A Message of Harm, A Message of Death

This story was randomly generated by yours truly. What I got was this;

The protagonist is a NightWing who has to leave the kingdom to prevent a prophecy from coming true. On the way, they meet a SandWing who is sympathetic and helps them complete their goal. They also meet a SilkWing who is secretly an assassin sent to assassinate their queen. (Check out my generator by the way. Click here.)

Part One: Some Assembly Required[]

Chapter One[]

Crisisbringer streaked around a corner. Queen Victorious had called for her minutes ago. And Victorious didn’t like waiting. Crisisbringer (or Crisis to her friends) entered the throne room, panting. “Y-you called for me, your majesty?” Crisis said.

“I did.” Victorious replied. “You remember Fateteller.” She gestured to a small, thin NightWing that sat by the side of her throne. “Of course.” Crisis replied. “He has received a dangerous prophecy.” Victorious continued. “Go on, Fateteller.” Fateteller stood, and said in his shaky, nervous, old voice, “A message of harm, a message of death, ready your arms and hold your breath. On the wings of crisis, a sandstorm follows, and a butterfly’s loyalty shall remain hollow.”

“My word.” Crisis breathed silently as the queen continued.

“I guessed the ‘crisis’ could only refer to you.” Victorious said. “As for the ‘sandstorm’ and the ‘butterfly’, I believe these refer to a SandWing and a SilkWing. Perhaps they can assist in stopping this prophecy.”

“Not meaning any disrespect, my queen,” Crisis said nervously. “But- the line about the SilkWing. ‘A butterfly’s loyalty shall remain hollow’. That sounds like they’ll betray me.”

“It is a risk.” Victorious said. “But one I am willing to take. Go and visit the armoury. Jewelguarder can give you some armour and weapons. Good luck. The fate of this kingdom rests in your talons.”

And I’m going to drop it like I drop everything that’ll break if my claws slip. Crisis thought, but she dipped her head to Queen Victorious before heading to the armoury. Jewelguarder waiting, her glistening black scales seeming to glow in the torchlight. “Aight, armour…” Jewelguarder said thoughtfully. “And you’ll be wanting a weapon… I’ll give you a spear. Have you worn armour before?”

“Only once.” Crisis answered. “When I was a dragonet.”

“Okay, that means I get to help you!” Jewelguarder said happily. “I think you’re a small.” Jewelguarder walked down the long hall and came right back carrying a net bag full of bits of armour that clanked together. “Here you go!” Jewelguarder said, dumping the metal down with a noise like it was dropped off a cliff onto a rocky beach. “Thanks.” Crisis mumbled, and began to strap the armour around herself. She’d forgotten how cold it was. Jewelguarder watched with a smile, and, once Crisis was done, handed a spear over. “Put that on your back.” She said. “It won’t tangle with your wings then.” Crisis had some trouble, but finally, she was ready. “You look just like a guard!” Jewelguarder said. Crisis’s heart was now some hundred metres underground, but she thanked Jewelguarder again and flew towards the exit.

Chapter Two[]

A few days later, Crisis was flying across the SandWing kingdom. Very hot. Very dry. Mostly the heat. Crisis felt like she was being roasted alive inside her armour. Relieved, she spotted an oasis below her. She dived towards it, removing her armour and stopping there for a break. Thank you, Queen Victorious, for sending me to the desert with armour, but no water. Crisis though annoyedly. A clink behind her alerted her. Crisis turned her head, and could hardly see the SandWing standing behind her. “What are you doing here?” the SandWing asked. Uh oh uh oh uh oh uh oh. Crisis thought, but formulated a vague plan. “Uh- I’m a NightWing soldier.” she said. “I’m just stopping for a drink.”

“Really?” the SandWing asked sceptically. “What’s a NightWing soldier doing out here?”

Oh, moons above. Crisis thought, panicking. That was pathetic. “Okay, I lied.” Crisis said. “Queen Victorious made me wear armour for this. I didn’t want to.”

“And what would ‘this’ be?” the SandWing asked. Should I tell him? Crisis thought, then decided this SandWing seemed a bit fierce to lie to. “There’s a prophecy.” she admitted. “A message of harm, a message of death, ready your arms and hold your breath. On the wings of crisis, a sandstorm follows, and a butterfly’s loyalty shall remain hollow.”

“Huh.” the SandWing said, visibly calming. “So, is that why you’re here?”

“Yep.” Crisis replied. “Queen Victorious thinks that the ‘sandstorm’ and the ‘butterfly’ is a SandWing and a SilkWing-“ Oh three moons, I’m such an idiot. “You must be the SandWing!” she said excitedly.

“Woah woah.” The SandWing said. “I didn’t ask to be involved in a prophecy!”

“Neither did I.” Crisis admitted. “But- it’s destiny you happened to be here at the same time as I was!”

“Or a coincidence.”

“Doubtful.”

“Okay. So, let’s say I am. I don’t even know you other than ‘the weird NightWing not-guard who is still sitting in my oasis.” Crisis laughed. The SandWing grinned. He had a nice smile. “I’m Crisisbringer.” Crisis said.

“What kind of parent named their dragonet Crisisbringer?”

“I don’t know. I just go with Crisis.”

“Okay, that sounds slightly better.” the SandWing said. “I’m Simoom.”

“To quote you, ‘What kind of parent named their child Simoom?” Crisis replied. Simoom gave her a look, but he was still smiling. “So, the other dragon is a SilkWing?” he asked.

“I guess so.”

“Well, where are we going to find one? Don’t they live on another continent?”

“If I have to go to Pantala to stop this prophecy from coming true, I will!”

“Wait, what?” Simoom asked. “Stop the prophecy?”

“Well, it has ‘harm’ and ‘death’ in it. One would assume that those are bad.”

“I mean, I thought we’d be saving the world.”

“We are.”

“Can’t argue with that.” Simoom said. Crisis took off into the air, with Simoom just behind her. He seems nice. Crisis thought. I’m still worried about the ‘butterfly’ who’s loyalty is ‘hollow’. Hopefully I won’t die. Hopefully.

Chapter Three[]

Crisis and Simoom had been flying for ages. Like, hours. Crisis's wings were starting to ache. She flapped harder and almost dropped her spear. “Can we land?” she asked. “I can’t even feel my wings!”

“Same here.” Simoom called back, spiralling down. Crisis landed on the warm sand and dug her talons into it. She’d never felt sand before today. It was soft and warm. Very nice. Simoom walked over to a cactus, and grabbed one of the arms. He yanked it off and handed it to her. “What’s this?” Crisis asked.

“Drink.” Simoom replied. “Cactus juice isn’t as good as water, but it’ll do.”

“Oh.” Crisis tried it. It tasted a bit bitter, but still.

WIP