A low hum pulsed, a steady vibration beneath Cactus's scales. It had been there for days, a phantom ache in his skull, growing louder with each passing hour. Sleep offered no escape; the drone invaded his dreams, morphing into distorted whispers he couldn't quite grasp. Restless, he paced the narrow confines of his cave. Even the cool stone offered no solace. The air felt heavy, charged with an unseen tension that mirrored his own frayed nerves. Sundew. Her bluntness, her unwavering sense of purpose, might cut through this mental fog. He needed a clear head, a dose of unfiltered reality. He emerged from his cave, the academy grounds still bathed in the soft glow of pre-dawn. Most dragons slept soundly, oblivious to the insidious thrum that had taken root in his mind. He found Sundew by the river, already awake, meticulously inspecting a patch of moss. "Morning," Cactus offered, his voice rougher than he intended. He cleared his throat, pushing down the persistent hum. Sundew glanced up, her green eyes sharp. "Cactus. You look like you've been wrestling a particularly stubborn vine. Or a nightmare." She turned back to her moss, her tail twitching. "Something like that." He settled beside her, careful not to disturb the delicate plant life. "It's the humming. Have you noticed it getting… stronger?" Sundew plucked a tiny, iridescent beetle from the moss. "Always strong. A persistent nuisance. Like a mosquito buzzing around a particularly thick-skinned leaf." She crushed the beetle between her claws with a soft *snap*. Cactus watched her, a knot tightening in his gut. "No, I mean, truly *stronger*. Like it's inside my head now. Not just the academy." He rubbed his temples, a dull throb intensifying. She finally turned to face him fully, a flicker of concern in her gaze. "Inside your head? That's… unusual. Even for the academy's weirdness. Are you sure it's not just a lack of sleep? You've been looking… strained." "More than strained." He sighed, the air catching in his throat. "It feels like pressure. Like something is trying to push its way out. Or in." He paused, trying to articulate the bizarre sensation. Pressure built, a sudden, sharp spike behind his eyes. It wasn't just the humming anymore. It was a roar, a sudden, deafening crescendo of sound and sensation. His scales prickled, every nerve ending screaming. A jumble of images flooded his mind, unbidden and violent. A desert at dusk. Dust swirling, red and orange. A small, trembling SandWing. His claws, stained with something dark. A silent scream tearing through his throat. He gasped, a strangled sound escaping his lips. His vision blurred, the familiar riverbank dissolving into a terrifying, sun-scorched memory. The air grew cold, then searing hot. He was there, back in that moment, the weight of a terrible secret pressing down on him, suffocating him. Words formed on his tongue, hot and urgent. *I killed her. I didn't mean to. It was an accident. My fault.* The confession clawed at his throat, demanding release, desperate to tear free from his tightly guarded past. His body convulsed. He clutched his head, knuckles white against his temples. A wave of nausea washed over him, bile rising. He fought it, fought the memory, fought the insidious urge to confess everything to Sundew, right here, right now. He couldn't. Not now. Not ever. This secret was his burden alone. To speak it, to give it voice, would shatter everything. Sundew leaned in, her expression a mix of alarm and confusion. "Cactus? What in the three moons is wrong with you? Your scales are practically glowing green!" He tried to speak, but his jaw was clenched tight, muscles rigid. A guttural sound escaped instead, a strangled croak. He shook his head, a desperate, jerky movement. He stumbled backward, away from her, away from the river, away from the encroaching memory. His heart hammered against his ribs, a frantic drumbeat. He felt exposed, raw, as if the very air had stripped away his defenses.

Echoes in the Scales