𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄: Bones of the Living [1]

Prologue

-WARNING: violence-

Two years ago...

Texts and scrolls unfurled before her talons, and Princess Eruption- perfect and contained Princess Eruption- was on the verge of it all, she could feel it like a palpable thing, like someone was twisting her heart; she was on the verge of the greatest discovery. Maybe the greatest discovery in all of Pyrrhia's history.

  It was unusual of her quarters to assume this look. Religious studies, spiritual artifacts, historical heirlooms; they consumed every space, as if this room were theirs and not hers. It had rather transformed into the reincarnation of her own desire and determination towards discovery, not a place in which she had once belonged. Yet despite the room's abnormality, Eruption felt rather at home. It was as if she were living inside her own head.

  However, she had some keen sense to keep this disorder to herself. Disorder it was- there seemed no rhyme or reason to the scatterings of her instruments. Of course, there was, but only she understood it. For this reason, Eruption had kept the room in concealment from all others. Princess of the SkyWings- this meant a certain few things. For Eruption, it meant remaining perfectly understandable, and perfectly presentable, and perfectly sane. This room was not that. It was not understandable. With a shiver, Eruption glanced backwards and made sure to herself that her dresser remained firmly in place, blocking the doorway. It remained there. She was safe, cocooned in her discovery.

  Forcing the tremor from her scales, Eruption turned her eyes back to her desk and swept the papers away to clear space. More parchment- she needed more parchment. Twisting in her chair, Eruption glanced to the right- her long ruby tail snaked outwards and slapped against the stack of parchment at her left. Of course, it'd been at her left. Her brow pinching with annoyance, Eruption made a haphazard attempt to restore order to the papers. In a moment, she gave in. The room was already theirs. There was no point in containing its rampage.

  'It' was her investigation. She'd been working on it for moons- all in secret of course, all in whispers and glimpses.

  What was her investigation? Eruption's heart swelled, as if it may explode in a moment, like an active volcano, unable to contain what wriggled inside it- that knowing, that power, that she alone had this special knowledge only moments away from her grasping-

  "Princess?" Eruption's heart leapt- along with it there came three sharp knocks on her door.

  "Yes?" Leaping from her desk, Eruption made towards the doorway. Being a princess came with its perks- one of those was the way the roof above her stretched upwards and onwards, providing space for herself while the floor was but a sea of research. So tall was the ceiling that Eruption was able to fly freely up and about her room, stretching her wings to full length. With that stretching came a small fleeting of satisfaction, but it was quickly swept away by the waves of fear which pounded her heart. Why was someone at the door? This was not part of her schedule. No one, no one, could enter her room.

  "Who is it?" Eruption pressed. She had reached the door and was flapping frantically just above the rustling scrolls below.

  "It's me, your mother." Queen Cerise's voice was unmistakable now- before, it'd been concealed by the ever-persistent whisper and creak of Eruption's numerous textbooks, but now with her ear pressed hard against the door, Eruption heard it, and another shiver plowed through her like thunder. What was her mother doing here? She of all dragons could not see her room. 

  Not yet, anyway. Not until the Queen was ready.

  "I feel like I haven't seen you all day." Queen Cerise continued. Eruption felt a pang of loneliness within her. Her discovery had kept her far from the Queen, and hearing Cerise's voice echo the own loneliness which was mirrored in her heart was a vice in which Eruption was tightly locked. Like an instinct, her claws twitched, reaching to pull away the dresser. But she stopped. Now was not the time. The Queen was not ready.