The Crumbs of Magic

The Crumbs of Magic can also be found here. The blog will always be updated before this page, and there is no set time between section releases.
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==Introduction==
Whoever you are, wherever you are. You've arrived in the Sand Kingdom in anticipation for the yearly baking festival, founded by Dust, a cook for the royal family that lived hundreds of years ago. 
You travel to the small village of Dusted Seeds, where the entire village has been decorated and the scent of bread and fruit drifts through the brick road streets. The houses have tapstries of SeaWings and SandWings (and others!) dancing and laughing, and stunningly detailed paintings of food and baked goods cover walls and windows.
The festival lasts for one week of feasting, partying, and baking. 
Dragons sell their pasties and cakes on the streets, from jam-filled tarts of delight to savory pancakes topped with fresh spices. 
Older bakers hold mini-lessons for young children, where the dragonets end up covered in flour and delightedly presenting their blobby cookies to chuckling parents.
If you look around closely and sneak around the alleyways, you may see a small creature snatch a freshly baked good from the windowsill or street vendor, a little creature that resembles none other than the delicious goodies that fill the village.
As the week draws to a close, the final day is reserved for the storytelling. The dragons pile around the oasis and bring blankets and pillows and piles of snacks that have been baked over the week. 
The mayor of the town, the mysterious yet chuckling and smiling hybrid known only as the Lime Head for his neon-bright face, brings out a decades-old scroll, yellowed and patched with hundreds of little pieces of paper and cloth. 
He sits at the shore on a small podium, places the unrolled scroll in front of him, and begins to speak in a strong, musical voice.
“Over two centuries ago, two SeaWings arrived in the little village of Crackled Seeds, asking if indeed this was the home village of the royal baker, and upon receiving the answer yes, they deposited this scroll and vanished. Only later would the villagers realize their faces and names matched those of the Wanted posters strewn across the Kingdom of the Sea.”
The mayor pauses, staring at the enrapt faces of the audience. A group of dragonets giggle.
“Two years later, after the death of the SandWing queen, the royal baker retired and returned to the village carrying a box, which, when opened, released a little horde of peculiar creatures that vanished into the alleyways. 
"Now, hundreds of years later, we care, document, and enjoy the presence of our beloved CrumbWings that we have helped evolve into the most wonderful pastries.”
The mayor clears his throat, and takes a sip of water. He looks down at the scroll, and unrolls it to the first section. 
“Here begins their story.”
==One==
Gyre stood overlooking the five royal dragonets. His dark, midnight-blue scales contrasted violently with the colors of the afternoon sun and bleached, ruined pavilion of the cursed Island Palace. His huge silhouette cast a shadow over the younger SeaWings.
It was deathly quiet as the king lifted a single talon and pointed to a toppled wall. Five once-beautiful curled shells silently worked themselves out of the wall and ever-so-gently landed in front of each of the wide-eyed dragonets.
Liman flinched as hers landed in front of her, but it made no sound.
“Pick it up.” The king commanded.
The dragonet beside her cautiously wrapped his talons around it and lifted it. A few other clinks followed as the others picked their shells up.
Liman picked up her shell, a bleach-white one with a large crack. A piece chipped off under her claws as she slid her claws in and around the rough surface. It was half-empty, filled with dried kelp and pebbles.
“Now, you first. Tell it to fly.”
There was a pause, then the dragonet next to her whispered, “Fly!”
Nothing happened. The dragonet dropped the shell, seeming disappointed.
Liman’s mind fluttered over to imagine little wings sprouting out of the cracked shell, and little eyes and little legs like that of a hermit crab. She nearly giggled at the image in her head.
“Liman, sweetheart.”
She popped back into reality and stared at Gyre, who smiled a tired smile. “Your turn, sweetie.”
“Sorry,” She whispered, then lifted the shell above her head and awkwardly commanded, “Fly!!”
To her shock, the shell hopped out of her talons.
She let out an involuntary yelp, and tried to grab it again. It rolled away from her talons, and a pair of tiny eyes peered out to stare at her reproachingly.
The pavilion was silent.
Then a pair of dragonlike wings stretched out of the aperture and the crack in the sun- bleached shell. Little purple wings, the same color as Liman’s scales.
The wings fluttered, then lifted into the air.
It flapped up, and up, and then soared away, out of the palace, toward the ocean.
Liman woke up.
She hadn’t had that dream in…
Three years? Four? She was six now.
She yawned and watched the bubbles wobble up to pool on the ceiling of her room.
She lifted her talons to stare at them. They were the exact same as yesterday, her claws painted pale rose-pink by Leech.
She hadn’t used the animus magic for years. Gyre had told her not to, and she’d listened to him. Because dragonets should listen to their fathers.
She wasn’t a dragonet anymore, though. She would turn seven in… twelve? Yes, twelve days.
And Gyre was dead.
A quiet curiosity wiggled within her, one that hadn’t awoken since her first enchantment.
She pointed at the bubbles on the ceiling, and in Aquatic, flashed, Vanish.
The bubbles shrunk and disappeared.
An odd feeling suddenly swelled within her. This… power? Yes, it could be considered power. She could feel it, moving under her scales, this subtle tingling feeling. It needed to burst out.
She rolled out of her bed, flopping onto the soft, living green carpet of some sort of plant. She flicked her wings once to torpedo over to the stone desk, where a few thin tablets scratched with algebraic problems were stacked neatly. She picked up one and stared at her scratched answers. So crude. So ugly. Every little flaw in her talonwriting stood out like a luminescent jellyfish in the deep ocean.
She scrunched her snout in displeasure. She could fix it, though. One sentence, and the crooked numbers straightened, the uneven lines bent into beautifully parallel streaks, her 4s and 9s straightened into recognizable shapes.
She was far too delighted to remember Gyre’s words.
==Two==
Liman lazily twirled a talon, and a stream of misty pink heart-shaped bubbles flowed from her palm and wrapped around Leech’s arm before popping into a sweet-scented puff of air.
“Awwww, little angelfishes.” Larimar teased, flaring out her wings from behind Liman. Sand scattered across her scales.
“Shut up!” Leech yelped, batting a wing at Larimar. “You’re not helping, Liman!”
“At least I don’t do love bubbles in the palace, squid-head.” Liman rolled her eyes at Leech, who sighed dramatically, their perfect misty gray scales shimmering in the dying sunlight. Maybe some dragons wouldn’t call them the most beautiful, but Liman thought the reddish-orange streaks across her scales looked like a stormy sunset, gently gliding over a rumbly sea.
“Are you excited for the treaty feast?” Leech lay down on her stomach beside Liman, propping herself up with her elbows on the sand.
“Meh. Coral can manage it. I’m more interested in seeing the SandWings.” Liman yawned, draping a wing over her lover.
“What about SandWings?” Larimar tilted her head.
“Dunno. Maybe I can learn something when I become queen.”
“I’ve also heard the SandWing palace- stronghold- whatever its called- I’ve heard it has nice architecture. Very different from the Deep Palace. Lots of shapes. I like that.” Leech interjected.
Larimar nodded, “I think they have an observatory of some kind, too.”
“Meh.”
“Whaaaat? No, it's perfectly fascinating. Stars and galaxies! Science! I’d make you do your science homework if I could.” Larimar sniffed, poking a talon at Liman’s snout. 
“And I would do your homework for you if you let me.” Liman retorted.
“It barely counts as ‘doing.’ You just wiggle your talon and kaboom, homework done. Doesn’t count. You don’t learn anything.”
“Then how about I make you in charge of education, if you’re so intent on it?”
“Fine by me.”
Leech chuckled. Liman pressed a talon against their snout to shush them.
“You should get some sleep, though.” Leech said in a more serious tone, gently lowering Liman’s talon. “You two- Larimar specifically- have been nonstop studying politics or whatever all day.”
“She has. I’m just watching her.” The princess yawned, flapping a claw at Larimar.
“And you’re yawning. Sleep.” Leech ordered firmly, standing up, tall and graceful. They grabbed Liman’s elbows and lifted her up, “To the Deep Palace. You are sleeping tonight, and I’ll wake you, okay?”
“Okay, beautiful.” Liman purred.
Larimar slipped off the island, followed by the other two. The current was in their favor, and they reached the palace before the sunset. The rays of light filtered through the water, illuminating the huge coral structure in all its glory. A school of bright fish split around them and darted away in terror.
Larimar, sleep with us today! Liman flashed, wiggling her claws in Aquatic. Leech can wake both of us.
Let me get my scrolls, Larimar replied, rolling her talons in “scroll”. You two go ahead. 
Don’t take too long!
==Three==
Dust poked her nose to sniff the contents of the pot, and immediately drew back as a plume of hot, sugary air sucked into her nose. She coughed.
“Be careful, Dust!” An elderly chef scolded.
“Sorry!” She yelped. The chef sighed and turned back to slicing dates.
I should really, really actually do my job.
With the force of her mind, she heaved up the bag of flour and continued to the storage room. Her legs were sore and beginning to burn, and she was struggling to balance. Her tail flicked around dangerously, and she nearly collided with a pillar.
Urgh.
The storage room was crammed to the doorway with sacks of resources and strings of jerky hung from the ceiling. She kicked aside a nearly empty crate of dried coconut and dropped the sack of flour with a thud. A puff of white powder settled on her snout.
Dust sneezed.
She shut the door of the storage and locked it firmly with a key around her neck, and returned to the mazelike corridors of the palace, tracking white talonprints of flour. She was too tired to care. She’d clean it later.
“Later” being never, of course. Great job, me.
Dust sneezed again, sending another plume of flour into the air. She stepped into the kitchens, where servants and chefs were busy at work preparing sweets and baking cakes for yet another one of Queen Lappet’s ostentatious parties. She didn’t even know what this one was for.
“Dust! Get me two cups of sugar!” One of the chefs, a haughty gray-green SandWing, tapped her talons impatiently on the counter. 
“Yes, ma’am.” Dust muttered, “One moment.” She rested her talons on the smooth, cool stone tables and took a moment to regain her breath. Her limbs felt wobbly and melty, like the gummy candies her father enjoyed.
“Now!” The SandWing snapped, whipping her tail against the ground with a crack.
“Sorry-”
She scooped two carefully measured coconut shells out of a large sack of sugar, using a small slate to cleanly shave off the extra on top. She hurried over to the SandWing, setting down the coconuts beside the aromatic mix of batter she was stirring. “Sorry, Sandrunner.” Dust repeated. 
Sandrunner huffed and snatched up one coconut smoothly, spinning it between her claws and without spilling a grain.
Dust followed the coconut with her eyes, mildly transfixed. That was her goal, to one day be able to spin a bowl of sugar and be fully confident in doing so.
I wonder where Mother is now.
Let’s not think about that.
Focus on your job.
She checked the smoldering coals in the clay oven, and, using a pair of thick cloth scraps to protect her talons, pulled out three large loaves of hot, golden-brown bread carved with shapes of flowers and leaves and lined with dark nuts, one by one. She set the loaves onto metal cooling racks, setting down the cloths to run a talon across the steaming crust. It slid across beautifully, with the crisp sound of freshly baked bread.
She couldn’t pause to admire the bread, though. She moved swiftly to a set of waiting cake batters molded in bricks of clay, setting them in the oven and jerking her talons out as the intense heat snatched at her claws. 
As Dust glanced around the kitchen, she could see all the fabulous desserts and dishes forming from raw 
ingredients. Coconut flakes turned into fluffy cream, flour and water into long, crisp breadsticks, sugar into delicate shining sculptures.
She loved this job. Who cared about the strings attached when she could live like this?
I hope you’re… happy. Mother.
Category:Fanfictions
Category:Fanfictions (Incomplete)
Category:Fanfictions (Semi-Canon)