Wildfire

Wildfire Clan of the Forgotten Dreams - The Burning Orphan Theme song Theme song 2 Vengeful - Bitter - Unpredictable

The gods set me on fire.
Now they are the ones who burn.

Forged from fire and hatred, Wildfire is an orphan with no love for the gods. The world had broken and shattered her heart beyond repair, and now vengeance is the only thing that burns in her. Once upon a time her scales were a beautiful light green. Now they are the color of fire and hatred

Wildfire was an orphan from birth, having been raised only by her older sister, Spritling. Neither of them remembered their parents, having escaped from an orphanage, and made their life among the thieves and scavengers in the streets by stealing and pickpocketing in the markets. They made their home in the market, learning to defend themselves from the monsters that lurked in the dark.
Spritling was a kind sister, doting on her younger sibling and defending her with a fierce determination that few can match.
However, when Spritling was 14 and Wildfire was 6, disaster struck.
No one knows what happens, Spritling and Wildfire the least of all. Wildfire remembers that day as a blur, a flash of rapid-events one after the other.
All she remembers was a male shopkeeper chasing her. She was cornered after a long run and the shopkeeper was closing in, angered by her stealing from his wares. And then…
And then…
Wildfire remembered nothing more than this, other than the fact that one moment he was there, standing in front of her, and the next…
And the next moment….
He was naught but ashes…
The next thing she knew, the market was burning, with Wildfire trapped directly in the center of the inferno, surrounded by fires and screams. Countless dragons were trapped within its maze-like walls.
The smoke made it impossible to fly, leaving dragons grounded and stampeding each other in their desperate race to exist.
Many dragons died, crushed beneath unyielding claws and talons. Countless more died from the smoke, and the remainders were picked off by the flames. The market was a maze, a maze which was next-to-impossible to escape from.
Of the entire 371 dragons who were in the section of the market when it burned…
Only 91 survived…
And of the survivors…
Only two still remembers the tale.
Wildfire, and her sister Spritling.

After the inferno, Spritling found her sister curled up in one of the burnt market stalls, surrounded by the charred corpses of the dead.
And without a single scratch.
Impossible.
The stalls and stores around her sister were completely burned away, as if the Flamecaller herself had descended to lay waste their home.
There was no way she could have survived that.
Wildfire was told that it was a miracle, that she was very very lucky to have survived the fire, that the flames were a freak accident.
But many knew better.
Suspicions arose from the masses.
How could a hatchling like her, weak and starving, manage to walk through the flames of one of the largest fires known to dragonkind and waltz out the other side completely unscathed and without a single blemish on her?
How could Wildfire have survived?
Impossible.
Soon rumors began to fly.
She was blessed by the Flamecaller. The deity decreed the hatchling to live and singed her out to prove it.
She was enchanted by the Arcanist, the result of one of his experiments gone wrong.
She was a fireproof mutant.
She was a freak.
She was the one who caused the flames.
The mobs muttered and hissed among each other, discussing the fates and the strange case of Wildfire, the hatchling who woke up surrounded by the charred bones of thousands.
The freak.
The mutant.
The monster.
Soon Spritlinng decided enough was enough. Grabbing her sister and their few earthy possessions, Spritling set off with her sibling in search of a new home, fleeing the charred graveyard of the market behind.
However, no matter how far they went, how far they ran…
The catastrophes followed them one after the other.
A forest fire when Wildfire broke her leg in a fall…
A volcano eruption when Wildfire was cornered by a gang...
A sudden river of magma separating Wildfire and a would-be mugger…
One by one, the “accidents” kept on happening.
It was the same drill each time. Wildfire would be hurt or in danger of some kind, and the next thing she knew she would wake up covered in soot, surrounded by ashes and flames and without a single scratch on her.
And each and every time, they had to flee from the mobs that pursued the sisters.
The sisters gained an unfortunate nickname: the Chimaera sisters, who brought fire and destruction wherever they went.
No matter where they wandered, where they crossed, the villagers turned them away, calling them bad luck and curses.
The more extreme ones even tried to kill them.
However, through fire and flood, they held on to each other.
No matter the cost, Spritling refused to abandon her sister. She was her sibling’s Guardian, and she refused to leave her to the mercy of their pursuers.
She vowed to protect her sister with her life.
Little did Spritling know that the cost of Wildfire’s life would be her own.
One day, the final disaster struck.
Spritling and Wildfire were travelling through the Volcanic Vents, struggling to reach an isolated village who did not know of the sister’s notoriety.
They were weary, hungry, tired and injured. They had lowered their guard in the ashy wastelands, expecting nothing but ashes and bones.
They were wrong.
A nearby Serthis clan did not appreciate them wandering into their territory.
The dragons were easy prey for them, and the clan took them down with ease.
Herai, the Serthis leader carried a deep and bitter resentment for dragons, and decreed that the sisters would be thrown into the magma pits.
With their wings bound, and their claws tied, the sisters could only watch in horror as the Serthis dragged them ever closer to their doom.
Spritling was particularly inconsolable.
Screeching and thrashing, the young Coatl fought with all her strength, clawing and thrashing to the best of her ability.
It was no use.
There was no way out.
Wildfire watched helplessly as her sister was thrown into the magma pits.
Screaming for the deities to help her, screaming at them to spare her sister.
Screaming for some, anyone to rescue them.
She screamed and screamed…
But no one came…
Wildfire could only watch in horror as her sister burned to death before her.
In that moment, Wildfire realized one painful truth.
No one would ever come.
No one.
Not the gods, not even the Flamecaller who “blessed” her with this ability.
No one.
No one was going to rescue her.
No one.
And in that moment, the child inside Wildfire burned, burned like her sister had, burned like all those dragons in that market so long ago.
And in her place…
The Chimaera rose from her ashes…
Wildfire roared with the fury of the sleeping volcanos and rallied them to her cry.
And around her, the flames bent to her command, dancing and taunting straight from the forges of hell.
The Serthis clan had never seen anything of the such.
No dragon nor beast had ever seen anything of the such.
More specifically, no dragon nor beast had ever seen anything of the such and survived.
The vengeful flames danced at her command, danced at the “harmless” hatchling’s wishes.
Dancing the dance of death and vengeance.
Wildfire was found, hours later, covered in soot and ashes, surrounded by the charred bones of the Serthis clan…
Smiling a frozen smile, wearing the child’s mask, Wildfire carried her sister’s lifeless body away from the vents, heading towards the Arcane domain.
She wanted answers. And where else would be better to find them other than the domain of the most curious deity in all of Sornieth?
Fearless had found her, a weak staggering dragonet, carrying the burnt and rotting body of her sister through the mountains. Taking pity on the Coatl, the Guardian brought her before the Clan and Lyra, petitioning for the Fae to allow the hatchling to stay.
Her request was granted.
Over the years, Wildfire had grown into a fierce and independent Coatl, brave and daring. Her smiles can warm the coldest of hearts, and her eyes twinkle in the dimmest of lights.
However her touch always seems to be suspiciously warm...