Skyfire

MEMENTO
In the beginning, there was nothing.

No-one to call the glorious land of Sarre their own.

But then, suddenly, out of the blue, there was someone.

More than one someone.

And there was war.

War that ravaged the lands, staining the dirt with stains of blood, killing and killing...

Until once again there was no one left.

Except for the dragons.

ONE
"Hallowbringer!" Someone yelled, piercing the dry silence and Hallow's thoughts.

The freckled dragonet heaved a tired sigh. She knew that shrill call.

Mother.

She didn't want to go listen to Brightblade's rants about her not living up to the family legends, but it would be much worse to ignore her.

"Coming," She yelled back after a moment, spreading her young wings.

Today was the day. She, Hallowbringer of House Nite, would take on a job.

She knew which job she wanted, of course. None of them were bad, per se. But one of them was the least-bad of them all.

Patroller.

She dreamed of being a patroller every living moment, when she wasn't daydreaming about history.

The jobs were Patroller, Sire, Serf, Flier, and Runeblood.

Well, she took that back: Runeblood was bad.

The entire human species had been wiped out, and out of the calamity rose the dragons.

But there was greed.

And so another war began, splitting the dragon tribes in four: Earth tribe, Water tribe, Air tribe, and Fire tribe.

Runebloods were soldiers, assigned a tribe to attack.

So far, Hallowbringer's tribe, the Fire tribe, was losing. The Water tribe was winning. Air tribes were neutral, loyalties with the highest bidder. The Earth tribes were slowly gaining on the water tribes, ravaging villages and settlements.

Hallowbringer sighed, landing at their cave.

She padded inside, searching for the trademark sign of Brightblade's temper tantrums: broken furniture and prey carcasses scattered along the floor. They weren't there.

She frowned. "Brightblade?"

"Oh, my darling!" Brightblade trilled.

Light flooded the cave. "SURPRISE!"

She squinted, thrown off by the light. "Huh?"

Her best friend, Shademover, scurried over. "Congrats!"

She stared. Her friends and close relatives were gathered around their large stone table, a three-tiered cake laying precariously among it. "Thank you...?" She said, confused.

"The box came!" Brightblade squealed.

Hallowbringer's eyes flared. "Where is it?"

"You don't get it until after the cake!" Brightblade said firmly.

"Did you open it? What did it say?" Hallowbringer begged.

"You know the law, Hallow. I didn't open it. Even if I did, I couldn't tell you."

Hallow frowned at the cake, opening a pouch on her waist.

She took out a double-edged blade. There were gasps and mutters.

She squinted at the cake and threw the knife.

Someone screamed.

"Calm down!" Hallow growled.

Everyone fell silent, eyes glued to the cake.

The knife had dragged all the way down the cake, splitting it into slices.

Shade cheered. Brightblade followed, and soon everyone, even her blind uncle Sunsight, was whooping and laughing.

Hallow smiled. A little flair for her Choosing day? Why not.

Slices were served, and Hallow greedily scarfed hers down, barely tasting the sugary frosting or the creamy cake.

"Box!" She cried, tossing her now-empty plate to the ground.

Brightblade chuckled, handing her an obsidian-black box tied with a blood-red sash.

She removed the sash slowly, holding her breath.

Then the top of the box came off.

Inside was a pristine scroll, tied with a blue velvet ribbon.

She slowly sliced off the ribbon with a trembling claw.

Shakily, she unfurled the scroll aloud.

"Hallowbringer from the famed House of Nite, your aptitude test results have come. You received a 301, the highest score possible to achieve. Congratulations-"

Everyone was cheering again. A smile cracked Hallow's dead-set face.

"Because of this, we have seen fit to make you a..." She trailed off, not believing it possible.

"What is it, dear?" Brightblade asked coaxingly.

"To make you a Runeblood." Hallow whispered.

And then she passed out.