transformation, but the fear, the sheer, raw terror, was etched so deeply into them that Cactus felt it claw at his own heart. A living nightmare, sculpted into stone. "Moonwatcher?" His voice was a raw whisper, barely audible over the hum of the Oracle's distant machinery. He took a hesitant step forward, then another, his talons scraping on the polished floor. Every instinct screamed at him. This wasn't real. She couldn't be like this. Not *his* Moonwatcher, the dragon who saw into his very soul, who spoke with quiet wisdom and fierce loyalty. He reached out a trembling claw. Stopped. Feared what he would feel. Feared the absolute cold, the complete lack of warmth that would confirm the truth. Another step. He was right in front of her now, close enough to see the minute, sharp edges of the petrified scales, the fine lines of her face etched in permanent agony. "Moonwatcher, it's me," he said, his voice cracking. "Cactus. Can you hear me?" Silence. Only the faint, almost imperceptible thrum of the Oracle's power permeated the air. Her stone eyes stared past him, into nothingness. No flicker of recognition. No shift in that horrifying, frozen expression. He forced himself to touch her. His talons met unyielding rock. It was cold, so incredibly cold, a chill that seeped into his bones, colder than any desert night. His heart hammered against his ribs, a frantic bird trapped in a cage. "Moon," he murmured, his voice thick with unshed tears. "Please. Snap out of it. This isn't you. This isn't real." He placed his palm flat against her chest, right where her heart would be. Hoped for a phantom thump, a ghost of a beat. Felt only the absolute, solid indifference of stone. The crushing despair he'd been fighting threatened to overwhelm him. His vision blurred. This was his greatest fear, manifested. Losing those he cared for, failing to protect them. The memory of his sister's distant, desperate cries echoed in his mind, merging with Moonwatcher's silent scream. He closed his eyes for a moment, pressing his forehead against the cold, hard stone of her shoulder. "I'm so sorry," he whispered, the words choked. "I should have been faster. I should have found a way sooner." The Oracle's cold, calculating voice seemed to echo in his mind, though no sound was made. *"Inefficiency. A disease. Perfection requires sacrifice."* Rage, hot and sharp, flared within him, cutting through the despair. No. This wasn't perfection. This was desecration. This was a monster's idea of order. He pulled back, gripping her shoulders, the stone unyielding beneath his claws. "Moonwatcher!" he yelled, his voice raw, desperate. "Fight it! Fight the Oracle! I know you're in there. I know you can hear me!" He shook her gently, then more urgently. Her head remained locked in place, her body a rigid statue. The green symbol on her neck, the Oracle's mark, pulsed faintly, a cruel, mocking light. "Don't give up!" he pleaded, his voice hoarse. "Remember our promise? Remember the stars? Remember Jade Mountain? We'll go back. We'll find a cure. Just... just give me a sign, Moon. Anything." He ran his claws along her jawline, traced the curve of her snout. The terror in her eyes seemed to deepen, an impossible feat for a stone form. Was it just his imagination, projecting his own fear onto her unmoving face? Or was she truly trapped, screaming silently within her stony prison? It felt like a cruel joke. The Oracle had taken everything, twisted it into something horrifying. His charming facade, his carefully constructed composure, shattered around him. He was just a dragon, terrified and broken, standing before the unmoving form of the one dragon who truly saw him. He gripped her snout, forcing himself to look into those petrified emerald eyes. "Moon, please," he begged, his voice barely a whisper. "Come back to me. Just blink. Just a twitch. Anything." He felt the helplessness consume him, a cold, empty void in his chest. The Oracle's power was absolute, its grip on her complete. He had seen the effects of the petrification before, but never like this. Never on someone he loved so fiercely. Never with such a vivid, agonizing tableau of terror. Yet, a stubborn spark of defiance flickered within him. He was a SandWing. He didn't give up. Not when the desert sun beat down, not when the odds were stacked against him, and certainly not when Moonwatcher's life hung in the balance. He might not know how, but he *would* find a way. He would tear apart this entire mechanical wasteland, he would face the Oracle itself, if it meant bringing her back. He had to. There was no other option. His resolve solidified, a hard, unyielding core in the face of insurmountable despair. He would not let his past failures define him here. He would not fail Moonwatcher. He leaned in close, pressing his forehead against hers, the stone cold and hard against his scales. "I'm not leaving you," he vowed, his voice low and fierce. "I promise. I'll get you back." He gently pulled away, his eyes scanning her stone form, searching for any sign, any hint of the dragon he knew. His gaze fell upon the green symbol on her neck, pulsing with that faint, unsettling light. It was a brand, a claim, a reminder of the Oracle's dominion. His claw hovered over it, then he pressed his thumb gently against the cold, smooth stone of her cheek, just below her eye, right where a tear might fall. As he touches her petrified face, the green symbol on her neck flares, and for a split second, a single, clear tear of living water trickles from her stone eye, before immediately turning to ice.

Moonwatcher's Silent Scream