Petal jerked awake. Green covered her vision, vines wove around her arms and horns. They were everywhere, really. Petal took a blossom and watched it bloom into a flower of her own creation. She massaged her memory and tried to recreate the last thing she saw before her deep sleep. Extending a talon, she traced a talon print. ‘From a RainWing...’ she thought. It hit her. The last thing she remembered was a dragon chuckling, “Useless. You know there is know way to save Pyrrhia, now.” He blew a dart and she fell back, softly as snow falls, into the grass. Her last wish was: “Send me to sleep until this dragon dies. Send me to sleep until I see a prophecy in my own eyes.” Yes. The prophecy. She coughed and prepared herself. And hoped everything would go right. Meanwhile, a continent away, a SeaWing animus was hatching.
A land of flowers, a land of love.
A place where you can here the song of the dove.
This land will fall, under clouds of thunder,
by attacks from under.
The dragons to stop this, the dragons to find me waking
One blue dragon will be born shaking.
Mother of ice, father of sea,
will live to see,
glory and fame,
never in vain.
Daughter number one will die, daughter number two serves and makes pies.
Daughter number three, though, will bestow the greatest fame of saving the land of rain.
@tcssr_vivianz (daughter 2, animus)
@Dinogirl518 (daughter 3, animus)
Sleet, F @Sidewaysjellyfish (daughter 1)