Prolouge

A dragon was trying to hide in the storm.

Lightning flickered across the dark clouds. Hvitur clutched his

fragile cargo closer. If he could make it over the mountains, he’d be

safe. He’d escaped the sky dragons’ palace unseen. And the secret cave

was so close. …

But his theft had not been as stealthy as he thought, and eyes as

black as obsidian were already tracking him from below.

The enormous dragon on the mountain ledge had pale gold scales

that radiated heat like a desert horizon. Her black eyes narrowed,

watching the gleam of silver wings far up in the clouds.

She flicked her tail, and behind her two more dragons rose to the

sky and dove into the heart of the storm. A piercing shriek echoed off

the mountains as their talons seized the moon-pale ice dragon.

“Bind his mouth,” the waiting dragon ordered as her soldiers

dropped Hvitur on the slick, wet ledge in front of her. He was already

inhaling, ready to attack. “Quickly!”

One of the soldiers grabbed a chain from the pile of smoldering

coals. He threw it around the ice dragon’s snout, clamping his jaws

together with a sizzling smell of burning scales. Hvitur let out a muffled

scream.

“Too late.” The sand dragon’s forked tongue slithered in and out of

her mouth. “You won’t be using your freezing-death breath on us, ice

dragon.”

“He was carrying this, Queen Burn,” said one of the soldiers,

handing her a dragon egg.

Burn squinted at the egg through the downpour. “This is not an

IceWing egg,” she hissed. “You stole this from the SkyWing palace.”

The IceWing stared back at her. Hissing steam circled his snout

where the hot chains met cold silver scales.

“You thought you got away unnoticed, didn’t you?” Burn said.

“My SkyWing ally is not a fool. Queen Scarlet knows everything that

happens in her kingdom. Her lookouts reported an IceWing thief

sneaking away, and I decided finding you might add some violence to

my boring visit.”

Burn held the large egg up to the light of the fire and turned it

slowly. Red and gold shimmered below the pale, smooth surface.

“Yes. This is a SkyWing egg about to hatch,” Burn mused. “Why

would my sister send you to steal a SkyWing dragonet? Blaze hates any

dragon younger and prettier than she is.” She thought for a moment as

rain drummed on the ledge around them. “Unless … the brightest night

is tomorrow. …”

Her tail flicked up like a scorpion’s, the poisonous barb inches

from Hvitur’s eyes. “You’re not in Blaze’s army, are you? You’re one

of those insipid underground peacemongers.”

“The Talons of Peace?” said one of the soldiers. “You mean they’re

real?”

Burn snorted. “A few worms crying over a little blood. Unwrap his

chains. He won’t be able to freeze us until his scales cool down.” The

enormous sand dragon leaned closer as her soldier pulled the chain

away. “Tell me, ice dragon, do you really believe in that pompous old

NightWing’s prophecy?”

“Haven’t enough dragons died for your war?” snarled Hvitur,

wincing at the pain in his jaws. “All of Pyrrhia has suffered for the last

twelve years. The prophecy says —”

“I don’t care. No prophecy decides what happens to me,” Burn

interrupted. “I’m not letting a bunch of words or baby dragons choose

when I die or what I bow to. We can have peace when my sisters are

dead and I am queen of the SandWings.” Her venomous tail dipped

closer to the silver dragon.

Rain pattered on Hvitur’s scales. He glared up at her. “The

dragonets are coming, whether you like it or not, and they’ll choose who

the next SandWing queen should be.”

“Really?” Burn stepped back and turned the egg slowly between

her talons. Her forked tongue slipped in and out of her smile. “So,

IceWing. Is this egg a part of your pathetic prophecy?”

Hvitur went still.

Burn tapped lightly on the eggshell with one long talon. “Hello?”

she called. “Is there a dragonet of destiny in there? Ready to come out

and end this big bad war?”

“Leave it alone,” Hvitur choked out.

“Tell me,” Burn said, “what becomes of your precious prophecy …

if one of the five dragonets is never hatched at all?”

“You wouldn’t,” he said. “No one would harm a dragon egg.” His

blue eyes were fixed desperately on her talons.

“No ‘wings of sky’ to help save the world,” Burn said. “What a

sad, sad story.” She began tossing the egg from one front claw to the

other. “I guess that means you should be very, very careful with this

terribly important little — oops!”

With an exaggerated lunge, Burn pretended the wet egg was

slipping through her talons … and then she let it fall over the side of the

cliff into the rocky darkness below.

“No!” Hvitur shrieked. He threw off the two soldiers and flung

himself toward the edge. Burn slammed her massive claws down on his

neck.

“So much for destiny,” she smirked. “So much for your tragic little

movement.”

“You’re a monster,” the IceWing gasped, writhing under her talons.

His voice cracked with despair. “We’ll never give up. The dragonets —

the dragonets will come and stop this war.”

Burn leaned down to hiss into his ear. “Even if they do — it’ll be

far too late for you.” Her claws ripped through the silver dragon’s

wings, shredding them as Hvitur shrieked in agony. With a swift

movement, she stabbed her poisonous tail through his skull and flung

the long, silver body over the edge of the cliff.

The ice dragon’s screams cut off long before the echoes of his

corpse slamming into the rocks below.

The SandWing turned her black eyes to her soldiers. “Perfect,” she

said. “That should be the last we hear about that stupid prophecy.” She

held out her talons so the rain could wash away the glistening dragon

blood. “Let’s go find something else to kill.”

The three dragons spread their wings and lifted off into the dark

clouds.

Some time later, far below, a large dragon the color of rust crawled

over the rocks to the broken body of the ice dragon. She nudged his tail

aside and lifted a shard of eggshell from underneath it, then slipped back

into the labyrinth of caves under the cliffs.

Stone walls brushed against her wings. She breathed out a plume of

flame to light her way along the dark passage, deep into the mountain.

“I stand with the Talons of Peace,” hissed a voice in the shadows.

“Kestrel? Is that you?”

“We await the wings of fire,” answered the red dragon. A bluegreen SeaWing emerged from a side cave, and she tossed the eggshell at his feet. “Not that it’ll do us much good now,” she snarled. “Hvitur is

dead.”

The SeaWing stared at the eggshell. “But — the SkyWing egg —”

“Broken,” she said. “Gone. It’s over, Webs.”

“It can’t be,” he said. “Tomorrow is the brightest night. The three

moons will all be full for the first time in a century. The dragonets of the

prophecy have to hatch tomorrow.”

“Well, one of them is already dead,” Kestrel said. Rage flickered in

her eyes. “I knew I should have stolen the SkyWing egg myself. I know

the Sky Kingdom. They wouldn’t have caught me a second time.”

Webs grimaced, scratching one claw over the gills along his neck.

“Asha is dead, too.”

“Asha?” A spurt of flame shot from Kestrel’s nose. “How?”

“Caught in a battle between Blaze’s and Blister’s forces on the way

here. She still made it with the red MudWing egg, but she died of her

wounds soon after.”

“So it’s just you, me, and Dune to raise the little worms,” Kestrel

growled. “For a prophecy that can never be fulfilled. Let’s break the

cursed eggs now and be done with it. We’ll be long gone before the

Talons of Peace return for the dragonets.”

“No!” Webs hissed. “Keeping the dragonets alive for the next eight

years is more important than anything. If you don’t want to be part of

that —”

“All right, enough,” Kestrel snapped. “I’m the strongest dragon in

the Talons of Peace. You need me. It doesn’t matter how I feel about

nasty little dragonets.” She eyed the eggshell on the floor, rubbing her

scarred palms together. “Although I thought at least one of them would

be a SkyWing.”

“I’ll find us a fifth dragonet.” Webs pushed past her, scales

scraping against rock.

“There’s no way back into the Sky Kingdom, brainless,” she said.

“They’ll be guarding the hatchery closely now.”

“Then I’ll get an egg somewhere else,” he said grimly. “The

RainWings don’t even count their eggs — I could take one from the rain

forest without anyone noticing.”

“Of all the horrible ideas,” Kestrel said with a shudder.

“RainWings are wretched creatures. Nothing like SkyWings.”

“We have to do something,” Webs said. He hissed as his tail sent

the eggshell skittering across the floor. “In eight years, the Talons of

Peace will come looking for five dragonets. The prophecy says five, and

we’re going to make it come true … whatever it takes.”

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