Author's Note:
I've been wanting to write something for the Wings Of Fire fandom for years. This project has been a long time coming and has become my dream. I do hope you enjoy where I go down this completely wild AU rabbit hole. I will try to make everything as clear as I can as we go along, but do be warned that this is a massive Alternate Universe, a lot has been changed from cannon, such as Darkstalker never having made his scroll, for example. So please keep that in mind as you proceed.
And a quick clarification. Tui doesn't really give clear guidance on ages so here is my interpretation:
4 years old to dragons is the equivalent of our 16 / 7 = our 18 / 9 = our 21.
I do hope you all enjoy this story. And a big load of love and thank you for even giving it your time.
~Broken Fragments~
by DONOVAN94
For Andrew, Millie, Jules, and for Max, who believed in me and helped me BETA this monster.
Prologue
3007 AS,
Foeslayer's joints ached where they had remained in a fixed position for so long. But she did not acknowledge it, did not shift. Years of training had desensitised her to bodily complaints. The night air was heavy in her lungs, the heat of midsummer - even at midnight - was stifling along her scales. It was background noise in her brain. Not worth her focus. She instilled those same thoughts into her own soldiers. Let the civilians worry about the mundane, she instructed. Rise above it.
Instead, her gaze stayed on the moons, all three of them not quite so full now. Their reflections shimmered on the choppy sea. Waves smashed their ferocity upon the cliff base, reverberating up the two hundred feet of stone to tremble under Foeslayer's talons. Still, she remained immovable.
It was time to face her failure with pride.
She'd had one chance to prove herself. Despite the failings of her birth, she'd been given an opportunity to realise all her dreams - her tribe's dreams! Yet even that had been soured by forces beyond her control.
Truly, that was the story of her life, it seemed. She would do everything in her power to achieve her life's ambitions, only for things she couldn't account for to ruin it all. Her lack of powers, her love for Arctic, the hatred of his mother, her defective dragonets...
And now the entire mission was at risk.
So why didn't she care?
It almost felt treasonous, to care more for the tiny dragonets that she'd brought into the world just the other night, rather than the whole purpose for her existence. Yet there was no denying it. Even now, a part of her usually focused mind was splintered and worried. It was a foreign feeling and she shouldn't like it.
Her mother paced the cliff edge in front of her. Every now and then, a spray of sea air would blast up and sweep beneath Prudence's wings to hit Foeslayer in the face. It were as if the kingdom itself was scolding her. Prudence lashed her tail, talons dug into the ground.
Foeslayer remained at attention, her face impassive.
"You have no idea the hurdles I had to jump through for you," Prudence finally hissed. She overlooked the sea, dark and churning with the promise of an incoming storm. "We came this close to ending it. Years worth of work, almost for nothing!"
Foeslayer schooled her features so that she wouldn't wince.
"But, it's done now. We can salvage this. Plans are already underway to accommodate a new strategy."
Relief made Foeslayer's tired muscles want to slacken, until her mother's next words nearly broke her.
"The dragonets will be taken to our facility further south. There, we can test them to see which holds more value-"
"No."
Prudence froze. Stiffly, she swivelled her head to glare at Foeslayer. "As the head of this program, you do not defy me."
"They're my dragonets," Foeslayer said. It felt like the words were dragged up from the bottom of her spine. Every day of her life, every rule she'd ever memorised, every moment of training and conditioning told her to never question orders, don't talk back, the program is everything! But these words would not be silenced, as if her hatchlings had put them in her heart as a keepsake when their eggs had left her body. "You can't take them."
"This is for the sake of everything we've been working towards. It is clear to everyone that you are compromised-"
"But mother-"
"Commander!" Prudence corrected. "I see I should have made that distinction clearer when you were growing up."
"Commander," Foeslayer amended through clenched teeth. "I am part of this program too. I am the best of what a NightWing has to offer-"
"You have no powers."
The cold words aggravated a wound that had been with Foeslayer since the day she hatched on a moonless night. Her first impulse was to get angry, but it was what Prudence wanted. "I am the greatest warrior in our army. I am Captain of the Aerial Defence. The genes of the best NightWings in our history run through me. The program is everything to me. I can train them. You know I can."
"I knew you could seduce the IceWing as ordered. But that went awry, didn't it?" Prudence cocked her head, eyes narrowed. "Who's to say your feelings won't cloud your judgement this time as well?"
"Because I know if I fail, my dragonets are forfeit. And you can rely on how I would do anything to not let that happen." For the first time in her life, Foeslayer raised her head so that she stood taller than her mother. "And you need me. If either of them are what you want, then you will need Arctic's help. And we both know he wouldn't do it for you."
Prudence glared, Foeslayer held herself still and stared back. She hoped her mother couldn't see her tail-tip twitching. Not for the first time, Foeslayer caught herself wishing that she and Arctic had fled across the sea as they had intended. But once again, fate had snatched away Foeslayer's dreams.
Finally, Prudence sneered. "Very well. You may keep your dragonets. If you are determined to suffer this way…"
"I am." And there would be suffering - Prudence would make sure of it. It might mean Foeslayer would always be watching for spies, ready to report any weakness. It would mean she'd have to be a tougher mother than she wanted to be. It might break her to not be able to sweep her perfect dragonets into her wings and shower them with love. But it would be worth it, Foeslayer told herself. Anything for her dragonets.
They were going to change the world.
3015 AS,
The roof broke beneath him. Slate tiles and bricks ripped off under the impact. Beams shattered and furniture crumpled to splinters. Fathom choked, winded. Dust clogged his nose. Smoke from the fires across the city burned his lungs. He lay in the crevice his fall had punched through the building. His entire body cried out with the throbbing heat of pain, his green hide already mottled with bruising. Was something broken? It was hard to tell when everything hurt equally. Cuts and lacerations striped his body with streaks of red, as if he were trying to imitate a RainWing. Yet through the pain, he was aware of some instinct yelling at him, urging him.
Get up! Get up, now! He's coming!
But he was too tired. He'd kept this up for what felt like hours. Were they safe? Had they managed to get away? For years he'd believed his power was a curse, no good to help anyone. And yet, he'd saved an entire tribe. But at the cost of a brother… his heart hurt more than anything else.
A shadow fell over the hole in the roof above him. And there he was. Darkstalker, in all his glossy, huge glory. Fathom had never given much thought to the overly large wings, the long coils of his body, or the exaggerated curling talons. Now they all screamed of danger, a testament to how he'd been born to kill. A warning Fathom had been too stupid to notice.
And yet, when Darkstalker smiled, even in that deranged way; where it looked like he'd painted a smile on his face to hide the agony in his burning bright eyes - Fathom felt a pang of grief. This was his best friend, and they were driven to murder each other.
Darkstalker sighed dramatically and shook his head. "Oh, Fathom. Poor, ridiculous Fathom. Look at your mess - quite inconsiderate of you. You know I'm going to have to be the one to clean it up later."
He moved down from the lip of the hole to the floor Fathom had crashed in. Even when he moved it was with the constant grace of a snake's slither. Of course, his scales bore no evidence of their battle. Not even when they'd fought in the storm clouds overhead, and Fathom had hit Darkstalker with a bolt of lightning - it hadn't left a scratch. Though his scales were invulnerable, Darkstalker had still felt the pain, and that was when he had thrown Fathom across the city into the crater he now lay in.
It was another reminder that Darkstalker was now beyond any mortal means of containing him. He'd gone the ultimate step. There would be no stopping him for nothing could kill him. He was immortal. That realisation, hitting Fathom with the weight of a whale, was enough to nearly make him lose all hope.
But Clearsight had to be right! He had to hold on just a little longer…
"I didn't want it to be this way," Darkstalker said. His usual grin slipped, and Fathom thought he saw real anguish flitter through his silver-blue eyes. But just as quickly, the NightWing blinked, and his mask returned. It was a terrible mask indeed, one that showed him smiling, but it didn't reach his eyes. Each tooth became exaggerated with a cold fury that consumed all of him. "I had everything planned out. I could have made this tribe great. My destiny fulfilled! And then you and Clearsight had to ruin it."
"You ruined it yourself," Fathom said hoarsely. He tried to drag himself back from his friend. Nope! He stopped. One of his legs was definitely broken.
Darkstalker noticed. Whether he read the pain in Fathom's mind or he saw the way his friend flinched, the former SeaWing prince knew not. Again, something shifted underneath his facade. Concern? Opportunity? "Oh, by all the snakes! I can't stay mad at you while you're bleeding all over the floor." He reached out towards Fathom's leg -
But he recoiled with a fearful hiss. "Don't touch me!"
The NightWing drew back his talons and had the gall to look offended. "Fathom, don't be dense. Let me fix it."
"No." Despite the pain, Fathom pulled himself further back. "I don't want any hidden strings."
Darkstalker at least had the decency to quickly glance away. He saw what Fathom was thinking, how he now knew of Darkstalker's little 'fixes' and what they entailed. "It was never needless. Everything I did was for the good of-"
"Was for the good of YOU. What you've done… it's unjustifiable. I could never…" He trailed off as the throbbing pain became too much.
Darkstalker curled his lip. "You see, this is the fundamental difference between you and I, Fathom." A flourish of his talons towards his once-friend's injury, as if that perfectly demonstrated his point. "You would rather linger in unnecessary pain. I, on the other talon, have the spine to do something about a situation I can clearly fix!"
"The difference between us," Fathom retorted hotly, "is that you are a liar and a…"
"Murderer?" Darkstalker finished the words Fathom felt too sick to utter. All his charisma was gone, his usual wall of calm now rubble, his raw emotions bare for all to see. "They deserved it! After everything they'd done, they needed to be punished!"
"Do I need to be punished that way?" Fathom nearly vomited on the words. Flashes of Arctic, of Queen Vigilance, their bodies… The images filled him with a new kind of horror every time he remembered.
Darkstalker frowned, as if wounded. "I called you brother, Fathom!"
Fathom looked down significantly at his leg, at the claw wounds along his hide that matched the blood on Darkstalker's talons. He blinked back tears. "I can see what that means to you."
"No!" Darkstalker snarled. "You don't get to judge me! I never wanted this! You broke your sacred oath - you swore you would never use your powers, but you did, to try and destroy me? You struck first, SeaWing!"
"Because you were hurting dragons! Your tribe - you were terrifying them!"
"Insurrection was bound to happen unless I showed them true strength. Now the flock will fall in line, and I will lead them, as I was born to do!"
"And I can't let you do that."
Something in his eerie gaze shifted. Like he was finally accepting that Fathom wouldn't surrender. As if they were still dragonets roughhousing around their bedroom. That their animus battle that had rocked the sky was just another playful argument over who won the right to first dibs at the table. That Darkstalker would eventually win and Fathom would concede and go back to sticking to his side. But now the NightWing finally accepted that those days were gone. That the ocean between him and Fathom was too wide and tumultuous for even him to surpass. Fathom's ultimate refusal to join him on his side of the shore had driven a spear into his heart and destroyed whatever bond had remained there.
His eyes met Fathom's. There was a coldness there that was so alien to the SeaWing that it made him tremble. Hate. Darkstalker had been mad plenty of times, but not once in his life had he looked upon Fathom with such unbridled hate before. "I thought you would help me build our glorious future. But now I see that you can't be trusted."
Red stained talons reached out towards Fathom's face. His heart pounded, but he couldn't move. Memories, as clear as the day they happened, spun across his brain. Of every time they laughed, of the first time Darkstalker called him 'brother', when they took that fishing trip, when he and Darkstalker and Clearsight had stood on a seaside cliff and dreamed of their happy future. Unbidden, tears slid down Fathom's cheeks.
Darkstalker hesitated as he saw those memories too in Fathom's mind, as he saw the tear crawl down his friend's face. His expression grew torn. Hope hit Fathom so hard it hurt. Darkstalker knew what he needed to do, but he didn't want to. For a moment he didn't look like the power hungry, mad animus he had turned out to be. Instead he looked like the dragonet he had been when they met; hopeful and desperate for a friend.
Behind Darkstalker, through the hole in the ceiling, Fathom caught a glimpse of the sun through the storm clouds. It had just crested the tip of Agate Mountain on the eastern horizon.
"Send him to me when the sun reaches the top of the mountain," Clearsight had instructed him. "That should give me enough time, and the tribe will be far away by then."
It was time.
Fathom snatched up a jagged shard of a tile. It cut between his talons and smeared them with his own blood. With a cry, he lunged for Darkstalker and thrust it to his friend's breast.
Darkstalker's icy blue eyes met Fathom's deep, tear-filled green. Neither of them moved.
"Send him to Clearsight!"
Reality shifted and contorted. Air became heavy and congealed. Fathom wanted to scream as it felt like his guts were being pulled out through his belly. And then, there was a bright flash and a clap of thunder… and Darkstalker was gone.
Fathom lay in the rubble, alone, and let the hurt come in. That was it. If the plan worked, that would be the last time he would see his friend again. If it didn't… Well, either way, it was all over. Both the nightmare and the beautiful, wonderful dream. All because he had let it happen, just like he had with Albatross. Fathom curled up on the floor, covered his head with his wing, and wept.
The world was never going to be the same again.
5008 AS, Two Thousand Years Later…
The tribe usually worked on a rotation when it came to hunting. Obviously those with more vital roles got to eat more often, and as the key to the tribe's future, Morrowseer had been granted privileges that allowed him to eat when he felt like it. And as would be expected, those same privileges extended to his mate, Secretkeeper.
In the twelve years they had been married, she had only used this advantage sparingly. She had a good head on her shoulders, most of the time, and was not foolish enough to pass up the opportunity. Yet Morrowseer had recently become aware that Secretkeeper had been making use of this benefit more and more often. He'd tried to ask her why, but of course she brushed it aside.
He didn't want to think the worst of her. He tried to reason with himself. Since he'd delivered the prophecy, since putting in place the plan that would save their tribe, he had been distant with her. Missions to the mainland, council meetings late into the night, he had buried himself in his work. Could he blame Secretkeeper if she had looked for affection in the wings of another?
No, a rational side of his brain mused. But she was still his wife. And this kind of disloyalty would not be tolerated. Who was more worthy of her than he? He was second in command of the entire tribe in all but name.
He intended to follow her on one of her little outings. She always waited until the dead of night, when the rest of the tribe slept, when he would be in talks with the Queen. The perfect time to slip away. As she soared for the tunnel to the rainforest, Morrowseer followed at a distance. He intended to catch her with her lover, to see who it was that she dared to betray him for.
But for all his intentions, that was not what happened.
Deep into the rainforest he followed. As he came out of the secret tunnel, the first lungful of clean, rich air not tainted by ash and smoke was enough to make lesser dragons stumble. But he carried on; it was only another reminder of what he was fighting for.
Were it not for his keen sense of smell, he might've lost Secretkeeper to the darkness of the forest floor. In the thickest brush, in the shadow of a fallen hollowed out tree, he found a little den, what looked more like a nest folded from ferns. A dragon nest. A memory came to mind. Of Secretkeeper returning from a hunting expedition three years ago. She said the egg came out cracked, the dragonet inside already dead. She had begged him then, that they would not try again. "I can't take it anymore!" she had sobbed. "I'll die if I lose another!"
They had been trying for years. Four times they'd tried, and four times they'd failed. It was one of the reasons Morrowseer was so adamant about saving their tribe, at any cost. They had to get away from the volcano. When they did, he and Secretkeeper could have hope again - the tribe could have hope again!
Seeing the nest, Morrowseer felt a swift slash of shame. Secretkeeper must be coming to mourn, still. He too had mourned, in his own way. That was why he'd furiously driven himself into his work, why he had been so distant with her. But he'd never considered coming to see the site where it might've happened, where Clearsight might've enshrined their last lost dragonet…
Movement rustled in the undergrowth across the clearing. Into the moonlight hopped a tiny dragonet. She was perhaps two, well fed, healthy, her scales a shimmering ebony black. Silver scales sparkled at the corners of her green eyes, bright and dazzling. The dragonet had wandered into the clearing and had looked to the moons eagerly, but upon spotting him had frozen.
He stared at her, she stared back.
"Moonwatcher?" came a voice. "Moon, dear, you shouldn't-"
Secretkeeper stilled and looked at him with horror. Morrowseer couldn't breathe. He stared at his mate, then at the dragonet. Two years old had been his guess… if their last egg had lived, it would be the right age…
Rage blinded him. "How could you?!"
To her credit, she didn't try to placate him. "I couldn't take her back! The volcano would've destroyed her!"
"And I didn't have the right to know? Isn't she mine too?!"
"You would've returned her to the tribe!" Secretkeeper scooped the petrified dragonet up in her talons and brought her closer to herself, protecting the little one in her shadow. "Look at her, Morrowseer. She's perfect, she's healthy! Everything every other NightWing dragonet is not. If putting our daughter first meant you couldn't know… I can live with that."
If she had struck him he wouldn't have been more surprised. "And what of the risks? To the tribe, to our plan! Did you not even consider the consequences had this been discovered? You could have ruined EVERYTHING!"
"I don't care!" she shouted, her voice echoing into the trees with grim finality.
Morrowseer's teeth ground together. "You… don't… care?"
"My dragonet is all that matters to me. If you want to be a part of that, make your choice."
Soft earth shredded beneath his clenched talons. A thousand thoughts raced through his mind. A knife had sliced open his back. His mate had not only betrayed him - their entire marriage - with this unforgivable secret; she had betrayed the entire tribe. She brought shame down on both of them! What if their dragonet was contaminated? Yes, she was alive, yes she was healthy, and a part of Morrowseer wanted to get closer, to look at his daughter and hold her in his talons, know she was real. But he couldn't ignore that her very existence was a slap in the face. His mate did not value the cohesion of the tribe enough to adhere to tradition. His mate did not value his feelings enough to tell him that his child had lived. Instead, she had lied to him, made him grieve another stillbirth and robbed him of the chance to be a father.
For all that, he loved and hated them both.
But now the question remained on what to do with them. Secretkeeper was right, he had to make a choice. And to him, the choice was clear. They needed to return to the island. The laws existed for a reason, and Secretkeeper must be judged for them. And this dragonet needed to be with her own kind, to correct any weakness that might have been instilled in her by being raised out here. What if -
"No, NO!" the dragonet suddenly screeched. She tried to scramble further into her mother's shadow, tried to hide in her wings. She stared at Morrowseer with wide, terrified eyes. "You can't! He can't!"
"Moon!" Secretkeeper hurriedly tried to quieten her daughter, her voice filled with a little more panic than was strictly necessary. "Moon, hush! Don't-"
"He'll take us back!" the dragonet wailed. "I saw it! He's gonna take us back! Don't let him!"
I saw it?
Morrowseer inspected this little creature, with her big, frightened green eyes and those strange silver scales that glittered in the moonlight. Her stare was so intense on Morrowseer's gaze, like she could look through him. She'd somehow managed to know his intentions. I saw it…
Quickly, Morrowseer conjured something very specific into his mind. Of Battlewinner, stood before the little dragonet, vast and reaching for her.
The reaction was instantaneous. "Mother!" she screamed. "Her tongue is blue! She's going to take me away!"
Morrowseer glared at Secretkeeper's defeated expression. She'd already known about this! There was no way either of them could avoid this now.
This would change everything.