Silkwing Wings of Fire

This is a SilkWing from wings of fire. It takes  five-ish hours to print on standard speed. It is a highly detailed dragon. It goes perfect with my Cicada Hive model. (Check it out on my profile) Thank you all of y folowers for making this happen! Happy Printing! FIRST COMMENT GETS TO CHOOSE THE NEXT WINGS OF FIRE DRAGON!

Chapter 1

Four Years Later

Sandpiper had always known she was different.

She just hadn’t cared—until now.

She hovered just outside the woven reed wall of the hut, claws sunk into the warm sand, listening as the tide whispered against the shore. Inside, her parents’ voices were low, careful. The kind of careful that meant they didn’t want to be overheard.

Unfortunately for them, Sandpiper had learned how to be very quiet.

“She’s getting too old,” Sealine said. Her voice was gentle, but there was a tightness beneath it that made Sandpiper’s spine prickle. “And she doesn’t have a real education.”

Sandpiper stiffened.

Scroll replied a moment later, his voice calm in the way he always sounded when he was discussing something very serious. “Jade Mountain Academy offered a scholarship.”

Sandpiper’s heart thudded. Jade Mountain.

Sealine sighed. “They’ve started accepting dragons from Pantala. And… They accept hybrids now.”

Hybrids.

The word hit Sandpiper like a wave of cold water.

She backed away from the hut before either of them could sense her, her claws dragging shallow lines in the sand. The beach suddenly felt too open, too exposed. Like every dragon in the Bay of a Thousand Scales could see exactly what she was.

A hybrid.

Some in-between thing. Not quite SeaWing. Not quite SandWing. Not quite anything.

Sandpiper swallowed hard and turned toward the tidepool beside their home. Without slowing, she splashed into the shallow water and ducked beneath a curtain of swaying seaweed. Hidden behind it was a narrow crack in the rock—one she’d discovered years ago while pretending to hunt crabs.

She squeezed into the gap, scales scraping  stone, and kicked hard.

The tunnel twisted downward, water rushing past her as she swam through the darkness. Her stripes flickered to life along her forearms and snout, glowing a pale blue as she forced herself forward. She did not like using them like this. The light always felt wrong—too dim, too harsh at the same time.

Finally, the tunnel opened into the small cavern she’d claimed as her own.

Sandpiper drifted to the sandy floor and folded her wings tight against her sides. The cavern was barely as wide as a full-grown dragon’s wingspan, but it felt safe. Quiet. The walls glittered faintly with mineral veins, catching the weak light from her scales.

She shut off her glow and immediately regretted it.

Darkness pressed in from all sides. A real SeaWing would have seen perfectly here, but Sandpiper’s vision blurred into shadows. With an annoyed snort, she flared all her stripes at once.

The sudden flash filled the cavern with blinding light.

“Ow,” she muttered, squeezing her eyes shut as a headache bloomed behind her skull. Every time. Why did it always hurt?

Because you’re not enough of either, a bitter voice whispered in her mind.

Sandpiper growled softly and swam the cavern. She stared at her reflection on a shiny rock: pale sandy scales dusted with faint blue patterns, webbed talons paired with a poison-less SandWing tail barb she barely knew how to use. SeaWing stripes that glowed… sort of. Eyes that weren’t quite the right shade for either tribe.

And worst of all—

She couldn’t speak Aquatic.

Her mother  flashed patterns to Scroll all the time. Quick, elegant movements of glowing scales that meant laughter, worry, comfort. Conversations that slipped right past Sandpiper like schools of fish.

Scroll already knew Aquatic when he met Sealine. He was a historian—of course he did. And Sealine had never bothered to teach Sandpiper.

“What did she say?” Sandpiper would ask, every time.

Sealine would barely look at her.

“It is none of your concern.”

“Why is it none of my concern?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

And that was how it always went.

Sandpiper dug her claws into the sand, anger simmering under her scales. It wasn’t just the language. It was the way her parents looked at her sometimes, like they were afraid she’d break if they pushed her too hard.

Or worse—like they were ashamed.

She stopped pacing.

Jade Mountain Academy.

The words echoed in her mind.

Two of the teachers there were SeaWings. Real ones. Dragons who used Aquatic every day. If she went… if she really went…

Sandpiper’s wings twitched.

What if she could convince Tsunami or Webs to teach her?

Tsunami. One of the Dragonets of Destiny. A SeaWing who had helped save Pyrrhia itself. Sandpiper had heard stories—how Tsunami was fierce and loud and absolutely impossible to intimidate.

But she’d been raised in a cave. She must have had plenty of time to practice Aquatic.

Sandpiper felt something unfamiliar flutter in her chest.

Hope.

If she learned Aquatic, she could finally understand her parents. She could know what they were saying about her. She could stop feeling like a stranger in her own home.

But that wasn’t the real reason.

The real reason was dragons.

Other dragons.

RainWings, with scales that shifted like living paintings. SilkWings, whose wings shimmered like sliced gems in the sun. MudWings, IceWings, NightWings—dragons who wouldn’t look at her and immediately see what didn’t fit.

At Jade Mountain, she wouldn’t be the only strange one.

She flared her stripes softly and swam back into the tunnel, kicking hard until the water rushed past her again. The seaweed curtain parted as she burst into the tidepool, spraying droplets into the air.

Sandpiper climbed onto the shore and looked up toward the distant mountains, their peaks hazy against the sky.

Her heart pounded.

She didn’t know what Jade Mountain would be like. She didn’t know if the other dragonets would accept her—or if her parents would even let her go.

But for the first time in her life, Sandpiper knew one thing for certain.

She wasn’t going to stay hidden.

She spread her wings, feeling the wind catch beneath them.

“Jade Mountain,” she whispered.

Here I come.