They're out there, his parents say— of course, in reference to dragons.

Jazz rolls her eyes every time they mention it, returning to studying.

They then always turn to Danny— "you would know," they say, pointing to the birthmark stretched across his back, two small, leathery wings and freckles like scales. "You are marked to be a hunter; with those, it's practically your destiny!"

Danny of course is always snarky to that— "I thought you said the Fenton line hunted them to extinction," he sometimes responds. He also sometimes says that "dragons would be well-known by now, considering they aren't subtle." It didn't matter— it always lead to the same long 'explanations' of how the "wily bastards" (his father's words) hid themselves "out of fear of the great Fentons." (Also his father's words). Other times, he chooses a different path— "marks can't decide that," he says (then immediately feels like his sister who attempts to rationalize magic). This of course leads to another explanation of how blessing marks.

Danny decides they're wrong— and really, they are, just about what the mark shows.

It's no blessing.

xXx

Really, Danny just feels bad that his ancestors did what they did; the Fentons were indeed a line of famed dragon hunters, slaughtering the beasts in all methods of brutality. Danny is no expert on magical creatures, but from what he read… well, dragons seemed relatively innocent. There were varying reports of their intelligence— human? Animal?— and destructive ability and actions… but damning a whole variety of creatures based on the actions of a destructive, violent few seems… wrong.

It doesn't cling to him, though. He simply feels that pang of sadness at the loss of them during his parents rants— then he ignores it, of course.

Instead of becoming some dragon hunter, he hones his magic. Jazz is disappointed to see him pursue it; the Fenton line was magic-prone, after all, with Jazz herself possessing more fire-based magic (like her mother) that she didn't hone in favor of studying... psych, of all things.

But Danny knows that it's one of the few things he's exceptional at. On top of that… it just calls to him. His own magic is not as easily categorized as Jazz's, confusing everyone who sees it, and it aches to be released.

So he sits beneath the stars, where he feels most powerful, and his magic sparkles around him, electric green swirled with shadowy black— it looks like a crackling night sky of its own.

His shoulders tingle.

xXx

Cursed! The Fentons are cursed, a roar echoes. Hot breath— shades of green swirling together— shoots into the sky. Your bloodline will become what you hate.

Danny wakes up, back aching.

Same dream again.