Fairy Tail: The Phoenix Prophecy [AU] [Discontinued]

Prologue

"Beware of the claws that thirst for power,

Beware of the serpent that haunts your final hour,

Be wary of the tornadoes that dance the skies,

Beware of the dragon dark as a starless night.

Of the four rulers who bite, shine, dazzle and blaze,

A declaration of war will write genocide's name.

And as the clock ticks to none,

Five humans and their steeds will rise to bring the sun.

Believe in their strengths and you shall see,

The fall of the Dragon King."

*~~...~~*

     It has been twenty years since Metalicana became the Southern Dragon King.

     King Igneel sat in his chambers quietly as his mate, Queen Qendreth, stood anxiously by his side. They were in a large castle, one that was definitely fit for withholding families of dragons up to the double digits; the castle had two cellars, a dungeon, a giant library, and many, many more giant rooms with too many purposes to list. Igneel was a dark red fire dragon with a golden underbelly, fins behind his mandible, two pairs of horns protruding from his head, plated scales like armor, and scars all along his face and sides. Beside him, Qendreth was a beautiful black dragoness with thin black scales, thick course fur on her underbelly, claws like crescent moons, and a perfectly shaped snout and frame with flaming eyes that seem to reflect orange, red, gold, and blue all at once.

     Igneel, like other dragons, could live up to three hundred years of age (he was currently 222 and his mate 217), but unlike other dragons, he and the other rulers possessed magic that would allow himself to use enchantment and transformation spells. The dragons with the capability of magic use were known as animus, and the magic gene was specifically bred through the royal's bloodlines, making himself and his two soon-to-be children the only ones in the entire kingdom to use it.

     And speaking of children, tonight was the promised night, the night that he and Qendreth would become parents. As the pair watched the lone egg sitting in the nest quietly, Igneel never felt so anxious, and he couldn't help but fidget his wings and fantasize about what he would do with his child once they were grown. What kind of dragon would they grow into? What would they do with their lives? Could he give them the life that they deserve? Would he someday become a grandparent? Igneel wanted to know all this and more, but he knew that the only way to find out was through patience, and he still was no where near being a master.

    "Oh, Igneel, would you stop fidgeting already? You're likely scaring the dragonet deeper into their shell," Qendreth hissed at him and Igneel shuffled on his talons awkwardly.

    "Sorry, my love, but I am just so.... excited!" Igneel admitted and the latter chuckled softly, just as she opened her mouth to either agree or scold him, a small chk chk caught their attention. Nobody moved, nobody seemed to even breathe as Igneel and Qendreth glued their eyes to the egg. After a long moment of silence, the egg shuddered and cracked again, this time the crack grew larger and soon enough, a small black head popped out of the shell, its scales still glistening from the watery chambers within the egg. It chirped in curiosity and looked around the room, blissfully unaware that it was leaning forward until it fell out of the nest. The last of the egg shell shattered and the small dragonet laid squirming on the ground, trying to sit upright but failing with its feeble little legs splayed out.

     The dragonet appeared to be male and resemble his mother most, but unlike Qendreth, whose hue was a very dark red-violet, this dragonet himself seemed to be just black. He had spikes around his eyes and temples with a pair of curved horns on his head and large clusters of spikes running down his neck and spine, they would clatter together as the small dragonet attempted to shake out its wet body. What was most startling about this dragonet, though, was his eyes, which were a shade of red so dark that his irises seemed to just be black.