Chapter Text
Two dragons sat, one on either end of a table. A green pearlcatcher shuffled her cards, before laying three down in front of her.
"Time... Ice... Blood."
The mirror across from her stared at the cards, unamused.
"I don't suppose this means Frostbite will finally kick the bucket, then?"
"Hush, Kestrel. He's one of our own."
Kestrel scoffed. "Barely."
Sequoia flicked her whiskers in annoyance. "Yes, he may be a nuisance, but he's still a Viper like the rest of us. Did you hear what Mythos said, about sending a few out to the nearest city go get him a cure?"
Kestrel shook his head. "But we're in Plague," he countered. "Most likely any dragon we meet will send us off with nothing. You know how they are about diseases and the like- you survive or you don't."
"Well," Sequoia countered in return, "The nearest city- from what Mythos told me- it's called the Heartwyrm, filled with dragons from everywhere, not just plague-folk. Surely someone there'll know a thing or two about cures and tonics. Say, why don't you ask him to go with?"
"What, to get me out of your mane?"
"That may be part of it, yes."
A few hours later, Mythos, the great white Imperial, Hatchet, the burly Obelisk, and Kestrel, the wiry brown Mirror were out on their way. It turned out the Heartwyrm was far closer than the Vipers had expected- even Kestrel's weak wings were able to withstand the flight without a break. The bustling city, carved and woven into the bones of a five-headed Emperor, seemed to beckon to the dragons as they landed.
"Ask around," Mythos commanded. "Someone must know something."
With a nod, the three dragons went on their seperate ways.
Contained within one gargantuan skull, Kestrel found a crowd gathering- Sequoia was correct about dragons from all around inhabiting this city. He saw dragons of Shadow and Light and Earth and all other manner of element standing wing-to-wing. He accidentally ducked and brushed the feathers of a colorful Coatl, who looked down at him- kin, Kestrel realized, as they both bore the pink eyes marking them as Arcanian. The Coatl smiled as Kestrel pushed himself to the front of the crowd.
"Welcome, children of the Timeherald," a Gaoler on a stage boomed, gathering attention. "Today, we have been called here to celebrate- one of our own has been chosen, blessed, to serve the Timeherald itself!"
An exalting ceremony, Kestrel soon realized- but who was the Timeherald?
"Midas, please step forward," the Gaoler beckoned with one wing. A yellow Aether fluttered out of the crowd.
His eyes...
He was an Ice dragon.
Time... Ice...
Blood.
"WAIT," Kestrel shouted, surging forward, but it was too late.
On the stage, the Aether's body dropped dead, head lolling to the side at an unnatural angle.
The surrounding dragons cheered.