(The arena is a mere shadow of what it once was. That was for the best, considering how Queen Scarlet had been using it to hold her bloodbath of a sport- if you could even call it a sport. Now, dragons of many species lie on the arena's sand, treating others' wounds day in and day out.

Flame sat over a frail SandWing, waiting for his co-worker to give him a request, like an apprentice. His eyes were wide, and his mouth forever scowled, yet Flame seemed to keep his patience.)