Frustration clawed at Cactus’s throat. Starflight’s betrayal, so public, so devastating, had twisted a knot in his gut he couldn't loosen. The humming, the insidious melody, had wormed its way into the most secure minds, shattering loyalties. He felt the cold sting of failure, a familiar ache deep in his chest. He hadn’t protected them, hadn’t even seen it coming. He had to find the source. Now. Before another friend fell. Recalling the strange, cloaked figure he’d seen lurking near the council chambers earlier, a whisper of movement at the edge of his vision, Cactus moved. The academy's main halls were emptying, dragons retreating to their caves, shaken by the meeting. Perfect. Fewer eyes. Shadows stretched long, twisting with the last rays of sunset filtering through the mountain openings. Cactus moved silently, talons barely scraping stone. His SandWing senses were hyper-alert, every shift in air, every distant echo, a potential clue. The figure had been quick, darting away the moment the council meeting erupted into chaos. A faint, rhythmic thrumming vibrated through the rock beneath his talons. It pulsed, low and steady, a heartbeat of malice. He followed it, deeper into the less-traveled tunnels, the ones usually reserved for storage or forgotten passages. This wasn't the main hum that had infected Starflight, but a localized, almost personal vibration, like a tuning fork resonating just for him. Stone walls grew rougher, less polished. The air cooled, carrying the damp scent of ancient rock and stagnant water. He navigated a labyrinth of turns, trusting instinct more than sight in the dimness. The thrumming grew stronger, a guiding pulse in the darkness. Ahead, a deeper patch of gloom, almost absolute. A flicker of movement confirmed his suspicions. The cloaked figure. They paused, seeming to listen, before slipping into a narrow fissure in the rock face, a passage Cactus had never noticed before. Slowly, he stalked forward. The fissure was barely wide enough for his shoulders, the rock sharp and unforgiving. He squeezed through, emerging into a small, rarely used cavern. It was a natural hollow, carved by ancient water, lit only by a faint, phosphorescent moss clinging to the ceiling. Water dripped somewhere nearby, a hollow plink-plink-plink. The cloaked figure stood at the far end, their back to him, observing a smooth, dark wall. Their form was slender, undeniably SandWing, with the distinctive barb of a tail just visible beneath the heavy cloak. “Stop,” Cactus commanded, his voice a low growl, the sound echoing unnaturally in the small space. The figure froze. A tense stillness settled, broken only by the dripping water. They didn't move, didn't turn.

Chapter 45: The Serpent's Kiss (MID-POINT TWIST)