Wings of Power: The Rising Tribe [SERIES CLOSED]

Epilogue

The wind was unusually strong in the BloodWing camp. The fresh, sticky, frothy lava was averted direction by the strong winds. Tents were ripped apart. Rocks hurled in the air. 

Razor flapped his wings, searching frantically for Vein, his favourite student. The wind threw him into the volcano, and he momentarily splashed into a caldera of lava. He sloshed out while lava dripped down his maroon scales, and it felt infinitely better. But Razor's nice feeling was destroyed instantly when a guard came hurtling towards him. Rocks battered his wings as he stumbled towards Razor. Razor was about to shove him into lava as a greeting when he saw the guard's face was not smiling. He was not happy, and Razor knew something was up . . . or down.

"Razor! Sir!" The guard said, running towards him before skidding to a stop. It was Fleshslicer, who was Fleshdigger's older brother. If he was that panicked, he figured that there was something serious going on. In fact, Razor could see tears in his eyes. Razor felt sympathetic and stepped towards him.

"Her Majesty wants you, Razor," Fleshslicer said breathlessly. 

"Why?" Razor asked.

Fleshslicer seemed pained. "Your pupil Vein . . . he killed Fleshdigger."

"What?" Razor said. "On purpose? I think by accident."

"Well . . . Queen Magma wants you," Fleshslicer said. He took to the sky, with Razor close behind him. They soon closed their wings after landing, and they went up to the huge mahogany-coloured doors. Razor looked up to the night sky and saw Pantala, glowing in its full moonlight. Grinnen was a crescent. If Razor was going to die (which he thought was about to happen) he figured he should make the most of his last night. 

He walked into the blood-red banquet, and Queen Magma caught his eye. For a moment, she looked fine. Then her face contorted into anger, and Razor knew he was gone. But . . . the anger wasn't pointed at him. Her anger seemed pinned down on Fleshslicer. He winced, stepping behind Razor.

"Ah. Why, hello Razor," Queen Magma said. "How are the young warriors going?"

"They're doing good! Your daughter, Flayer, is the best warrior next to . . . um . . . "

Queen Magma's face softened. She stepped toward him, and Razor closed his eyes and braced for the killing slash. When nothing happened, he opened his eyes, one at a time. "I won't harm you," she said. "It's not your fault he killed a warrior. He has his death sentence, but until then, he is banished. As for you . . ." she faced Fleshslicer, anger fuming in her eyes. Razor had served the queen long enough to know that Fleshslicer was about to die.

Queen Magma leaped into Fleshslicer, snarling his throat in her claws. Razor cried out before trying to pull Magma back. He tugged and tugged, but it did nothing. The Queen's tail slashed against Fleshslicer's underbelly, and he yelped in pain. Razor still tried to push Magma away, and he finally shoved her from Fleshslicer. But it was too late. Fleshslicer was dead, with a huge slash across his underbelly. Blood poured out, and for the first time in Razor's life, he looked away from the blood. 

Queen Magma kicked Fleshslicer away, and suddenly a thought ringed in Razor's ming: heartless. 

BloodWings are heartless.

That's all they are.