AN: Hello, everyone! This new story, which takes place over a century after the first arc of Wings of Fire, completely disregards the events of the second arc for simplicity's sake, as I cannot predict the outcome of Darkness of Dragons and don't want to contradict everything.
Disclaimers: I don't own Wings of Fire, but all of the characters in this story are of my own invention.
Thank you for reading, please review, and most importantly, enjoy!
The fiery light of sunset illuminated the open plains of the Ice Kingdom, making the blanket of snow covering them glitter like shattered amber. In the outskirts of the palace gardens, two IceWings sparred, their fighting patterns maintaining a fluid grace which spoke of years of practice.
The larger of the dragons fought offensively, while the smaller one ducked and blocked and rolled under her attacks until he found an opening to strike back. As he fought, his face was set in a grim mask, and the larger IceWing could tell that while his moves were as seamless as ever, he wasn't really paying attention.
"Cornice," she growled, leaping out of range of his attacks. Her tail lashed with frustration. "Where is your brain today?"
Breathing heavily, the smaller dragon ducked his head in embarrassment. "I got distracted," he muttered apologetically. "It won't happen again."
The older IceWing glared at him, her tail-tip twitching furiously. "It better not. If your ranking in the dragonet circles plummets, you'll bring the entire family down even further. More shame is the last thing I need right now."
Cornice flinched. "I know, Mother."
She sighed. Looking up at the sky, she took note of the encroaching darkness on the eastern horizon. "It's getting late. We might as well go home now. But I expect you to be able to concentrate tomorrow."
Cornice nodded gratefully. "I will," he promised.
His mother scooped up some snow in her talons and rubbed it against her scales to wash away the dark blue blood. Cornice, after waiting a moment longer to catch his breath, did likewise. They were careful not to actually injure each other as they trained, but a few scratches here and there were inevitable.
Besides, being battered in training toughened them up. The other tribes suffered from their unwillingness to use their talons outside of real combat—Cornice's mother had seen that in the Great Pyrrhian War. Their dragonets were always unprepared for witnessing bloodshed—whether it was their blood or the enemy's.
IceWings, on the other talon, were equally ready to fight regardless of whether it was their first battle or their hundredth. Though Pyrrhia had been at peace for many years now, Glissade knew that other dragons weren't the only danger lurking outside of the Ice Kingdom. She was determined to prepare her son for anything.
Once she and Cornice had cleaned up, they set off eastward. Used to the dazzle of direct sunlight on ice, they didn't need to squint even as they flew facing the setting sun, the light of which painted their snowy white scales a deep red.
It still stung to turn their backs on the queen's palace. They had lived there for the first three years of Cornice's life, until scandal had dragged down his parents' rank to the third circle, and they'd lost their right to reside there.
Since then, the family had lived in a network of caves near the sea, away from the city outer circle dragons usually occupied. His father insisted they benefitted from the privacy, but Cornice knew better than to believe him—privacy was just a euphemism for banishment from the rest of the nobility.
Cornice scowled as he and Glissade descended outside the cramped tunnels they called home. He felt a surge of lingering resentment at being forced to leave the palace whenever he saw it. He knew his mother hated it as much as he did—he could see her icy blue eyes darken when she looked at it, too—but she didn't complain. She seemed to have accepted that nothing would bring back the life they'd had.
As he stomped grumpily inside, Cornice encountered his father, who had just finished setting the table for dinner. Too late, Cornice remembered that it had been his turn to catch prey tonight. He glared accusingly down at the multitude of plates set out on the table, as if they were to blame for reminding him.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his father's tail twitch. "Did you forget?"
Cornice scowled silently, knowing a reply would be useless. When his father was annoyed, he always seemed to take it out on his son. It was better to just keep his mouth shut and endure the lecture silently.
His father seemed to take the sullen look on his face as disrespect.
"I expect you to go back out there right now," he snapped, throwing out one wing toward the door. "Don't come back until you've caught something."
"Fine," Cornice growled, unable to repress his spitefulness any longer. "I'll catch three fish. One for everyone who's really part of this family."
"You'll catch enough for everyone," his father hissed. "Or I'll lock you out of the house and you'll have to sleep on an iceberg somewhere."
Glissade came inside just in time to hear the end of the exchange. Bristling, she shoved past Cornice in the narrow tunnel and advanced on her mate. "Sigma, don't you dare speak to my son that way!"
"I'm the highest ranked, here," he retorted. "I can talk to him however I want. If I tell him to go out and hunt, he'll go out and hunt."
"He's been training all day trying to restore the honor your actions lost us," she snarled. "I'm not letting you send him out again. Go out yourself."
"Or send out one of my so-called 'siblings'," Cornice muttered bitterly, raising his eyes to stare with deliberate insolence at his father over his mother's shoulder. "It's not like they do anything important, with their practically nonexistent rankings."
Sigma lunged at him past Glissade, his face contorting with fury.
The older IceWing clenched his fists as he skidded to a halt, visibly restraining himself from slashing his ridged talons across his son's snout. Cornice didn't flinch or break his gaze even as Sigma crowded into his personal space, feeling a stab of savage satisfaction at antagonizing his father. A bubble of dark laughter rose in his gut, and he had to forcibly keep his expression neutral to prevent himself from smirking.
"Don't you DARE speak about your siblings that way," his father snarled.
"They're not my siblings," he spat back, lashing his tail. "No matter how much you try to pretend otherwise, they're not!"
"Go to your room, right now!" Sigma roared. "If you're too tired to go hunting, you're too tired to do anything else. Stay there until dinnertime."
"Fine," Cornice growled, stomping past him. As he stormed off down the tunnel where the bedrooms were, he was aware of the other dragonets' eyes on him—one pair hurt, one pair furious, and one pair concerned. He ignored them as he slammed his door shut and threw himself down furiously on his bed.
Closing his eyes, he felt his anger slowly give way to misery. He could hear Sigma and Glissade roaring at each other in the living room. It seemed that his parents were always fighting these days, usually because of him.
There were only a few months left until his seventh hatching day, when he would establish his own ranking in the adult circles. He'd thought he could hold out until then, when he could return to his old home in the palace. But he still hadn't been able to pull himself out of the third circle over the course of the last year, and it didn't look like he'd be able to do so in time. If he remained stuck here with the rest of his so-called family, would things ever get better?
All he'd wanted when he was younger was to become a first circle dragon, just like his father. But the scandal had dragged Sigma and the entire family into the third circle, which Queen Nunatak didn't seem inclined to promote Cornice out of.
I can't live like this anymore, he realized, burying his face in the polar bear fur of his bedding. He had to do something to change his life before it was too late. The only question was, what could he possibly do?
He couldn't change who his family members were. He couldn't change himself into a better hunter or stronger fighter. He couldn't change the fact that Queen Nunatak refused to promote him. It seemed his fate was to remain a minor noble, stuck in the same caves with the same dragons who he hated for at least another three-and-a-half years, until he turned ten, when he would finally be able to request his own place to live. As long as he was in the Ice Kingdom, everything about his life was set in stone.
What if I leave? The thought sounded drastic in his mind. He had heard stories about the rest of the continent, but that was all they were—stories. He had never been to the rest of Pyrrhia himself.
Yet escape from the slow but steady strangulation of the adult rankings closing in seemed necessary, and he found himself seriously considering the possibility.
But… if I leave, will I even be an IceWing anymore?
Cornice contemplated the question, and realized that his desperation for change outweighed his sense of pride in his tribe and his identity.
I'm going, he decided. Tonight, after dinner. When Father sends me back to my room, I'll fly out the window and never look back.
And so he did.