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Zymre flapped his wings, twisting in the air as fire swirled around him, showering glimmering red and yellow light onto his ruby scales. A beam of red chaotic energy singed past his flank, narrowly missing his wing and continuing into the sky. He flapped his wings again, the inferno around him reacting to his will with savage eagerness, lurching forward with a roar echoed by its controller. It swirled forward with hunger, a tornado of flames that basked the ashen sand below in sweltering heat.

They didn't make it far, however, as an explosion of the same chaos energy lit up the stadium. The flames were stopped in their tracks, thrown to the side and dissipating, followed by the red energy. For the moment the sky area was free of elemental carnage, allowing Zymre to glare down at his opponent with frustration. The drake on the ground was a deeper and darker red than a fire dragon, with four long black horns on his head, and black spines running down the length of his back. The crowd of dragons was cheering in the background, their roars echoing the length of the arena like a waterfall in a valley.

Zymre allowed himself a glance into the crowd and the mixture of red and yellow scales within, sitting on their haunches along the massive steps surrounding the arena. Millions had gathered, young and old, from all over the fire nation. But Zymre had eyes for only one. A dragon perched on a pedestal above the others, the aura of power radiating from her flooding the arena with her presence. The two of them made eye contact, and the drake narrowed his eyes with determination before looking down at the drake that was his final opponent. His wings were sore, and his breath was coming in ragged gasps, but he was so close... so close to getting what he wanted.

With a challenging roar, he spread his wings, fire igniting along his back as he flung himself forward in a flaming comet. The chaos dragon below roared out in response. Red energy flooded his scales, lancing out of him like solar flairs as he launched into the air. Another beam of chaos energy lanced through the air toward Zymre, and he dodged to the side, using the flames to help propel his passage. Just before the two dragons clashed the fire drake once against turned in mid-air, streamlining his wings as he narrowly dodged the sharp teeth and claws of his larger opponent, and flung his fire forward.

The chaos dragon screamed as he was engulfed in pain, flailing in the air as he struggled to right himself. But despite being severely burnt, he managed to stay in the sky, turning around and launching another blast of chaos energy toward the fire drake. Zymre once again dodged out of the way by dropping several dragon lengths, hitting the ground with his paws, and launching into the air once again with a burst of flames. Another bolt of chaos energy slammed into the ground right where he had been, causing dust and sand to explode into the air. Another singed his scales, causing pain to lance through his scales, and his wings to seize with tension as he let out a yelp.

The next blast hit him. Zymre cried out as he was slammed back into the ground by the force of the chaos energy. Something in his wing broke, but that was nothing compared to the sizzling tearing of the energy as pain flooded his chest, causing his vision to flicker black and a choking whimper to escape his mouth. He lay where he was, dazed and broken by the sudden turn in the fight. His grasp on reality only came back with the large thud of something landing next to him. A shadow was cast over him as he tried to summon the strength to roll to his feet. The cold touch of talons against his chest caused him to freeze.

"Do you yield?" the snarl came from above, but Zymre's vision was too hazy to see from who.

He only groaned in response.

"Yield!"

The pressure against his chest increased. He weakly battered against the paw with his own. The same thought continued to flow through his head. He couldn't lose here. Not now. Not when he had been so close. Flickers of fire traveled over his body as he tried to summon the strength to ignite himself once again. The only response from his competitor was a snort, then a flash of red as he was slammed in the head with a chaos-infused punch of his wing.

The next thing Zymre was aware of was a refreshing stream rushing through his body, stitching together wounds and cleansing his exhaustion. A sigh of relief escaped the fire drake and he let himself relax with a rumbling purr. As his eyes slowly opened he found himself staring at the red snouts of several worried faces.

"You're awake!" exclaimed a dragoness, relief flooding her voice.

Another leaned forward, gently nuzzling him with worried affection. Giving this other dragoness and quick nuzzle of his own, before shakily rising to his feet. The room he was in was rather small for a dragon. Like most other buildings within the city, it was made from ashen black stone and was lit by several torches along the walls. Within the room were four other dragons. Two were fire dragons, his siblings Yova and Ember, one was a chaos dragoness and his mate, Elessia, and the last was an emerald green life drake whom he didn't recognise. The final occupant of the room was a human woman endowed in a red dress, Anastasia, or as he knew her, auntie Ana.

For a moment he didn't quite remember what had happened, but as it all came back he lowered his head, "I... lost?"

There was a hesitation from the others, before Yova answered, "It was close. Kialdor collapsed after knocking you out. But... yeah."

Zymre let out a growl, flicking his tail in anger and scratching at the fabrics he was laying on, "Dammit."

"It's alright Zymre. We know you tried your best," Anastasia said softly, the woman stepping up in front of the dragons, each towering over her.

"Kialdor is a strong dragon. You two were very evenly matched," Elessia said softly, trying to cheer him up with a smile.

The drake closed his eyes, trying to drown the sudden flood of regret and anguish that washed through him. He had lost. After everything that he had been to, to lose when being so close to victory, so close to knowing what he was desperate to discover.

"I'm sorry," he looked at his siblings, "I failed you."

"You didn't fail us Zymre," Ember rumbled, "It was a close battle. You fought your hardest."

"But now we will never know... we will never know about our father," he said softly.

"Mum might tell us anyway... after seeing how well you did," Yova offered, "And either way... neither of us would have done any better."

Ember nodded her head in agreement. It didn't stop the feeling of regret that washed through Zymre. But he could see the concerned looks of the others and decided to let it go for now. He offered them a smile, before getting to his feet. After giving thanks to the life drake, the five of them left the room, trudging back through a long corridor and to the open.

* * *

The ceremony went by in a blur for Zymre. He was awarded a prize of several pounds worth of gold for coming in second place, not that he needed it. As one of the current royal princes, he had access to most of the kingdom's fortune if he so wished. He listened to a speech from his mother, the queen, and the most powerful dragon in the kingdom, congratulating Kialdor on his victory. He dodged glares from Agonel, the leader of the chaos dragons and father of his mate. A dragon who was very against their relationship. He got drunk with several of his friends, relishing the taste and feeling that the alcohol gave him as he downed several barrels, and he ended the night in his nest, Elessia curled in his wings as the two dragons panted with exhaustion. But while she drifted to sleep, he found himself awake and brooding.

He replayed the fight over and over again, wondering where he made his mistake. He could think of many things. He should have hit the Kialdor with a stronger burst of flames in the pass. Zymre had held back, as he had been afraid of killing his opponent. Even that dive had been a risky mistake. He should have stayed in closer range of the larger dragon as well, instead of diving toward the ground. There were so many different things. He should have relied more on his talons instead of his fire. At least that's what Vitto would have said, the words of his teacher flooding his head.

'The power of talons is something many dragons underestimate. Remember, you may have a powerful flame, but your talons can do just as much damage.'

He rumbled with annoyance, looking down at the sleeping Elessia. He gently nuzzled the side of her head, before getting up from the nest, stretching his wings with a yawn. Most of the alcohol had worn off now. He nudged his way past the flap that covered the doorway into their room and walked out into the castle. It was rather silent at this time of the night. There was still the occasional guard walking around, and the occasional human servant. While being a rather social drake, he enjoyed the castle when it was like this. It gave him room to think.

And, as they usually did, his thoughts returned to his mother and his father. His mother, being the most powerful dragon in the kingdom, possibly the world, and his father, a drake of mystery. It had been a long-standing question amongst his siblings and him. They had asked the question to their mother, again and again, wanting, needing to know who he was. But she had always brushed them off with the same response.

"You don't need to know who he is. He's unimportant."

It especially infuriated Zymre. The others had accepted it eventually, but he was constantly trying to find out more. The only other dragon that knew who his father was, as far as he knew anyway, was Vitto, but the drake had also refused to tell him under orders of the queen. It had left him even more curious. He didn't understand why his mother refused to tell him and didn't want him to know. Was his father a bad dragon? Did he do something that hurt them? Or was he just some random dragon that his mother just couldn't remember, and she was too embarrassed to admit it.

Eventually, Zymre found himself at the entrance of the castle, looking out into the dark blanket that encompassed much of the fire kingdom. Pockets of moonlight shone from the clouds, something that he was still unused to. The ashen cloud that usually covered the city had begun to break for the first time in centuries under his mother's rule. It had only made the kingdom love her all the more.

A sigh escaped him as he turned to walk back into the castle. The ashen black stone of the castle was like a black void itself, only broken by the torchlight of burning flames. After some deliberation, he walked down the long hallway of the castle entrance and into the meeting room. It was a large open space, far bigger than any other room in the castle, at nearly thirty dragon-lengths in height. Usually, it was full and crowded, but during the night it was empty. Broken beams of moonlight shone into the castle from open spaces at the top of the castle's walls. Too small for any dragon to fly through but allowing enough space to allow both sun and moon to shine through. Another addition to the castle his mother had made in the past couple of years.

As he walked into the chamber he came to a startled stop, staring in surprise at a dragon laying on the raised platform at one side. She raised her head, narrowing her eyes in suspicion, before letting out a huff of surprise of her own. It was his mother, Athaer, queen of the fire nation.

"Zymre, is that you?"

"Mum... what are you doing out here?"

"I would ask you the same question," responded the dragoness, getting to her feet.

"I... I couldn't sleep," he replied honestly.

She tilted her head, "With the day you had, I would expect you to be quite exhausted."

Zymre shrugged his wings. In truth, he did feel rather exhausted, but he was used to hard days.

The queen sighed, looking to the beams of moonlight shining into the chamber, "You did well today. You held back in that strike you did though. That's what lost you the battle."

"I know," rumbled the drake, "I held back because I didn't want to kill him."

"I suspected as much. Probably good you did."

"Yeah..."

The two were silent for a moment. Zymre sat down on his haunches, looking at the ground, scratching at it with his talons. The question burning in his mouth yearned to be asked. But he held back for the moment. He knew that his mother remembered the promise she had made to him before the competition began. The one that urged him to join in the first place.

'Aargh, very well. If you win the approaching non-equilibrium tournament I will tell you about your father. But if you lose, you won't bring it up again. Am I clear?'

Of course, he had agreed, wondering how hard it could be to win when he had the innate power of a dragon of equilibrium without the transformation. He had not expected Kialdor to join in as well, and even then, he thought he had a chance. He did have a chance. But he had held back at the last moment.

"How is Elessia?" asked his mother.

"She's going alright. Maybe drunk a bit much though," Zymre let out half a chuckle, "And elder Agonel still disapproves."

"Ah, he is still old fashion," Athaer flicked her tail, "I wouldn't pay him half a mind. You love each other. That is what matters."

"Yeah. She's great," he hesitated a moment, "D... did you ever love anyone?"

The queen narrowed her eyes, going oddly still as she studied her son with great scrutiny, "Why do you want to know?"

"Just curious."

Both dragons knew that was a lie.

"You know what our deal was Zymre. You lost. I expect you to respect that deal," there was a slightly dangerous edge to her voice, one that sent shivers down the drake's spine.

His inner voice told him to drop the subject, to just accept that she wasn't willing to reveal anything, but his frustrations at his failure and his need for that knowledge drove him forward, "And would you have respected that deal if I had won?"

Athaer titled her head, "You didn't."

Zymre felt himself tense with anger at those words, "I could have. I should have. You know! And if you had any intention of following that deal you would tell me what I want to know!"

The queen growled, raising herself up as she looked down at her son, "Don't think you can demand anything from me, Zymre."

"I deserve to know! You owe us at least an explanation. I am your son! I should know who my own father was... at least something!"

"I do not owe you anything," Athaer responded with cold certainty, "And you will not bring this up again, are we clear?"

"Why? Why do you refuse to talk about him? What did he do that was so bad that you refuse to even acknowledge him?"

His line of questioning seemed to surprise Athaer. The queen hesitated a moment, before shaking her head with a snarl. She turned around, taking a deep breath. It was only then Zymre noticed the waves of power that seemed to wash through the room, each one a ripple in the very fabric of reality. However, as Athaer took breaths, the waves dwindled until they disappeared altogether.

"If you had any respect for me you would follow my wishes," she said simply.

That response only served to anger Zymre more, "And if you loved me at all you would at least give me an explanation as to why you refuse to say anything about him!"

The dragoness was silent for several moments, though Zymre could see the tension in her posture.

"Get out."

"What?"

"I said... get out," Athaer turned to face him, fire flickering along her scales.

"...No."

"I do not wish to have this conversation any further. Leave."

"That's not how this works," Zymre exclaimed.

She snarled, "I am your queen, and I order you to leave me be!"

It was as though an inferno roared at him. The heat of a star burned from her scales, engulfing the entire room. Zymre staggered backward, staring at her aghast. She glared back, not a hint of regret in her eyes. The drake let out a growl, before turning and stalking out of the chamber, his talons clicking against the stone to mark his frustration. He was furious. His own flames were dancing at the corner of his vision as they eagerly flickered to life, fuelled by his fury.

He felt as if he wanted to burn down the castle around him, or lay waste to a forest, or blow up a cave. Instead, he took a couple of deep breaths, trying to reign in his anger. It was never a good thing to let fury take hold, especially for a dragon. When that happened, innocents got hurt. He still remembered when his brother, Yova, had lashed out at Ana when they were younger, and the damage he had caused.

He closed his eyes, sitting against the stone as he gathered his thoughts on what had just transpired. His mother wasn't going to give him the information he wanted. Very well, he would go to the only other dragon he could. Vitto knew. And if he knew, then there must be some way to convince him to give the information up.

Nodding to himself, Zymre trudged through the castle. He didn't care if he had to wake up the drake in order to get the information. He wasn't going back to sleep until he had the information he had come for.

For several minutes he walked through the many corridors of the castle toward where he knew Vitto's chamber was. He didn't pass any others on the way, thankfully. He didn't really want to talk to anyone else at that moment. He suspected many had felt his mother's anger and would likely be trying to stay as far away from the queen as possible.

As he came to a stop at the fabric flap that closed out Vitto's chamber from the rest of the castle. A deep breath escaped him as he gathered himself. However, as he was about to open the flap he hesitated. There were hushed voices on the other side. Voices he couldn't quite make it out. He narrowed his eyes, wondering who Vitto could be spending time with this late at night. Using his tail, he lifted the flap and felt his entire body freeze in surprise.

Vitto was standing there, his scarred red scales glimmering in the moonlight, but sitting across from him was another dragon. A species Zymre had never seen before. One with pure white scales that seemed to glow like a star under the moon. The two dragons spun around to see Zymre. The white one let out a hiss of surprise, and Vitto's eyes widened in panic.

"Zymre?" he said, shocked, before glancing at the white dragon as it took a step forward with a dangerous growl, "No... Zymre run!"

-To be continued...

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Hello all! The Chronicle for the week is here! I would apologise for such a cliffhanger... but I'm not really sorry XD. The next story will be available in the next set of five. Hope you all enjoyed this little look into Zymre, and I would like for you all to tell me what you think of his character. This was an interesting story to write. Originally I was going to do a bit more with Anastasia, but I think doing the story like this flowed better. Anyway, vote if you did enjoy, and tell me what you think. As always, tell me which story you would like to have next. 

The Perfect Mate: Shyal, Light dragoness - 16Yrs BTA

The Essence of Equilibrium: Zay'ues, Weather drake - 11Yrs BTA

A Lost Way: Spyral, Spirit drake - 43Yrs BTA

See Ya!

Pennator^^