THESE ARE NOT MY CHARACTERS. They are the amazing author Tui's ;).

Darkstalker:

Tap- tap- tap.

"He's coming, look," a gentle voice echoed. There was a great danger, something that he could prevent! He just needed to come out now.

"There's a storm coming. Does that make a difference to your moon superstitions?" Was the storm the horrible danger? If he managed to get out now, maybe he could save them all! The second voice had a cold edge to it, like a blade left out in the snow.

CRACK-CRACK-CRACK. The smooth walls of his shining silver egg broke away and a tiny newborn dragonet stood on top of the mountain. The three full moons in the sky poured the moonlight all over him. He squeaked once, and turned to stare at him parents. One was midnight-black, the other silvery-blue. He knew at once that the black one, Mother, was the parent he belonged with. For a while, the three of them stared at each other.

"Darkstalker," cooed his mother. "Hello, darling." The two mates, parents, whatever they were, started bickering again, this time about his name. Darkstalker bared his fangs angrily at his father, whose mind was such a mess of blood and death and guilt, it was hard to even look at him. As they were fighting, Darkstalker slowly walked to the other egg in the nest he had once been trapped in. A thousand futures flashed before his eyes, and his claws started tingling with power. He could see the odd, beautiful dragon that would come out, and the power the two of them would hold. Darkstalker reached toward the egg, his talons barely brushing against the egg.

Suddenly, there was a loud CRACK! and the egg turned silver just before it broke apart. Foeslayer and Arctic turned to look, threads of excitement running through their heads. Darkstalker sister, curled into a ball was revealed. Arctic strode forward and picked the unusual dragon up. The scales on her body were black, with hints of blue, but her wings were the color of snow, along with her claws and spikes along her back. Jet-black scales shimmered against the white of the underside of her wings. Her name was Whiteout… and she was beautiful.

Whiteout:

When Whiteout first went hunting with Darkstalker, she thought there was no end to the endless blue sky and the towering trees. Pale blue flowers dotted the hillsides, the sun cast a gentle glow over the land, and the air was filled with the sweet scent of flowers and the delicious scent of fresh prey.

"I never realized the world was so nice," commented Whiteout, drifting on her wings. There was a gentle breeze that made the entire valley look like it were dancing. Suddenly, there a flash of bright light, and everything was dying, decaying, rotting. Disgusting scents filled the air, and smoke from a nearby fire caused her to choke and gasp.

"I know, its really- WHITEOUT!" yelled Darkstalker, shooting toward his sister. Even though they were the same age, Darkstalker was much bigger and stronger than her. Strange illnesses prohibited Whiteout from doing just about anything and if the doctor said one more word about it, she was going to claw someone's face off with the Icewing talons she had inherited from her father.

It was so annoying, not being able to do anything she wanted. Every other dragonet had been hunting and exploring the Nightwing paradise, but she had to stay in bed. All because of a few stupid headaches! "I'm FINE, Darkstalker. Let's go! I want to see what I can catch to being home today. It's m first time outside and you are NOT ruining it for me." Shaking her head, Whiteout shot toward the fluffy clouds in the sky, Darkstalker following.

Truth to be told, Whiteout didn't remember a day she didn't feel sick. Every morning, her head would be pounding from dreams she had the night before, but everything was so confusing. Her dreams were filled with unfamiliar dragons and death. Lots and lots of death. Puddles of blue Icewing blood. Corpses with empty eyes and snapped necks. Darkstalker, older, in a twisted black crown. Arctic stabbing Foeslayer. There was so much she saw, and nobody had bothered to tell her what they meant. Unless they all believed Whiteout was crazy and her dreams were just simple dreams. But who had such vivid dreams that made her feel all queasy inside? Whenever she brought up the topic to Darkstalker, a picture of a still black egg in full beam of the three full moons emerged in her head, before going away with a flash. He usually avoided the question and twisted his talons awkwardly.

"So, first hunting lesson of the day," joked Whiteout, trying to break the solemn silence between them. "Uh, how do I… kill something… to eat."

Darkstalker snorted. "First, you track your prey with your n-o-s-e. In case you didn't know, Nightwings have this ability. We call it 'smelling'." Whiteout smacked Darkstalker wings with her own.

"Oh, shut up," she cried, flapping around indignantly. "How do you kill something with as little time it takes for the pain to process?"

"Seriously, Whiteout, It's prey. It doesn't matter how much pain they feel, its just going to end up dead anyways. But the most effective ways are biting it, scorching it quickly, and twisting its neck." He suddenly dipped down. Whiteout could see a small brownish-white bird circling below them. Darkstalker grabbed the bird and snapped its neck before it could make a single sound.

He flew back up, holding the dead bird by its talons. "That was horrible!" Whiteout exclaimed. "Poor thing, it might have a family! Oh, oh, oh, what are we going to do…!"

Darkstalker rolled his eyes. "Maybe you can have a different chore in our household. Mother said if hunting doesn't work out for you, you can try, uh, cleaning. The house."

She was too horrified to disagree. All Whiteout knew was that she would never ever go hunting. It was too sad to take another beings life, so how did all these dragons manage to do it anyways?

Darkstalker:

He was too ashamed to tell anyone of his deepest, darkest feelings. Whiteout… he felt a twinge if jealousy. Everyone treated her like she was so special, just because of her supposed "mysterious illness". However, Darkstalker knew. She had mind reading and prophetic powers, just like him. But they tended to go awry. Her dreams were glimpses of the worst possible futures, and her mind reading skills were pitiful. She could only read a dragon's mind if the emotions they were feeling were extreme, and even then, she only saw a flash of whatever the deal on was thinking of. Even odder was the obvious fact she was an Icewing-Nightwing hybrid, unlike himself. Worst of all were her animus powers. Darkstalker knew he had animus powers, judging by his visions and a feeling he had in his claws (they felt kinda tingly), and he knew Whiteout should have animus powers, but nothing interesting had happened so far.

I wonder… should I have just left her in her egg like that? he thought. Darkstalker unwillingly glanced into the futures of him and Whiteout. A lot of them were good: they would become the most powerful dragons in Pyrrhia easily. But there were plenty of others that were horrible. As the duo flew back home, Darkstalker remembered that the next day would be the first day of school for Whiteout, and the day back to school for him.

Will she fit in? Will the teachers like her? he worried. Another dragon's face slowly came into his thoughts, and a smile crept across his face. He hadn't met this particular dragonet yet, but he knew whatever was going to happen with him and all his glorious plans for the future, she was just as important as Whiteout.