Terror of Talons ✦ A Wings of Fire Fanfiction

Chapter Eight

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Shrike and Condor found themselves seated at a small bar tucked away in a corner of the New Island Palace, the dim lighting casting a warm glow over the polished wooden counter and rows of bottles lining the shelves. Shrike sipped his drink slowly, savoring the rich, fruity flavor, while Condor had already downed several glasses of the SeaWing specialty drink, a potent mix of tropical fruits and strong spirits.

Condor leaned over the bar, grinning at a group of SeaWings nearby. "Hey there," he slurred, his voice filled with a drunken confidence. "You ever seen a SkyWing with such impressive wings?" He gave his wings a dramatic flare, nearly knocking over a couple of empty glasses.

One of the SeaWings, a slender dragon with shimmering blue scales, giggled. "Impressive, indeed," she said, though it was clear she was more amused by Condor's antics than anything else.

"You know," Condor continued, swaying slightly, "back in the SkyWing Kingdom, they call me the Prince of Charm." He winked exaggeratedly, causing the SeaWing to stifle another giggle.

"Really?" another SeaWing, a broad-shouldered dragon with vibrant green eyes, asked, barely able to keep a straight face. He gestured for a small group of other SeaWings, presumably his friends, to come over. "Is that so?"

"Oh, absolutely," Condor replied, leaning in a bit too close. "And I've been told my scales shine brighter than the three moons at night." He puffed out his chest, clearly enjoying the attention.

Shrike sighed, watching the prince with a mix of amusement and exasperation. "Condor, maybe you should slow down," he suggested gently, feeling a little overwhelmed by all the dragons flocking around Condor. "We have another meeting tomorrow, and we need to be at our best."

Condor waved him off, his golden eyes gleaming with mischief. "Nonsense, Shrike! We're here to enjoy ourselves, aren't we? Lighten up a little!" He turned his attention back to the SeaWings, trying to impress them with tales of SkyWing bravery and prowess.

After a while, it became clear that Condor wasn't going to stop on his own. Shrike stood up and gently tugged on Condor's wing. "Come on, Condor. It's getting late. We should head back."

Condor resisted at first, but eventually, he let out a dramatic sigh and allowed Shrike to lead him away from the bar. "You're such a spoil-sport, Shrike," he whined, though there was no real malice in his words.

The walk back to their guest room was slow and awkward, with Condor stumbling over his own talons and leaning heavily on Shrike for support. When they finally arrived, Ptarmigan and Cathartes were already asleep, their forms barely visible in the dim light.

Shrike carefully helped Condor into the bed, pulling the covers over him. "Get some rest, Condor. You'll thank me in the morning," he whispered.

Condor mumbled something incoherent in response before drifting off to sleep. Shrike settled into his side of the bed, his mind still buzzing from the events of the day. He couldn't stop thinking about the dream he had the night before– especially the prophecy delivered by the mysterious NightWing. The words echoed in his mind, haunting and cryptic.

"Beware the queen of blood and wrath,
Her reign shall cast a shadowed path.

Yet heed the words that seek her fall,
For lightning strikes and stars enthrall.

When darkness spreads from dusk to dawn,
The world shall know the light is gone.

Beware, young hybrid."

As he laid there, replaying the prophecy over and over, Shrike found it impossible to relax. His thoughts were a tangled web of fear and confusion and he couldn't sort any of it out. The queen part has to be about Queen Lamprey, he thought, grimacing at the thought of the fearsome dragoness. But nothing else makes sense.