"Someone get help!"

"He's been killed!"

"Shut down the ballroom!"

The terrified voices echoed over the shifting time of the golden rings of the ballroom.

Emlyn raced past him towards the wall, practically throwing herself at a large golden lever. She dragged it down, and one by one the golden rings of the ballroom floor clicked to a halt.

All of the creatures had stopped their dancing, and many whirled around nervously, as if expecting a shady figure to slip behind their backs and get them too. Many were already flooding through the golden doors, desperate to escape.

"Euphora, Gawain, Nimueah, Hephastion, Gwyneira, stay here," Emlyn called to the dragonets, ushering them towards one of the many little alcoves that lined the walls. "Don't go anywhere and— wait, where's Gwyneira?" The governess craned her neck in alarm, scanning the panicked crowds for the little white dragonet.

Gwyndion spotted a flash of pristine white scales in the form of a tail disappearing into the masses— but not following them, instead pushing through towards the center. He tapped the governess on the shoulder with a wingtip to get her attention. "She's going that way!" He said with a nod towards where he had last seen her. "She's heading towards the center of the ballroom."

The governess gave him a brief nod of thanks and then raced off into the masses. Gwyndion stood for a moment, debating what to do. "Oh cababits," he muttered, and proceeded to launch himself after her.

He pushed his way past scales and fur and fine cloths. Only flashes of lavender scales here and there gave him indication that he was going the right way. Talons squashed his and shoulders rammed into his wings and he ran into plenty in return— but he didn't stop.

Finally he broke free of the crowds as he reached the center of the ballroom. The hurrying crowds gave the scene a wide berth, splitting like a river around a stone.

And he could see why.

The body of a sand Territe lay collapsed on the golden floor, wearing a formal black velvet cloak that draped over most of the arwyn's lifeless body.

Thankfully, because what Gwyndion could see of the body was horrifying.

The usually golden-sandy color was replaced by a faded blue-gray, almost as if the poor creature had asphyxiated. But it was worse than that— flakes had started peeling from the scales— and scales were vacant in some places altogether, leaving a ghastly view of gray tendons and pale bone. Tissues had begun to degrade, and the membrane of the wing looked so full of gaping holes that flight would be impossible. The eyes— the eyes were worst of all. They stared, lifelessly, back up at him, already beginning to decompose.

It looked... Decayed.

As if it had died years ago and not this very hour.

Gwyndion couldn't tear himself away from looking at it, at it's face...

A Territe merwyss leaned over the body, a tear working its way through the rivulets of the scales of her cheek. Yet the sadness of the tear did not reach her eyes... The Territe seemed more confused and shocked than sad. Another Territe sat nearby with his back turned and head down, hiding his face from being recognized as carrying any emotion.

Gwyneira had halted a few wing lengths from the body, staring at it. She looked horrified... But... It almost appeared.... Not at the body. A moment later she flattened her chin against her chest and clenched her eyes shut.

Emlyn rushed over to the dragonet, scolding her for rushing off— towards the scene of a murder no less. Yet the little white ryss seemed unreceptive to her governesses' reprimands, without so much as the twitch of an ear to indicate that she was listening. In fact... The ryss seemed to be trying as hard as she could to shut out the world around her— with her wings hugging her sides and crossing in front of her face to hide it.

The governess, once finished scolding the dragonet and wrapping a wing around her to guide her away, turned to Gwyndion. "Gwyndion— can you make sure that security is aware of the situation?"

Gwyndion was about to open his mouth to respond, when a new dragon came hurriedly striding towards the body. "No need," said she. "They'll only get in the way." Saying no more, the new merwyss swept over to the body, looking over the body with a trained eye.

The governess furrowed her eye ridges. "Are you a physician?"

"Not quite," the sapphire dragon answered.

When the merwyss offered no further information, Emlyn persisted. "So would you mind telling who you are?"

The merwyss looked up, having just dipped her talon in something sticky and reddish purple that was oozing from the wounds in the body— most likely Territe dragon's blood. "You can call me Nova," she answered. "And I guess you could say that I'm a detective."

With that, the detective dived back to her work, turquoise blue eyes with all of the brilliance of a supernova peering over the body. Her obsidian black talons ran curiously over decayed scales, poking and prodding and investigating. Tall membraned spines of shimmery color similar to her eyes ran from the tip of her forehead all the way down to the end of her tail. Her tail, which, swished back and forth like a pondering cat's, waving in the air the elegant feathery blue-fading-to-turquoise fronds that made up a leaf-shaped tip to her tail. Long, waving, sleek black horns perched atop her head, and silver chestplates with hints of pearl and blues ran along her throat and chest and belly. Her sapphire light, medium and heavy armor scales shifted as she made her inspection.

Gwyndion found himself struggling to place what sort of hybrid she may be.

Emlyn sighed. "One moment then, detective," she said, and turned away towards the dragonets, who had ventured out of their alcove towards the scene with curious steps. "I'm going to need to stay here to look after this, but I can't have you taking yourselves back home with a killer on the loose." She shook her head in dismay. "I'm sorry, but you're all just going to have to stay here till we get this cleared up..."

The dragonets all sunk into bored expressions, all except Gwyneira, who looked horrified. "But, Miss Emlyn," the white dragonet protested, "I have an appointment with my physician tonight. I can't miss it, they were going to see if my heart—"

"I'm sorry, but I can't risk any of you getting hurt. You'll just have to reschedule your physician," Emlyn said. "I really do wish there was an alternative..."

Gwyndion had the sudden thought of offering himself up to take the dragonets home. It then quickly occurred to him the fact that he was by no means capable of defending himself let alone dragonets from a murderous killer; that he sort of had the destruction and invasion of outpost forty-two to report to the captain of the station ; that he had no idea where anything was on this station whatsoever, and the fact that the general idea of being stuck guarding dragonets terrified him.

But then Emlyn glanced his way, and he could see by her expression what she was thinking...

Oh no.

"Gwyndion," the governess began, "I know I said I would take you to the captain, but... Do you think you could take them home? It would mean so much to them and be so helpful to me. And then I promise I will take you to the captain." The begging look in her turquoise eyes proved her sincerity.

Gwyndion's mouth opened before he could formulate an excuse. "Ah... I..."

"No need."

Emlyn glanced back over at the detective who had spoken. Gwyndion gave a quiet breath of relief. "Pardon, what do you mean, no need?" Said the governess.

"No need," Nova answered again, popping up from her investigation to look at them. "Whatever killed this dragon... I don't believe it could harm dragonets walking home."

The governess took a calming breath. "How do you know? Have you found something in your investigation?"

The detective ran a careful talon over the face of the body, closing the ghostly eyelids as she did so. "I know, because this dragon died years ago."

"So how exactly did a body several years old end up in the middle of the ballroom, dressed for the event?" Emlyn questioned the detective. Gwyndion watched as the body was carried away on a gurney, the family following behind with their eyes downcast. The dragonets had been allowed to leave on their own.

Nova continued to organize her evidence samples into a black satchel as she spoke. "It's hard to tell exactly. There is no obvious cause of death other than that the body simply expired and then proceeded to decay."

The governess looked exasperated. "Did you speak with his family? What did they say? When did they last see him? How was he acting?"

The detective closed up her satchel. "Here's where things get strange. So, you know how the ballroom is made up of rings? And each ring slows down time as it grows closer to the center? The body was, of course, found in the center ring, where all of that slowed-down time is most condensed. You could dance there for days, and only a few minutes go by outside the rings." "I know this already. How is this related to the death?" Emlyn prompted, clearly growing annoyed at the detectives vagueness.

Nova held up a sleek black talon to indicate to the governess to listen and be silent. "The body showed several years of decay— the scales were already disintegrating, and those are always the last to go before bone. But now hear this," she said, leaning closer for emphasis and lowering her voice. "The family last saw him one week ago, at the previous weekly ball. It just so happened that he was planning on leaving early to catch a shuttle to Nova Anfeidreidd for a business trip, so they didn't think anything was up at his disappearance other than that he didn't say goodbye."

The detective let Emlyn absorb this a moment before continuing. "So we have a one week missing dragon that's been dead for several years, if you didn't get that."

The governess looked too involved working this out in her head to give an annoyed response. "But how is that possible? Time moves slower in the center, not faster— he'd have to have been in that ring for decades to accumulate that much decay. Other dragons use that ring too, so surely they would have reported a body decaying in the middle of the dance floor? Why now that they finally notice?"

"Finally," the detective murmured. "I was wondering when you were going to get it." She stabbed a leftover flake of scale from the golden floor and twiddled it in her talons. "In this is our dilemma. How does a dragon age for decades unnoticed? Perhaps it is some mechanic of the ballroom. A malfunction. A glitch in time."

"If that is so," the governess said slowly, cautiously. "Then the ballroom must be closed."

Nova waved a wing in dismissal. "I do not think that we should jump to extremes. Dragons have had time-shifting ballrooms for hundreds of thousands of millennia— way back before even the time of castles and kingdoms on our isolated Anfeiliadd. It is a part of our culture. There has never before been a glitch in the time ballroom, and so I believe that further investigation will be needed before we can reach a reliable conclusion." She raised to her talons. "Do not trouble yourself over this, and I advise you avoid spreading your concern. But you seem smart, so you probably knew that already." The merwyss shrugged. "Anyhow, just leave this to me. This is the sort of case that I specialize in." With that the detective gave a respectful nod to the governess, and then to himself.

Gwyndion realized that he had been so distracted by his thoughts that he forgot to reciprocate the gesture. Murder... Time glitches... Monsters invading outposts... What is happening to the universe... He shook himself from his head, and turned to Emlyn, who was still staring thoughtfully at the golden floor.

"Who would think... That this part of our culture may have taken one of our own... To think... That it's not safe," the governess mused, looking dejected.

Gwyndion wanted to do something reassuring, like put a wing on her shoulder, but he felt that would be out of place, and instead opted for "Don't worry about that. Just do what the detective said and.... Not worry about it." It only occurred to him after he had spoken that it was terrible advice.

Nevertheless, Emlyn shared a slight grin. "I suppose so, but it is sort of my job to worry about these things." She took another deep breath. "I guess I did promise to take you to the captain then, didn't I?"

Gwyndion gave a slow nod. "Yeah... And I did also say that speed was important, right?" The governess stood and indicated with a wing for him to follow. "Alright, come on then, let's get you to the captain."

Gwyndion also stood. "Thank you," said he, following after her.

Finally... To the captain.

For good or ill. 

~~~~~

Thanks for reading, and sorry for the delay in updating! I've got more time again, so they should be more regular now. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, please remember to vote and comment if you did! I'd love to hear what you all think of this chapter's dilemma!