Chapter Text
When the War has lasted 20 years,
The Dragonets will come.
Hvitur reached desperately for the orange-red shape plummeting to the earth just under him. The rain-choked air tore past his shredded wings and clawed at his burnt snout, but those weren’t his concern.
He needed to save this egg. Even if it cost him his life, he needed to. This prophecy needed to come true; this war needed to end; this egg needed to hatch.
Pyrrhia needed this egg to hatch.
If it didn’t… Hvitur couldn’t bear to think of what would happen. Images of a war-torn continent flashed across his mind. Three Sandwing Queens, dragging a world of innocent dragons into their conflict; forests and fields burnt to ash in battle; funeral pyres billowing choking smoke into the sky…
Morrowseer’s Prophecy had to come true, for the good of the continent and every dragon on it.
It had to.
When the land is soaked in blood and tears,
The Dragonets will come.
The wounded Icewing could hear the sadistic Sandwing howling with laughter above him, listening intently for the crunch of a shattered egg and a dead dragon.
Despite the pain, Hvitur tucked his wings closer to his sides, claws outstretched. The egg’s slick shell was just a scales’ breadth away from his talons. He just needed to be faster. Just the smallest bit faster--
His serrated claws brushed against the crimson shell. In a heartbeat, Hvitur closed his talons around the egg, pulling it against his chest and snapping his wings open.
Agony roared through his sides as his tattered wing membranes only tore more trying to keep him airborne. It slowed his fall, but not nearly enough. The Pyrrhian ground was still racing up to meet the Icewing with alarming speed. He curled up mid-air, attempting to make his body into a shield for the poor, fragile egg.
The Largest Egg in Mountain Hight
Will give to you the Wings of Sky.
This small, delicate thing… The small wyrmling inside… This dragonet held the fate of all of Pyrrhia in its talons. The second it hatched, it would have the weight of the world on its wings. Hvitur couldn’t imagine what that could be like. Hatched with your entire destiny laid before you in the form of one cryptic poem…
He had faith in the Dragonet Prophecy, sure, but that didn’t make it any less terrifying to stare the future in the face and not understand a second of it.
Hvitur shook the thought from his mind and braced himself for the inevitable impact. He wasn’t sure if he’d survive the fall, but, by every moon in the sky, he prayed the egg would.
For everyone’s sake…
The earth greeted him with sharp rocks and blunt, white-hot pain, and then it met him with darkness.
———
Hvitur groaned, a pile of white scales, blue blood, and searing pain. Each breath sent claws of agony through his sides, but still, he opened his eyes and lifted his head to look around.
The Icewing found himself in a muddy pile at the bottom of a cliff. Muck and grime sucked at his scales, mixing with the beads of silvery sweat that rolled for his sides. Rocks and trees towered over him, clawing at the sky. Up in the clouds, the silhouettes of birds and dragons wheeled through the air, carefree and oblivious of the heap of a dragon beneath them.
Hvitur hissed and pulled himself to his feet. His legs shook with the effort but he tried nonetheless. His serrated claws dug into the mud, the muck squelching under his talons. As he glanced around, a realization hit him like the bulk of a Mudwing;
He didn’t have the Skywing egg.
He swore and began looking around frantically, any pain forgotten in lieu of trying to find the egg. Had someone taken it while he was unconscious? Had it shattered in the fall? Did it roll away-?
His eyes fell on a crimson red shell; the Skywing Egg. Hvitur breathed a sigh of relief as he scooped up the egg in his talons, oblivious to the tears running down his cheeks. The egg was okay. Three moons the egg was okay.
He glanced around. He was still in the Sky Kingdom… The commotion had gotten him all turned around, and in his current state, there was no way he’d be able to find the other Talons before the Brightest Night. If it was hard to fly with an egg, it’d be a nightmare to walk with a mewling dragonet.
Hvitur looked around, spotted a small cave in the side of the cliff, and limped over. It was a bit of a squeeze to get in, but a narrow tunnel entrance quickly opened into a cavern large enough for Hvitur to spread his wings in any direction, not that he would with his membranes as torn as they were. Honestly, he doubted he’d ever fly again…
The Icewing shook his head, set the egg down, and sat down on the floor. He wasn’t sure what time it was, but if the egg hadn’t hatched yet it likely hadn’t been long. Tonight was still the Brightest Night. The Dragonets of Destiny would hatch, and Hvitur and the other Guardians would start preparing them for their destiny.
Until then, though, Hvitur thought, blasting a circle into the stone with his frost breath, Until then, I can rest. He paced around, and laid down in his little nest of cold, watching the egg. He was tired and in pain, he figured he at least deserved a nap. The Moons knew he wouldn’t get any once the Skywing hatched.
Until then, though, he could sleep.
———
“Braaaooooo?”
When Hvitur woke up, he was very surprised to see a small, red lizard sitting on his snout. The contact with his still sore muzzle burned, but he was more confused than anything.
The thing looked at him, tilting its head.
“Marrrooooo?”
Hvitur slowly sat up, watching as the red lizard rolled off his snout and onto the floor. It laid on its back, wings splayed awkwardly, staring back up at the much larger Icewing. It took a long moment for things to click. Hvitur looked over at where the egg had been.
It was broken open, a small pool of egg-gunk around it. Footprints tracked from the egg to the small thing laying on its back-- No, not a thing, a dragonet. The Skywing had hatched.
“Hello…?” He murmured, looking at the hatchling. It stared up at him, still on its back. It didn’t make any attempt to get up.
“Marroooo”
Hvitur smiled a bit and shook his head. Carefully, he scooped up the dragonet and sat it up. “There you go.” The dragonet blinked at him a few times.
“You probably need a name.” Hvitur mumbled to himself. The dragonet blinked at him again. Hvitur thought for a long moment. What was a good Skywing name… Skywings have sky names…
“Zephyr?” He tested.
The dragonet grumbled.
“Zephyr it is, I guess.” Hvitur chuckled. After a moment, he stood up and squeezed back out through the entrance tunnel. Zephyr tripped after him as the Icewing looked up at the sky. Three moons hung high in the night. Hvitur smiled quietly to himself.
Five Eggs to hatch on Brightest Night;
Five Dragons born to end The Fight;
Darkness will come to Bring the Light;
The Dragonets are Coming.