Wings of Fire: The Forgotten Dragonets

The Age of Magic

Doomsayer curled up in a small, soft corner of the library, trying to ignore Boto as he shuffled around her, avoiding her wings and tail in a comically exaggerated manner. She was trying to focus on the scrolls around her, mostly under-informed tomes on the animus 'curse,' while simultaneously plotting her plan of action for this ridiculous project and trying to understand her winglet. 

They were all so different from the miserable self-obsessed Nightwings she'd known for most of her life, and even more confusing, though she'd learned to block out most of their thoughts at the very beginning. (It was slightly different for each dragon, depending on the vibrancy of their minds and the power they gave their dreams.) As for the blasted project . . . it was a work in progress. It would certainly help if some dragon actually did his work instead of reading the scrolls for fun! She shot a dark scowl at Boto, wondering what she'd ever done to deserve this dragon as a partner. In return he vanished into shadow, once again becoming invisible not just to her eyes, but to her mind.

How does he do that? she wondered.

I wish I knew, rumbled the mindvoice of a dragon everyone thought was dead (or undead, which most readily agreed was much, much worse). Obviously he wasn't, however, because every dragon knew that ghosts can't talk - or think, for that matter. It's like he's completely vanished. Maybe it's from hiding so long, but it doesn't seem like that should be possible. It's unnatural, like the skyfire. No dragon should have that power.

The power to- Skyfire?

Hmm . . .

Tell me what it is, Darkstalker.

What what is?

She turned back to her work, wishing that she hadn't called out his slip-up. It would have been sooo nice if he'd actually told her something for once, but he was Darkstalker, the great and powerful, and couldn't be expected to tell secrets to mortal dragons, oh no, because he-

"BOO!!" Doom jumped back and slammed her head on the scroll rack behind her, lashing out with her tail at the offending dragon. His at-the-moment purple snout wrinkled with amusement and his tongue flicked out teasingly as he dodged out of her way.

"Moonbeams and mushrooms you STUPID dragon!" she yelled, eliciting a disgruntled hush from the blind librarian. "If you'd just sit down and work then-" He poked her in the nose, shushing her, and Doom knew that if she was a Rainwing she'd rival the sun for fiery colors. "Poke me one more time, I dare you," she hissed, feeling the unpleasant burn of fire at the back of her throat. Not in a library. Not in a library.

He promptly poked her again, darting back out of clawing reach before procuring a scroll from some mysterious hiding place, hiding behind the oh so flammable parchment. She swallowed the flame, snorting out a glob of smoke, and stared at him. "A scroll. I'm sooo impressed. It's not like we're in a library or anything like that." Yes, she sounded snarky, but so would he if he'd stayed up all night listening to an immortal whining like a four year old.

He half-grinned and bowed. Quite the thespian, this one. "Indeed your majesty, I had to travel halfway across to world to find this rare gem of fiber and cloth, and then halfway back to reach your illustrious throne." He raised his brows and smirked, gauging her reaction and being pleased by what he saw, before pressing the bulky scroll into her talons. He leaned in a bit too close and whispered, "thought you might want to give this one another look."

Then he was gone, vanished into his little pocket of invisibility, and she was free to read and relax. She began to unroll the scroll, gently removing it from its heavily oiled leather case. It was wonderfully illuminated, lettered with gold at the beginning of each paragraph and decorated with tiny sketches of animals in the margins. She looked at the title, reading it as if for the first time, though she was sure she'd seen it before: The Age of Magic. Beneath that, in tiny little letters so small she could barely see she saw a name, at least what she thought must have been a name, though it sounded like nothing she'd ever heard: Alexandra Foster. In larger letters under that it stated plainly: Translated by Jerboa of the Sandwings. Why did that sound so familiar? She didn't know, but felt as if she should. It was an itch at the back of her skull, but right now it was only a small one, and could be ignored. Right now she wanted to read.

 I am living in a world of wonder, though it is also a world of danger. The Flame-Gulpers are growing in their power, and I fear for the People. We have no way to match them though there are many ways yet to try. Still, they seem invincible. What can we do, when they are twice our size at birth, and a hundred times that every when else? They have discovered a new gift, one that I've only seen used by the Sand-Shades and the Frost-Demons, though I've heard of many others.  They control things - of all the elements: earth, fire, air, sea and spirit - by simply telling them to in that harsh approximation of voice they call language.

If only we could speak to them, ask them to stop before the world ends for us both, but as we speak, they hear only squeaks, and as they speak, we hear but stones crashing together. I must speak to Master Ashfall, but I doubt he will listen to my ideas. Once I suggested we return to the use of swords, as oppose to the steel-flingers we'd been using, which simply bounced off their rough hide. He laughed in my face and dismissed me outright. 

If only he would listen. If only the world would hear me. But I am a woman, and we females are but pretty ornamentation in this world of men. One day they will see. One day we will fly.

- Alexandra Foster

There the entry ended, and though Doom saw that there was more - much more - she was already overwhelmed by what she'd read. It spoke of a world ruled by males, which was nonsense enough, with monsters hundreds of times the size of a dragon, yet had the eerie ring of truth to it. And no one would make up a name like that - it was too ridiculous.

Doom looked up at the library around her, noting the way the light had shifted from the eastern windows to the west and the deep silence. No thoughts greeted her as her thoughts scanned the room, not even the quiet hum of Starflight's mind. She felt as if she'd fallen into a hole in time, lost to the world she knew and thrown into somewhen else.

She shivered, standing up and clutching the scroll to her chest. She'd gotten so used to the constant buzz of minds, and loosing them so suddenly was a blow she hadn't anticipated. Everything was silent, and as she stepped out into the empty halls she wondered,

Where has everybody gone?

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A/N:

So sorry I haven't updated in a while. I made it extra long to make up. (Hopefully not too long . . .) I've had exams and had to study for them. But it's over!!!!!!!

I'm experimenting with a cliffhanger, so please don't hate me. If you want to guess what the scroll is about I'd love to hear it from you.

You are amazing!

(EDIT: Shout out to @BlackWolfsBane. I'm glad you like the book so far. :D )

~ Gingerflame