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Academy of fire and ice

PhoenixXx

By PhoenixXxPublished 2 years ago 6 min read
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There weren’t always dragons in the valley. Nor were there Fay folk in the forests or witches wherever they wanted to be. The monarchy used to be a cherished family, not an absolute power with the most gold, influence and the most robust line of skyborn. But those days are gone now, long gone.

No one really remembers a time before the dragons came back; it’s just legend. They talk of machines that flew through the clouds or sped over the land on metal runners. They say that once upon a time, people used to be able to get hot water for bathing on-demand, without having to light a fire to boil the water. There were people who would sit at home all day and do nothing or waste their time on frivolous things like games on a screen or making up stories about dragons and machines and space or anything else they could think of! And other people had time to read the stories! It is laughable now. Everyone has something to do, everyone. Even the children have a job now.

They say the dragons came out of the ground. The mountains broke open, the volcanoes erupted, and the earth shook beneath the people’s feet for days while the dragons woke up. Their power went out. And then the dragons broke free. All colours of the rainbow they were reported to be. And none of them was too happy with the world as it stood.

All traces of them had been forgotten; people didn’t know where they were sleeping or that they always promised to come back to the world. Their dens had been destroyed without a second thought, torn down, allowed to rot and collapse, and used as places for drug use and other undesirable behaviours. The stories say that almost half of the world’s population died that day in the awakening or aftermath.

The dragons didn’t like what the people had learnt in their absence. The flying machines were simply swatted from the air. The halls of power were set alight, and the wires that brought energy and information to people were pulled off their poles. The buildings where the fairer leaders had worked were burnt to ashes in a matter of moments. The towns and cities were in darkness by nightfall. The world was in chaos for so long. The dragons began to gather people for some purpose, but they wouldn’t explain it to us lesser mortals.

Then, the rest of the magic began to return to the world. The Fay came back first, tricky little buggers; they are still forever trying to get one over on humans. If you find yourself in their snares, literal or figurative, you better hope and pray the dragons come to rescue you. Then some people seemed to develop magic overnight, and the witches’ covens were born. Trolls took up residence under the bridges. Shifters began to appear, other people would change their form in the presence of a full moon, they would become animals, all kinds of animals, tigers and leopards, bears and deer, monkeys, wolves, badgers, anything you could think of, or so the stories say.

* * *

The people the dragons had been gathering up without explanation; turned out to be the skyborn. At least, that is what they call themselves. The king is skyborn, and the dragons give him the throne. They are trained in these special academies we have been forced to build and maintain near the dragon dens.

The skyborn are the elite, upper class. They don’t work fields or build or cook and clean. They are the only ones the dragons will communicate with, who can safely get into the dens. Many of them have young dragons; they are bonded together somehow. No one really knows why they came to be or what is different about them, but there must be something. They are supposed to keep the peace and ensure that everyone follows the law. Stop the trolls smashing villages to pieces every other day and ensure that the Fay isn’t playing too many tricks. Other than that, though, and there has to be more, it’s a mystery.

The skyborn are taken from their families at any age, usually about 13 or 14, though some have been taken as young as 8. They are taken to the academies, and their families don’t often see them for many years. It’s becoming less and less common that they come from the lower class as time goes on. They seem to forget that we were all the same once upon a time.

* * *

Everyone in the villages believes the skyborn to be stuck up, rich kids who have never had to lift a finger in their lives. Those who worked at the academies told us so, they don’t make their own beds, they don’t do their own laundry, they don’t tidy their rooms, they don’t cook anything.

I thought them lazy and entitled, just like my family and friends. That is until I found out I am one of them.

I was 14, working the field with my mother, picking the fruits that were just perfect. The sun beating down on us, the trees offering welcome shade for a few hours. Much of the fruit was ripe that day; we would do well trading our excess. I’ve always been very agile and able to get to the tops of the trees and into the awkward bushes around the edges of the purple iridescent dragon’s den. The den was a cave-like structure that seemed to slope down into the ground, there were rumours that they did have names, but the commers like us never got to speak them. When something called me closer to the den than we had ever dared to go before, my mother was hysterical, begging me to come back, but I didn’t feel threatened by this den as other people said they did. The whole den was in the shade; it was hard to see to the back. I remember thinking that the purple dragon must be out as I took the first few steps inside.

I explored slowly; it turned out that the den didn’t just slope down; there was a sheer drop right down into a hole, which I, a wingless being, decided to avoid. It had an equally massive hole in the ceiling above. Oh, the tales I would have to tell my friends of barely escaping from the purple dragon. On the other hand, the hiding I would get from my father for scaring my mother like this. Just as her screams kicked up a notch, her shrill voice stinging my ears and my beating assured, clearly I was no longer in her line of sight, I saw them. The nest of scaly eggs, all with a shine of iridescence on them, but their base colours vary: a red one, a black one, a green one, a purply-blue one, beautiful purply-blue blended and swirled together.

I don’t know how long we stood like that, me staring at that egg, desperate to touch it and my mother screaming in the boundary before there was a gust of wind from the hole in the ground.

“If you are going to invade My den without so much as asking to enter, skyborn, you will not bring this noise with you”, a deep, almost gravely voice grumbled in my head, making me turn away from the eggs with a start and a squeal.

“You…your here….fuck….. please don’t eat me…. I didn’t mean to wander in. I just kinda found myself here… like something pulled me here,” I ramble in response, bowing deeply and beginning to back away slowly. My stomach in my boots, palms sweaty and lungs refusing to take a decent amount of oxygen. “I apologise your…your dragon-ness, I apologise, I will stay away in future.”

The gravely voice seemed to laugh in my head, a deep, derisive laugh. Snorting a blast of smoke and sparks. “You will find that hard, young one. My hatchling is calling you.”

Now, as you can imagine, this whole conversation threw me. A dragon egg calling me? And did the purple dragon call me skyborn? I had no idea what that was all about. But that was all before I met Xiuhcoati.

Fantasy
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About the Creator

PhoenixXx

I am a dyslexic scientist and new writer from the UK. I haven’t shared much work before but would love some feedback!

I love to write and I hope you enjoy my work as much as I enjoy making It for you!

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