ART BY EBOY! https://www.instagram.com/eboydoescontents/
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The treehouse's canopy provided a soothing whisper of shade that still carried the lingering scent of the previous rain. Frogs sang a slow and soothing melody to the evening, and evening-blooming flowers that released their fragrance only after darkness fell filled the balmy humid air with their intoxicating aroma.

Mirage rested easily against the trunk separating the top balcony from the denspace, well removed from any danger. Her scales shone softly in the moonlight engagingly; not in a dramatic sense, but as oil rode the water smoothly, catching the light.She felt that she was exactly where she was supposed to be among the harsh lines and dark forms like the jungle's best-kept secret.

Peacemaker sat with his forearms crossed and legs folded beside her, the open space of the canopy behind them a jar softly alight between them on the balcony floor. The fireflies within pulsed golden and warm, blinking like heartbeat cadences in his eyes. He kept gazing at the jar as though it might teach him what to say.

"I don't believe they want to be trapped behind those walls," he whispered, his voice hardly audible over the gentle whisper of the leaves in the forest.

"They're not," Mirage said, staring more at him than the light. "They're here on their own."

Peacemaker looked up, bewildered. "How do you know that?"

"Because if they hadn't," she shrugged one shoulder. "They would have stopped glowing."

He glanced back at the jar. Still. Then, softly,

"That's not the way fireflies work," he grinned.

"That is how the story goes at least."

For that brief moment, she smiled back and caught a shy-cornered, soft-lipped smile that he struggled to conceal behind the modest mask of a RainWing. He rarely showed it to other dragons, but with her, it was a whole different tale.

"You always talk as though you're wandering in a dream," he said.

She cocked her head slightly to the side and said, "You always talk as though you fear waking up."

He looked down, his claws barely brushing the rim of the jar, as if trying to ground himself in the here and now.
"I'm sure my parents are listening in on this."

Mirage looked up at Peacemaker, a beam of pride lighting up her snout. "Our moms are probably at the festival pretending we don’t exist or caring so much that we exist they think we’re getting in trouble."

He grimaced. "Moons, don't remind me."

Their laughter still echoed in the air but was immediately eclipsed by the thick tension that filled the space between them, bred both by the language that was spoken and the unspoken realities that neither of them was prepared to face then.

Mirage inclined forward ever so slightly not to close the distance between them but only enough to feel her there. The RainWing hybrid's cheeks flushed a light pink.

"You always act like you're trying to pretend to be afraid of what this really is," she said. "But I catch the way you look at me when you think I don't notice."

His breath caught, and the color in his cheeks intensified.

"And?" he breathed, barely audible.

She waited a moment, her face unreadable as she looked at him before redirecting her gaze to the elaborately carved balustrade that surrounded the intricate dance of green and shadow.

"I think I do," she finally admitted. "I think I like you. I mean. I like you like you."

Silence. The fireflies flashed again, gold against glass.

Peacemaker gulped. "So why do you always behave as if you don't?"

She turned toward him again. Her eyes, for the first time, were steady and unwavering..

"Because if I hadn't done that-" Her voice trembled slightly. "I would have to confess that I've loved you for a while now. And that scares me."

The rainforest held it’s breath.

They’d always been close; best friends, co-conspirators, late-night stargazers, and most of all, slackers.. It had always felt like something more, but neither of them had ever crossed the line. Not until now.

Peacemaker’s smile tugged at her chest again, softer this time. The kind of smile he used to wear before he knew what to do with his feelings. Before she knew how to stop running from hers.

And for a second, Mirage remembered the first time she saw him. The dirt-stained claws, the wary look he gave her like she was something fragile and dangerous at once. How the air had smelled like strawberries and wet moss. How Qibli had said, “You need out of that place, Mirage.” and dragged her into a future neither had seen coming.

It hadn’t started as anything big. Just a field, some strawberries, and Qibli, doing what he always did best, or so he believes what he does best: fixing problems before they turn into disasters.


Mirage had arrived with a chip on her shoulder and sand still clinging to her scales from the Scorpion’s Den. Trouble followed her like smoke as long as she could remember, from stealing food to the accidental death, one yet known to her, of one of her partners in crime. The later being enough that Qibli finally had pulled her aside and adopted the hybrid. Bringing her here to the rain forest.

“You need to get out of that place, Mirage.”

He didn't say it like he was judging her. Just… tired. Concerned. Like someone who’d been there before and didn’t want her to make the same mistakes.


So he brought her here. To this little patch of green tucked under the trees, Where the air smelled like moss and fruit, and a soft spoken dragon was tending to the soil with two other dragons, Moonwatcher and Hope, watching him tend to the rows of strawberries with careful claws.

Though the botanist soon looked up when they arrived, startled by her, and by Qibli. He blinked, brushing soil off his talons. He recognized Qibli, but not this new dragon. Who was she?

The other two, Moonwatcher and Hope, stood politely in the distance, letting Peacemaker do what he loved best without too much interference. But Moonwatcher’s gaze flicked over immediately, catching mirage with an eerie Nightwing perception, like she was already reading her like an open scroll.

Peacemaker sat back on his haunches slowly. “Hi… Qibli,” he said carefully. “Didn’t expect you today.”

“I figured I’d drop in and help ruin your soil pH,” Qibli said, trying for lightness. But there was something behind his grin, an edge of weariness, or maybe just the weight of everything Mirage had done.

“And who’s this?” Moon asked, her voice soft but not unwelcoming.

Qibli glanced at Mirage like she might bolt. “This is Mirage. She’s… uh… Staying with us now. She’s been through a lot, but she’s trying.”


Mirage shifted her weight, eyes narrowing “Trying what?”

“Just breathe, Mirage. No one is accusing you of anything,” Qibli said, ignoring her defensive tone. “Trying to be a dragon again. Not just a reaction to the world around her.”

There was a silence, heavy and close. Peacemaker stood wiping his claws on some leaves and walked over slowly. Like approaching a frightened bird. He wasn’t good at bold introductions, he had never been, but something in Qibli’s voice had softened his edges.

“I’m Peacemaker,” he said finally, offering a talon. “Or.. just Peace, If that’s easier.”

Mirage hesitated. He looked too soft to be real. Quiet, black like the night but colorful on the wings. Was he a hybrid? It was obvious by his demeanor he would rather be gardening than dealing with strangers. And yet, she took his talon.

“Mirage,” she said “You probably won’t remember it.”

“I will,” Peace replied, almost too quickly. Then, realizing he’d said it aloud, his wings twitched. “I mean. I remember most things. I’m not great with crowds, but I am great with names!”


Qibli cleared his throat “Anyway, I need to talk to Moonwatcher about something. Don’t burn the field down while I’m gone.”

Mirage muttered something that sounded like “no promises,” and Qibli rolled his eyes before turning to Moonwatcher. ““Come on, Moon-eyes. Hope, I will also need to talk to you.” Hope nodded.

The others left without much ceremony, though Moon gave Mirage a long look, curious, maybe a little hopeful.Hope followed with a quiet nod, ever the watchful one. Soon enough, it was just the two of them left in the soft dappled light, surrounded by strawberries and damp earth.

Mirage bent down, picking a berry with careful claws. “So. You just… grow fruit all day?”

Peace flushed slightly. “Sometimes. It’s nice to grow something that doesn’t argue.”

She snorted. “I argue.”

“I noticed,” he said, smiling gently.


There was a beat.

“You're not like the other dragons aren’t you?” she said, finally holding his gaze just long enough to feel it. “Most dragons are scared of my purple eyes and smug grin. They know I’m trouble.”

Peacemaker looked at her; not past her, not through her, but at her. “I don’t flinch easily,” he bluffed. “Besides, everyone’s done something they're not proud of.”


She didn’t answer right away. The strawberry in her claw stained her scales red. Maybe she liked that.

“Yeah,” she said at last. “We’ll see.”

She hadn’t believed him then. Not really. But now, watching Peacemaker trace gentle patterns on the firefly jar’s lid with a claw too careful to belong to someone raised in the Scorpion's Den, she wondered if maybe, just maybe, he had always known better.


And maybe she had, too.

Peacemaker inched closer, so their shoulders touched firmly and warmly as he breathed shallowly in quick gasps. Before long, his tail wrapped around hers; not just resting along her side hesitantly, but in a way that indicated he'd wanted to do so for a very long time

"I have that fear," he whispered, "but I maybe, maybe this is the right thing? What we have here?"

Mirage was quiet, softly closing her eyes as she rested her head against the curve of his shoulder, letting the gentle light of the firefly jar fall across the gap that had emerged between them.

For a change, neither of them said something witty, snarky, or enigmatic.

They stayed there, paused in that uncertain, ephemeral instant, such a still and reverent one that the very world seemed to stand in rapt attention. Up above them in the canopy, fireflies glittered as stars trapped in glass, as the evening closed in on them. Finally, their tails wrapped themselves around each other as if they had been waiting for permission. Just prior to the moon's reaching its zenith