Wings Of Fire: The Shadow Moon

On blackest night, on darkest day

There will be one, to light the way

Look to who you least expect

They may be our best hope, yet.

Prologue

Somewhere in the Kingdom of Sand

'Blistering heat, I remember that.'

All-encompassing warmth, surrounding, everywhere, all around. Not as unbearable as it was back home, at least, not during this time of the day. Late evening. The sun dipping low over on the horizon, its light gradually diminishing. Painting the sky with its dying rays, the last remainders until it rose again on the next morning. A gentle desert wind blowing in through a small, squared window.

'Heh, blistering, get it? See what I did there? Because- OW! Okay, okay, I'll refrain myself from making puns. Sheesh.'

Outside, there was a crowd of dragons, like there always was. Gathered together, adorned in their armour plating, and wielding their nasty spears. All staring…in the same direction. All listening…to someone who never sounded happy. Every time these memories were presented, nothing ever seemed clear. What was someone supposed to make out from maybe being stuck in a small room on a late evening, with a crowd of mystery dragons all lined up in an army formation focusing on a voice that was never easy to hear?

'Why do I have to do this? It's just the same as before. I'm in a room in a desert town, and there's that muffled voice outside again, I can't make out the words.'

Somewhere...that isn't a Kingdom

'Ack! Moons, that is cold!'

From the heat of the desert, to the cool shores of the coast. Waves crashing up the long beach, and over taloned feet, which kept sinking down ever so slightly into the wet sand. It was darker now, the light of the three moons reflected on the ocean's surface. Compared to the previous memory, it was quiet here. Very quiet. Did any dragons even live on this island? It didn't appear so. Isolated from the continent of Pyrrhia, alone on the vast blue expanse.

Except…wait. There was one dragon. Up ahead. Not too far away. Back turned and moving through the wet sand also, walking toward a dark yawning opening. A cave? This memory was always harder to understand than the first, everything seemed…blurry. Impossible to even make out the tribe of dragon that was in view. And then, the worst part always came next…

A terrible shape in the night sky, large enough to snuff out all the light in the world. It flew across the stars, leaving the beach in a temporary state of darkness as it did. Following along behind it, much smaller shapes whizzed past under the moons. All heading for the mainland and appearing as though they weren't going to be stopping for anything until they got where they wanted to be! In a flash of movement, the ground suddenly fell away, and those nightmare figures in the air faded into nothing.

Somewhere…windy?

It was dawn now. The breeze tugging at the trees, causing them to sway in the mountain air. Hard rock replaced the wet sand of the distant island beach, and all was quiet here too, save for the almost deafening howls. This memory had no crowd of dragons, no one was shouting, and there was no horrible unnaturally huge shape flying through the sky. All in all, everything seemed calm. But then, why was this important? Why did this one memory in particular radiate the most urgence?

'I can never understand this. It is, by far, the most confusing one out of the lot.'

Just when nothing appears to be happening, the faint sound of approaching wingbeats can be made out over the wind. Cold talons tightening over an object, which…felt like a hilt of some kind. A weapon perhaps? It was never clarified, just like every other time, no way of knowing for certain what was going on. Everything here, was the hardest to make out, and as the wingbeats flapped their way closer…

The scene plummets into a gradually building speed, as though someone had just been shoved from a cliff and was now falling straight to their unpleasant demise. Faster, and faster still, everything whizzing by in a blur. Rocks, trees, birds. That object held firmly in determined claws. Earth below approaching at a rapid rate, but just before the impact, everything swirls into darkness. Shooting by the diving winged creature, as though it had willingly leapt into a bottomless pit.

However, if it was bottomless, then how come there was a light at the end of it?

PART ONE

Identity Trouble

Chapter 1

The Rainforest! Dazzling light, bright exotic colours, the many calls of all the variations of wildlife that dwelled here. From the flying kind to the aquatic, from the ground kind to the insects who made their homes under the land. One couldn't ask for a more peaceful place to live. That is, when there wasn't an elderly dragon shouting down one of your ears. "Claw! Claw! Come on, you stubborn fool, snap out of it!" His voice was old and creaky, and even whilst lost in the faded memories, the young NightWing could hear his mentor's voice piercing into the blackened void that now surrounded him.

Snapping open his emerald eyes with a startled gasp, Claw lets go of the staff in his talons. Needing to blink a good few times over, shake out his legs, swish his elegant tail, and stretch out his star-spotted wings. Making sure that this was the present day. That he could feel his own body again, and know it was his own. Right now, and not...however long he'd just travelled into the past. "W-Wisetooth." He stammers out, still a little too shook to speak properly. Currently, the two dragons were sat down in one of the many makeshift homes they had built here, living alongside the RainWings. It was on the floor of the rainforest, as many of their huts still were, but over the past year some of them had resorted to moving further up into the trees. With the help of those very colourful dragons, there was now a number of NightWings that had treehouses as their homes. It certainly was strange times.

Taking in a deep breath through his nostrils, and then exhaling slowly, Claw does this a few times over before gazing to his mentor. "I went further this time, further than I've gone before. I jumped off a cliff!" Wisetooth was a much, much older dragon. Larger too, dwarfing his young student in size. He had lived through the reign of Queen Battlewinner, The War of SandWing Succession, and now here he was. Still alive, and still going. As a result, his hut had needed to be much bigger than the others, hence why it was so off to the side and not in the main clearing. He was content with this, often preferring just the company of one, and not surrounded by too many voices.

"You should know better than anyone." He starts, in that gruff old voice. Snagging the staff off the floor and back into his claws. "Never, and I mean never, try to jump from too many memories in one trip." Tracing his talons gently over the sturdy treasure. Inspecting the engravings of moons and stars, of wings and dragon horns. This staff had become a staple of the elderly mentor's life. It had been discovered on an exploration of the Old Night Kingdom, by Claw's father Shade, who often went out on many ventures seeking lost worlds and ancient artefacts. Discovering these things was kind of...his hobby. When he'd returned home a few months ago, black marble staff in tow, Wisetooth had taken an instant liking to it. At first, as just a fancy decoration, but as time went on he began to realise. There was more to this staff than both he and Shade, had originally thought.

"Yeah, yeah, I know the rules. If I push myself too hard, my brain turns into a roasted fish." Claw rolls his eyes, and sighs softly. Giving his maw an instinctive lick just at the mention of fish. 'Damn, now I've just made myself hungry, I hope this doesn't last much longer.' Wisetooth frowns at his, at times, rather carefree student. Meddling with an animus-touched object was not something that should be taken lightly, and he cannot even begin to imagine how many times he's had to remind Claw of that. "No. We don't know what happens if you use it for too long a period. But it is always best to be on the safer side when it comes to anything related to Animus magic." He gave an involuntary shiver after explaining, remembering what had happened on their continent only a year or so ago.

"I highly doubt I'll be turning genocidal anytime soon, don't worry, I'm not the kind of dragon to hold any grudges." The younger NightWing jokes to his mentor, with a rather cheeky smile afterwards. Which results in Wisetooth shaking his head, followed by a very clearly irritated sigh. "Just...always come to me first if you ever want to use the staff. It needs two to work it properly. One dragon to hold it, and the other to pull them out. Understood?" He reaffirms, fixing Claw with a serious expression. That smile soon fading from his face, knowing how his mentor got whenever he put on that expression specifically. "Yes Wisetooth, I understand." He answers, voice sounding quite deflated. 'Now is it time to go?'

The elder NightWing huffs, striding over to secure his black marble staff on the wall, locking the two metal straps in place to keep it there. Then, he locks them both with two separate keys that he keeps on him at all times. He was quite serious when it came to protecting this thing, not wanting anyone getting their talons on it without his permission first. With his flank turned to Claw, he waves a wing dismissively. "We'll try again in a few days; your mind needs to rest." And with that, his student bows their head and then begins to walk toward the doorway. "But Claw." Wisetooth suddenly speaks up, very slightly turning to stare at the younger dragon. The two locking eyes. "This takes as long as it needs to take. Impatience won't get any of us anywhere. Remember that." Bowing his head again, Claw resumes walking to the arched exit. Slightly grumbling under his breath, but deciding against saying anything more, not wanting to stay any longer than he really needs to.

Anticipation building, the young NightWing finally brushes past the vine-like curtains and steps out into fresh rainforest air.