Wings of Fire: Heart of Gold

Wings of Fire: Heart of Gold is a fanfiction created by Lucky. I hope you all enjoy this!
===Prologue: Like a Phoenix===
It was funny how quickly things would change, a tiny SkyWing scampering through the undergrowth of a dark forest thought humorlessly. How fragile normal was. He snagged himself on a tree branch, and tripped down a gentle slope. 
It really wasn’t funny. It wasn’t funny at all how his entire life fell away in a single moment, throwing him out in the rain. Both metaphorically and quite literally. Thunder crackled overhead, rain fell relentlessly all around, and cold drafts shook the little dragonet as he made his way blindly through the forest.
All in a moment, when strange dragons attacked and destroyed the orphanage that he had lived in. They had burned it and all of the dragons that were taking shelter from the rain inside it to ashes. 
But not him. He, the smallest and probably worst behaved dragonet that the caretakers had ever seen, had managed to escape while all the others died. It might be selfish. He’s just going to call it smart. With no ties to them, he was free to leave. What a coward he was, but he was alive, and they were cremated.
The small dragon spared the tiniest glance backwards, and was spotted a light on the horizon. The smoke rose into the air, still as dark and choking as it was close-up. That was all that remained of his childhood, from the moment his egg was abandoned.
He slowed to a stop, desperate energy that had pushed him on to escape his home fading from him. Where… Would he go? Would he die out here, alone, in the cold? Would he be captured by the same dragons that burned down his home?
A cracking of a nearby tree branch snapped the dragonet back to reality. He shot his head around, staring at each shadow, every hiding place around him. 
A pair of dark eyes stared from the shadows. They locked with the dragonets, and for a moment they held malevolent intent. 
Then a huge SandWing strode from the shade, eying the dragonet warily. “Who’re you?” The dragonet squeaked, retreating nervously. 
The giant dragon huffed, a puff of noxious smelling smoke floating freely from his mouth. “What’s a little dragonet doing so far from his mother?” His gravely deep voice had a sort of innate mocking tone, as if he had been doing it all his life that it didn’t even mean anything to him anymore.
The SkyWing shrank back, absolutely terrified. Was this one of the dragons that had burned the orphanage? Were they hunting everyone down?
The SandWing waited for a moment, then shrugged and turned to walk away, as if a stranded dragonet held no meaning in his mind. 
The Dragonet stared at him, as he walked away. Suddenly, shivering violently, he shook out his claws and followed the larger dragon slowly. Maybe… If the dragon didn’t want to kill him immediately, then he wouldn’t hurt him?
When he reached a clearing, the SandWing seemed to have stopped, looking at the waterlogged dragonet that followed him. “Yes?” He growled, only seeming to be the slightest bit irritated.
“Where… Where is the nearest town?” he asked, blinking rain and foul smog out of his eyes. Hopefully the SandWing would overlook that it was a one-year old dragonet that’s probably accidentally crossed the border to the desert
“Oh,” He gestured vaguely with a claw. “Probably Possibility. But it ain’t a nice place. And you don’t look like a Possibilitier.” He stared out the corner of his eye. “Kid, you won’t last long without help. Or without breaking a few rules.” He stared at his claws.
It took a moment for that to sink in, and Magpie stared blankly. “So… What should I do?”
The dragon arched an eyeridge. “You look like a good thief. See if that can get you anywhere.” Then he was gone. Disappearing in the shadows, with the smell of smoke dampening with the rain. 
Magpie stared after him, then down at his own claws. Yeah, it was true that he took stuff from the other orphans when he needed to or even when they had angered him. But was it that apparent from a single glance?
Now that he thought about it… Thievery wasn’t that bad of an idea. Perhaps he could be a rogue of justice…? 
Nah, forget good conscious. This’ll be a fun life.
The tiny, soaked dragonet, still dusted with the ashes of all of those that he knew, started to smile. It wasn’t a very nice smile.
==Part One: The War==
===Chapter One: Golden Sands===
What a day it was. 
Magpie stood on the edge of a sand dune, warming his salmon wings against the blazing sun. A large, heavy canvas bag laid by his side. 
He had been so productive today. He’d gotten so much work done today. And it was only sunhigh, practically morning to him. 
A large, elaborately made adobe house laid behind him, newly looted. 
And SandWings wake up late, when the sun is falling from the sky. He should have a bit of time to get away with all the stuff he took. 
He heard a rustle behind him, and flicked over the brown cloak he carried with him. It shouldn’t be that hard to hide. SandWings are blind as bats when they are angry. And in a minute, he should get to know just how good his stealing has gotten.
Chuckling good-naturedly, he pricked his ears for the familiar yell of indignation.
Moments later, it split the quiet air, and he smiled under his tan cloak. Then, taking care to know nobody was watching, he began to make his way far enough from the household that he… borrowed… stuff from. Although the dragon wouldn’t be looking for someone so nearby (Assuming that he must have stolen in the night, always a rookie mistake), his large wings made a rather obvious blotch against the blue sky.
Finally, after a decent amount of trekking across the desert, with the sun slanting sharply down and casting its orange glow upon him, Magpie shook back his hood and glanced behind him.
Good. Still no one chasing him. 
He stopped, pulling out the stuff that he had taken from a bag that he had slung beneath one of his wings. Mostly useless to him, though the traders south of here might pay something for them. Cups plated with gold? Really? Who honestly wanted that? Who honestly could afford it?
He sorted through it, looking for stuff to sell and stuff to keep. This batch was not really that promising. At least he could get a couple gallons of water for that cup, a hard thing to come by for someone that doesn’t stick by an oasis. 
As his claws passed over each of the treasures, he spotted a glimmer of a deeper yellow near the bottom, and scooped it out.
A necklace. Thin chain, fragile clasp, and a large pendant on the bottom. In the shape of a crescent moon, no less. He kind of liked it, even though it would probably be destroyed in a day in his line of work. And the twinkling of the yellow jewels that were placed along the inward side of the moon were especially bright in the sunset.
He slipped it on anyway, and it clattered against his hard red scales. He pushed the rest of the stuff back into the bag, and slung it over his shoulder again, where it clinked and thumped merrily. 
“Just another day’s work,” He muttered, finally getting up and looking south, where his destination lied. The Scorpion Den. His number one trading post.
===Chapter Two: Trader of Treasure===
It was late when he reached the Den. And of course, it was busy today. Unbelievably chokingly packed.
Wandering the streets, dragons pressed up against him at all sides, sellers shouting at him from their posts, low lights hurting his eyes…
Magpie never felt more comfortable. This was his turf. This is where he can do what he did best. Barter with the best.
His claws itched at the amount of exposed stuff around here, wanting to nick something, for the fun of it, but he knew that every dragon near him would turn on him, barbs high and fire ready. It really wasn’t the best place to attempt something like this. He learned that two years ago, and still had scars to prove it.
Instead, he made his way towards a counter that he has since found had the best deals for his stuff that he stole.
He arrived, and the gruff SkyWing that owned the place, Rook, barely gave a note of affirmation that the littler dragon was there before sorting through the stuff that was heaped onto the table.
“Fine hoard you have there, kid.” Magpie scowled slightly. He knew that he was... What? Four years old now? Yes, he was smaller than the others. Yes, he sounded a little younger too. And yeah, he probably should still be with his parents.
He almost expected the whole ‘you shouldn’t be going out there alone, kiddo’ speech that several other dragons have seen fit that they should give him.
The dragon eyed him, and suddenly laughed. “No need to glare, I find it impressive the amount of stuff you manage to find. How much stuff can one fit in a house, anyway?” 
Magpie relaxed, but only slightly. At least this dragon wouldn’t bug him with such trivial matters. At least not yet.
“How far away was this stuff? It looks like southern SandWing stuff, and is that SeaWing Topaz?” Rook palmed a pendant, staring at it. Magpie watched him carefully, to make sure he wouldn’t nick anything. He was the thief here. He didn’t anyone else taking his stuff on him. What an embarrassment that would be.
“What says I stole this stuff?” It was redundant banter. Pretty much tradition at this point, since they both knew full well he didn’t acquire his goods in any manner legal. But what did it matter? He kept goods circling the den. Not even Thorn (sorry, Queen Thorn) cares about what he does, and he even spotted her looking at the stuff he sold with interest. 
“A little bird told me,” again, tradition. Just a jab at his avian name (funny, since his own name was after a bird as well). But the SkyWing passed over a few gold coins that, although they constituted of less metal than the stuff he sold, it was currency in this part of the kingdom.
As he turned away, Rook called out to him. “Hey kid, what’s with the new jewelry?” He pointed a lazy claw to the necklace. He stiffened his wings reflexively.
“I like it,” Was all he said, before disappearing into the crowd. 
The dragon stared after him, before shrugging and sorting out the new wares. Here’s hoping the owner of this stuff doesn’t find him. That would be pretty awkward, especially if he had to admit it was a dragonet that gave it to him. 
-----
Dusk was always when the desert was prettiest. Especially the Scorpion Den, with its many lights and even floating lanterns at certain times of the year. Today, sadly, wasn’t one of them, but Magpie’s first festival was something that he would never forget. 
He brushed by several SandWings and even a few MudWings, who didn’t even glance twice at the dragonet. They were completely used to him at this point, even weaving around him so he didn't end up trampled by the stampede. How considerate of them.
He eyed the coins now in his bag. He probably should have demanded more, since that was quite a flight between here and the nobledragon's house. But he should be thankful of old Rook. Not many dragons would buy stolen goods. And he always gave good deals on them, even if it would be very easy to lower the payment. Perhaps it was pity, or a sense of kinship amongst bird-themed SkyWings. Hah.
Whatever the case, now he had dinner. And maybe even a meal or two tomorrow morning. And, with the air clear and the sky sparkling with stars like a NightWing's wing, he thought he might as well treat himself to something nice.
===Chapter Three: Foreshadowing===
The bar wasn’t that nice, but he’d been there before and the food was good enough. The dragon at the counter barely looked at him after he showed his coins, and he ordered his food.
He seated himself at a table nearby, listening to the ripple of conversation all around him. It was a peaceful entropy, this entire city. If you didn’t bother to make sense of it, then you would understand it. The dragons that liked to mug you at spearpoint stayed on the north side, the Outclaws tended to stick around the Oasis and didn’t like to speak to other dragons, and the little dragonet that can nick anything from you that he wants hangs out in the merchant’s streets.
Somehow, he managed to make a name for himself, through his shenanigans and his little size. Dragonets his age usually went up to get food and water from the Outclaws (he wasn’t quite sure what to make of them, and the ones he met weren’t very friendly when they heard he was a thief) and stick around their hardworking parents. He managed to gouge out a niche for himself, and make a living. Not bad for a brightly colored runt with a case of kleptomania and an eye for anything that gleamed. 
Though, one day, he’d like to leave the Sand Kingdom. He’d stayed, for the most part, within its borders, and wondered just what kind of price he would get if he were to take stuff from, say, the SkyWing mountains or from the IceWing wasteland (He was half-convinced they had diamond mines, what a thought!). 
His food came, and he took his time nibbling at the cooked snake and charred cactus. SandWing food had an acquired taste, but he’d gotten used to it. 
Now, what would make his day end well would be to have no incidents… Drunkards in these places tended to start pretty violent fights pretty easily and though he hadn’t gotten trapped in one in a long while, he still had lashes from an IceWing tail grazing his leg, and a poison sting on his back that still ached from time to time. 
He stared across from him at a gold-colored SkyWing, who looked like he had a little too much that night. Just tonight… You can all go back to clawing at each other’s throats tomorrow… I just want peace tonight…
If some kind of vengeful god was listening to him right now, they must have laughed. 
The golden SkyWing stood up suddenly, throwing the glass in his claws down on the ground and sending the stool flying. Shattered shards were flung around the floor, and a couple lodged themselves in Magpie’s tail. He hissed, biting down on his claws to stop the yell that rose in his throat. 
Speak of the devil.
Every head in the room turned around and stared at him. A few were curious, but most of them were bored and even defensive.
“War! War has begun once again!” he yelled, his voice high, reedy, yet desperate. “The tribes are separate once more!”
A few dragons hissed, and one of them muttered, “Drunkard.” Conversation started to bubble up around the edges, whispered hisses.
Magpie ducked lower over his drink, a simple water. He wasn’t interesting in listening to gossip today. And most of the time, it just led to violence. 
The golden SkyWing waved a letter. “Written proof! I swear!”
An IceWing snatched it, and the room waited in bated silence as he read through it. 
“It’s true. Anarchists have corrupted the tribes. The tribes are deteriorating as we speak,” A RainWing from across the bar yelled as well. She didn’t look like she had quite as many drinks. The IceWing slowly nodded.
As soon as those words left the dragoness’s snout, the entire bar suddenly raised up in rage and surprise. Dragons of all tribes rushed around, shouting, as the chaotic truth was revealed. The IceWing gazed up, wide-eyed, from the letter.
Magpie didn’t think much of it, since his job didn’t affect him much with this new reveal, but he did start panicking when a shoot of flame licked his face, barely a claw length off of his scales. At this point, quickly dousing himself with his water to make sure there was no burning, Magpie left his seat.
I have to get out of here. They will probably crush me in their panic, he thought, gritting his teeth at the careless claws on his wing and bolting for the door.
Amidst all the din, a cackle rose from the golden SkyWing that started this. “It was all a conspiracy, and they said they didn’t believe me. Now look who’s right!” Then his voice was lost from the shouts.
 
Magpie didn’t even look back. The news rippled across the Den, and shouts started calling out. 
He flew away from the bar, as far as he could, circling high above. It was, therefor, only him that noticed the IceWings and SkyWings coasting on the hot summer winds, holding cacti. It was only him that saw them fall, lit aflame. Perfect biological weapons. 
It was only him that saw the Scorpion Den go up in flames, and dragons flying out desperately.
It was only him that turned tail and flew out of there, escaping the ashes once again. Like a coward, he ran. Like a dragonet he cried. But yet again, he could adapt.
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