The Crimson Roses

Notice : I will be using some OCs designed by other users (you can see more information here!). ^-^
Characters
Prince Accentor (Weiss)
Airflight (Coco)
Buruu (Saburra)
Petrichor (Zephyr)
Hummingbird (Abyss)
Miriyala (Coco)
Otter (Crystal)
Rumor (Nightclaws)
Rosefinch The SkyWing (Rain The FanWing)
Tacenda (Darkflowers)
Shadowseeker the Nightwing (Jos98ie)
more slots open, if anyone else is interested! <3
==Prologue==
Work in progress <3
There was a shadow in the forest.
The dragoness could feel it - she could feel it in the frost that pressed itself against her scales, in the darkness that pooled between her talons. She could taste it - a coppery flavour that spoke of starless nights and frozen water. And she could hear it, but just faintly - a whisper of boiling voices at the back of her mind, a whisper that was never really loud enough for anyone else to notice.
She shook herself impatiently. There was no use in respecting the shadow - she had forgotten respect long ago, because it had done nothing for her. No, she did not respect the shadow. She feared it and she admired it - which sickened her. Even though it was the very thing that made her special, what made her unique...it was the harbringer of magic.
The dragoness shivered as the wind nipped playfully at her wings. She would have flown, were it not for the danger...walking was so tedious, so mundane. It was a sport for lesser dragons. Not some means of travel for an individual of her standing....
I could have made them pay.
The thought made her lips curl. It would have been so easy...a flick of her claws, a breath of whispered words.
The dragoness stopped and clenched her talons, fighting back tears. No, no, such thoughts were dangerous. Such thoughts were better left unseen, unsaid, unheard. That's what Mother always told you, a small voice hissed in her mind. You can't use your powers for good. Every single time you use them, you lose a little bit of yourself, tipping further and further and further into the shadow. It's useless to think about what you could of used your magic for, or what you would of used your magic for. What's done is done, and not even you can change that. It doesn't even change what you are - a monster, a cruel, vicious monster.
No, no, no, it's safer this way. So I don't lose myself to the shadow, to the magic, to the power...
I could have stopped the bloodshed, though.
I could have saved them.
And I didn't. I didn't do anything. I sat on my wings and let the war play out, and why? Because I was scared, scared of the shadow, of filling myself with darkness...
It had been five years since the last battle of the Scorching. Five years since she had truly known fear, had truly been tempted to use her magic. It made her sick - she made herself sick, every single time she had to look at her reflection and see the sorry, guilty face staring back at her.
"I did what I had to do," the dragoness told herself. "I did what I had to do, and what's done is done."
But it would have been so easy...
No, no, no, I can't use my magic, not ever, she thought, panicking. I get weaker - I can feel it, every time I use it...it just gets harder and harder to stop, to stop using it for myself...
Just one little flame, the voice purred. You're freezing. It's cold out. Make one tiny flame, just one little spark appear at your talons. You deserve that much.
The dragoness shivered again. The blustering winds and snowstorms of the winter months were harsh for every tribe, even the ice dragons - ice dragons like her. It was an odd feeling, being this cold. It felt foreign. It felt wrong...even more so when she considered how it could be ended in such a simple way.
No, no - no, no, I can't do this...please, no...
But the dragoness could feel the shadow at the back of her mind, a dark creature slowly preying on her resolve. She rested her head against the frozen bark of an alder and sighed. It would be so simple, so unnoticeable...just a few words, just a small, tiny spell...
Cupping her talons close to her face, the dragoness whispered a string of words, and the flame came slowly, hesitantly, like a wild animal being coaxed out of hiding. It didn't hurt her - it was just a mild warmth, and it was wonderful, fluttering against her scales like a little heartbeat.
It wasn't so bad. The ice-feeling came a bit after, when exhaustion and weariness began to dig fierce claws into the dragoness's aching muscles. There was a heavy-stone-feel in her scales, a sudden pressure around her lungs, a constricted throat and a clammy mist around her talons. Inevitable, but completely worth it, for those few precious moments of luxury...the dragoness dipped her claws into the flame again and released a breath of relief and pain, enjoying the warmth but aching at the toll the magic cost her.
----
A fire, a roaring blaze, engulfing the forest around her. No longer a small flare of heat - this was as hot and fierce as the sun, as hot as a thousand embers. The dragoness screamed, eyes screwing shut instinctively against the light. What had happened? What had happened? One moment she was cupping the small, flickering heartbeat, the next she was the flickering heartbeat, alone, completely surrounded by the hungry ribbons of fire. Smoke clawed at her throat, rising along with the scream that was threatening to pour from her maw -
Someone grabbed her by the wrists and half-dragged, half-threw her, so that the dragoness landed awkwardly in the snow, wings and tail flailing helplessly as her rescuer pulled her even further from the inferno. She could barely stand - she couldn't even feel her wings, or her tail. Numb with cold or burnt so badly that - she slammed a sheet of ice and rain over her thoughts, stuffing hysteria and shock back into the corner of her mind.
It might have been an eternity, it might have been only a few seconds - her rescuer released her, and the dragoness sank gratefully in the snow, pressing her hurting, aching scales into the cold powder.
"What were you doing?"
The voice wasn't unkind, but neither was it welcoming. The dragoness cracked open one bleary eye and looked up at her rescuer, her saviour - he was hardly older than herself, a young night dragon, with dark green scales and ice blue eyes. A golden pendant, shaped like a star and embedded with a single emerald, hung loosely around his arched neck.
"I-" She broke off, coughing. "I'm no-not sure."
The night dragon pressed his talons to his temples. What was his tribe calling themselves nowadays? NightWings? They no longer had to bow to the scavenger terminology for the dragons - no longer "sky dragons" and "ice dragons", but "SkyWings" and "IceWings". I have to get used to that, she thought, berating herself internally.
"I can't read your mind," he said finally, opening his eyes again. "Well - I can, but it's very intense...are you alright?"
"Yes, yes, I'm fine-" She started coughing for the second time, and when she finished, the NightWing was still waiting patiently, his starscales gleaming in the bleeding light of dawn. A mindreader, she thought. Poking and prying around in my thoughts. Just what I -
An emotion flickering across his face. A muscle tensing in his jaw. "I'm sorry," the dragoness said, hurried. "If you heard that...I just, you know, have had some bad run-ins with mindreaders in the past. Sorry."
He relaxed. "No, no, it's fine. I understand. If you don't want to tell me what you were doing, that's fine, too - I'm Shadowseeker the Nightwing, by the way. Nice to meet you." He extended a talon.
The dragoness hesitated. She had a choice, here, now - she could accept the help of this dragon, or she could turn around and leave. Her rescuer, her saviour - Shadowseeker - would never have to know who or what she was...she squared her shoulders and lifted her head, looking him directly in the eye and shaking his talon firmly. She was done with hiding. She was done with bowing to the shadow. It was time for her to live her own life now...
"My name...my name is Taurus."
==Chapter One==
Petrichor
Petrichor flicked his wings and resumed pacing. It was hard to remain calm - hard to be as aloof and chill and easygoing as everyone expected him to be. The one and only son of the SandWing general, the one and only son of the hero who ended the Scorching...the one and only son of the new soon-to-be queen.
His mother was perfectly relaxed, each scale as perfect as the next, her expression cool and almost sinister in the dying afternoon light. She always scared him a bit, despite her being his own mother - she reminded him of a heron, the kind who held themselves so still before spearing some unsuspecting fish with their javelin-like beaks. It was no unfortunate accident that her four older sisters had vanished without a trace in a single night, leaving only Caracal to inherit the throne...
"I'm going to say all the wrong things," Petrichor fretted, fidgeting with his talons. "What if they don't like me? What if they throw rotten fruit at me? What if I faint or fall off the stage or..."
Otter, a dragonet of both sea and mud ancestry, flicked her wings and gave him a look that clearly said, "Please shut up I'm trying to read so go away now." She was the daughter of a strong SeaWing ally - it would be unwise to provoke her, or irritate her...he sat next to Otter and let out a breath that he hadn't known he had been holding.
"What are you reading, anyways?" he asked.
She gave him a half-smile that made him feel forgiven - at least, he felt partially forgiven, you could never tell with her - and held up the scroll. "Pre-Scorching Animus Magic," she replied. "I had to pay the records-keeper extra just to have first dibs on it."
Petrichor laughed despite himself. "And what if I had wanted to read it?"
"Moons, you can read? In what universe?"
He stared at her astonishment, and she smiled sweetly back, the picture of pure innocence.
Some dragons, honestly.
They were in the main lounge of the SeaWings' Coral Palace, which was situated on a lush, green island, fringed by a thriving coral reef. The floor was embedded with blue and green gemstones, so as to mimic the ocean waves, and the windows were large and airy, allowing dragons to swoop in and out of the palace as they desired. Regularly spaced vases filled with perfumes lined the far wall, while portraits of austere nobles and Scorching-heros looked down on them from above, their stern expressions glazed forever on their unmoving faces.
All of the upper aristocracies and their servants had come to the Coral Palace today, readying for the week-long celebration for the Scorching's anniversary. There wasn't an exact date for when the Scorching had officially ended; even now, dragons were constantly on the lookout for scavenger rebels and upstarts. And yet they still chose to celebrate it, on this randomly picked week of the year...a week that Petrichor had dreaded and detested ever since that last, final battle for draconic freedom.
There was a scream outside, and Petrichor jolted upright, just as the doors flung open to reveal a young SeaWing guard, her face twisted into an expression of fear and panic, claws clenched and thick, musclebound tail lashing furiously. She threw herself into the room and grabbed at both of them. "Come on, Your Highness, we have to go," she snarled to Petrichor. "Your mother wishes to see you at once - they're down by the beach...hurry, you must hurry, both of you."
"What's going on?" Petrichor asked, mind writhing as he allowed himself to be shoved down the corridor. Otter was close behind him - the SeaWing guard had maintained a tight grip on both of their forearms, and so was pushing one and pulling the other.
"No time," she said, breathless. "It's urgent, though, we have to be there..."
They exploded out onto the beach in a spray of sand and salt air. The other guests and palace residents were already clustered along the shore, looking thoroughly bewildered...
Category:Fanfictions
Category:Content (Zephyr-the-Kraken008)
Category:Fanfictions (Incomplete)