Atlxntic's Bonfire

1. Wrinkled Pages

His life had truly began the day his parents died. He didn't remember much about it, or them, but he remembered everything had changed after that.

Life at the Foundling School in Shimmer Bay was hard. At least for him. He had always been different from the others, and they had never failed to make him completely aware of it.

The morning before his life changed again started like any other. He awoke with a sigh and rolled out of bed. His roomate, Phlegon, was across the room from him, reading the same old book, a classification guide of dragons and their powers. He looked up and grinned. "Morning Tanwyn!"

He yawned and nodded to him. Phlegon was possibly his only friend in the school, he had been since they were young hatchlings. Phlegon had took him under his wing, back when he was still sniveling and helpless.

"How's the book coming?" He stretched his legs and wings, which were almost adult-sized now, even though he hadn't earned them yet.

"Alright! I still can't find any explanations on how to use each species powers though. I really want to figure out my fire." He attempted in vain, wisps of smoke curling lazily around his teeth.

Tanwyn chuckled. "It's alright, no one in our guild has found it yet."

Phlegon flicked his wings in a shrug. "I know, but it would be nice to be ahead, you know?"

The fire dragonet was about to reply when a gong tolled overhead, followed by the muffled sounds of the bells on the rooftop. Breakfast time.

Tanwyn and Phlegon slipped into the hall, joining a crowd flowing towards the cafeteria. The dragonets walked in single file, talking only in hushed whispers.

The prey selection was scarce, but the dragonets didn't mind. The mantra 'this food is better than no food' had been repeated more times than any of them could count.

So Tanwyn took his regular meal of fish and sat next to Phlegon. He could feel the condescending glances and whispers.

"Look at his horns. See, told you."

And he could hear them to.

"His wings are kinda shaped weird too."

The murmers swirled around him.

"Have you seen the way his claws curl? So weird."

"Always eating fish... Such a weirdo..."

"What's up with his eyes? They're so shiny...!"

He shrank down in his seat, curling his wings towards himself. He didn't have a choice, he never chose his body.

His otherwise scarlet horns and brownish wings were rimmed with light blue, and his claws hooked around more than the other fire dragons. But his personality wasn't distasteful or out of the ordinary! Why should they only see the pigments and not the person?

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

The moon had risen over the crest of the mountains seated across the bay, and the night was quiet as he picked his way down the cliff side.

Lights glowed below in the town, guiding his path, even if he had made the midnight journey many times before.

Tanwyn padded through the relatively empty streets, eyes on the ground.

"Hey kid."

His head flew up to meet the dragon in front of him. The town guard badge hung on a lanyard around his neck.

"What are you doing out so late?" The officer looked him up and down.

Tanwyn shifted on his claws. "I... I'm visiting someone. I'm just passing through."

An eyebrow raised. "Really? What's your name, kid?"

"Tanwyn."

"And who are you visiting?"

"My mother and father."

"And where are they?"

A long silence.

"Their graves are just past town."

The officer looked down, flicking his ears backwards. "I see. I'm sorry."

Tanwyn looked up, then down. "Please, can I go see them?"

"Kid... You're not supposed to be out of the school past dark..."

Tanwyn shook his head sadly. He would be sent back and the headmaster of the school would find a way to punish him. He couldn't go through that again.

"But... I suppose I could make an exception... Come on." The officer flicked his tail, sympathy filling his gaze.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

The graveyard was silent, especially after the officer left, who had made Tanwyn swear up and down that he would go straight back to the Foundling School after he was done.

He made his way past the tall, richly carved graves to the back, where two modest stones stood crookedly. He had always thought it weird how his parents hadn't been buried together.

He saw a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye, causing his spine to arch and his pupils to slit. Something had fluttered on his mother's stone.

He crept closer, and found a leather bound notebook. A small silver lock had shut the pages, and the leather bindings crinkled as he picked it up. A small note sat on top, held from being blown away by a glittering silver locket, which held a faded picture of his mother leaning against a blurry figure. He looked closer. It wasn't his father, he hadn't ever been that tall.

He shivered as he looked around the supposedly empty graveyard. The notebook hadn't been there last night.

He took a closer look at the note, penned in a flowing script so different from his father's clunky writing and larger than his mother's cursive.

He couldn't read any of it, but he knew Phlegon could tell him what it said! He turned and bolted out of the graveyard, heading straight back to the school.