Wings of Fire Oneshots

1. What if the SkyWing Egg Survived?

Sometimes, the only way to face your fears was to face them head-on.

At least, that is what Hvitar told himself as he beat his wings, flying through the mountains. Above him, rain plummeted in thick, unrelenting waves, crashing down onto his scales and chilling him to the bone. How SkyWings could stand this weather–how RainWings could live in these conditions–was beyond him.

But he tried to ignore how uncomfortable he was, and how the rain dragged him down and made it feel like he was carrying ten eggs instead of one, because he had a job to do, and if he wasn't caught, it would save all the dragon tribes.

Just don't fuck up, he thought, angling his wings downward. As he swooped lower, his eyes caught on a broken tree, damaged by a lightning strike a few years ago. He felt a stab of fierce triumph. He was close to the cave.

And then, a beige-colored blur leaped out of the trees and hit him square in the chest. He let out a cry of pain as claws dug into his underbelly. The force of the blow knocked off his balance, sending him stumbling out of the sky.

The attack was so sudden, so unexpected, he didn't have time to regain his balance before he was crashing to the ground, stone scraping against his scales and ripping through his softer underbelly.

He came to a stop at the edge of a cliff, and he pushed himself up, quickly checking the egg before the sky. The egg was the most important thing, he reminded himself.

The egg was safe.

Thank the moons, he thought, but his relief was short lived. He heard a hissing noise and his head snapped up to see his worst nightmare–not just one, not just two, but five SandWings, each with matching expressions of pure hatred.

But it wasn't the SandWings that scared him, it was the dragon leading them. The dragon that had haunted his nightmares.

Burn.

"Well, well, well," Burn said, "what do we have here?"

"You'll never kill our dragonets!" he gasped, still struggling to regain his composure.

"A fierce one we have here," Burn replied, smiling. Her tone was light, almost cheerful, but her eyes betrayed her anger. They betrayed how cruel she really was. She didn't give a fuck about small-talk or peace.

"What–what do you want?" he snapped, frost breath curling around his nose. The rain was still falling, but the SandWings were underneath the trees, although Burn was close enough to reach out and grab him.

Burn's smile grew bigger at his question. "The egg, of course."

And she lunged for him.

He tried to maneuver away, but the SandWing princess was too fast, and a talon curled around his throat, slamming him to the ground. He cried out, his vision going briefly dark before coming back. He let out a strangled rawr, clawing at the SandWing above him, reaching for anything he could grasp, but his aim was poor and his body weak, so Burn ignored him.

"Wrap chains around his snout so he can't use his frostbreath," Burn commanded, releasing him. Hvitar hissed softly as a SandWing guard, blank-faced, started to wrap smoking chains around him.

"Don't you care about the prophecy?" he wheezed. "Peace is–"

"Shut up," she snapped, digging a claw into his underbelly. He stopped talking, his hope quickly fading. There was no way he could fight all of them, and especially not without his frostbreath.

His eyes snapped to Burn, who had picked up the scarlet-colored egg. It was almost as big as her palm, and she eyed it curiously, as if examining a shiny new toy instead of a prophecy dragonet.

"What an interesting little thing," she commented, shooting him a wicked, mocking grin. "So fragile." She started tossing it from talon to talon. "So weak."

"Don't," he tried to say, but it came out as more of a mumbled rasp.

Please–please the egg come out alive, he silently begged the moons. He couldn't do anything now–if Burn crushed it between her talons, he wouldn't be able to do anything about it.

And then I'd be the one to fail the prophecy. Not Webs or Kestrel or Dune. Me.

Burn continued to play with the egg. "No 'wings of sky' to help save the world. What a sad, sad story." She sighed dramatically. "I guess that means you should be very, very careful with this terribly important little–oops!" With an exaggerated lung, she let the egg slip out of her talons and plummet into the void below.

"NO!" he shrieked, pushing himself off the ledge. But a talon slammed him to the ground.

"So much for your pathetic little movement," she hissed. "So much for destiny."

"PLEASE–"

Burn grabbed him by the throat, and then a wing. She tore it off, and dark blue blood spilled as he screamed in agony. Writhing, he roared his pain to the sky. "So much for guardians."

And she tossed him off the cliff.

***

The next day, when the rain had slowed and the dark clouds had faded, leaving only white, puffy clouds to roll across the sky, a red dragon slithered out of a secret entrance. She hissed in annoyance, moving around a rock to pace towards the dead body. Hvitar was undoubtedly dead, she noted, his body bent at weird angles on the stone floor. If the fall hadn't killed him, the injury had. There was too much blood-loss for any dragon to survive, let alone him.

He was weak, anyway, she thought, although she couldn't ignore the stab of sadness. But I thought at least one of them would be a SkyWing.

She snorted, tossing his dismembered wing away from the body. Half of his body was dark blue and covered in his own blood. A pool had gathered, and it seemed whatever had happened, the wound hadn't bothered to clot.

Could we have saved him if we arrived a day earlier? She wondered, but she dismissed it. Of course not. No one could save someone with this amount of injuries. Her eyes went to his neck, which had a burn ring around it.

Did Skywings kill him? She didn't find it hard to believe. After all, they had been stealing from the SkyWing hatchery. And she didn't find it hard to believe that they'd done some extra damage to him before ending his life. SkyWings could be cruel.

With a heavy sigh, she stepped back. I guess we'll have to get a replacement. She didn't like that idea at all. That SkyWing egg was the only SkyWing egg to hatch on the brightest night... but the prophecy said a SkyWing...

And then, suddenly, she heard a mewling sound from underneath Hvitars intact wing. Her head snapped around, and she felt a sudden burst of hope that was completely unlike her.

Is it alive?

Kestrel grabbed the wing and tossed it away–and underneath was a dragonet.

It was small, but cute. Its wings were a dark crimson speckled with orange, and its claws were curved like the moons. Its horns were the same color and curved, too, and when it opened its mouth to yawn, it revealed sharp little teeth and a pink tongue. It looked up at her, and she saw that the small dragonets eyes were a bright orange.

It's... cute.

She picked the dragonet up, and it murmured something happily, completely unbothered by the blood on its wing and talons, or the fact a complete stranger was picking it up.

"Mommy?" it asked, curiously.

Mommy?

"Um..." She frowned, uncomfortable in these situations. "Um, I guess."

"Mommy!" it cried, wrapping its tiny arms around her.

"Yes." I... don't hate it. And it really lived. And I found it. This must be a sign from the moons. I am meant to be its guardian.

"Yes. I am your mom... Star."