Drip has a dream. Scorch has the power.
Breaking down walls, revealing the truth, finding friends and foes... Peace has been restored in Pyrrhia, but a spirit remains. Everything has a consequence.
"Nobody accepts that we shouldn't keep trying to st...
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33 years before the Brightest Night...
SandSerpent had never been the exploitive type. It's what separated him from the rest. Not exploitive, that is, except for when he chose his name, of course.
He was an orphan, a 6-year-old SandWing rebuked by society everywhere but the Scorpion Den, just like the other several dozens of SandWing dragonets trying to make a living.
"Serpent, yer shift's off!" called a rough voice. It was the shopkeeper. SandSerpent picked up the fish-goop infested washing cloths and a bucket of water off the floor, bringing them out the back alleyway of the shop for a rinse.
SandSerpent sighed. He always felt that he had a bigger purpose in life than washing floors. It didn't even pay much. But it was the only job anyone would accept an orphan for. The Scorpion Den was the hotspot of the desert, a dense Dragon town of shelter from the sun, but not from dragons.
SandSerpent walked back into the store once he was finished. "Mister, may I get a portion of my paycheck early? My stash is running low and now I don't even have enough to buy a roasted lizard."
"Low? Ho ho, you get more money than a fat leprechaun. What'd you spend it all on? A house?" he laughed as he juggled a gold coin in one of his talons. "Go eat sssand, Serpent," he hissed. A few drops of saliva sprayed onto SandSerpent's snout, and he flinched. SandSerpent wasn't lying; he had been paid only one opal a week. That equates to about 2 ducks, not many.
SandSerpent submitted and left the shop, wondering what his next meal would be. Selfish fish seller, he thought, then snickered to himself.
"Hey guys!" a small voice called. Before SandSerpent could find out who said it, he felt a shiver of painfulness at the childhood memories the innocent, young voice brought up.
SandSerpent looked in the direction of the voice. It was a small SandWing, probably 2 years old, a couple buildings away. "What y'all up to? I wanna play too!" he said. It was not often that SandSerpent heard such a lighthearted young dragonet, so unwary of his surroundings.
Then he saw who the young dragonet was talking to. A few other dragonets, twice as old and mean as the first one, but not as strong or smart as SandSerpent. He knew what would happen next.
SandSerpent wound back through the shop. "Ay, watch it!" he heard. Once he got out the back doorway, he turned left and kept going until he got to the alleyway where the detestable SandWings were encroaching on the poor dragonet.
"Wh- what's wrong?" the young dragonet said, concerned.
SandSerpent glared at the bullies. Their scowling faces reminded him exactly of his childhood struggle. It was awful.
SandSerpent scowled back. "Go bully someone your own size, dimwits."
"Yeah? What ye gonna do, Bigwings? Haha, you's outnumbered here. We's got business with this newbie," the largest of them said.
