His leg was on fire. It was on fire and he couldn't put it out, no matter how hard he tried. The pain seared through his fireproof scales, driving itself deep into his bones. He dug his claws into the dirt and bounded forward into the cold, brown murk, fire licking at his legs and tail.
"Where's the violent little monster I saw when you hatched? That's the dragon we need for the prophecy."
Kestrel was there, the giant Skywing dogging his every step. He saw her crimson head out of the corner of his eye, and fear drove him faster. She was going to hurt him after failing at battle practice again. She was going call him a coward and knock him out for refusing to fight back.
"Kestrel, I don't want to fight! Just let me go," he said, his voice swallowed by the opaque fog that surrounded him. A claw swiped for his head and he leapt out of the way, nearly collapsing in agony as he landed on his burning leg.
"As for this one..." said Queen Scarlet as she loomed out of the fog, pointing a bejeweled talon at him. "Prepare him for the arena."
He swerved out of her reach and nearly ran straight into an Icewing, who was writhing on the ground, his face dissolving as black drops ate away at his scales. Fjord's screams tore at his ears; he ducked his head and ran on, hoping to leave it all behind.
"I didn't want to fight you. I don't want to kill anyone," he said, mostly to himself. "There's no monster inside of me..." He had to escape, had to escape! The pain was too much, if he could only find his way through this fog—
"I was not the bigwings I wanted to be. But it's all right now," said Reed as he passed. "Because you're back, and you should be our bigwings."
He shook his head. "No, no, go away! Sunny? Tsunami? Glory, Starflight, where are you guys?"
A shadowy hulk materialized out of the gloom, a smug grin on its face.
"On the contrary, I certainly can make my prophecy happen however I want, considering I'm the one who made it up in the first place," said Morrowseer.
"Shut up! Just, shut up!" he screamed, eyes shut tight.
The fog parted. He skidded to a stop and opened his eyes.
"Moons above..."
Before him were his friends: Tsunami, eyes wide and bloodshot, mouth flecked with blood, her neck twisted almost all the way around; Glory, scales white with pain, her face a mangled mess of melted flesh and bone; the charred remains of Starflight, his shiny black scales covered in a coat of soot, eye sockets nothing but empty space; and Sunny, stuffed and mounted on a pedestal, her glassy green eyes staring lifelessly ahead.
He fell to the ground, curling into a shaking ball of scales. "G-get me out of here. Please..." he whimpered.
"Of three queens who blister and blaze and burn," said Blister, weaving her way through the bodies of his friends, a hissing dragonbite viper held in her claws, "two shall die and one shall learn..."
Voices whispered from the mist.
"...that you've failed your friends again..."
"...weren't there when they needed you..."
"...pathetic! You call yourself a dragonet of destiny? You can barely fight...
He was gasping now, sobs wracking his body as the fire ate its way up his leg. Blister, Morrowseer, Reed, Fjord, and Kestrel approached, forming a ring around him, whispering cruelly in his ear.
"...no way they can end this war. Not with you messing things up."
"Aren't you a bigwings? Why can't you protect your troop?"
