Note: this story begins 1,000 years before the events of the war and The Dragonet Prophecy

Chapter 1

A Prisoner Arrives

"Breakfast," came a dry, weary voice from the passageway.

From the dim, smoky torchlight came a small blue-gray dragon. As he shuffled down the cave hall, slipping a small amount of prey into each prisoner's cage, a small dragon's head shot up. Her scales were an odd gray-blue with streaks of white.

"So you remembered this time," hissed a thin, sickly-looking pale orange dragon, sticking his head through the bars. The guard jumped back. "How long has it been since you remembered breakfast?"

"Nine days," was the instant reply from the gray-blue dragon, piercing the guard with startling lilac eyes. "Nine days since you last brought us breakfast."

"I have more important things to do," said the guard impatiently, shoving a small bird into the cage of an amber-gold dragon, who hissed viciously. His tail twitched involuntarily, but being chained to the floor, did nothing.

"Of course," the pale orange one snapped, narrowing his yellow eyes. "The lives of fellow dragons matter less than meetings and organizations."

The guard walked over to the wall and snatched up a cruel-looking spear. "Silence, all of you, right now," he growled, showing his fierce side for the first time that morning; he advanced on the orange dragon, who snapped his mouth shut with a look of loathing.

The moment the guard left, the gray-blue dragon poked at the unappetizing heap of feathers before her. "What is this stuff?" She muttered, the unpleasant smell wafting towards her snout.

"Garbage, that's what this is," quipped an iridescently white dragon in the cage across from her. Her ruff changed from emerald green to bright orange to deep crimson in a matter of seconds.

"It's better than nothing," said the blue dragon, biting down into the bird and spitting out gray and white feathers.

"It is not better than nothing," hissed the angry orange dragon, lashing his tail on the cave floor. "It's just Pelican trying to see the best in things again."

"We wouldn't survive in here if everyone was all negative," Pelican said, hurt. "Can I help that I want to see the best in things?"

"Yeah," agreed the white dragon sympathetically. "I think it's a good thing that we have Pelican to give us all a positive perspective on things. And I think you could do with some positivity, Falcon."

Pelican peered through the bars at the sickly, pale dragon. His face softened for a moment. "I guess you're right, Iceberg. Sorry, Pelican. I didn't mean to take out my anger on you."

"That's alright," said Pelican, her voice soft.

"We're all angry," interjected a deep crimson dragon quietly. The cave walls around her were covered in scratches- tally marks for each day she'd been in the prison. "We just don't have anything or anyone to take it out on."

"Except the guard," hissed the amber dragon softly, a faint smirk on his face. "You did a good job intimidating him, Falcon."

"Thanks, Salamander," said Falcon, his eyes glinting.

Salamander nodded. Pelican followed his eyes down his back to his venomous tail, which was dripping purple venom onto the cave floor. Metal restraints clamped down on it; Pelican couldn't imagine how infuriating that would be, to have your only weapon trapped beneath a metal grip year after year.

Of course, she still considered him the luckiest there, because he actually had a weapon. Being half IceWing and half SeaWing, she had none of the natural weapons from either tribe, apart from a few glowing scales by her snout. She had tried endlessly to frostbreath her chains into breaking, but never any luck. On the other talon, though, then she'd have to have her mouth clamped all the time. She would hate that, not being able to even talk.

"I'd like to try next time," the crimson dragon suggested hopefully. Pelican turned back to the bloodred dragon; she was confused at first, until she realized they were still talking about scaring the guard, which was their only source of entertainment.

"You?" Falcon considered doubtfully. "Bloodspiller, can you really be intimidating?"

"Of course I can," Bloodspiller growled, her talons twitching. "I just choose to be quiet because I can. You guys are so loud."

"I'm not," Pelican protested, flapping her overlarge wings indignantly.

"That's fair," Bloodspiller nodded.

Pelican turned back to her meal. It was some sort of bird, but it was mostly feathers, and the little meat it had was bland and dry. "When do we get some fish?" She complained.

"Blech, who would eat fish?" Asked Iceberg, wrinkling her snout.

"I would," said Pelican wistfully. "And you're half IceWing; don't IceWings like fish?"

"Nope, I'm pretty sure that's your SeaWing side," said Falcon. "I agree with Iceberg. Fish..." he shuddered. "All slimy and drippy."

"I just want some cows or mountain goats or something bigger than this pile of feathers," said Salamander, who had eaten his bird in a matter of seconds.

Falcon's head suddenly snapped up. Pelican turned quickly to look at him, and the others stopped talking immediately. Falcon had the best hearing of anyone there.

Then Pelican could hear it, too. Webbed talons slapping against stone.

"Another meal?" Falcon mused quietly. As the talonsteps got closer, she could hear the second group of talons; soft, small steps. "To what would we owe such a great honor?" Pelican cocked her head at him. Did he really think they were getting more food?

No, Falcon knew just as well as Penguin did. Another dragonet was coming.

The guard ducked into the passageway, holding a coarse rope. On the other end of the rope, a small, scared-looking dragonet followed, the rope around her neck.

At first she appeared to be a normal NightWing, but when she came into the torchlight, it revealed that her scales were actually dark purple; she also had a ruff around her ears.

Another dragon followed behind them; a large green SeaWing they had never seen before. "What happened?" He rumbled angrily. "We raided the rainforest and the Night Kingdom, we found them all!"

"This one was hiding," the first guard growled back. "Don't ask me how, I'm not in charge of finding them! My job is to feed them!"

"He does a very bad job," Iceberg quipped. "You should probably fire him."

"Quiet, dragonet,"said the green SeaWing sharply.

"I'm seven!" Iceberg protested. Was it just Pelican's imagination, or did the green SeaWing look surprised? Yes, she was quite small for a seven-year-old, but that might have been caused by the fact that she was underfed. Or were most hybrids naturally small?

This dragonet certainly was. Either that or she was very young. She was nervously scanning the cave room, looking anxiously at Falcon's hostile expression, Salamander's venomous tail, and the scratches on the wall inside Bloodspiller's cave. She was the only dragonet Pelican had ever seen younger than herself.

The SeaWing guard pushed the dragonet into the cage next to hers. The dragonet looked up at Pelican with frightened eyes as the guard clamped chains around her back talons. Her tail curled protectively into a tight coil, and Pelican saw that she had a few silver scales scattered around it.

"I was sure we caught them all," said the guard over his shoulder. "Almost positive."

"Well, if there was one in hiding, there could be more," said the green dragon. "We need to inform Eel." He glanced at the guard, who dusted off his talons and started towards the exit. The green dragon followed after him.

Falcon tipped his head through the bars. "Are they gone?" Iceberg whispered. When Falcon nodded, she instantly started into a welcoming speech.

"Hello, new dragon," Iceberg said, her ruff turning a delighted yellow. They hadn't had a new dragon since Bloodspiller first came in, when Pelican was only about one or two years old. "I'm Iceberg, and I'm an IceWing-RainWing hybrid. What's your name?"

The dragonet mumbled something undestinguishable.

"What was that again?" Iceberg asked cheerfully. Pelican knew she was trying to be friendly, but she could tell that Iceberg was intimidating their new guest.

"Treejumper," the dragonet repeated. "I'm a NightWing-RainWing hybrid." She looked around anxiously, then asked softly, as if afraid she was being rude,"Is everyone here a hybrid?"

"Of course they are," said Iceberg, confused.

"Don't you know about the hunts?" Falcon hissed in a low voice.

"My mother hid me," said Treejumper quietly, her voice trembling with fear. "She didn't tell me anything, just to never go outside the cave."

"The Hybrid Hunts were when a small group of dragons, insisting that hybrids were dangerous and impure," explained Falcon. "They looked through every kingdom, trying to find hybrids, and they captured them and imprisoned them."

"Why are there so few of us?" Treejumper asked.

"Hardly anyone dares to marry outside their own tribe," Falcon growled.

"This is Falcon," said Iceberg. "He's a SkyWing-IceWing mix. He can be grouchy sometimes, but he's nice once you get to know him."

"I can introduce myself," Falcon snapped.

"And next to you is Pelican," Iceberg continued. "She's pretty shy, but she's always looking on the bright side and she's really nice. She's half SeaWing, half IceWing."

"Hi," Pelican whispered. Treejumper still looked pretty intimidated. Pelican wished she could tell her, don't worry. You're not alone. We're all scared, but I want to be your friend.

"There are a lot of IceWing hybrids here," Treejumper observed quietly.

"Yeah," smiled Iceberg. "Not everybody, though. Salamander is the one across from you. He's half MudWing, half SandWing. He's pretty fierce to the guards, but he's funny and goofy to us."

Funny and goofy? Pelican thought. I guess I'm not the only one here who looks on the bright side. Salamander wasn't mean, but funny wasn't exactly the word to describe him.

"Oh," said Treejumper, her eyes locked on Salamander's venomous tail.

"And Bloodspiller is a NightWing hybrid, like you," said Iceberg. "She's also half SkyWing. She's been marking down the days she's been in prison. Her name is menacing, but she's actually really cool."

"Hi," said Treejumper.

"Tell us your story," Iceberg urged. "What happened? How did you get caught?"

Treejumper looked alarmed. "Iceberg, give her some time," Pelican suggested. "It was probably pretty traumatizing for her; you were caught as a baby dragonet, with no memories of your past. She's probably still trying to forget about what happened."

"Okay," said Iceberg. Treejumper shot Pelican a grateful look. "How old are you?" the white dragon asked instead.

"I'm four," said Treejumper, her voice falling like raindrops on stone.

"One year younger than me," said Pelican quietly.

"Yeah," Iceberg agreed. "Pelican is five, Bloodspiller is six, I'm seven, and Falcon and Salamander are eight. Falcon's been here the longest. Salamander was captured only a few days before I was. About a year later, Pelican, and two years later, Bloodspiller. It's been almost... three years since Bloodspiller's capture?"

"Nine hundred and eighty-two days," said Bloodspiller.

Treejumper glanced at Bloodspiller's wall of tallies. "That's a long time," she whispered. "When do they let you go?"

"Let you go?" Iceberg asked, confused.

"Let you free," said Treejumper.

"Either nobody has reached the age where they let you free, or they let you free... never," Iceberg winced. Pelican knew it would be less frightening if they told Treejumper a lie, but that wouldn't be very kind.

"Oh," said Treejumper softly.

Pelican examined the purple dragonet carefully. She had this sort of tingly feeling in her talons when she looked at her. The kind of feeling that said this dragonet was different.

The kind of feeling that said that pretty soon, everything was going to change.