Whiplash woke up in a cold sweat. These blasted nightmares were getting out of hand. It certainly didn't help that Queen carlet prefered to keep him sedated! It didn't matter either way, the Queen was either going to give him to Burn to be stuffed just because of his species or she'd put him up against her champion of the gladiator arena. It's true though Whiplash was a one of a kind type of dragon. His home used to be located on a series of small islands in between the waters of the ice kingdom and the sky kingdom. There were dragons like him that lived in those islands. They were called Razorwings and those were the only type of dragon species that Whiplash knew of back then. Then tradegy struck and those islands were occupied by nothing but graves. Whiplash was the only who survived and in grief he flew to the mountains, that turned out to be the sky kingdom, only to be imprisoned by the skywings. At least here he got some education from an old dragon named osprey. He learned about the other type of dragons, the geography of Pyrrhia, and about the war and the prophecy foretold to stop it.
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The cell door creaked open, and in walked Osprey, his scales glinting in the dim light. He was an old dragon, but his eyes held a wisdom that belied his age. He carried with him a sense of calm that seemed to fill the room.
"Whiplash," he greeted, his voice echoing slightly off the stone walls. "I thought we could use a chat."Whiplash looked up from his corner, his startling blue eyes meeting Osprey's. "What is it this time, Osprey?" he asked, his voice laced with a hint of resignation.Osprey settled down on the cold stone floor, his gaze never leaving Whiplash. "I've been hearing rumors," he began, "Rumors about a prophecy, about a dragon who's supposed to change everything."Whiplash snorted, a puff of smoke escaping his nostrils. "And you think that's me?" he asked, a bitter laugh escaping his lips.Osprey didn't respond immediately. Instead, he studied Whiplash, his gaze thoughtful. "I don't know," he finally said, "But I do know this - you're not just any dragon, Whiplash. You're a Razorwing, the last of your kind. And that makes you special."Whiplash looked away, his tail flicking restlessly. "Being special hasn't done me any good so far," he muttered.Osprey nodded, understanding the bitterness in Whiplash's voice. "Perhaps not," he agreed, "But remember this, Whiplash - it's not what you are that defines you, but what you do with what you are."With that, Osprey stood up and walked towards the door, leaving Whiplash alone with his thoughts.