Blood-red

Burn whipped a cheap terracotta vase at the wall of the SandWing Stronghold, screaming

"THIS PROPHECY IS NONSENSE! I WON'T LET SOME 9 YEAR OLDS TELL ME HOW OR WHEN I DIE!" She hissed, her tail rattling.

It had just come out that Morrowseer of the NightWings had had a prophecy stating that in 12 years, 5 eggs would hatch on the brightest night, choose a queen to win, and end the war.

Of course, Burn was enraged by this news (like she was by everything else). She knew she was the strongest of her sisters and that she would be the best queen once she picked them off, but now some random dragonets would have the power to decide who won!?

She picked a stray rock of the floor and chucked it out of the nearest window with a grunt. She huffed, watching the rock tumble to the desert floor, unsatisfied with the lame impact it made with the floor.

She whipped around and pointed at the soldier in the entrance of the room.

"You! In 12 years, I want EVERY blood-red egg you can find, DO YOU HEAR ME!?" She screamed, stalking closer to the frightened gaurd.

"Y-y-yes ma'am!" He stammered.

Pathetic.