Gasping. Air burned his lungs. Cactus tore through the corridors of the infirmary, his talons scraping against the polished stone. Every beat of his heart thundered a single name. Moonwatcher. Sounds of other dragons faded. His world narrowed to this desperate rush. He shoved past a terrified nurse, ignoring her startled squawk. His vision blurred, not from tears, but from the sheer, overwhelming panic seizing him. Round a final corner. His breath hitched. She lay on a raised medical slab, bathed in the sickly green glow of emergency lights. Her form was a grotesque mockery of itself. Most of her was stone. Cold, unyielding stone. Her once midnight-black scales, soft and shimmering, now resembled rough, unpolished obsidian. Jagged cracks spiderwebbed across her muzzle, down her neck, along her wings. Only a sliver of her chest, a patch near her heart, retained its dark, living hue. A final, desperate bastion of flesh amidst the encroaching petrification. Even her eyes, usually pools of swirling starlight, were now dull, stony orbs, half-lidded, fixed on nothing. No. Not nothing. A flicker. A faint, almost imperceptible tremor ran through the remaining fleshy part of her chest. It was enough. A spark. He threw himself beside the slab. His talons, usually so precise, fumbled as he reached out, not daring to touch the stone. His gaze locked onto her unseeing eyes. He had to reach her. He had to. *Moonwatcher!* His mental roar ripped through his own mind, a desperate plea. He slammed his consciousness against the barrier, pushing, straining. He felt a faint, distant flutter, like a trapped butterfly beating against glass. *C-Cactus?* The whisper was thin, broken, like static on a dying frequency. It was laced with an unimaginable terror, a primal scream of a mind trapped within a crumbling prison. *Stone… cold… can’t… move…* The words tore at his heart. Each syllable was a jagged shard. He saw flashes in his mind's eye: her fear, like a vast, dark ocean threatening to engulf her. He felt the immense pressure, the suffocating stillness of stone slowly consuming her. *I’m here!* He projected his thoughts, his emotions, a torrent of desperate love. *Don’t let go! Fight it!* He pressed a talon, gently, against the last remaining patch of living scale on her chest. It felt warm, impossibly so, a tiny furnace against the encroaching chill. He poured every ounce of his being into that contact. Memories flooded his mind, then streamed into hers through their fragile link. Their first meeting in the caves, her shy smile. The quiet moments under the twin moons, sharing secrets. The fierce determination in her eyes when they faced impossible odds. *Remember the sky?* he urged, projecting an image of them soaring, wind beneath their wings. *Remember the stars? Our stars?* Her fear, initially a raging storm, began to ebb, replaced by a deep, aching sorrow. *Can’t… see… them…* *You can!* he insisted, his own voice hoarse, though he wasn’t speaking aloud. *You’re stronger than this, Moonwatcher. You always have been. You faced Darkstalker. You found a way. You’ll find a way out of this too.* He pictured her, vibrant and alive, scales gleaming, eyes blazing with intelligence and kindness. He pushed that image into her mind, willing her to see it, to feel it, to embody it. *It hurts,* her thought-whisper pulsed, sharper this time, a spike of pure anguish. *It’s taking me apart. Piece by piece. I can feel… the edges… crumbling…* Anguish coiled in Cactus’s gut. His own fear threatened to overwhelm him. He couldn't lose her. Not now. Not like this. He’d failed to protect so many. He wouldn’t fail her. *No!* He roared, his mental voice reverberating with a fierce, protective power. *It won’t take you! I won’t let it!* He reached deeper, beyond his own fear, beyond his own pain. He found a wellspring of fierce, unshakeable devotion. He projected it all. His loyalty. His promise. His entire future, intertwined with hers. He was laying his very soul bare. *Hold on to me, Moonwatcher!* he pleaded. *Hold on to us! If you can hear me, squeeze!* He waited, breath held tight in his chest. A long, agonizing moment passed. Nothing. His hope dwindled, flickering like a dying flame. Then, a faint pressure. A tiny, almost imperceptible shift in the living patch of scale beneath his talon. It was so faint, he almost missed it. But it was there. A response. A sign. She was still fighting. His Moonwatcher, trapped in stone, was still fighting. The profound connection, usually a gentle hum between them, now felt like a desperate lifeline, stretched taut across a chasm, humming with their combined will. He pressed closer, resting his head against her stony shoulder. The coldness seeped into him, but he ignored it. He focused on that tiny spark, that flicker of life, that precious connection. He became a conduit, pouring his strength, his spirit, his stubborn refusal to surrender, into her. *I’ll burn the world down for you,* he swore silently, his mental voice a vow etched into her dying mind. *I will find a cure. I will bring you back. You are not alone in there.* He felt her thoughts shift again. The fear remained, a dull ache, but defiance began to bloom within it. A fragile, tenacious sprout pushing through barren earth. He felt a surge of pride, even in his despair. She was Moonwatcher. The dragon who stared down the darkest prophecies. The dragon who dared to hope when others gave in. She wouldn’t break easily. She couldn't. Not when he was holding on so tightly. Hours blurred. He didn't move. Didn't eat. Didn't speak. He just held on, his mind locked with hers, a silent vigil against the creeping oblivion. He whispered old jokes into her mind, shared quiet moments, replayed their dearest memories. He told her about the Wastes, about the Oracle, about his resolve to destroy it. He painted pictures of a future where they stood together, free from this curse. He made promises he wasn't sure he could keep, but he made them with all his heart, willing them into existence. The living patch on her chest remained, a testament to her spirit. It pulsed, faintly, irregularly, a tiny beacon in the encroaching darkness. He felt her weakening, the mental whispers growing fainter, more distorted, but the defiance, however small, persisted. He would not let her fade. He would anchor her, with his love, with his will, with every fiber of his being. He was her bridge to life, her link to hope. He could feel her mind straining, pushing back, even as the stone claimed more of her. Her telepathic presence, though fragmented, felt like a constant struggle. A warrior fighting a silent, slow-motion battle against an invisible enemy. He kept pushing, kept reinforcing, kept reminding her of who she was, of what they had. He pictured a golden thread, connecting their minds, shining brightly, even as the world around them turned to ash. He would not allow that thread to snap. He would mend it, reinforce it, with his own essence. He held onto her as though his life depended on it, because it did. His purpose, his future, his very existence felt bound to hers. If she shattered, so would he. Moonwatcher's stone scales briefly shimmered with a faint, iridescent light, and then, a single, glowing tear of pure energy rolls down her cheek, leaving a faint scorch mark.

Chapter 56: Moonwatcher's Fight