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Chapter 1

It was one of those days where staying in was purely impossible. Your own talons would drag you out the door, early in the morning, leaving three sleeping dragons behind.


Not because the sun was shining brightly over the vast arctic tundra, lighting up the world miles away. A lazy sea breeze would tickle your ear, while you swooped up and down in graceful circles, laughing as snowflakes piled on your horns, soon to fall to the terrain below.


But none of those things were happening. During one of those days, Jökull would most likely be sitting in his room, huddled under a bearskin blanket while his siblings enjoyed the nice day by playing tag around the village with some other dragonets, and his grandparents would invite one of their friends over to gamble over reindeer antlers or seal blubber and stupid things like that, all for the purpose of putting their winnings on a wall, to be untouched for years to come.


No, today the clouds swallowed up every inch of blue sky there was, darkening the world with gray fog for miles in every direction. Earlier in the day you might have been able to make out the distant pillars of Queen Glacier‘s palace, stretching high above the mountains that loomed over you to the northwest. But now you would struggle to see your own talons when you waved them in front of your face. Snow falls as thick as blankets, pummeling any dragon‘s sides who was daring (or stupid) enough to go for a fly in this weather.


Also known as Jökull.


He beat his wings heavily, panting with large, yet empty breaths. He squinted, straining to make out the ground below him. It might look like the usual snow-covered tundra that made up most of the Ice Kingdom—at least, the area around his village—but Jökull knew that directly beneath him was a vast field of ice, which snow had fallen over. This was the area everyone in the village would usually go hunting. Most mornings, if you looked out over the frozen bay, you would be likely to find an IceWing searching for the familiar gray snout of a seal poking their head through one of the holes in the ice for a breather. That was the reason there was a fairly remote village planted on the eastern coast of the Ice Kingdom, right next to a bay—the area was filled with seals. That was the purpose of Jökull‘s hometown—to supply seals for the larger, more important IceWing villages to the north. As long as the upper-class IceWing cities had enough seals to go around, they never gave his village—Skjól—a second thought.


Villages with real, normal IceWings, Jökull thought bitterly, scanning the horizon. Who actually care about their places in the rankings instead of just being lazy RainWings all day, sitting around eating seals.


Jökull had seen other IceWing villages. There were a few larger ones a few ways north of Skjól, and he had been to a few of them—only briefly—and the dragons there were nothing like Jökull‘s family, all stern and strict, whereas everyone Jökull had never known were relaxed, carefree commoners who wouldn‘t give a walrus over a number on a wall.


Jökull had seen these IceWings, and he admired them. Wealthy and nonchalant, who worked hard to keep up their rankings, and their family‘s ones as well. But the best thing about them were that they were nothing like his family.
They were dragons he could think highly of, dragons he could look up to. As for his mother and grandparents . . . he didn’t want to end up cooped up in a small house in the middle of nowhere, stuck under the same roof as five other dragons.


He wasn’t going to be like them.


Not ever.

 

This was what he told himself every morning as he looked out the window, that he would grow up and leave this town and do something great—something he could be proud of, which was more that his mother and grandparents could say about themselves.


Something normal, Jökull had decided as he watched every snowstorm, every blizzard, every day, every night, every hour.


But today he’d gone outside, not to catch a seal, but to escape. Escape low rankings, lazy mothers, nosy siblings, and dead grandparents. Escape Skjól, if only just for a minute.


Which he was trying to do. If it weren’t for CERTAIN BLIZZARDS, he might have had time to catch a seal and sulk more about his horrible upbringing.


But wait . . . Jökull thought. He strained his ears, tilting his head toward the sky. Are those . . . wingbeats? Immediately, he twisted his head, panning the sky for anyone behind him. Indeed, there was a shape, with wings tucked in to their chest to make it easier to move through the roaring wind, a small distance behind him. He stopped in midair, then quickly turned around.


“Who are you and why are you following me?”

 

 

 

This chapter was somewhat short, so I'll post the second soon to make up for it.

 

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Yay it came through! :P

Does anybody have suggestions or anything like that? This is my first forumfic, so ... yeah. Is it good? I NEED TO KNOW PEOPLES!

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poke

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it is very nice

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 (Teal)

 

cats are born to live and fight and dragons are born to fly

 

i am born to write for that is who i am and i know that deep

 

down i am part dragon now and forever

 

 

 

why live if you can't dream

 

 

 

 

save the animals!

 

 

 

This is really well written! Aside from the (one) typo, and some of it is a bit obscure about who you're talking about, this is one of the best and most cohesively written fanfics I have ever read.

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-ᏕᎧᏬᏝᏕᎧᏁᎶ-*Fallen*

 

{I Identify as a Child of God!}

 

Want to see a disappearing trick? I call it hiatus!

 

Proud Christian

 

Jesus, I praise your name

You fill me in every way

So it's you that I will raise

Until I end my days

This is great!  

 

EEEEE I CANT WAIT

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@Teal: Thanks! 

@Fallen: Hehehe thanks I'm not very good at proof-reading things ... so ... But you have no idea how much this really means to me!

@Twilight: Thanks! I have homework tonight so I might not be able to post the second chapter today, but maybe sometime this week? I have no idea, honestly.

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Maybe the IceWing following Jokull is Shearwater (the icewing female I just sent a form for)?  And she is returning to her village? Or investigating?  Or just a random icewing?  

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i sent in a long post but it didnt go through,,,

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Do I actually see with my own very eyes

 

Grif  

He/Him

Relatable Duo

mod chosen glitcher

 

A man who's not heard of a Jellicle cat?

Please, just call me Soulsong :)

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-ᏕᎧᏬᏝᏕᎧᏁᎶ-*Fallen*

 

{I Identify as a Child of God!}

 

Want to see a disappearing trick? I call it hiatus!

 

Proud Christian

 

Jesus, I praise your name

You fill me in every way

So it's you that I will raise

Until I end my days

@Soulsong: Okay! I was kinda confused because Fallen was up there too, but I see it now. ;P

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"We are not doing get help."

 

 "Take it in but don't look down,

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 A Talon in Three Worlds: /353086

@Grif: I feel your pain! Phil has been getting very lazy these days ...

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 A Talon in Three Worlds: /353086

okay so the only real things i have to say abt C.C is maybe space out the paragraphs more 

 

so... not 

 

He beat his wings heavily, panting with large, yet empty breaths. He squinted, straining to make out the ground below him. It might look like the usual snow-covered tundra that made up most of the Ice Kingdom—at least, the area around his village—but Jökull knew that directly beneath him was a vast field of ice, which snow had fallen over. This was the area everyone in the village would usually go hunting. Most mornings, if you looked out over the frozen bay, you would be likely to find an IceWing searching for the familiar gray snout of a seal poking their head through one of the holes in the ice for a breather. That was the reason there was a fairly remote village planted on the eastern coast of the Ice Kingdom, right next to a bay—the area was filled with seals. That was the purpose of Jökull‘s hometown—to supply seals for the larger, more important IceWing villages to the north. As long as the upper-class IceWing cities had enough seals to go around, they never gave his village—Skjól—a second thought.

 

but 

 

He beat his wings heavily, panting with large, yet empty breaths.

He squinted, straining to make out the ground below him. It might look like the usual snow-covered tundra that made up most of the Ice Kingdom—at least, the area around his village—but Jökull knew that directly beneath him was a vast field of ice, which snow had fallen over. This was the area everyone in the village would usually go hunting. Most mornings, if you looked out over the frozen bay, you would be likely to find an IceWing searching for the familiar gray snout of a seal poking their head through one of the holes in the ice for a breather.

That was the reason there was a fairly remote village planted on the eastern coast of the Ice Kingdom, right next to a bay—the area was filled with seals.

That was the purpose of Jökull‘s hometown—to supply seals for the larger, more important IceWing villages to the north. As long as the upper-class IceWing cities had enough seals to go around, they never gave his village—Skjól—a second thought.

 

 

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Do I actually see with my own very eyes

 

Grif  

He/Him

Relatable Duo

mod chosen glitcher

 

A man who's not heard of a Jellicle cat?

@Grif: Thanks for the tip! 

@Everyone: I will probably have the second chapter posted by at best, Thursday and at worst, Saturday. I'm sorry, I'm kind of a slow writer.

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Incoming

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Ahh PHILTER JUST LET IT THROUGH PLEASE

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@Grif: The reason I am putting an extra line between the paragraphs is because it doesn't let you indent when you post, so it's hard to tell where a paragraph ends and where another begins.

 

WARNING! SPOILERS FOR THE DARK SECRET!

 

Chapter 2

 

Sometimes, it feels like the world is out to get you.


Sometimes, no matter what you do, not matter how hard you try, everyone ignores this and looks at you from where you come from. Not who you are.


Sometimes, when dragons look at a loyal NightWing prison guard, all they see are past generations, who chose to mingle their tribe’s blood with that of a peasant SkyWing’s.


Those generations were dead. And she was all that was left of them.


She didn’t choose the tribe she was born into. She didn’t choose her parents, and she didn’t choose for one of her great-grandparents to be a SkyWing. It just happened.


Werewolf didn’t need to be reminded of it the rest of her life.


When she was three, her grandmother had taken her to the NightWings. Her father, Pride, had given her egg to his mother, or Werewolf’s grandmother, before being captured by the NightWings. Growing old, her grandmother, a NightWing, whose name was Dawnchaser, didn’t want to raise a dragonet in SkyWing territory, which was the only place safe for her. She managed for three years, then she took her to the NightWings, where Werewolf was to be raised inside of a volcano with dragons who hated her.


Thanks a lot, Grandma.


At first, Werewolf would wonder why everyone had wanted her egg. She’d asked some of the NightWing dragonets, but they’d all scoffed and said they didn’t want to talk to someone who wasn’t a real NightWing.


A real NightWing. What did it mean, to be a real NightWing? Did it mean to be secretive and powerful, like all NightWings were? Or did it just mean to have dark purple and black scales? To have NightWing blood?


To Werewolf, being a real NightWing meant not only to be loyal to her tribe and Queen Battlewinner; it also meant to be better than everyone else, like how NightWings were better than all the other tribes.


If she acted like a real NightWing, then maybe everyone would like her. If she was just like everyone else, then everyone else would see her as one of them. If all the other real NightWings were doing something, then she needed to do it too, only ten times better than how they did it. That was how Werewolf’s early life had been shaped; be better than everyone else, prove your loyalty, and no longer be treated like an inferior.


But it always seemed that no matter how much she excelled in class—not because she was smarter than everyone else, but because she studied, and did her work on time—or how much of a better fighter she was during the small brawls between a few tussling NightWing dragonets, other dragonets would always look at her deeds, but then regard her crimson horns and her red-pink eyes, and dismiss all of that with a wave of their talon and still insist that her good grades didn’t count because she wasn’t a real NightWing.


Then why wasn’t she a real NightWing? She could do everything that everyone else could, except . . . except . . .


Except look like a NightWing, she reminded herself with a hiss.

 

But why didn’t it matter that she didn’t look like a real NightWing?


Which led her back to the original question . . . why had everyone wanted her egg?


Werewolf had thought about it every night when, as a young dragonet, she huddled in her bunk, trying to ignore everyone else’s snores. At first she thought that NightWings didn’t like hybrids in general. But Werewolf wasn’t a real hybrid; her great grandfather had been a SkyWing, so she was mostly NightWing.


Mostly NightWing . . . How far was that from being a real NightWing? Was there a certain scale, that every young dragonet had been placed upon, that determined how much of a NightWing they were? Or was it more of a checklist, and for every NightWing thing you did, you received a check, and was one of those things looking like a NightWing, and not having SkyWing blood? Was that all that made you a real NightWing?


Maybe it was a test, that every young dragonet had took, and Werewolf had missed it when she was in hiding with Dawnchaser.

 

These were all ideas she’d had while still a dragonet. But growing older, she’d reached another conclusion; the NightWings were all about secrets. Their two most important secrets were that the NightWings didn’t actually have powers, and the location of their secret home. Maybe the NightWings thought that since Werewolf and her parents weren’t pure NightWing, that they might betray their tribe and rattle off secrets to the SkyWings. Or maybe if she’d grown up with Dawnchaser on the Sky Kingdom’s outskirts, she would still learn the NightWing’s secrets, from her grandmother, who was pure NightWing. The NightWings needed control. Control over their secrets, and control over who knows their secrets. And since Werewolf would have known their secrets, she was therefore a threat and needed to be either eliminated or controlled.


Even if she wasn’t going to do anything with the NightWing’s stupid secrets.


And thanks to the NightWings’ low trust in her, now she was stuck in a lousy job where her main priority was to guard RainWings.


Great.


But even though she was currently stuck as a prison guard, she would work hard—like she always did—to be better than everyone else. And when she finally was, she would work her way through the rankings until she was as powerful as Morrowseer!


Well. Not Morrowseer. Just until I don’t have to watch a bunch of lazy RainWings all day.


Sighing from where she was leaning on the stone walls, Werewolf clenched her spear and leaned in to observe the two RainWings in the cell she was guarding. They didn’t do much—mostly sleep—but she forced herself to check in on her prisoners every few minutes, just to be safe. Most other NightWings only kept an eye on their prisoners either when they were being fed or about to be tested for venom, so Werewolf was content that she was doing better than any of them were.


One of them was quietly singing to himself. Werewolf knew she was overreacting, but she tapped the bars with her talons and shouted, “Hey you! Keep it down in there!”

 

The RainWing gave no response, other than placing his head on his talons and staring into space.


She sighed, then looked down at her scarred, mangled talons. What did I do to end up here?

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I know! PHILTER! THERE WAS NOTHING       PG-13 IN THAT CHAPTER AND YOU KNOW IT!

 

 

 

 

 

 

grr ...

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hehe late posts have struck again ...

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poke 

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who was the rainwing singing

 

 

 

 

owo this is amazing!

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-=+Imagine+=-

-=+Iɯɐƃuǝ+=-

 

 

 

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I feel like I'm fading   And there's nothing else to do   But say goodbye to you

@Imagine: To be discovered in the next chapter...

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AHH This is awesome, Deisma!

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aw XD
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I feel like I'm fading   And there's nothing else to do   But say goodbye to you

Incoming (I hope)

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Chapter 3

 

Shear stopped midflight, almost crashing into a tall, muscular IceWing.


That must be Jökull, she reasoned. The dragon she was supposed to be bringing a message to. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with icy blue eyes. Mostly silvery-white scales, but with tinges of blue on the edges of his wings and spikes. Right away, she noticed he didn’t have the chain around his neck that identified what circle he was in.
Of course he doesn’t, she silently chided herself. Only nobles use the Circle Rankings. And what kind of noble would live out here, in the middle of nowhere?


Well. Not nowhere. There is a village here, right? Skjól, I think. Immediately her brain started rifling through what knowledge she had of Skjól.


Small, fairly remote. The main reason there’s a village here is because the bay it‘s next to has most of the seals in the Ice Kingdom. Since it’s so small, most of the dragons there know each other, so it’s likely that they‘re quite friendly to dragons who‘ve lived there a while, but wary of outsiders. Does this mean they’ll react well to my message? Will they not trust me because I’m from somewhere else? Or are they the kind of dragons who will put their life into anyone’s talons and trust them to keep it safe?


Shear was suddenly aware how much time had passed since the dragon had asked for her name.


“Oh!” she said quickly.


Jökull gave her a look that said, quite clearly, I am not amused.


Fine then, Shear thought bitterly. I’m a noble in the First Circle and you’re just a nobody in the middle of nowhere.


Which was rather unkind, she quickly realized.


“Hello?” Jökull asked, waving a talon in front of her face.


Shear snapped out of her thoughts. “Right, I’m Shearwater,” she said quickly.


He sighed, icy fog billowing from his mouth. “And?” he grumbled.


Not fog, she quickly corrected herself. The small amount of water vapor dragons breathe out comes into contact with the oxygen around you, and if the water vapor is at a higher temperature—which it always is in the Ice Kingdom—its molecules move less rapidly and clump together, where they form one big cloud of condensed water and tiny droplets of ice.


Shear blinked. But if fog forms when water vapor condenses in the air, then wouldn’t it technically be the same as the smoke you exhale when breathing in cold temperatures? The only main difference is that fog is purely condensed water vapor, essentially a low-altitude cloud, whereas the exhaled smoke is condensed water vapor combined with small ice droplets.


So, yeah, I guess it is really just an icy fog.

 

Shear realized that Jökull was looking at again, with that expectant look displayed across his silvery white features.


“Right, I’m Shearwater, but you can call me Shear,” she said quickly. “Just Shear.”


Jökull growled. “Okay, but why do I care? You’re not even from here.”


Rude. Maybe they are more untrusting of dragons they don’t know. Or maybe this one’s just grumpy. Shear decided to act as if he had never said that. “


“Anyways, I have an urgent message for you,” Shear continued, “from a doctor in Skjól.”


Jökull looked at her with an odd expression. “You‘re a messenger?”


She tried to hide her impatience, but it kept slipping through her otherwise tranquil tones. “Yes, a messenger. That means I deliver messages. You know, scrolls that messengers have to deliver across long distances? Do I need to continue?”

 

She saw him glance at the First Circle chain around her neck, then to her face, then to the bag slung under her wings with several scroll-shaped lumps in it, then back to her First Circle chain around her neck.


“What?” she snapped impatiently.


Jökull almost fell out of the air, startled. “Nothing.”


Oh, Shear thought, her heart sinking. He’s wondering why I’m delivering messages to Skjól, of all places, when I‘m in the First Circle.


It was a good question, she had to admit. She didn’t like it when dragons noticed things like this ahead of her; it made her feel insignificant, as if everything she had been told as a little dragonet was true, that she would never, ever be anything more than the insolent daughter of the IceWing who disobeyed the queen and had to be executed.
But then Shear would remind herself that despite her father’s crimes, she had made it to the First Circle, farther than he ever had.


A First Circle IceWing who’s stuck delivering messages to the most rural parts of the Ice Kingdom.


She pushed that thought away, even though she knew it was true, that despite all of her hard work, she would never reach the heights that she was capable of, all because dragons would look at someone‘s ancestry, and take it as their life story instead of a part of their past, like footprints one a beach washed away by the churning waves, fading from existence.

 

It was years before she had finally been able to push the sight of her parents’ and brother’s dead corpses out of her head. Their bodies, limp atop the freshly fallen snow, and their blue bl00d had been the first thing to stain the pure, white ground, ruining the look of it. Eyes, still open, but there was nothing to see but pure white sclera, all the blue rolled to the back of their head.

 

Shear, as a small dragonet, had pressed her tiny talons on her mother’s face, hoping for a sign of life.


“Mother! Mother, wake up!” she’d said, poking one claw into the tall blue IceWing’s snout.


Queen Glacier had swiveled her head toward her, deep blue eyes shooting like lasers into her white scales. Her family’s executioner, still holding the long, silver spear, had turned to look at the small dragonet, then glanced at Glacier.


“Do you want me to take care of her?” she’d said, as if murdering a one-year-old dragonet was nothing more than a small chore to check off before her job was done. “Won’t take but a minute.”


The queen’s eyes were still gazing intently at Shearwater as she replied. “No. It would be a waste of IceWing lives, and those have become invaluable thanks to the war.” She’d swept her head back, spikes glittering as they caught the silver beam of two moons from where they shone, hovering in the midnight sky.


And for that one moment, Shear had thought that everything would be all right; her family was dead, but she would still make it, she would not be denied the privileged IceWing life of a noble, even with her father’s crimes.


Queen Glacier had lashed her spiky tail, with a twisted smile on her face. “She will live, but I will have her pay for the crimes of her father. They say betrayal runs in the family.” The queen‘s eyes were intently watching young, shivering Shear, cradling the bodies of her parents. “I guess we’ll have to find out.”


Betrayal runs in the family.


Guess we’ll have to find out.


Pay for the crimes of her father.


Want me to take care of her?


To take care of her.

 

To take care of her, of her, of her, of her . . .


Father.


Shear was jolted out of her flashback, blinking and shaking her head.


“Are you okay?” Jökull waved a talon in front of her face, looking confused.


“Right, right, I’m fine.” Shear shook herself thoroughly, trying to wipe her brain clear of the horrifying picture of her mother’s face, eyes wide open but blank, staring into space.


You are not there anymore. You are an IceWing in the First Circle, and you are miles away from them.


Her father, her brother, slumped in the white snow. Their empty eyes like shiny white balls, as she shook their blue-stained bodies with all her dragonet might.


You are free of their fate. You have a life, and a destiny, and a First Circle chain around your neck.


Blue bl00d staining her claws, as she desperately tugged her father’s tail, trying to rouse some kind of reaction in him.


Stop.

 

You are not there anymore.


You survived, there was nothing you could do for them.


She took several deep breaths, chest shaking as she exhaled, in and out.


In and out.


In and out.


In.


Out.


Out of here.


“You said you had a message for me?” That Jökull dragon was watching her quizzically, his tail twitching.


“Oh! Um, yes!”


Why, oh why did he have to watch her go through her whole panic attack that happened whenever she remembered her long-dead family. Why couldn’t dragons just learn to look away whenever she did something different, something that was completely right and understandable but yet all sorts of wrong, all sorts of weird.


If even the most common of IceWings, the ones who lived in the most remote villages, far from anything—like Skjól—looked down on her, a First Circle IceWing who had earned her place in the rankings, earned her place in society all for the horrors of her past, then . . .


Then she would have to fix it.


Tilting her head upward, so that her gaze was slightly above Jökull’s, she reached into the bag slung under her wings and pulled out a small, leather-bound scroll. Opening it, she began to read:


“To Jökull of the IceWings: We have urgent news regarding the well-being of your mother, Snjor. Her health is declining, and is in bad condition. Your siblings are already there, and they and your mother request that you come see her. Best wishes, Petrel.”


Frowning, Shear rolled up the scroll and placed it back in her bag. She wasn’t entirely sure what to say; how do you comfort someone who has just been told their mother is badly sick? Maybe other dragons had an easier time with it, but not Shearwater.


“I’m sorry.” Shear pursed her lips, not wanting to say any more and ruin the simplicity of the moment.


Jökull looked up at her. “You don’t have to be.”


With that, he turned, and flew into the distance, soon unable to see through the waves of snow falling to the ground., leaving a cold and confused Shearwater miles away.

 

~~~~~

 

Okay, this one was kind of longer than I expected. It took a lot longer to write, too, but I hope you like it!

 

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Just to be clear, everyone, I am still working on this, I just am having less and less time to write and it's taking me a little longer than I'd like to. I would like to have the next chapter posted by Thursday, and *cough* spoilers *cough* it's from Shearwater's perspective! I know I said you would find out who the singing RainWing was in this chapter, but really it's the next one where he is introduced. Anyways, thanks for your patience, and, um, stuff and I am sorry it is taking this long!

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Wow, that post was about four days late!

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THAT WAS AWESOME.  YOU ARE SO GOOD AT THIS!

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lıllı ıllıl

ѕнє | нєя

6-22-18

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мυѕιcιan

+IceWings!+

I’m b|r|o|k|e|n but I hide it with a e 

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Thank you so much Twilight!

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"We are not doing get help."

 

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No problem! 

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lıllı ıllıl

ѕнє | нєя

6-22-18

|+ᎠꂅBᕱϮꂅᏒ+

мυѕιcιan

+IceWings!+

I’m b|r|o|k|e|n but I hide it with a e 

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This is amazing Deisma!!

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Requiem/Legacy

She/They/Xe

Forum Fam: Ocean/Kitsune/Lilac

"Teach me how to say goodbye!"

"Have pity, they are going through the unimaginable"  

"I will sing no requiem tonight..."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

                                            

 

THAT IS THE PERFECT DEPICTION OF MY OC.

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lıllı ıllıl

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6-22-18

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uppity up

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 A Talon in Three Worlds: /353086

Thanks Legacy!

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"We are not doing get help."

 

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where did everyone go

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HeEeEeEeEereEeEeEe!

 

I’ve sent in at least 3 forms already for this forumfic.

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i am the

phøe|ñįx.

 •She/Her.

•FanWing4Ever.

•Forum Brothers- Domino, Zane, Cobra.

•Forum Sisters- Kaleidoscope, Kitsune, Jacquelyn.

•Forum Twin- M.N.

•Member of the “Forums Need to Stay” Campaign.

    1 ,