DISCLAIMER: I do not own Wings of Fire; Tui T. Sutherland does.

NOTE: In a few places the wording will be similar if not the same as the Sutherland books. This is done because a re-word would sound silly and the setting, plot, universe, and characters are distinctly different enough to not constitute an infraction of the "no posting the original work with thoughts thrown into the flow of the work" rule.

Queen Vulture's yellow eyes narrowed to small slits. "Now where," she hissed, "did you hear about that particular law?"

Tempest shifted her talons. "I read about it."

"I bet you did." Vulture said. "With claws that disintegrate paper when you touch it. Someone's been telling you things too big for your little dragon ears."

"No!" Tempest said too quickly. "Nobody—"

The queen was airborne before Tempest could choke out another word. Queen Vulture snatched Osprey up in her talons and shot into the sky.

"Stop!" Tempest yelled. "It's not his fault! I read the old stone tablets!" She leaped into the air and beat her wings, chasing them.

Cyclone watched the queen rise higher above the arena. Osprey writhed in her claws, his tail hanging heavily below him. Vulture had nearly reached the height of the wire net when suddenly she opened her talons and dropped the old dragon.

Osprey plummeted like a stone. Dragons really needed their tail for balance and turning when flying. Osprey's wings were slow to extend, and when they did he lurched horribly, dragged down by the weight of his useless tail.

Kite darted at him, talons outstretched, but he twisted away from her, probably thinking that the six-year-old dragonet wasn't nearly strong enough to carry him, and that she'd probably die herself. Kite continued nonetheless, dropping lower and lower, trying to get underneath Osprey.

Tempest whirled toward Osprey, reaching out to him, but Osprey drew his talons away and fell down, down, and down until he hit the sand with a series of sickening cracks. Tempest maneuvered herself toward the ground and landed right beside him and Kite.

"He's not dead . . ." Tempest said, clawing at the sand.

"He will be soon." Queen Vulture hissed. "I won't argue with the Champion's shield. The Champion has asked to stand for the prisoner. I will choose her opponent, and they will battle at the end of the annual games tomorrow. If she wins, Kestrel goes free. If not, well, I'll have a dead Champion, but at least we'll get to execute Kestrel right afterward. All in all, a wonderfully bloody hatching day for me and Queen Burn to look forward to." She announced.

Burn was coming here. Tomorrow. And when she left, she would have the Dragonets in her claws.

But not if he could help it.

"All right." Tempest said, staring at Osprey. "Tomorrow then." She reached for Osprey's talons, and stopped, her claws hovering over his, agonizingly close but not touching.

"Of course we'll lock Kestrel back up." Said Queen Vulture. "We wouldn't want her to try escaping again. You understand."

"Fine." Tempest turned and looked at Kestrel. They faced each other as Prince Condor dismissed the crowd, and dragons began to pour out of the arena, buzzing with excitement.

As the sun started drifting down over the western peaks, a guard dropped a pig onto his platform. He killed it with a volt of electricity and tried to enjoy eating it.

Thoughts of the day to come were ever present in his mind. Cyclone dipped his snout into the water and sucked it into his mouth, pushing the water back into his throat with his tongue. It wasn't like the water in the underground river, but it was probably still better than rotten swampwater.

Heavy wingbeats in the distance turned his attention to the setting sun. He swung his neck toward the sound so quickly that water dripped out of his mouth and flung away.

A score of Heatwings appeared from the west, outlined by the golden glow of the setting sun. The largest was in the lead, with the others fanned out in a V formation behind her. They swooped toward the queen's palace, staying in perfect lines, and vanished beyond a distant wall, where Cyclone guessed was the landing field for visitors.

Burn was here.

She was the oldest, biggest, and meanest of the four rivals for the Heatwing throne. She held the Heatwing palace stronghold. She was the most likely to win the war – and the most likely to kill anyone who got in her way.

Dune had warned them that she was the most dangerous dragon in Pyrrhia. They knew the story of what she did on the brightest night. She had destroyed all eggs that were to hatch that day and killed all of the baby dragonets that had actually did hatch. Burn was the worst possible dragon to get her claws on the Dragonets of Fate.

It seemed like only a few moments had passed when Cyclone saw the lead dragon come winging back over the wall toward the arena. As she flew closer, he could see her muscles rippling in her back like wind over ashen land. Her poisonous tail twitched toward him and her unusually scarlet eyes were staring straight at Cyclone.

Cyclone didn't flinch, he just stared back.

She swept overhead, her neck whipped around to keep her eyes on him as she flew in a circle, around and around just above him.

After a minute, she hissed at him with a forked, black-red tongue. She darted away to circle over Tsunami's head, and then the others. All the Dragonets stood still during the inspection, watching her, until Burn flew away again and disappeared into the palace.

"She's definitely not going to be the queen we choose." Cyclone said in confidence. At least the Dragonets were close to each other. Now they could talk - even if they needed to speak a little louder.

"We have to get out of here." Ray said. "Where's your girlfriend, Cyclone? I thought she would be leading the rescue."

Cyclone sat down, and looked at his claws. His cheeks were a brighter yellow as his blood rushed there. "She – She's not my girlfriend."

Flora smirked, "Then why are you blushing?" She teased.

He stamped at the ground. "I am not!"

Flora snorted, "HA! You do like her!"

Ray laughed. "Aw, this is too good!"

"Can you two stop picking on someone for once?" Flare said, annoyed.

"It's not for you two to decide whether he likes her or not." Clay pointed out. "So please stop picking a fight and do something else."

"I want to get some sleep, unlike you guys. So please. Be. QUIET!" Tsunami yelled.

"Yes please..." Umbra murmured.

"Okay! Okay, three moons. Moody, overgrown fish…" Flora said, curling up like the rest of them.

To be honest, he didn't really think he had feelings for Tempest - or anyone, really. He'd never had a crush, but there was this weird happiness and calmness that he'd feel during the team activities under the mountain. It wasn't a crush, but maybe he felt something more than friendship toward Tsunami. Cyclone lifted his wing just enough to glance at her. Her scales looked like shining jewels and her claws gleamed in the moonlight as she shifted in her sleep, glowscales flashing dimly every so often. He did want to keep her safe. But didn't he want the other Dragonets of Fate to stay safe as well?

Besides, he'd only just met Tempest. He'd been with the other Dragonets for much longer and he had even been paired up with Tsunami because her personality was compatible with his. The Guardians had required the teams to at least spend most of their time with each other. Maybe the Guardians knew that eventually feelings would have to develop between the pairs.

But Tsunami was a Seawing - and that was weird, wasn't it? For a Skywing to like a Seawing?

He was about to doze off when a bleak, melancholy note echoed across the arena. He looked in the direction of the sound, and found that Flare had grabbed the wire that Tempest broke. The Heatwing was finding notes on the wire, sliding it closer and farther from her neck. The notes were different in pitch, but still had that minor tone to it.

Then she started playing.

Oh, the Dragonets are coming . . .

It was the only song they knew, the one Tsunami sang to annoy the guardians.

They're coming to save the day . . .

The notes were slow, but the song was fast and fierce, like an army of a hundred dragons were yelling at the top of their lungs. This sounded more like the ghosts of ancient dragons were whispering from under the sands.

They're coming to fight . . . for they know what's right . . . the Dragonets . . . someday . . .

Flare was softly singing now, she changed the last "hooray!" into "someday . . ." because the former would sound ridiculous as an ancient ghost whisper. She stopped, not knowing what to do next.

"Oh, the dragonets are coming . . ."

Cyclone leaned forward. Was that an echo coming back to them?

But . . . he could clearly hear words in it . . .

"They're coming to save the day . . ."

He swiveled his head to the left. That was definitely a voice – a second voice. And neither one was a Dragonet of Fate.

"They're coming to fight . . . for they know what's right . . . the dragonets . . . someday. . ."

Now there were at least six voices, all as soft and haunting as the notes from the wires. They slowly faded out, changing the last word just as Flare had done.

The prisoners were singing.

Flare began to play again, one voice after another joined in. As the arena began to fill with moonlight, Cyclone saw the prisoner to his left, Winter, with her ice-blue head stretched toward the sky, singing. He saw the other Dragonets singing as well, including Flare. He decided to join in.

Flare picked up the pace a little the fourth time around, although the notes still had that eerie, plaintive sound. The singing filled them with a wild, hopeful feeling. It seemed like every prisoner in the sky was singing now. He was pretty sure he could hear all of his friends.

This song meant something, even to dragons hardened on the battlefield and in the arena. They believed in the Dragonets and the Prophecy.

They were on their sixth time through the song, all of them singing wholeheartedly, when a bolt of lightning shot up through the arena doors below and Queen Vulture stormed onto the sand with Burn right behind her.

He saw Flare tuck the wire under her right wing.

"Stop that infernal noise right now!" Burn roared.

". . . Someday . . ." Around half of the choir finished, earning a scowl from both queens.

"You ten," Queen Vulture growled, pointing at the Dragonets' side of the spires. "You know who you are, get down here!"

As the guards unclipped Cyclone, he looked at Flare, who was thrashing about – totally unlike her. Cyclone realized it was because the guards were about to discover the missing wire. But, in the confusion of the dark, plus Flare's thrashing, the guards each thought the other had unclipped that arm, and carried her down.

"Bring them this way." Queen Vulture snapped, stomping into the tunnel with Burn.

Have a great night/day and thank you for reading! Thank you so much for reviewing - positive or negative. Both kinds have benefits.