Prophecy

The pearlcatcher's eyes glistened mysteriously as she shut her eyes and began telling Prophecy's fortune.

"The mists of your future are laden with trouble. You will face hardships, but through it you will find happiness... Go forth with this in mind. Through wind and rain and crystals cold, the fate of fate will be foretold. To avoid the divide of destiny's strings, a prophecy true must intervene."

Prophecy was confused by this, but before she could ask any questions, the pearlcatcher shook her head, wished her good luck, and ushered Prophecy out of the tent. The puzzled fae found herself lost in the bustling crowd of the carnival. Then she heard her name being called.

"Prophecy! Prophecy, where are you?"

Prophecy smiled in relief and sped towards her mother's voice, the magical lines of the pearlcatcher already fading from her memory.

---

"Prophecy, quickly! The rope! For heaven's sakes, child, the rope! The leader's son just tried ghosting and failed! If he dies out there, it will be your fault!"

Prophecy quickly cast a spell, and the rope flew across the lair and out, into the blizzard. She tightened it around the barely-visible form of the battered guardian and dragged him to safety.

The dragons around her, who had been helping tug the rope, now rushed forward with exclamations of worry. Prophecy herself was clipped by the wing in the confusion, sending her flying.

"You're welcome," she whispered sarcastically to herself as she dusted herself off.

The leader's son was in a frightful state. Ice and snow caked his freezing scales, and his wings were frozen stiff. Prophecy had just flown back into the air when somebody casted a warming spell on him. A pool of water formed around the guardian as he thawed out.

The guardian shivered as the warming spell spread through his body. Then he straightened himself, indignant and embarrassed, and looked for somebody to blame for his misfortune. He was still young, after all, even though he was relatively unharmed.

His shrill voice rang off the stone as he pointed towards Prophecy and said, "You! Servant! How dare you... you... whip up the wind intentionally! I know you have faith in my powers, but that is just setting me up for failure! Guards, take her away!"

A thousand searing insults formed a white-hot ball in Prophecy's throat, but she managed to keep her face submissive. The guards looked at each other, shrugged, then nodded and guided Prophecy away from the group of dragons, which had gone back to fussing over the guardian.

One of the guards turned to Prophecy as soon as they were out of sight. "Sorry," he said. "You know how difficult he can be... And since he's our esteemed leader's son, we can't exactly oppose him."

Prophecy was still angry. But she nodded and replied demurely, "Oh no, it's no trouble. I understand."

She flew away.

Ghosting - the clan's leading family held a technique, created by the great-great-great-grandparents of the current leader. It was a technique that allowed one to change the fabric of one's form in order to become one with the storm, and be able to effortlessly move through it. The secret of it was jealously guarded by the leading family, and they were revered for it. Almost every dragon in the clan bowed their heads to that family.

But Prophecy hated being treated as a servant just because her leaders knew a magical technique that nobody else did. She had her own powers and should be respected for what she did. Her prowess with magic was enough for her to have learned how to ghost simply by watching other do it! But no, her blood wasn't good enough, so she had to act meek and ignorant.

When could she just act like herself for once?

---

The sky was dark grey and choppy; an omen of a bad storm to come. Fate looked up worriedly. He was on his morning flight around the territory, just to stretch his wings a little. But it seemed that he had wandered a little too far. And no other dragons were up at this time... Fate pushed away his anxiety and told himself that if he flew fast enough, he would beat the storm. And that he was probably imagining that he felt icy droplets on his wings.

He was just in sight of the lair when it hit, hard. Fate's surroundings blurred with white snow, and he was tossed back and forth by the howling wind. He didn't know if he would make it. Please, Icewarden, let me live, he thought distressedly.

A heartbeat later, he saw a speck in the air. The sheets of pure white were closing in on him, but he thought that he saw... a dragon?