Shop Mobile More Submit  Join Login
About Artisan Crafts / Hobbyist Sera CrossFemale/United States Recent Activity
Deviant for 8 Years
Needs Core Membership
Statistics 247 Deviations 385 Comments 10,395 Pageviews

Newest Deviations



Truffle Pikachu by Winged-kitsune
Truffle Pikachu
Totally just realized that I never uploaded an independent image of my Truffle Pikachu design. XD
MBS - Chubby Starters by Winged-kitsune
MBS - Chubby Starters
After drawing up a truffle pikachu, I knew I had to complete the set with these guys. I decided to try out a more simple look by leaving out the shading and highlights that I usually put in my art. What do you think?

These starters will be featured in our next batch of charms. I will provide a link when they're available. :3
“Papa?” Syra had never seen her father this tense. The air had become eerily still. Rigel’s pupils narrowed, focusing on the splatter of lights nestled in the valley below. The crash of wood echoed up the hills followed by the clamor of screams and battle cries. From the depths of the trees, a shadow rose and descended upon the city, spewing thick pillars of flames.

“Get inside.” Rigel commanded.

“What? Why?”

“Now!” Rigel whipped his tail around Syra and slung her towards the lair entrance. Above her, the air whirred with wingbeats as dragons poured from the caves dotting the mountain range. All headed for Altaira.

“What’s going on?” Syra pleaded, resisting her father’s shepherding.

“No time. Cassius! Petra!” Rigel’s voice boomed into the tunnel, with the twins scrambling outside moments later.

“What’s happening?” Petra’s voice wavered a slight as she and Cassius ducked away from the wave of adults surging out of the cave.

“I need you to stay here.” Rigel said, sliding Syra over to her siblings. “All of you.”

The twins nodded and Rigel leapt into the sky, the rush of wind from his wings nearly toppling them over.

“Wait! Where are you going?” Syra called after Rigel, racing to the edge of the ledge.

“Let’s go, Syra!” Cassius beckoned her as he and Petra returned to the tunnel. The sound of flapping made him double back. She was gone. “Syra!” he roared, “Come back!” But all he could see was her small frame jetting down the mountainside.

The firelight grew as Syra neared the city. She had lost sight of her father, but illuminated by the flames, she saw an army of humans fighting off a wave of ogres making their way through the shacks and cottages of the outer city. They shrieked and boomed and stumbled as fire rained down from Montari’s reinforcements. The stench of charred ogre flesh hit Syra hard even at this distance. Below her, Ethan and Aidan ran through the fields with an ogre thundering close behind. Ethan ducked into the forest and Aidan veered into the meadow behind the castle. Being a lazy brute, the ogre took after the younger brother, hoping for an easy kill.

“Aidan!” Syra dove towards the scrambling boy.

“Marrak!” Rigel’s voice cut through the chaos and Syra looked up to see her father slamming into a massive Ignis dragon. “Stop this right now! This is no way for a Vayguard to act!”

The Ignis male righted himself midair, banked, and turned his bull-like horns at the Montari leader. “Didn’t you get the memo? I’ve been relieved of that position!” His jet black scales glowed like lava rock as his throat filled with flames. “All thanks to you!” White-hot plasma surged from his jowls, jetting at Rigel.

Rigel howled, dodging too late for his tail to miss the blow. “What? When?” He swerved left and right, dodging the bombarding blasts. Looping around, Rigel retaliated with a cone of blue flames.

Marrak smirked and let the searing torrent crash over his back. The thick coating of basalt, garnet, and obsidian from his countless dives through Mount Blackstone simply sparkled in the fire light. “Don’t act like you don’t remember, Commander!” He twisted and flared his wings, the sudden drag causing Rigel to collide right into him. They fell, spiraling downwards, talons locked. “One mistake,” His chest glowed and rumbled, “And I lost my clan, my family…all because of your arrogance! And now, I’m just returning the favor.”

Marrak’s flames surged in his throat and Rigel clamped his jaws around his neck, twisting his body, and redirecting the flames downward. Downward towards the meadow, and towards Aidan.

Syra’s muscles screamed as she pumped her wings harder. Swooping over Aidan, she threw up a barrier around them. Aidan screamed as he watched the ogre’s body incinerate in front of him, the flames breaking over the golden barrier like water over stone.

Marrak’s red eyes widened at the sight of Rigel’s daughter. The last time he had seen her she was a mere hatchling who insisted on perching on his horns. Now she stood a budding mage protecting a human. She’s just like you, Nova, he thought. But that was years ago, and she was his perfect little trump card.

“Well, looky here! Someone’s brave!”

“Marrak, don’t! She’s still a wyrmling!”

A dark and giddy grin slid across Marrak’s eel-like face. “Oh, but she’s your favorite.” His hind foot slashed at Rigel’s underbelly, slinging him off. He dove at Syra and Rigel bolted after him.

Below, the barrier faded and Aidan curled into a ball, screaming.

“It’s okay, I’m not going to hurt you!” Syra insisted.

Aidan poked his head from under his arms and started in surprise. “It’s you!” He said, recalling their earlier meeting.

“Syra!” Rigel slammed into Marrak and they skidded across the meadow, the heat from Marrak’s body burning a scar through the patches of greenery. “You will not harm her.” Rigel pinned Marrak to the ground, his scales starting to glow with heat. He winced and Marrak chuckled. With a thrash of his tail to the ground, Marrak flipped Rigel onto his back and shoved his face into the ground.

“You need to learn your place, Rigel.” Marrak sneered, his snout pressed to Rigel’s cheek. “Just because Draco’s your ancestor does not make you perfect.” Steaming blood dripped from his neck wound, landing on Rigel’s face and causing his scales to melt. Rigel clenched his jaw from the hot pain and Marrak laughed out loud. “You can’t even take a little heat!” He took a clawed hand and gripped Rigel’s left horn, holding him steady. “I will find those shards, Rigel. Doesn’t matter how well Nova hid them, I will find them and then destroy your precious family one by one,” Marrak grinned at Syra’s fear-struck face. “Starting with her.” He clamped his jaws around the base of Rigel’s horn, the heat from his mouth sending Rigel into a fit. Then it snapped.

With his head free, Rigel spewed flames into Marrak’s face. Marrak  rocketed into the air, prize clenched tight in his hand and Rigel right on his tail.
Syra nudged Aidan to his feet and pulled him away from the city. “Come on! You have to get to safety.”

“Wait! I have to get my brother!” Aidan said, ducking away and running towards the forest with Syra chasing after him.


The sky above the forest vibrated with roars of battle as Rigel and Marrak wrestled and exchanged slashing blows.

Marrak swung his massive clawed hand and caught the side of Rigel’s neck. Blood flew, pearling and falling into the trees. He fell, but managed to correct himself, slamming into Marrak’s chest. Marrak clawed his sides and Rigel clamped his jaws around Marrak’s previous neck wound, using the pain in his sides to bite down harder and crack through the igneous armor.

He couldn’t hold on long. An Ignis’ body temperature mirrors their volcanic habitat, and despite the fire-proof lining, his mouth was beginning to char.
Rigel pumped his powerful wings, dragging Marrak higher. He peaked then dove, plummeting for the trees. With a guttural heave, he slung Marrak downward, sending him crashing through the canopy.

Marrak’s hide was thick, thicker than many Ignis due to his age, but his bones would still be crushed from a bad fall. Rigel just hoped that was enough. He felt himself go lightheaded and his vision faded for a moment. He strained to stay airborne and return to the lair; by now his chest was slick with blood and all he could taste was metal. It had better have been enough.


Ethan had stopped running to catch his breath when he heard a loud roar and whizzing overhead. Just ahead, the trees crashed and a heavy thud shook the ground. He crouched behind a boulder and covered his face from the flying debris.
When the dust settled, he was mere feet from Marrak who laid crumpled and limp on the ground. The last flickers of a barrier dissipated and a heavy groan rumbled in his bloodied throat.

“Magic?” Ethan  hushed to himself.

“Surprised?” Marrak’s voice was faint and raw. Like the Montari, the Ignis weren’t known for being overly talented in magical arts. Marrak was among the few, but by and large they were a warrior clan. But given that the Ignis had very little to do with humans, and that the one staring at him now was just a lad, he figured the boy had little knowledge on the subject.

Ethan jumped back in surprise, tripping on roots and falling on his butt. Marrak simply watched the boy fumble for his sword with ladened eyes.

“Who are you?” Ethan demanded, pointing his sword at Marrak. “Why are you attacking us? What did we do to you?”

A chuckle scratched at Marrak’s throat. Pitiful thing thought a sword would do anything.

“Nothing,” He grinned at Ethan’s confused expression. “I merely need to flush out the king.” He rose on shaky legs, gripping his trophy.

“Ethan!” Aidan’s voice called through the forest.

“Run away!” Ethan gripped his sword and dashed forward, aiming for Marrak's throat.

“Now,” Marrak growled, filling his chest with fire. “On to Act Two.”


Aidan and Syra weaved through the forest after Ethan and were greeted by a flash of fire through the trees.

“Ethan!” Aidan screamed, leaping over fallen limbs.

Aidan and Syra burst through the underbrush and skid to a halt.

“Ethan, where are y—” Their eyes are filled with horror at the sight of Ethan’s body lying burnt on the ground. His princely clothes and silken hair were charred, leaving only scorched and melted flesh.

“Oh no…” Syra whimpered.

“Ethan!” Aidan wailed and fell to his knees beside his brother, searching for any sign of life but careful not to touch him. He didn’t stir. “Why?” Aidan’s broken voice waivered with his shaking, pools forming in his young eyes.

“I-I don’t kno—”

“Why? What did we ever do to you?” Aidan screamed, snarling up at Syra who faltered, not knowing what to say.

“Ethan! Aidan!” A middle-aged man called from horseback, his purple cape singed.

“Papa!” Aidan cried, running to his father in sobs. Syra darted deeper into the forest, watching from beneath a bush.

Rogan, Aidan’s father, leapt from the horse and wrapped tight arms around him. “Thank goodness you’re safe! Where’s Eth—” Rogan went pale as he stared down at his eldest son.

“No…no it can’t!” He fell to Ethan’s side and lifted his head with gentle, trembling hands. “Ethan? Ethan, wake up my son. Please?” He bit down hard on his lower lip but the tears still came.

“Dad?” Ethan’s squeak was barely audible.

“Ethan!” Rogan and Aidan breathed in relief. “Thank the heavens!”

“Dad?” Ethan continued, though his breathing was labored and shallow. “I’m sorry.”

“What? Why should you be sorry? You’re alive!” Whether it was out of hope or denial, he kept smiling down at his son.

“He got me first. The dragon.”

“A dragon did this?” Rogan exclaimed; the stab of betrayal was palpable. Ethan tried to nod but his green eyes glazed over.

“Ethan, stay with me!” Rogan had to shake him to keep him conscious.

“Sorry, dad. Seems I’m a bit sleepy.” A weak smile creased the raw skin on the side of his face.

“Listen to me,” Rogan pleaded, “You have to stay awake. If not you’ll—”

“It’s okay. It’s doesn’t hurt.”

“But I don’t—I don’t want you to go!” Aidan burst into tears.

Ethan just smiled, “Hey, you gotta be strong now, little one.” He strained to talk. “I wasn’t strong enough and this city is going to need you.”

“But I need you now.”

“Promise?” Ethan held out a shaking index finger.

Aidan sniffed back a sob and nodded, latching his tiny finger in Ethan’s, “Promise.”

Syra could watch no longer. She slipped from under the bush and hurried back to the lair, with a sinking feeling in her gut.


Cassius and Petra raced to Syra as she landed outside the lair entrance.

“Syra!” Cassius said, wracked with worry, “where have you be—”

“I can’t believe you!” Petra screamed, spitting flames at Syra’s feet, her face contorted by pain and anger.

“Petra, calm down!” Cassius said.

“No!” Petra blew more flames and Cassius shoved himself between her and Syra, puffing his chest.

“Petra, enough!”

“No! She can’t just fly off like that and think it’s okay!”

“Of course it’s not okay! But at least we know she’s safe!”

“Now we do! But what good is it? Papa, he’s…he’s…” Petra broke into sobs and ran into the cave.

“Petra, wait!" Cassius and Syra chased after her.

Syra halted at the end of the tunnel and watched Cassius dive off the ledge into the Main Chamber; a vast cave where the core of the mountain had been hollowed out and was lit by hundreds of amec crystals. Starlight beamed from the skylight and elegantly carved stone bridges crisscrossed down multiple stories. The chamber was silent except for Petra’s wailing and the rush of water on stone from the underground waterfall that formed a chain of pools at the chamber’s base. Dragons, large and small, lined the carving-adorned walkway that spiraled down the chamber. Rising from the bottom, a glowing amec monolith towered over Rigel’s crumpled form.

“Papa?” Syra dove off the ledge and glided down to the crowd of dragons surrounding him.

“Put up a barrier and double patrols! We don’t know when he’ll come back.” Rigel commanded through raspy breaths.

The crowd bowed and withdrew, revealing the gash in his neck and the red puddle growing beneath him.

“Papa!” Syra ran to his side and clamped her hands against his neck, the gash much larger than her little hands could cover, “Just hold on!” She breathed deep, steading herself and focusing all of her energy into her hands. She felt the warmth expand from her chest and down her front legs, but the magic only managed to sputter and spark around her hands.

Rigel turned to her, his eyes barely able to focus, “Syra…’

“It’s okay! I can do this!” She focused harder, but her breathing was shallow and her hands were shaking, and only more sparks came. She choked back a sob and tears fell as her magic failed.

“Syra, listen,” Rigel shifted away from Petra who clung to his arm, and pulled himself closer to Syra. Pulling the stone from under a scale, he held it out for Syra. “I was supposed to give this to you when you breathed your first flame, but it seems I won’t be able to do that.”


“Take it. It’s enchanted and Marrak will try his best to get it.”

“Why? H-how am I supposed to stop him?”

“It was your mother’s, so I’m not sure how it works. But she was positive you’d find a way.” He strained to breathe, “I’m sorry, Syra. You’re so young and it’s so soon…too soon.” The light from his eyes faded. “You are the heir to the clan, and now it falls to you. Please protect it.”

Rigel fell still. The whole clan was silent. Syra was in shock, Cassius turned his back, and Petra broke down in wails.

“No,” Syra shook his arm and grew frantic, “Papa no, you can’t! Don’t leave me! Papa!”

Then there was light. Dim at first, but grew like a sunrise from within Rigel’s corpse. It grew, then shone, then his body was nothing but light. It was warm and bright, and glimmered with stardust.

“What’s happening?” Syra panicked as the light waved and swirled under her hands.

“Essence, my love.” Vega, Syra’s grandmother and Rigel’s mother, said wistfully, “It is his essence. Watch, now.”

Like water, the light flowed from the Syra, wrapped around Cassius, Petra, and Vega—who stifled a cry, herself—and meandered towards the monolith. It spiraled up the crystal, whose glow radiated and sent shimmers throughout the chamber. And then it grew, and branched, and condensed. The light then dimmed, and in its place a glorious tree stood, its arms outreaching and its leaves as gold as Rigel’s scales once were.

“It’s magnificent, Rigel,” Vega cooed to herself, “As expected.”

“Papa…”Syra coughed and choked on her tears. She wanted to run to the tree and claw at it, to rip it apart and dig out her father who would, somehow, be sleeping inside. She wanted to summon every archmage in the clans and bring him back, even though she knew there was no such spell. No, he was gone. Her guardian, her teacher, her hero, was gone.

“Syra,” Vega stepped towards Syra, grief and pride churning in her sea blue eyes, “It is time.”

“What? No!” Syra shrank back as Vega bowed, lowering her head to her feet.

“You have my fire.”

“No, wait! Stop!”

One by one the entire clan bowed, chanting, “You have my fire!”

Syra stumbled backward, her gaze jumping around the chamber in panic. You still can’t breathe fire, can you? You’ll never become Vayguard like that! If only you took after your mother. Reason after reason came washing over her and she clenched her eyes shut.

“No! No, I can’t! Not me! Not now!” Syra bolted from the gathering and soared into an upper cave out of sight.

“Syra, wait!” Cassius called, going to chase after her.

Vega stepped ahead and stopped him, “Give her time.”


Light from crystals illuminated the large stone den. Worn books and scrolls lined the periphery and an alchemist set stood in one corner. A map of the dragon clans adorned one wall and a small pile of human-made stuffed animals covered the foot of Syra’s bed of moss.

Syra sniffed backed tears as she huddled behind a curtain of vines that veiled her moss-covered cubby hole. Petra was right. She didn’t become Vayguard through strength or valor. Her father had to die for it to happen. How pathetic. How sick. And she had caused it. If she had just followed his father’s orders, like a good wyrmling, he wouldn’t have had to protect her. How could anyone follow me after that? She thought.

“Petra, you’re being unreasonable.” Cassius’ voice echoed from the hallway outside Syra’s room.

“Shut up, Cas! I don’t want to hear it!”

Syra crawled from her bed and peeked into the hallway. In the shadow of a carved pillar, Cassius and Petra argued, both of their frills flared and red.

“I’m just as upset as you, but she’s Vayguard now and we have to honor that.”

Petra clawed at the floor, tail quivering. “Father is the rightful Vayguard! Not her! She can’t even breathe fire! How is she supposed to lead, let alone protect us?”

“We’ll just have to teach her.”

“No!" Petra hissed, “No, I will not! If it weren’t for her, father would still be—”

“Petra, enough! How many times do I have to tell you that?”

Petra stalked towards her own room, tears brimming and legs trembling.

“She’s our sister…” Cassius said in a whisper.

Petra’s gold eyes glared in the shadow, “I don’t care,” Pain contorted her face, “I’ll never forgive her.” She waved him away with her tail and disappeared into her room.

Cassius sighed and followed suit.

Syra stood silent, cold and hollow. She was right. It was her fault. No matter of training or fire breathing could reconcile that. Please protect it. Rigel’s words nearly made her laugh this time. As if fire breathing wasn’t impossible enough.

I lost my father and sister in the same day, Syra swallowed the knot in her throat and bolted down the hallway, leapt into the main chamber, and sprinted out of the lair.

The terrace was deserted and she threw herself onto the ledge, her claws scraping the side.

“I’m sorry, Papa! I’m so sorry!” She wailed at the starry sky, pleading for just one to twinkle at her as if her father were still watching her.

She pulled the stone from under a scale and just stared at it. A plain, gray stone broken in half, with nothing special about it save a little magic. Just like her. “How is one stone going to fight off Marrak?”

Then, as if in response, it glowed. From within the stone, a light grew and shone and condensed into a beam. A fine beam of light that pointed down the mountainside and into the valley below where it rested just outside the Altairan gates. Syra’s mouth wagged in amazement. Was this the enchantment her father spoke of?

The light flickered then faded, leaving her with a decision. She stood and looked back at the tunnel entrance for a long moment. She was positive you’d find a way. And then the moment was over.


The night air was cool and refreshing to her heated skin and tearstained face, and the lights shining from the city ahead of her gave her a new sense of purpose as she soared over the meadows patched with charring, and she fought the battle to look down where Marrak had pinned down her father. No. No more crying. Not over that. You can’t keep running away! Rigel’s words spurned her onward, past the charred ogre and past the forest where Marrak fell. No, from now on she would cry only to keep going. It was the only way to fulfill her father’s last wish; to protect the clan.

Gliding down to the edge of the city, she saw two guards on duty by the gate. Flames still lingered in the trees and she took shelter in a thick bush. From her hiding spot she studied the guards’ anatomy; two arms, two legs, one head, but no tail or scales, just some fur atop their heads. Not too bad, she thought. It should be possible. Closing her eyes, she breathed deep and concentrated, feeling the warmth spread from her chest outward and all over. Light shimmered around her and she felt lightheaded for the first time. This form must take a lot of mana, she thought, thinking it odd. But humans were different from birds or cats or otters, so maybe it was to be expected.

The light dissipated, leaving a young girl crouched under the bush. Blinking, Syra spent a moment just analyzing the hands in front of her. As she thought, there were no scales, just soft, tan skin that was incredible sensitive, especially at the fingertips. And no claws, if you could even call them that. The teeth were her biggest surprise, as she ran her tongue along the dull ridges in her tiny mouth. The fur atop her head was bark brown and tumbled down her back in soft waves. She tussled with it a bit, having no idea what to do with the stuff.

She stood, or at least tried to stand. She found balancing momentarily difficult until she managed to brace herself against a tree. Then it was on the hard part, walking. She stumbled quite a few times before growing accustomed to the muscle movement.

Syra was just about ready to approach the guards when, mid-stride, her foot hit a root hiding under the leaf litter. She tripped, stumbled, and fell hard into the trunk of a tree, jarring a burning branch from its place above her.

It burned, and she screamed. Syra had been hit with flames several times, mostly from Petra, and it never more than tingled. But this human skin, it was so weak and fragile, even the scraping from the bark hurt. The branch had partially trapped her under itself and she flailed her limbs trying to dislodge it, all the while the flames licked her skin, causing it to blister.

“Hey! Who’s there?” A man’s voice called through the brush. The guards, they must have heard me screaming, she thought. She wanted to call for help, but all of her words came out in nonsense screams. “Hold on, we’re coming!” She heard the crashing of footsteps and felt the weight lift off of her, but the pain still prevailed. She clung to herself, but any touch sent spasms through her body.

“Oh, good lord!” She heard one guard yell. There was a whoosh of wind then a soft weight that surrounded her. “Miss? Can you hear me?” The guard spoke softly with a tender voice. Syra nodded, feeling the fabric of the cloak the guard had draped over her naked body. “Good. Can you open your eyes?”

Eyes, right. She had those. Luckily, the fire hadn’t reached her eyes and they fluttered open with no issue.

Knelt before her was a young man, probably in his twenties, with a very worried look about his face. “Are you alright, miss?”

Syra went to stand but flinched as the cloak grazed the blisters on her back, “It hurts.”

“I’m sure it does,” The guard, Kaelem, said, “You have some pretty severe burns. We’ll need to take you to the infirmary for treatment.”

Given the context, Syra assumed an infirmary was similar to a healing den, so she nodded in agreement. If it got her into the city and took this pain away, why not?

“Can you walk?” The second guard asked, helping her stand. She nodded again.

They led her to the gate where Kaelem unhitched his horse and carefully sat her atop of it. The second guard remained at the post while she and Kaelem trotted through the streets towards the infirmary near Altaira’s center.

“What’s your name?” Kaelem asked.

She hesitated, but decided that she couldn’t afford to come off as suspicious.


“And your surname? Maybe we can find your family.”

“Surname?” Syra looked up Kaelem confused. Dragons never used surnames. It was up to the individual, not the family, to determine their honor and worth to the clan. Of course, there were always expectations, especially of a Vayguard’s line.

“I see.” Kaelem’s expression became more concerned, but he said nothing.

Syra turned her attention to the shops and houses and cabins lining the streets as they passed. Some were crafted from wood, others from stone, others had rims that shown like metal.

They rounded a corner and the scenery took a drastic change. Rows upon rows of buildings laid wasted by either ogre barrage, dragon fire, or both. Some streets were even blockaded by the debris of the collapses. Marrak did this, she thought, And he did it so easily.

Yet another turn brought them to the Inner Ring of the city where there was less destruction.

“We’re lucky the ogres didn’t get this far,” Kaelem said, “All of our supplies and aids are housed here.”

“I guess it’s a good thing the dragons came to help, huh?” Syra forced herself to hide her pride. But Kaelem only grew cross.

“Those dragons can shove it.” He said, furrowing his brow.

“B-but, why?” This made no sense to her. “Didn’t they help you?”

“Yeah, for now. You can never tell with those monsters. They were probably all in it together.”

Syra wanted to disprove his suspicions, but it would only make her job harder. So she kept quiet until they arrived at the infirmary.

The infirmary was a large, domed building with shining blue roof and blue banners hung around its perimeter, each with the Altairan crest embroidered proudly. The light from inside lit up the plaza that surrounded it, and voices bounced off the white pillars into the night air.

“Come,” Kaelem said, helping her from the horse and taking her small hand, “I know just the person to get you fixed up.”

Inside, the main hall was filled wall-to-wall with people. Rows of cots held the injured as men and women in purple capes with blue banners rushed about tending to them.

“Excuse me,” Kaelem said, stopping a medic that ran by,” Where’s Valen?”

“He should be in Section Three,” said the medic before hurrying off again.

“This way,” Kaelem guided Syra further into the hall, weaving through the throng of people and down and across rows into a separate section marked by columns.

As they walked, Syra surveyed the injuries. There was everything from broken bones, to burns, to missing limbs. Some were, of course, worse than others. All around people were crying or moaning, either from pain or fear for their loved one.

Humans are really weak, Syra thought, remembering how much her burns hurt. How do they manage to survive?

“Papa! Papa don’t go!” The cry of a child made her tense. Her eyes darted to a young boy crying at his father’s side, his mother distraught in wails. Syra felt her eyes fill and blur her vision. I’m weak, too, she thought, blinking them back.

“Valen!” Kaelem called to a dark-haired man in a purple cloak with gold banners tending to an injured woman; an archmage.

“Be right there, Kaelem!” Valen said, waving.

“You should rest,” Kaelem turned to Syra and motioned to a cot, sitting her down. “Oh, can I get one of those?” He stopped a medic carrying blankets, “Thanks,” He took one and draped it around Syra, careful not to graze her burns.

“You’re good at this,” Syra said.

Kaelem laughed, “I’ve had practice.” He retrieved his own cloak from Syra. “My son thinks he’s twice as old as he is, which doesn’t go well with the other squires.”

Syra picked at the wool cloth in thought, “Maybe he should be the one practicing.”

Kaelem burst out laughing and patted her head, “You’re probably right!”

“Kaelem!” From among the crowd, Valen hurried towards them, “What do we have here?”

“This is Syra,” Kaelem explained, “We found her by the West Gate. She seems to have been caught in the forest fire. Her burns are quite severe.”

“I see,” Valen said.

As he passed an examining eye over her, Syra noticed the bandages on his face and neck, “You’re hurt, too.”

A small grin peeked through Valen’s solemn demeanor, “Many people are, my dear.” He knelt down and reached for her arm, pulling back her blanket. “Kaelem?” He asked, snapping her blanket back into place, “Where are her clothes?”

Kaelem shifted his weight, a hair uncomfortable, “She had none, sir. Nor does she recall having a surname.”

Valen’s face darkened, “I see.”

“It is possible she came from the Outer Ring.”

“Hm,” concern wrinkled Valen’s brow, “We’ll leave that matter for another time,” he said, returning his attention to a confused Syra. “I beg your pardon, little miss, but I need to inspect your injuries.” He lifted the blanket as little as possible as Kaelem turned his head.

“I thought you said her burns were severe.”

“Are blisters not severe, sir?”

“They are, but these aren’t blisters. Look,” Valen said, showing Kaelem Syra’s arm. The blisters had vanished, leaving only red, sensitive marks.

“How is that possible?”

Valen looked closer at the burn marks, noticing a faint glimmer beneath the skin, “Syra, do you normally heal this quickly?”

“Yes, why?” answered Syra.

“It’s just something very special. Very few people do, and even then it takes years of study and practice.”

Syra was completely lost by the point.

“Watch this,” Valen placed a hand lightly on her arm and breathed deep. Light shimmered beneath his hand and warmth spread through Syra’s tiny body. Her eyes widened in awe when
he removed his hand, revealing healthy, unscarred skin.

“How did you do that?” Syra exclaimed.

“Would you like to learn?” Valen asked, chuckling.

“Yes, please!”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

This was perfect. If she could study here, she could better her own magic and search the city.

Valen rose to his feet and turned to Kaelem, “She’ll heal on her own. Right now, I need you to fetch Rogan.”

Kaelem hesitated, “Sir, I don’t think he’s in the right mind right no—”

“Now is the perfect time. Go, please?”

“Yes, sir.”

Minutes later, Kaelem returned with Rogan, half beside himself, “Valen, what is so urgent that I had to leave my family?”

“Her,” Valen stepped aside and Rogan’s body tensed. The round, tear-filled green eyes of a child spotted with burn marks drudged up a memory he was trying desperately to forget.

“What of her? Heal her and find her family. I should return to mine.”

“That’s just it, she has no family.”

Rogan stopped.

“She was found naked and burned with no surname,” Valen said.

“A Throw-away?”

“We believe so.”

“What would you do with her? Throw-away’s have very little skills.”

“On the contrary, sir. She’s gifted.”

Rogan spun on his heels and stared down at Syra in near unbelief, “Are you now?”

“What’s ‘gifted’?” Syra asked, looking to Valen.

“Magic, my dear. Can you use it?”

Her face brightened, “Oh, yes!” Pride came into her voice, “I’ve been practicing.”

“She’s been practicing,” Valen repeated, turning to Rogan.

“I assume you want to enroll her into the Academy?”

“I feel she would do well.”

The men were silent as Rogan contemplated.

“I’m not very strong,” Syra piped up, grabbing their attention, “And I’m pretty small, but I’m smart and practice hard! So please, can I stay?”

“If she qualifies, I have no qualms with her attending,” Rogan finally said.

“Thank you, sir. But there remains one issue,” Valen said, “She has no family. No one to take charge of her or a place to stay, and I have no room in my quarters.”

Rogan stared down into her determined, green eyes. How was it that right after he watched one pair fade, another appears? She was not Ethan, no matter how hard he wished those eyes belonged to his son, and that scene on the mountainside was just a stress-induced dream. But she was small and young, probably around Aidan’s age, and apparently smart and hardworking, and gifted. If he wasn’t ridiculed for rejecting an able-and-willing child, he would certainly be for denying a gifted person access to the Academy, let alone sending them—and their power—to a neighboring city.

“I’ll take care of it,” Rogan finally said.

“That’s wonderful, sir! Thank you,” Valen said.

“Please don’t thank me,” Grief saturated Rogan’s low voice, “It just so happens we have a spare room.”

Valen quieted himself, “Understood.”

Rogan leaned over and patted Syra’s disheveled head. She saw the pain hidden behind his eyes, and for a moment they shared a glimpse of empathy.

“I’m sorry for your loss, little one. I hope you can find a sense of home, here.”

“Thank you,” Syra said with a crack in her voice.

Rogan turned from them and headed for the castle, “Have a medic bring her some clothes then bring her to my quarters. I’ll take care of the rest.”

Valen bowed as he walked away, “Yes, your majesty.”
Heart of Fire - Chapter Two: Room for One More
Ahhh, such a long chapter! But I enjoyed writing it. I totally cried.

As always, I love critiques, so feel free to comment. Chapter Three is halfway done, so stay tuned.

Chapter One
This was her favorite game, hide-and-seek. A simple human game, but one Syra excelled at, to the dismay of her less observant younger brother.

“Ready or not, here I come!” Cassius clamored through the leaf-strewn understory in a gallop. His third pair of horns—a male trait—had just grown in and he thought himself a capable adversary.

Syra fled her perch atop an exposed branch and slid into a mass of leaves. Mischief twinkled in her jade eyes as she watched Cassius dart about, looking in all the wrong places. Finding his search fruitless, he padded off deeper into the auburn forest.

Out of earshot, Syra slinked onto a lower limb, her predatory gaze locked onto the oblivious wyrmling. Her body stiffened. Claws gripped the bark, her chest puffed with air, and a glow washed over her bronzed scales. Her spine shortened, her wings disappeared, and her scales elongated. With an exhale the light dissipated, leaving an iridescent bird in her place.

Shapeshifting. An ability not uncommon to dragons, but rare among the Montari Clan, one Syra often took advantage of.

She dove, eyes on the prize that was Cassius’ rump.

“Ow!” Cassius yowled, spinning and caressing his pecked posterior. Syra banked sharp and dive-bombed his head, landing a few good blows to his crown. He roared and flailed his arms, his tail thrashing. In a whir, Syra fluttered to an overlooking limb and trilled in triumph. That would teach him humility.

With a quick sniff, Cassius snapped an accusing glare at Syra. After sight, smell was a dragon’s best sense, and Cassius’ best defense against his sister’s scheming.

“That’s cheating!”

Syra fluffed up and dove again. This time he ducked. She banked through the trees and, in a flash, returned to dragon form, her clawed hands outstretched and aimed at Cassius’ head.

“Just because you can’t, doesn’t make it cheating!” Syra tackled Cassius with a hard thud, sending them tumbling. In their spinning, Cassius managed a foothold on her stomach and catapulted her over him.

“Uh, yeah, it does!”

Syra twisted in the air, barely landing on her feet. A toothy grin curled. He had gotten stronger. But was he faster?

“So whatcha gonna do about it?” She mocked, pivoting on a hind leg and dashing into the air.

“Oh, no you don’t!” Cassius leapt off the ground with flittering wings, slipping briefly on the leaf litter. They weaved and dodged and looped through the stands of autumn-touched trees, the golden light sparking off their metallic scales. Bursting through the tree line, Cassius pulled ahead of Syra, his chest heaving and the flower-ladened meadow a blur beneath them.

“Guess you’re not as fast as you thought!” He called through pants.

“Heh,” Syra chuckled; she was done playing games. She straightened her neck, aligning the ridge down her spine. Her chest and side muscles tensed and her wings pounded against the air, propelling her past Cassius and sending him spinning. “Guess again!”

Cassius righted himself and took off after Syra who ducked into a stand of tall grass. Thud!

“Oof!” Syra said.

“Hey, watch it!” A female voice barked from the grass.

“Oh, sorry, Petra…hey, wait! N-no!” Syra bolted from the grass, nearly colliding with Cassius as a ball of flames jetted after her. Behind the charred grass, a copper wyrmling crouched with steaming jowls and a fowl attitude after being rudely awakened.

“Can’t get away that easy!” Petra, Syra’s sister and Cassius’ clutchmate, joined in their game of cat-and-mouse, though her flying skills were the least impressive of the three. Her muscular bulk, while excellent for brawling, added troublesome weight that made sharp turns darn near impossible.

Syra held the lead, as was typical, with Cassius then Petra tailing her. With a tilt of a wing, Syra banked a sharp left.

“Bashta!” Cassius cursed and swung himself around hard, his clawtips grazing tree bark. Petra’s momentum, however, was not tolerant of such turns.

“Move!” Petra smacked Cassius right in the hindquarters.

“Watch the tail!” The two squabbled in the air like children too deep in a swimming pool.

By now, Syra was leagues ahead and even their dragon-vision only caught a glimpse of her shiny rump mocking them.

“Your butt is mine, Syra!” called Petra, pumping her wings harder and sending a warning fireball, which Syra dodged with ease.

The three siblings left the shade of the forest and their pupils adjusted to the open sky over the Crystal Mines. Below them, a worn road trailed to the mountain’s base where grown dragons mined glowing, purple crystals and a caravan of humans lined up to make their trades.

Mana crystals—in this case, Amec crystals—were the staple energy source for all five races and a prized commodity, one that only dragons and dwarves had apt skills to mine. But with the dwarves gone, trade had turned to the generous Montari Clan for supplies. Not that they minded much. Dragons of all species had a particular love of all things shiny, sparkly, and good-tasting, and the craftsmen and bakers traded these eagerly.

“Mm, this always makes me hungry.” Cassius said, eyeing the purple stones which were their dietary source of mana.

“Afternoon, young ones!” A husky male called up to them as he finished loading a cart with crystals and precious gems and ores. There were, of course, more than just crystals below the Silver Moutains. “Come to make trades, again?”—he tossed three crystals in the air—“Have at ‘em!”

Swooping down, they caught their collateral in tiny claws and flittered off to the line of wagons.

“Woah!” A scruffy, raven-haired boy clambered over his older brother’s shoulders watching the trio dart cart-to-cart examining goodies. “There are even tiny dragons!”
Aidan, a strapping prince-in-training of ten years, had never seen dragons before. His older brother, Ethan, had thus thought it a fitting birthday present to show him the Trade Caravan. Well, that, and he hoped that he would actually learn something about economics. But that might have been far-reaching.

“Of, course there are tiny dragons, silly!” Ethan grabbed Aidan just as he was climbing the canopy and sat him back beside him. “They’re probably wyrmlings. Just like you!” He tickled Aidan in the side and ruffled his hair, which was already messy enough. At fifteen, Ethan was courteous, gentle, and clever. Add his flaxen hair and he was the perfect prince. But he wasn’t opposed to occasional poking at Aidan’s lack of a growth spurt. “Here one comes! Hold it up so she can see!”

Aidan shoved his offering—a pastel and puffy pastry—into the air. Syra buzzed passed and looped around their wagon, landing atop the canopy. She sniffed the air and climbed down the side of the canopy cage, gaze focused on the sweet morsel. They were her weakness.

“Keep it still.” Ethan whispered to a mesmerized Aidan, his dark eyes wide and mouth gaping, a shriek coming up inside.

Syra leaned forward, clutching her crystal, her scaled snout inches from Aidan’s hand. He snapped his mouth shut to keep from screaming. Syra lowered her head to Aidan, eyes locked and silent, examining. Aidan swallowed hard.

“Trade?” Syra held out her crystal and Aidan jumped back. The sudden break in silence, and the fact that she could speak, startled the poor boy. Both Syra and Ethan burst out laughing and Aidan flushed red.

“Don’t leave the lady waiting, Aidan!” Ethan prodded Aidan in the side.

“Trade.” Aidan handed over the pastry to Syra, who trilled and dropped the stone into Aidan’s shaking hand. A feint giggle escaped Aidan’s lips as he watched Syra’s delight at such a small offering. But his giggling was cut short by Syra shoving her snout inches from his nose. She studied his face, his black eyes, and sniffed.

“Thanks…Aidan.” Syra huffed a strand of hair from his face and leapt from the wagon in a rush of wind.

“Are you finished yet?!” Petra whined from a stone ledge.

“Yes, Petra, we can go now!” Syra said, flying back into the forest with her siblings, leaving an awestruck Aidan gawking after them.


The trio landed by a gentle stream to inspect, and eat, their trophies. Syra, per her usual indulging, stuffed the entire cake into her mouth. She cooed and her neck frill rose at the burst of sweetness not typical of a carnivorous diet.

“You’re gonna get fat, you know!” Petra said, pointing a mocking claw at her stomach.

“I am not!” Syra muffled through cake-filled cheeks. There was icing smeared all over. She was never a clean eater. “What did you get?” she asked, finally swallowing.

“This,” Petra held up a metal dragon sculpture, her snout pushed into the air. “Papa’s gonna love it!”

“If he even has room left on his mantle.” Cassius said, organizing the tools tucked into a cloth pouch.

“And what treasure did you procure, may I ask?” Petra snapped.

“Just some tools for Tarys,” he said, “He’s decided on apprenticing as a mason and needed a new set.” He paused and watched Petra through narrowed eyes. “Or would you prefer to give these to him?” He snickered with a sneer at Petra’s flared frill and wagging mouth.

“W-why would I want to do that?! H-he’s your friend, not mine!” Petra stuttered, turning her back.

“Yet you pad after him constantly.”

“Shut up!” Petra spat, shooting a jet of flames at his smug face.

He dodged, leaping onto a river rock, “Aw, did I pull a heartstring?”

“I said, shut up!”

Back and forth, the twins exchanged fiery blows, the flames causing steam to rise from the stream. Syra wiped her muzzle clean and watched from atop the small waterfall with downcast eyes.

“What’s wrong, Syra dear?” Petra teased, “Don’t you wanna join in?”
Syra’s jaw tensed.

“Petra…” Cassius hushed.

“Oh wait, you can’t can you?” Petra spat.

“Just stop.” Cassius said with lowered head.

“Oh, come on, Cas ! It’s her own fault she can’t breathe fire!” Petra took too much pleasure in drawing out those last three words as her gold eyes leered up at Syra.

“Of course, I can!” Syra said, puffing out her chest. “It just…comes and goes sometimes!”
Cassius and Petra raised their eyebrows in disbelief.

“Well then show us if you’re so sure of yourself!” Petra said, giving Syra her full attention.

“Fine, I will!” Syra took a solid stance astride her rock. “Just watch!” She focused, inhaling deep and opening her throat. She clenched her stomach and exhaled. Nothing.
Cassius and Petra snickered.

“Alright, so I need to warm up! Watch this!” Again she focused, inhaled, and tightened her core. This time a deep rumble came from her chest. Cassius and Petra went silent and watched wide-eyed. Then it came. A deep, long belch that echoed off the trees and smelled of burnt meat and fish.

The twins fell into the stream laughing and Syra drooped in defeat and frustration.

“I guess big things do come in small packages!” cried Cassius, mirth gathering in his eyes.

“Oh, yeah?” Syra called, as a jet of water crashed into them both, knocking them on their rumps. “Bet you can’t do that!” Syra stood, head high, with an orb of water floating above her glowing hand.

Petra snarled, thrashing her tail and Cassius wriggled his hindquarters in a crouch.

“Now you’ve done it!” Cassius said, lunging at Syra.

Syra dodged, causing Cassius to slip and tumble into the water. Petra leapt up the waterfall and joined Cassius in his attempts to tackle the bouncing runt as she bounded rock-to-rock, avoiding their attacks.

“How about this?” Syra said, throwing up a shimmering barrier as Cassius lunges. He slams smack into it. “Or this?” Syra slams her hands onto the water, freezing a strip in front of a charging Petra and sending her sliding. “Or maybe even…” Light encircles Cassius and Syra raises her arms, lifting him into the air.

“Gained a little weight, have you Cas?” Syra groaned, straining to keep him airborne.

“Please don’t drop me.” Cassius said, flailing.

“Okay, we get it already!” Petra snarled, spitting fire at Syra and causing Cassius to plummet into the stream.

“She dropped me.” Cassius said, spitting up water.

“You’re good at magic, big deal!” Petra said. She stalked towards Syra, head low and teeth bared, pushing her to the edge of the falls. Her throat lit up and flames skipped across the water, making Syra jump back and nearly topple over the edge. Syra flailed her wings, steadying herself. Petra sneered and let the flames lick at her jowls before dying, “You’ll never become Vayguard like that.” Petra growled, a slight pleasure rumbling in her throat.

“A bit harsh, don’t you th—” Cassius said.

“Look at you! You’re small and weak and only good at running away. A magical barrier can only last for so long, Syra. What will you do then?”

Syra hesitated.

“I thought so—” Petra’s gloating was cut off by a long and low roar from the mountain peaks. “Papa’s home!” Petra turned her raised snout from Syra before taking off. “A dragon is nothing without fire.”

Petra and Cassius took off towards the mountains, leaving Syra fumbling on wet stones.


On an overlooking ledge just beyond the tree line, Rigel stood waiting. The last rays of day sparked against the golden scales that covered hard and lean muscle, as the clan Vayguard kept a sharp eye awaiting his offsprings’ return. In his waiting, he pried up a chest scale with large but nimble claws, and dislodged a small stone that appeared to be broken in half. The glimmer in his icy eyes dulled as they stared down.

“Show me.” Rigel hushed, his timbre weak and thick with longing. The stone glimmered. Around a horn, lightened runes etched themselves from tip to base, the light pooling in the deep scar encircling the base of his left horn. From the stone an image flickered, feint like a memory faded with time. Yet his eyes clung on, desperate and forlorn, to the repeating hologram of a laughing dragoness with a gold ring encircling her left horn. “Nova…”

“Father!” Petra cried in greeting, skidding to a halt from a not-so-soft landing, causing Cassius to trip over her.

“So there you are!” Rigel said, tucking the stone under a scale and regaining composure, “I was wondering if I would have to eat your dinner for you.”

“Not a chance!” Petra padded to her father and rubbed her body against his tall legs, a coo vibrating her throat.

“Where’s your sister?”

Petra’s tail dropped, “Probably still failing at fire training.”

Rigel sighed, looking to Cassius, “She’s still having trouble?”

Cassius nodded, “Seems like it. But she’s still trying.”

“Trying isn’t good enough!” The tip of Petra’s tail twitched. “You either do, or you don’t. Trying will just get you killed.”

“Petra, enough, please.” Cassius said, following her into the lair entrance.

“What, am I wrong?”

“No, just—”

“You make fun of her, too. So don’t act like your poo don’t stink!”

The twins continued to argue all the way into the lair, their banter echoing off the carving-covered walls of the entrance tunnel.

“Draco, help me.” Rigel sighed, shaking his head.

“Papa!” Syra soared over the ledge in a huff and landed with a short hop. “Sorry I’m late! Petra and Cas left without me.”

“So they did. They just arrived.”

“Oh,”, Syra picked at the ground with a claw, “Well, then I’d better get in there before they eat everything!” She feigned a smile and trotted to the entrance.

“Syra,” Rigel said, stopping her in her tracks. “I hear you’re still struggling.”

“Ugh!” Her body drooped and she threw her head back in exasperation, “Those loud mouths told you, didn’t they?!”

“It doesn’t matter who told me. We need to talk about—”

“Not again, please!”

“Syra, you know this is an essential skill to have, especially as clan heir. As Firstborn, you should—”

“Should have already mastered it, I know.” Syra paced the worn stone ledge.

Rigel softened at his daughter’s dilemma, “I’m just trying to help.” Grief passed over his eyes. “If only you took after your mother.”

Pain flickered across her face, but she turned a soft grin to her father. “I have her magic.”

Rigel nodded and gave her a quick pat in the head, “That you do,” He stared down into the bright green eyes looking up at him, the gold flecks sparkling at their center. “And her eyes.”

“And I can out-speed anyone!” Syra’s confidence made Rigel laugh.

“Oh, can you?”

“Yep! Just ask Cas and Petra!”

Rigel was confident in her flight and magical abilities. He had seen her agility multiple times over and had fallen victim to her shapeshifting pranks even more so. But Petra had a point.

“Indeed, those skills are beyond commendable. But, we are more than teeth and claws, Syra. When you are snout-to-snout with an Ignis, even your mother’s fire did little damage. What will your magic do? Speed and barriers are excellent support, but in battle they’re just not en—”

“Oh, so you’re saying I’m not good enough?!” Syra snarled, her frill rising in anger.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Yes it was!”


“No!” She stood her ground, but her voice still cracked. “I’ve tried countless times, but guess what? I can’t breathe fire! End of story!” She spun and darted off towards the forest. “Sorry to disappoint you.”

Rigel went to chase after but stopped, “You can’t keep running away from this!”

“I’m not running away!”

“You’re doing it right now!”

She stopped, grimacing, “No, I’m no—”

The bright call of a war horn cut through the trees and Rigel stiffened to attention, lifting his head above the canopy, his gaze set on the city glimmering at the base of the mountains. “Altaira…”
Heart of Fire - Chapter One: Firstborn
:happybounce: So I finally finished chapters 1 & 2! Originally, they were going to be combined into one chapter, but after discovering the overall length, I decided to separate them. Feel free to tell me if this does/not work. XD

Don't be alarmed by the juvenile speech, Syra & co are quite young here (~10 yo) and things are going to real, quick.

I do not have a subscription yet, but feel free to point out anything you like or feel needs work. I'm particularly interested in pacing, tone/voice, dialogue, and description.

Prologue Chapter Two


Winged-kitsune's Profile Picture
Sera Cross
Artist | Hobbyist | Artisan Crafts
United States
Current obsession: Pokemon

Name: Brittany
Age: 25
Occupation: Graduate student (Biology Major), Teaching Assistant
Location: Georgia USA
Hobbies: Photography, CG Anime, Jewelry Making, Baking, Creative Writing, Science, Daydreaming, Video Games, Sleeping, Facebook
Likes: Free Time, Chocolate, Sleep, Cats
Dislikes: Anything boring and tedious, Early Mornings (before noon), Bugs, Smelly Dogs, Hot Weather, Sour things, Slow Internet!

Like my etsy on FB!!…

For those of you who don’t know, “Heart of Fire” is my current writing project (or obsession if you live with me). Originally written as a screenplay, it is being rewritten for print as a YA novel series (because it is ridiculously difficult to pitch a children’s CG script as an unknown).

One advantage–and at times disadvantage–is the ability to include limitless detail into the world created. This is by far my favorite, and brain-wracking, aspect of the writing experience. I am both excited and overwhelmed to join the class of “world creators”; from building continental maps (trees are a bitch!), to detailing the creation, use, and biology of items and creatures (best believe there WILL BE an itemized document), to creating the culture and language (shoot me!) of all FIVE main races involved in Syra’s (MC) journey across mountain, plain, and floating forests!

Aside from giving an up-close tour of the world, the goal of this series (4 books, currently) is to expose readers to hard, real-life situations in a fantasy setting. For a generation emerging into a culture of political debate and correctness, racial and sexual turbulence, financial class division, a widening age gap, and broken families, it is important to relate to others who share the same confusion, insecurity, and distrust one has when seeing the world for the first time with eyes unclouded by child naivete.

Syra, the good-hearted but naive protagonist, fills this role of liaison. A product of a broken family, she is caudled in a superficially utopian city until they discover she is not like them; not even the same species. Her mission takes her, along with her estranged siblings, a temperamental pixie, and an ex-fiance, on a circum-regional journey through all five realms to meet the five races and the instabilities that inhabit the Tairon Region. (And that’s just Book 1)

Throughout the series, themes of love vs. duty, (un)forgiveness & redemption, envy, family bonds, good vs. evil, and leadership shape and reshape characters into people they never expected to become.

TLDR: In short, I’m writing a YA book series I think is really cool, and I hope you’ll think it’s really cool, too. So, I will be posting each new chapter as they’re written in hopes that more people will enjoy it–and I’ll, mayhaps, get more critiques, cuz those are expensive. XD *nervous laugh* Did I mention Syra’s a dragon?!
  • Mood: Pride
  • Listening to: Ending of Madoka Magica
  • Reading: A Gift of Dragons by Anne McCaffrey
  • Watching: Once Upon A Time, MLP: Fim, Pokemon X Y
  • Playing: Story of Seasons 3DS
  • Eating: leftovers
  • Drinking: Water

AdCast - Ads from the Community





Add a Comment:
DatFMCobalion Featured By Owner Oct 7, 2015  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
Don't mind the excessive faves, you have a cool gallery ^^
Winged-kitsune Featured By Owner Oct 10, 2015  Hobbyist Artisan Crafter
Haha! No problem, dear! Thank you much!
DatFMCobalion Featured By Owner Oct 10, 2015  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
You're welcome ^^
Fede-comics-Fedextre Featured By Owner Sep 24, 2015  Student General Artist
happy birthday!!!!!!=D=D=D=D=D=D

:ihavecaek: :ihavecaek: :ihavecaek: :ihavecaek: :ihavecaek: Happy Birthday Godliek :D 1st Emoticon: Happy Birthday Happy Birthday Godliek :D :ihavecaek: :ihavecaek: :ihavecaek: :ihavecaek: :ihavecaek:
Winged-kitsune Featured By Owner Sep 25, 2015  Hobbyist Artisan Crafter
Thank you!
Fede-comics-Fedextre Featured By Owner Sep 26, 2015  Student General Artist
you welcome!=) :hug:
flippedoutkyrii Featured By Owner Sep 24, 2015  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
Happy birthday ^^
Winged-kitsune Featured By Owner Sep 25, 2015  Hobbyist Artisan Crafter
Thank you much!!
pazlowq Featured By Owner Sep 24, 2014   Traditional Artist
Happy Birthday!
Winged-kitsune Featured By Owner Oct 1, 2015  Hobbyist Artisan Crafter
Thank you! =^0^=
Add a Comment: