Hullo people. c: I'm writing (another) new book. This one is about Kazarii (Kah-ZAH-ree) and Azaiyah (Ahhz-EYE-ah), twin 16-year-old weredragons (they are half dragon, half elf. Some weredragons later in the book will be half human, half dragon). It takes place in a world that is part medieval, part modern. Their father is the elven king. Their mother was an elf as well, although she died giving birth to them. No one knows why the twins were born weredragons, the rarest of all creatures. Kazarii, the main character, hates being what she is, and is trying to figure out how to change it. Azaiyah revels in it, with some disturbing consequences. <--- The basic plot line, so far.

You may recognize the name Azaiyah. Azaiyah is also one of my roleplay characters, although I use the name to refer to a male character in my roleplays.

I need help thinking of a name for this. 100k to the person who thinks of the best ti
tle.

This is all I have written so far. R-mail or post on my profile all comments, or post them on the SB when I am on, so the parts of the story stay together. c:

Thanks.

         ~Shaaka

Chapter One

I was borne in my mother's womb, like any elven child. Like any human or dwarven child, for that matter. Elves were a dying race in those times. A mysterious plague struck down even the most healthy of the elves. None of its recievers were left alive. Entire bloodlines were wiped out. All this I have heard merely through tales, for the moment that my sister and I were born, the plague ceased to exist.

Our mother died in childbirth; we were her first children, and the only living children of Jadan, king of the elves. At least, his only legitimate children. But, as the elves say when they think we are not listening, Azaiyah and I are two of the strangest living children ever. It's true.

Azaiyah and I are weredragons.

A supposed creature of legend, weredragons are humans or elves that have dragon blood in them, and have the ability to shapeshift into any animal, including -especially - a dragon. Unfortunately, Azaiyah and I can't shapeshift fully, at least not yet. Although transforming your face into that of a panther or bear and making faces at terrified servants can be amusing at times.

"Kazarii?" Azaiyah's musical voice fills my ears as I glance up from my maps. I glare at my two guards, who shrug and mouth, Sorry. I sigh and roll my eyes inwardly. Azaiyah is so beautiful, what with her raven's-wing black hair and blue eyes, that she can bend almost anyone to her will. She thinks that I'm more beautiful than she is. Of course, I'm two hours her senior, so she feels obligated to say that, even though the rumors spreading around the castle say the exact opposite.

"What is it?" I growl, impatient to get back to my war chart. I love the art of war, although our father would never allow us to become a part of one.

Her eyes widen innocently as she holds up her torn skirt. "It ripped during my riding lessons."

I lean back in my wooden chair and glare at her beneath silver bangs. "And what am I supposed to do about that?" I say in a deadly calm voice. Anyone else would have taken that as a sign to back off, but not Azaiyah. She simply tilts her head to the side and says, "Fix it."

I grit my teeth and narrow my eyes at her. She grins, which makes her slanted eyes and tapered ears even more prominent. Snarling obscenities under my breath and pinching the bridge of my nose, I get up and cross the room to my pinewood dresser.

I heard something today.

I whirl around, eyes darting back and forth. "What are you doing! I told you not to do that!" I hiss angrily. My sister and I are both gifted - well, she says that, I say cursed - with telepathy.

I heard something, though, Zarii, she says again, using my childhood nickname. It's a prophecy! About us!

A thud catches my attention. A beautiful diamond, given to me by Aza (my childhood nickname for Azaiyah) on my tenth birthday, lifted off of a wooden shelf and fell to the floor. Did I also mention that we have the gift/curse of telekinesis?

A knock sounds on the closed wooden doors. "Princess Kazarii? Is everything alright in there?"

I swear again, this time a bit louder. "I'm fine," I call back, gesturing to the diamond, which causes it to lift itself back onto the shelf and settle in the exact same position as before.

Just as I get my sewing needle and thread out of the drawer (courtesy of our dear, beloved father -- is it really that obvious that I don't think very much of him?), Aza says, There's no real hole. I just need to tell you the prophecy.

Light and dark combine
Fire and ice
To bring the destruction

Everything shall be put to the test
Love and death
Despair and hope

Then come the Saviors
Weredragons
Borne of the elf and the time of the snow

THE REST OF CHAPTER ONE

I quietly put the thread and needle back in its place and turn to her. "How do you know that it's about us?"

I just know, Kazarii.

I nod, accepting every word of her statement. Sometimes, Aza just knew things. And I'd learned the hard way to trust her, even though she does annoy the hell out of me most of the time.

She flashes a wicked grin at me, then makes as if to leave. "Wait!" I call. "Who did you hear that from?"

Aza turns back to me, smile fading, face growing solemn. "Our father. Don't you know he's planning to kill us tonight?"

Chapter Two

I stagger backwards as if I have been hit. "Whaaaat?!" I stare at Aza, eyes wide, as if she has gone insane. "Why would he want to do that?!"

"Because we're us," she says wearily, sitting on my bed. "Because we're not elves. Because he hates us."

I raise an eyebrow. "That was a rhetorical question."

Azaiyah manages to give me a wry smile. "I know. I just wanted to annoy you."

My lips press together in a tight line as I struggle to ignore her. "Let's run, get away from here, now," I say, grabbing as many warm clothes as I can and stuffing them into a leather bag.

"Now? But -"

"Now," I interrupt her. "We can't risk staying here any longer."

"But I need my bow and -"

"I'll get more."

I stride over to a wall that is empty but for a shelf holding some weapons. I grab my bow and quiver and sling them across my back. The feel of the familiar wood and leather is comforting, and my heart relaxes a notch. I grab my sword belt and strap it to my waist, then slide in a short sword and two daggers.

"Where are we going?" Aza asks, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

"I don't know," I respond irritably, fingers busy with tying the bag shut. "But wherever we go will be far away from here."

Tying the last knot, I toss the bag to Aza, who nimbly snatches it out of the air. "Show-off," I mutter. I hear her smother a laugh. I stride to the open window to be sure that there is no one in the courtyard to see us fly out of there.

"Let's go." I turn to see my sister staring forlornly at the diamond she'd given me on our tenth birthday. "We can't take it," I say, uncharacteristically gentle as I place my hand on top of hers. "I'm sorry, but we can't. We'd just get attacked by robbers."

Azaiyah swallows heavily. "I know. I wish we could, but I know we can't."

I grin, suddenly proud of her. "Then let's go." I unfold my silver wings, sighing as the muscles stretch. The slits in my tunic are barely big enough for them to fit through; I need to cut bigger holes soon. We can't make our wings disappear or anything like that, but they fit under our tunics and, on rare occas-sions, dresses. Azaiyah grimaces as she unfolds her iridescent wings. She hates flying, ever since some guards "playfully" tried to shoot us down after having "mistakenly" though we were birds. I beat them up after that, because Aza was so scared, she was shaking.