Break

Prologue: The Hatching

Lyra's small hand was pressed against the Glaztek on her side of the border. Erebus put his hand over it. Purple and red glowed, emitting a pinkish light. Erebus shuddered at the red, a ghostly reminder of blood and fire. And then came Ambrose's whisper, the whisper that ruined it all.

"Break."

Time seemed to freeze as Erebus closed his eyes. He hated King Ambrose right now as much as Princess Ivianne. What surprised him was how he felt no pity for Queen Ivianne. She was his own mother; surely he couldn't be so numb inside, and so - so heartless.

And as he became lost in his thoughts of his numbness and hatred towards Ambrose, Ivianne I and II, Devlin and Ryder, and how he wished he had more time with the Songfire family, all around him, things came crashing down starting with the sickening snap of bone that came from his own left arm.

Many years earlier ...

Ambrose and Ivianne slunk back to the cave, large, stuffy and ancient; the perfect home. At the back of the cave were ten eggs, cream and indigo in colour. Glazgons were beasts of many old rules and traditions. The first two eggs to hatch of the two sexes would be named and looked after; the other eight would be abandoned. One boy and one girl would be named. They would be the prince and his sister; Ambrose and Ivianne were the king and queen of the Glazgons.

Amongst such traditions were how the male would be given a new name, whilst the female was simply named after her mother. Glazgons were proud creatures who considered themselves the superior reptilian race. They had sharp, almost vampiric fangs, talons like knives, hard scales all over their body apart from the soft hide on their bellies, horns on their heads, and massive bat wings. They could also breathe fire, but this was energy-draining to them and was a skill that took years to form. Some found it a surprise that such dragon-like animals were offended when they were compared to the mythical beasts. Glazgons and the Argonese were the two high reptile species.

Glazgons had purple scales, black horns and yellow teeth and nails. Each Glazgon had their own colour of fire and a special birthmark that foreshadowed their future. Some Glazgons believed a circle meant power, greatness and leadership, and a feather, leaf or a small straight line represented weakness and frailty.

"Nvyarah - Ambrose!" Ivianne shrieked in the Glazgon language.

Ambrose looked over his mate's right wing. Six of the eggs had tiny cracks on them; the smallest had the fewest, and the third-largest, the most.

"Bley pruweth," Ambrose muttered. He was right; they were hatching.

Somewhere far, far away, on the other side of the planet, ten other eggs were hatching. These ones were smaller and the colour of bright flames. They sat on a small slab of stone in the middle of a lake of magma within a volcano. Their parents were gone. Dead. Killed by none other than Ivianne; she had gone there with her mate, Ambrose, to destroy them, but had not found the eggs of their enemies.

They were other eggs in groups of ten. The Hatching was happening.

"It is a girl," Ivianne announced, speaking in the tongue of man at last.

"Ivianne II," Ambrose said. "Braith krain pruweth ..."

He was hoping the others would hurry and hatch. The next which did was another female, as was the third. Then the fourth came. Ambrose had not expected this egg to hatch before the other remaining six, as it was the smallest.

"If it is male, it will be weak," Ivianne spoke his fears.

"I expect an heir!" Ambrose roared in man's speech. "Weak ... no son of mine."

"Braith!" Ivianne screeched; it was male.

It was smaller than its sister, yet a prince it was.

"Go!" Ambrose yelled; Ivianne bowed, then took the two young females and her unhatched eggs in her claws, flying off into the night sky where she would drop them from thousands of feet high down into the valley.

Ambrose eyed his daughter for a moment, then sniffed his son. "Your birthmark," he growled, holding the hatchling by the horns to expose his belly. There was a streak of black and grey on purple hide, making the shape of a feather. Yet the very tip was curved, and it was bent, missing hairs and strangely blurred. This was new. Never had such a thing been heard of from the Glazgon race.

He let the hatchling down on his legs where he tried to steady himself before collapsing. Ambrose let out a bark of disgust. This was a prince. This was his heir!

"Pathetic," Ambrose spat, not noticing his daughter, who was on her feet cautiously and was trying to flap her wings.

Eggs all over the planet began hatching. One male and one female horned snake emerged from their broken green shells. A boy and girl dove came from their blue eggs. And then, the ten eggs on the other side of the planet inside that lonely volcano, the eggs whose youngsters would never know their parents, slain by cruel Glazgons, hatched at last. The eldest was a boy, and the second was a girl. They got on their feet as their siblings started to hatch. These creatures were birds of fire.

A/N:

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