Theo stepped in to see what the commotion was about. Everyone paced around a nest that had been rumored to contain a clutch of stones. But Theo was amazed to see that one of the eggs had actually hatched!
The hatchling stumbled blindly, arching its spine grotesquely and sneezing fire. Dragons cried over it as the youngling panted and faltered about.
“Oh, the poor hatchling!” Sky bawled. “What is the matter with him?”
“Did it…get to the firesap?” a dragon in the crowd stuttered to no one in particular.
“I was near the firesap plants all day and none of the hatchlings came near them!” another answered.
“The Wizard is here!” someone announced and the dragons apprehensively made way for Damon.
He knelt before the nest, examining it and observing the hatchling, a grim expression on his face. Everyone was quiet except for the poor, retching creature. Horrific realization dawned over Damon’s face.
“I understand now…” he moaned.
“What? Tell us!” dragons urged.
The hatchling became overwrought, falling over with its sides heaving. Its eyes glazed over.
Damon stroked it with one finger, but it served as no comfort for the tormented little one.
“He can’t hold on,” Damon murmured and the dragons seemingly melted to the ground around him in anguish.
In minutes, the little one burnt out with a small cry.
Carefully, Damon scooped it up in his arms. Its tail drooped completely limp as the Wizard turned to face the group.
“Ever since you all began receiving the Gift of Fire, I have seen the firesap working in you in a way I found perplexing. I could see that it made you more powerful, yet, at the same time, it was taking another effect on you that I could not determine. Now I see that that effect was death.”
Theo inhaled sharply. Everyone around her buzzed with shock.
“Not only is it killing you,” Damon continued sullenly, “but it is passing onto offspring through the parents. It is what has been killing all these eggs for generations. This hatchling I hold has shown great strength in surviving until now, but he too has reached his breaking point.
“The firesap consumes its host, like flame does wood. The weaker the body, the sooner it is taken over.”
The dragons were silent. Each and every one of them was a fire, slowly on their way to burning out.
Finally, one asked, “So what do we do?” The question stood for them all.
Damon just shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said.
. . .
For hours after the truth was revealed, dragons stormed Damon with questions.
“Won’t the firesap fruit heal us?” Whinchat pleaded.
Damon replied. “Renewing a fire’s kindling does not put it out, but makes it stronger.”
“Surely it would buy us more time!” Whinchat persisted.
“I can’t say.” Damon sat down wearily.
“How long have you known this?” Cedar demanded, jutting out his chin.
Damon looked him in the eye. “Not until now did the situation become clear,” he swore.
Sky appeared unaware of the commotion, shuddering in overwhelmed sadness as she stared at the dead hatchling, still held in Damon’s gentle arms.
Theo couldn’t stand it anymore. Like many others, she departed silently into the woods, seeking a place where she could be alone.
Damon’s words cycled endlessly throughout her mind as she walked aimlessly onward. She remembered accepting the firesap, leading others to do so also.
Who doesn’t breathe fire by now?
She struggled to think of a single striker or adult that didn’t.
So the whole dragon species’ existence now rested on the pupils. So few were they, the rest of their generation made up of stones.