Epilogue

For a split second, the continents fell silent. The noise returned with whispers and secret conversations, planning and plotting against whoever may attack them. They glanced at their neighboring tribes and kingdoms with narrowed eyes, losing all trust they had with them. The queens assembled their subjects, every dragon across the lands were given letters, ordering them to return home.

Once arrived, they exchanged ideas for plans, and donned their armor. They were standing outside, patrolling the area, glaring at their neighbors. Every glance and stare told each kingdom of what they will face, warning them of what they will go up against, because at this time, no one can be trusted. Each kingdom saw this, queens and soldiers, young and old. They knew the danger, and they knew the battle, that is why they never let go of their weapons. For a whole day, the continents were quiet, and no soul trudged along the lands.

The next day however, that was when the uproar began. It started with a cry, a roar that reached the clouds, just loud enough for the tribes to understand. That was the signal, that was their cue. Forget prophecies, forget the Dragonets, forget peace and hope. This is their time, this is their chance to unleash their flames, and burn their enemies.

The sky was on fire, blazing with everlasting hatred, and far below the weapons collided. Some preferred to fight with spears, others thought claws would be more efficient. The tribes threw everything, and whatever they had, reminding other enemies of how much they despised them, how much wealth they had besides them, and were not hesitant to draw blood.

The scavengers were shown no mercy, and in seconds they retreated back underground. The dragons laughed at them, while the rest gathered some, and feasted to celebrate. This repeated again and again; the day is for brawl, the night is for rest. However, no one dared to betray their queen, no one had the bravery to walk away from the fight, because they all knew how much this meant to them.

"We are dragons," they told themselves day after day. Even as the tribes would do anything, retrieve anything to defeat their enemy, they all fought for a purpose. Whether it was to avenge their queen, or prove to the other how strong they were, each and every dragon held their claws in pride, and flew with grace. They convinced their army that they will be triumphant, and destroy the evil that plagues their lands, because they each have their Wings of Fire.

That was when Kratos stepped in.

—-

The day was bright with the sun casting its golden luminescence across Pyrrhia. The sky was blue with a few storm clouds on the way. No wind was present, yet the late spring air made its way up the mountains, and into the throne room of the Sky Kingdom. At least, that is what it used to be.

Once Kratos introduced himself, he decided to move on from the mountains, because he knew how much Fate loved to torture souls. Besides, while sitting on the throne, his claws clutching the armrests, he saw the world kneeling before him. He did not realize how much open space the throne room was - it was basically outside. It didn't bother him at all, because he could walk to the edge, and gaze down at everything he did.

A loud knock echoed towards him.

"Enter," Kratos announced.

The doors creaked open, and in walked a young SkyWing soldier.

"Ah, Cliff," Kratos said, "what have you brought me today?"

"Information, Your Majesty," Cliff replied.

Kratos gripped the throne. "Have you forgotten what it means to show respect? You dare not meet eyes with me."

Cliff lowered his head, and knelt down. "I apologize, Your Majesty," he said, shivering at the sight of the king's skull face.

Kratos sat back. "Tell me what I need to know."

"The Mud Kingdom is asking for rations," Cliff replied.

"Rations? Are there not scavengers in the area? Let them find and capture whatever they want, and livestock must be at every corner."

"Most of the animals in that area were killed during the all out war. The scavengers have also abandoned that place."

"I see. . . . Nevermind them, they will provide for themselves. Is that all?"

"The conflict between the Sand and Ice Kingdom is moving east. King Smolder's forces are about to cross our territory."

"Tell the general to gather his men. Keep them off the border at all costs."

"There is more," Cliff said. "Due to recent assassinations, the dragons of Pantala have driven out all Pyrrhia residents. They have signed a treaty with one another, and are preparing to attack the continent."

Kratos thought this through. "HiveWings allying with Silk and LeafWings? They may have power, yet their alliance is unbalanced."

"The NightWings have also snuck into the mountains. Some refugees are taking shelter there."

"Why is this occurring?"

"They are hoping to find any trace of Animus Magic, but judging by how long they have been there, we doubt their attack would be the least of our worries. The RainWings have begun construction on a wall around their kingdom, and they seem to be eyeing the SeaWings."

Kratos growled. "RainWings are the least of our worries - they get more anxious as the year goes by." He sat for a moment, thinking. "Six months, that was all it took for the world to crumble to pieces. Amazing how quick things can change in a matter of days."

"Permission to be excused, Your Majesty?" Cliff asked.

Kratos narrowed his red eyes down at him. "Do you miss your mother, Cliff? Do you lie awake at night, her death dancing in your mind every minute, every hour, every second?"

Cliff was hesitant, then replied, "No, Your Majesty. In fact, I would have done the same thing you did to her."

Kratos scoffed, which sounded too much like a chuckle. "Begone with you."

Cliff stood, and walked away without batting an eye.

Kratos was greeted with silence yet again, glancing at his dark blue cape, and dragging his claws along his golden crown. Even with his bones, arteries, and organs exposed, it never bothered him in the slightest. No one could learn of his belongings, or the paper. He locked them away in a safe in his chamber; the world must not know. If so, everything he did would be for nothing. Yet, there was one item he would never let go.

Kratos lifted his arm, staring at the ring for a long moment. Destiny stole Iro from him, and Fate made sure to never bring them together.

"What will you do now?" Kratos asked. A knock on the door, silent and tranquil. "Begone." The knocking returned with irritation, a much louder bang. Kratos growled. "What is it that you want?"

There was a moment of hesitation, enough that the visitor must have gone away. Then the door opened, slowly, letting it creak as loud as possible. A cloud blocked the sun, and in came three figures wearing black cloaks, coating their whole bodies.

"What is this?" Kratos demanded. "Speak your names, what has brought you here?"

The figures stood motionless for a while, then sharing the exact movements, they lifted their arms, and removed their hoods. The eyes of the three SandWing sisters gazed up with death across their faces at the king towering above them.

Kratos snarled. "This is meant to be humorous? How did you walk by my guards?"

The sisters stood motionless, taking in their pain and demise. Blister was made from dust, while her sisters were drenched in snake bites. She stepped forward, and unleashed a ghastly howl that was a mixture of rage, and a terrible scream. Kratos awaited something. When the sky grew darker, a larger figure beat its wings against the air. The dragon swooped down, landing in front of the sisters. He stood much taller than them, donning a cloak as well. He met eyes with Kratos, revealing himself to be Morrowseer. His scales were cracked, and crumbled with every movement, as if he were hatched from stone.

Kratos narrowed his eyes. "So, Fate, is this how you retrieve lost souls? Is suffering inflicted upon others greater than upon yourself?"

Out from the shadows on his left, another cloaked figure stepped up. Her face was hidden by darkness, but Kratos could make out the disfigured face of Scarlet.

Kratos got to his feet, straining his claws. The figures stepped forward, a growl escaping their throats.

"No, you cannot take me again," Kratos said. "I escaped you, you will not return me to that land. Do you hear me, Fate? You will not torture my soul any longer. I have bested you."

As the spirits drew closer, and the sky grew blacker, the doors burst open with a boom. There in the darkness were two glowing white eyes, and holding her arms out to the sides. A large plant that grew from her torso carried her, slithering across the ground like a black snake. Wasp smiled a wicked gaze, her melted face resembling death itself.

The spirits were crawling up the steps to the throne, making sure Kratos had nowhere to escape. He was frantic, throwing swears and curses at the spirits. He thrashed a claw, but like wind, the strike went through Scarlet's face. They reached out their arms to him, following Fate's instructions, eyeing Kratos with weary, agonized eyes.

A loud boom reached across the kingdom, tearing the roof away like a hurricane. Kratos looked up and gazed into the eyes of Darkstalker, his scowl eating the darkness. The giant surrounded the throne room with his massive wings, adding to the darkness. He eyed the king with all his pain and suffering he inflicted upon him.

The spirits were screaming, their claws reaching, their pain escaping their throats to release it all on the damned.

Kratos screamed in agony, crying out to whatever could hear him, his being engulfed by darkness always and forever.

All that remained was his ring.

—-

Acknowledgements

I honestly found this difficult to write, I guess it's due to the plot. I came up with this complicated, yet intriguing concept I found potential in, and took five months getting it on the paper. In my mind, this is the aftermath of The Flames of Hope. I guess in many fantasy novels there are a lot of plot holes, and stuff that doesn't get answered, or might not make any sense. Maybe that is why I chose Wings of Fire to delve into that idea. It comes in the form of Kratos, a character inspired by Cormac McCarthy, challenging the purpose of the Dragonets of Destiny, and making the antagonists' spirits envy him. The design of him on the cover is, I will admit, not what I expected. However, I thought to myself that was okay, because that is the kind of character he is, and what I wrote him to be.

Any recognizable characters and locations are made and rightfully owned by Tui T. Sutherland.