The Nightwing looked around the silent Palace, seemingly looking for something. There seemed to be no guards guarding the entrance. And with no guards, came no protection. Two other Nightwings joined him, looking down on the palace.

Enemies were in fact, something to be feared. Fear conspired with the inner selfishness that cowered, wilting inside the minds of all living beings while slowly contemplating and plotting its rise to power. It ignited the first spark that initiated the flounces of the vermillion flames that devoured everything in sight. That began the dance of the flames-the dance of death.

To many, flames were a curse. But to this rage-driven prince, fallen from power, it was a gift. It was beautiful, the flames fluid and graceful as a ribbon dancer, yet dangerous. It was an art of war, designed to strike fear into the heart of his enemies. Flames that could scorch a soul-inside and out. And destroy that very being. The remains of this very art, scorched the ground, lining it with ashes. Ashes of the fallen, incinerated, burned. One with the simplest mind could not perceive this as a gift but as a terror-though the knowledgeable understood that this was just another cause of fear. Those simpletons would not understand his thoughts. And his thoughts, were just living amongst the brink of insanity. He did not need to make them understand. His mentality was foreign to the average, common dragon. Why should he be like them, when he could be this?

Fear thrived everywhere, twitching, prowling every nook, every turn. It schemed of tormenting the innocence of youth, the minds of the pure, and to drive them to be a pawn of it, a puppet in its little game. Every being was made to feel fear, every life, every soul. Everything and everyone was born to cause it in its attempt to break free of this little show that fear concocted. And with this flame that would arouse fear amongst his enemies, vengeance would wreak havoc on the wicked. It would bring life to the rebellion. It would settle his crown on his head. It would commence the plight of the former rulers. 

It would be revenge for his family.

"Mom, what's that sound?" squeaked a young dragonet, maybe two years old or so. He was adorned in scales of pitch-black, his wings sheltering tiny stars resembling the swath of stars that glittered in the endless trail. He tilted his head, confusion written over his face. He did not yet perceive that confusion was for the lost, hopeless youths whose minds were filled with plain, basic, boring nonsense, unable to detect, or even infer, the slightest that happened around them.

"Probably just the wind, so nothing to worry about, dear," assured a gorgeous, elder dragon. She possessed a large resemblance to the young dragonet, but her orbs were a brilliant orchid hue, as opposed to the dark green shade the young dragonet possessed. In the young dragonet's unmatured mind, she was nothing less and nothing far from perfection. Perfection only was gifted to those that possessed a trained instinct of determination, a cordial persona, and a tailored mind. All these qualities, only ideal to the common dragon folk, suited his mother so well. She was like she was born to be as powerful as the most powerful warriors, the swiftest of the swiftest hunters. She seemed as though she was a myth herself. But all myths never received a happy ending.

"Hey son, how are you?" greeted the dragonet's father. He bore a similar resemblance to his son as well-they looked like they could be twins, if not for the fact that his father was considerably more massive than his young son.

"I'm good, dad," the dragonet replied, a smile laced on his face as he beamed up at his father.

"Well, that's good. So-" his father began.

A loud creak interrupted his sentence, and tension crackled in the air. 

"Well, son," his father started, "I think that's just the wind blowing on the door again." But his voice was cracking, its fearless eloquence seeming to break. Actually, he seemed to be convincing himself more than the others.

The dragonet's mother slid into a protective stance. "Remember this, Soulflight. If anything...bad happens, promise me you'll always stay my little dragonet. Promise me you won't change for the worse."

"Mom, what are you saying?" The newly depicted Soulflight asked. Her mother rarely actually used his name unless she was serious or upset with him.

"Darling, what I mean is-" she began. Now, soft, thudding footsteps were beginning to grace their ears. His parents stiffened even more as the sound neared, their fangs now curving into a snarl. The pearly-white surfaces glinted in the moonlight. Pale, neatly-trimmed white claws were revealed to the air as they rose defensively. Silence fell over the dragons, and nothing belonged to the sounds of the night but the soft hoots of the owls, the scuffling of those who began to shelter for the night, and the thudding footsteps that drew nearer and nearer, so rapidly that Soulflight and his parents no longer needed to strain their ears to hear it. 

"Soulflight...I've been having visions of this recently. This is...bad. You need to go. Okay?" Soulflight's mother fretted, her gaze flickering over to meet Soulflight's decisively.

"What about you, mom?" asked Soulflight.

"We'll hold them off while you go. It's the only way," Soulflight's mother replied shakily. Her eyes flickered down, as if not daring to meet the pair of dark green orbs she had always dearly loved. Panic edged her frantic tone, the one that he heard all anxious, loving mothers use when something bad was happening. His young mind could not yet perceive the atrocities of what had been happening, and instantly assumed it was something small. It couldn't have been that bad, right?

Right?

"Mom, why do you want me to go?" whimpered Soulfight, blinking up at his mother adoringly. One so young and small did not wish to separate from the warm embrace of his parents.

She didn't respond. A grim tone laced her face, her jaw tightening.

"Dad?" pleaded Soulflight, "What's happening?"

"Son, you need to go. Right now," he ordered, his face twisted in a growl.

"But-" Soulflight started.

"No buts," interrupted his father. "Go. Now. Please?" His face softened, and Soulflight could only meekly nod his head.

"Now go!" ordered his mother.

Soulflight fled down the corridor, navigating the ransacked hallways, twisting and turning all he could. His heart pounded in his ears, nearly leaping out of his chest. The wind howled, driving him back as he struggled to run. A shiver wracked his body as the wind send chills to prick his spine, gripping the sodden earth with his claws. Finally, he collapsed, giving in to the hungers of the night. The last thing he remembered wondering about was if the situation wasn't a tiny thing. He pondered over if his parents were safe.

Then the black void of oblivion dragged him under its depths into the banks of unconsciousness.

When he woke, he was caged. His parents were dead. The citizens must have been prosecuted, if it was his parents' assassin was ruling now. So that was it. They were just gone.

And he was stuck here, rotting away, without enough space to even sit up or lie down. He was stuck, paralyzed in this very position, losing years of himself. All he recalled was drinking, eating, and sitting. That's all there was. All there ever was.

Until he got dragged back down by the chains of unconsciousness and fell back into that black void.

And finally, he woke. He was finally free. Obviously, that happened because they needed him to become the new king...right? Since there was no other reason he'd be set free from this curse...

But there had never been a king before...right? Just some legend about some creepy dragon called Darkstalker, who was defeated by some dragonets called Moonwatcher, Qibli, Turtle, Kinkajou, and Winter. He later became a tiny dragonet. His mother was called Fawnslayer and his dad being some important Icewing animus called Prince Arctic. Darkstalker had the power to read minds, have visions, and was an animus. He was going to be the first king or whatever, but according to the scrolls, he was evil or something.

And after a few decades after that all happened, the Nightwings moved away. They were originally in the shelter of Queen Glory, who ruled the Nightwings and Rainwings after the Nightwings' homes got destroyed by a volcano. But eventually, they found a new home and settled.

But Soulflight didn't have to be evil like him, right? He could be...good. A good king. 

When he turned his head to ask which year it was, one of the two dragons beside him reported the year. It shocked Soulflight, numbing his bones, flooding his mind with more and more confusion, and he felt himself lost amongst the seas of anger, fear, and desperation. The truth pierced him-he had spent 20 years, lost in nothingness, an eternal sleep. His life was stolen from him-his years of what could have been happiness and joy was taken from him-his childhood was destroyed. He could have thrived in opulence and luxury, the importance and love his parents held him in-had held him in with pride. But it was all ripped away from him.

And even his last memory of his mother-a golden wrist band she had given him, was enchanted by a foreign animus who sought a fortune from the Nightwing rulers. It would make the wearer fall asleep as long as it was on them. Touching them. So the last sliver of his parents and family was cast away into the darkness, away from Soulflight, where they'd never cross paths again. And finally, he broke. His mentality was gone. His mind was insanity, and anything that was considered sane and normal was foreign to his mad, delusional brain.

He walked the paths of the outside world, barely recognizing what was happening. His tortured mind could not comprehend the joy  Everywhere his eyes met, dragons sulking in sadness, getting whipped everywhere. Being jailed for speaking out against what was happening. Starving dragonets mewling for food being punished for making a racket.

What had society become in these years? This was to be ended.

And one flame, can set the spark of a beautiful revolution.

He stared at the palace he had once loved-he had once shared a bond with, treasured and embraced. But that friendship was gone-and some things had to happen. How ironic that once when he had whimpered at the idea of demolishing the palace to build a better and more majestic one, now he had come to this. This state of lunatic thinking-this crazed, angry state.

He considered it, almost as if trying to hold onto his last shard of rationality.  He began to think of the families that lived in there. He was almost sure there were dragonets, too. But why should they thrive when he has burned? Why should they live in what was supposed to be his glory? They will never learn, never understand what has happened to him. What he has become. Unless he does it now.

And then what happens? Since there was no queen, no female heir, what would happen? Would he have to marry and step down? What did he want? Mystifying questions pressured and cracked his sensitive, angry mind, bottled emotions all contorting his once good nature into mixed misery, envy, and fury. Should I let them understand what I have know and go for my throne? Be the first king there ever was, and choose glory? Or let them be, as not all of them are guilty, and choose honor instead?

He weighed his choices, but he had suffered too much, known too much, and descended into the depths of what he was now for long enough. There was no return-however much he wished it would go back to those simple, loving days.

He was too far gone to go back. He opened his jaws, and let the flame submerge the first part of the palace. And then, it spread.

The palace was engulfed in flames. Beautiful tresses of cerise and ocher danced amongst the falling frames of delicate paintings, amongst melting statues of rose gold and silver, and the palace began to fall to its hungry predators. Paintings and pictures burned, scattered pieces of scrolls littering the ground. Soulflight was vaguely clinging onto the outside world, simply batting one of his two companions aside as she charged at him. The pitch black dragon only flapped her star-strewn wings, soaring up again. 

"Stop it, Soulflight! This is madness!" she cried, lashing her dark black tail. Her dark blue orbs were wide with panic, fear shining in her eyes. Good. If she's afraid, this is obviously working.

"I'll do what I want, Skyreader," growled Soulflight, turning his head to pierce a glare into his companion.

"It's actually Mangleclaws," corrected the newly named Mangleclaws.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," grumbled Soulflight, turning back to the palace. Large holes now were scattered amongst the palace walls, flames still flickered and hissed, seizing its prey. Since the Nightwings didn't want to risk assassins or enemies bursting into the palace, windows weren't built on the castle. Instead, their were fancy lights. The walls were triple-reinforced, but even that wasn't enough to stop the fire. And all the holes were blocked off by walls of flames, so that left the only exit to be the entrance.

As he flew down and began his advance on the castle, Mangleclaws barreled towards him again. Snarling, Soulflight bared his fangs and claws. He swiped at his former ally, a frown knotting on his face as she dodged and lunged towards him, claws out. Skywatcher, the other dragon, charged at him too. He flipped out of the way, and Skywatcher used that momentum to roll him over, pinning him down. He grunted, kicking her belly as she went flying back, collapsing on the ground. Mangleclaws leaped at him, pinning him down, and Soulflight smirked, his back talons digging his back talons into one of her old wounds, which was located over her stomach. His talons impaled her, causing Mangleclaws to let out a bloodcurdling scream and slump over, claws pressed on the injury. 

Her claws were quickly stained in blood,  the crimson liquid seeping onto the ground, staining it red against brown as the crimson hue pooled on the ground. It had obviously punctured her internal organs as well. Her eyes were half-closed in pain, and Soulflight sneered at the pathetic dragon, who seemed to be drowning in regrets and misery. She tried to get up, but the blood lost made her feeble, so she didn't have the strength to do so.

"Three moons, you really are mangled, inside and out. Do you know that?" he hissed, strolling towards her. Hurt flashed in her indigo eyes. She tried to claw at him, but collapsed again as Soulflight sank his claws into her heart, blood spurting out as she screamed in pain, her eyes rolling back to the back of their sockets. She was dead, and deserved it since she had betrayed him. Skywatcher lew back and blocked his way, trembling. Her legs seemed to be twisted badly, but she still blocked him, a fierce look laced on her face.

"No! You can't do this!" she begged. "Mangleclaws, get up!" she shook Mangleclaws' dead body forcefully, bursting into sobs as they wracked her body.

"Your pathetic little ally won't help you," Soulflight sneered. 

"That was my cousin," Skywatcher wailed, her eyes brimming with tears. The salty liquid slid down her face, unable to control itself as it dripped into Mangleclaws' puddle of blood. Blood still poured out of Mangleclaws' chest and stomach. It seeped into the earth that so eagerly welcomed it, quenching its thirst as it absorbed the blood rapidly. Mangleclaws' expression was blank, lifeless, drained of emotion and energy. 

"Oh? Well, I don't care," shrugged Soulflight. "Now get out of the way."

Skywatcher charged at Soulflight, eyes glinting with determination. As she hared towards him, Soulflight noticed her legs trembled with rage, her face twisted in a furious snarl. One who had just lost a loved one would not fall to the chains of misery, but the bonds of revenge. And to be honest, Soulflight pitied her. After all, he had lost his parents. It was that which made him this. Maybe if he reasoned with her...but for now, she was a pest. Soulflight simply flapped his wings, rising into the air, and smashed Skywatcher's skull into the ground, not enough to kill her, but enough to knock her out. That should keep her down for a while. 

He opened the door, waiting for his enemies to get down the massive palace. It was about 200 stories high, and elevators couldn't be used because of the fire. The path of stairs winded down in a small, stuffy place, so that eliminated the choice of flight. Since bedrooms used to be on the highest floor, that must have left his enemies fatigued. Something Soulflight had caused. 

A few minutes later, huffing and puffing dragons appeared down the stairs, freezing in place and reality as they recognized their former prisoner's face. The mad, deranged look on his face lit up as he let out a terrifying cackle, scanning them from head to claw. Beads of sweat dripped down their backs and faces, leaving them in a hot, sticky, mess. They were burned badly. His mind smoldered in rage and insanity, twisted and demented. 

He had really, really, lost it. 

"Darling-" the dragon in the very front pleaded.

She a pitch-black dragon with magnificent purple eyes, clusters of stars thriving in the vast night which were her wings. She looked almost undistinguishable from his mother-and that infuriated him. It was a sore reminder of how her mother died, and this despicable little thing had replaced her?

Rage burned him as he trembled in fury, piercing a glare into her scales. Appearances were deceiving, so utterly judged upon sight. Every layer of heavy makeup, every little squeak, could manipulate any weak-minded, thoughtless dragon. But not Soulflight. How could it? How could it phase his twisted demeanor, his new self? Appearances were meant to be lies-torture even.

 She flinched away at his cold stare, her violet eyes cast on the ground. "DO NOT CALL ME DARLING! THAT WAS WHAT MY MOTHER CALLED ME!"

"But-" she protested, her purple eyes wide with panic. Prey instinct. He knew it when he saw it. He saw that little glint in all the victim's eyes. They all knew their precious life's string was about to snap. So fragile, so tender, so easy to break.

"Son-" started the other dragon, a raven black dragon with piercing green eyes. His wings were strewn with stars, glittering amongst the depths of the vast, dark expansion that seemed to go on, and on forever.

"SHUT UP! THREE MOONS, YOU HAVE EARS, DON'T YOU? STOP TRYING TO MANIPULATE ME AND GET INTO MY FEELINGS!" snarled Soulflight, his eyes ablaze with rage. His dark tail lashed in fury. "You ruined my life!"

The sky darkened overhead, the stars twinkling. The light shone pale on the stones of the wrecked garden, making them glint silver as he spoke. It was getting late. He would have to do this quickly.

"It's not like that-" the purple-eyed evil clone of his mother protested.

"Not like what?" Now the burning rage in him only seared deeper into its depths.

Rage was a strange sensation, indeed. It was certainly different than the delight and friendship Soulflight had once been bred into, had once distinguished as a life he'd always thrive in. How wrong he had been! The thought of what Soulflight was now sent rage thrumming through his body again, adrenaline coursing through his veins.

"I know you made sacrifices-" started the green-eyed evil clone of his father.

"Do not speak to me of sacrifice. My life has been nothing but a jail, a prison cell of torture. It is a compromise of the possibility that is offered. You do not understand the true meaning of sacrifice, cruel one. You have forced it into my talons. My life has been sacrificed. My years as a dragonet were stolen from me. You do not speak of what you don't understand," snapped Soulflight. "All this you took from me." He flicked his tail to the burning castle, towers smoldering and still in flames. "And now, I will bargain my life for yours."

He pushed the purple-eyed clone of his mother into the flames, relishing her screams as they sung to the misty night air, smirking as she fell under the flickering inferno, devoured by the flames.

The clone of his father was frozen in shock. "I didn't think-why would it-oh, three moons..."

Fraudulent sympathy coated Soulflight's tongue as he gazed at the wicked clone in thinly veiled contempt. "Oh, I'm so sorry for your loss."

He spun around, eyes sad and dripping with tears. "It's your loss too."

How dare he say that, when she had destroyed his life! He pushed the dragon into the flames, a falling chunk of marble ending his misery quicker than Soulflight desired.

He thought of once when his mother told him that every birth was the birth of a new life, a new possibility, a new glorious era. It seemed the deaths of the former rulers had begun this Golden Age.

A small cough sounded behind him, and Soulflight whirled around to find Skyreader slowly awakening. He lunged at her, pinning her to the ground. "Don't try anything," he warned, a tint of aggression lacing his tone.

But her dark brown orbs were only heavy with grief, tears running down her face. "I didn't think your condition was so bad...we shouldn't have stopped to rest...should have gotten here sooner...the hallucination medicine was definitely destroyed...he didn't get a chance to drink the serum..." she muttered to herself.

"What?" Soulflight snarled, mind whirling as he was lost again in the depths of confusion, trying to figure out what she meant and untangle the mystifying mess. "I don't know what you're talking about."

But she only gazed at him sadly, her eyes hollow. "You killed them. Mangleclaws-and your own family."