#FLIGHT RISING COLOR WHEEL SKIN#

#FLIGHT RISING COLOR WHEEL SKIN#

He stroked the slick skin with the pads of his talons. There was movement, he thought, but it was shallow. He wondered if he had bothered to break the shell sooner, if she may have survived. The little Fae kit was stiff, the wetness from the egg drying to reveal dull scales which shed as she was swaddled in her shroud. He returned with mantles, to prepare them for the death rites, as had been done for the one before. It would have to be burnedвЂ¦ dragon or dragonet, Imperial bodies were to be handled with care. It was not uncommon in Imperials, though as with Emperors, no one knew why. Perhaps less so the black sap-like substance that seeped from the mouth and eyes. It was something of a surprise to discover the minute Imperial cub coiled within. His talons worked deftly, more delicate than thought possible of a massive dragon upon the tiniest of eggs. When sheвЂ™d left, heвЂ™d set to work to reveal the small bodies within. She may be magic, but he was Plague, and Plague dragons are loathe to admit defeat. This was the second brood the Imperial had sired, third for the Fae. Once again, the nest bore nothing but empty shells. SheвЂ™d then thought to breed one of royal blood, to be promised to the fire prince (descent of the clanвЂ™s black prince, though born to another god). The prince had gone and the hatching day had come, but it had born no fruit. Her first brood with the grey prince had sought to bring a much desired heir to the clan. It had been dawn when the quiet chirrups had begun to sound from the eggs, the first crack appeared on the shells, but it became the time when the day fell into the cold embrace of the next coming and the eggs had only become quiet and quieter still. She was born as were all others of the Witch QueenвЂ™s broods: still. Born in death with eyes and lips sealed black-she should not have survived.

Flight rising color wheel