Prologue
The sky was flashing with lightning, and breaths of fire, the beasts clashing on a backdrop of gray. In the second of a thunderous clash, a fury of lightning struck down to one of them, but it was not phased, the barbarian dragon of blue letting out a deadly scream, his breath of fire burning with sparks and a blinding white, the opposing dragon, a black monolith, the larger of the two, avoiding the attack with a swerve of his hips and lift of his wings.
He dodged with ease, no hesitation, and the blue brute seemed to clasp at his head with a claw, the rain pelting onto the two beasts as below lay bodies of dead dragons, or grieving dragons, or fleeing dragons. The black dragon circled the other, his masculine features large and deadly, his horns spiked and long, wings like the sky itself. The blue one kept up with the swirling, not getting any bit dizzy, his spiked, thin tail curled. His scales were jeweled with diamonds, and atop his head sat a crown of gold and amethyst, intertwining with delicately crafted onyx.
The black being suddenly lunged, his jaws unhinging open to revealing a flickering tongue and a forceful gust of air moving the clouds around them as he grappled onto the stormwing, a surprise in the male’s eyes as teeth shredded scale. Snapping bits of jewel from his delicately decorated neck came raining down, and, with a sickening snap and a scream of pain, the crown slid from his head in a sympathetic twirl, clattering to the ground on top of a few dead dragons of many colors.
The beautiful crest fell before the blue stormwing, next came the body, ravaged as his limbs fell in the air after him. His descent was slowed by his massive wings, but with a sickening thud he still dropped, his long limbs draped over other bodies. His face was still in a twist of shock, blood dripping from his wide open mouth.
The crown cemented itself deep within being an ancient, mistaken relic, bits and pieces of the gold, amethyst and onyx shattering into tiny shards.
“Postremo,” growled the black brute, his massive frame leaning down to pick up the crown, “Iam suus ’super.” He picked up the crown, pulling the onyx from the crown and crushing it in his palm. He then took the rest of the gold and amethyst crown, engulfing it in flames until it began to melt in his hand.
He dropped the burning hot gold onto the dragon, watching it cool and simmer on the dead dragon’s scales.
“For now.”
“Sir?” Peeked in a head through a dark cavern, a flickering bonfire lighting up the edge of the cave, his brown head covered in sand, his snake-like head curiously peeking in. The young sandcrawler slid into the light, shaking off the sand. On him, was a satchel that was concealed by his large, golden hued wings, angular and made for flying. His small frame was made for sneaking and scurrying, “I got the egg.”
Dipping in from the shadows was a large black dragon, slithering up and nudging the smaller dragon’s wings away, and he took the overburdened satchel, a crackled golden egg with smoky shimmering patterns. He did not take up the entire cave, no, the cave looked built for some absolute monster hundreds of times larger than him, but he was still huge, the small fire emitting a light that only cast over the first half of him. Who knew what was behind the shadows?
“It’s almost hatched,” He observed curiously, rolling it over in his claws. “I- I think this is it. I think he’s the one, Romeit.” His claws dragged over a crack, the soft scraping sound echoing alongside the crackling of fire, “Good job.”
Release fell over Romeit, closing his eyes with a huff of thankfulness. “Meoraiss, sir, should I call Nypy to escort it to the nursery?” He gestured with a thumb to behind him.
“Yes,” He nodded. He was trying to keep a dangerous look on his face, but as soon as the nimble Romeit left, Meoriass erupted into a toothy grin, pure joy on his face, "Our foundations, their destruction,” He wrapped his arms around it before snapping out of the giddy grin, examining the egg as flapping wings approached, and Romeit and a cool red careclaw peeked through the entrance.
“You'd like me to take the egg to the nursery, sir?” She held her claws close together, nervously tapping her claws together, “Or in a little bit?”
“Take the egg now, keep it nice and warm. Due to hatch soon,” He looked down, trying to keep glee from brimming in his eyes. The life generations ago wished for would finally come, freedom from the this aristocracy, “You’ll get what you want, pa..” He whispered, the two unable to hear him. His face was gray, unreadable.
“Sounds good, boss,” Romeit stumbled over, beginning to pick up the egg.
“Oh, no, Romeit, you don’t have to. I can get it myself,” the scarlet female chuckled, swooping up. Picking the golden egg up with ease, Romeit watched with curiosity.
“You wanna know how I did it?” He chattered, following the careclaw to the nursery, “I swooped under the sand and started slithering my way over, and then I hau-”
“Shush,” She rolled her eyes and whacked him in the face with her red tail, “Tell it to the dragonets.”
“My daughter, soon to come,” The stormwing male cooed, wrapped around a [breed] female and a blue egg, deep as the color of the sky, the female with her head wrapping around him. She was a soft purple, her wings with patterns of petals, their scales glimmering in the filtered light of leaves.
On the blue dragon’s skin was delicately patterned with diamonds, a royal onyx shaved into his horns. His wings were ringed with golden bands. The purple dragon’s head was set upon the king’s shoulder, her long, whip-like tail curled around the egg, “She will be the ruler of this land,” She smoothly spoke, “A ruler unlike you or me, better, under the guide of the two best monarchs.”
“Some would argue,” He darkly looked away, “But those some don’t make it,” He turned back with a grin, “They just can’t help but fall into our claws like flies to a bee’s honey, trying to fight us.”
“The honey is poisonous,” She narrowed her eyes, a mischievous smile on her face, “It’s a new age. They have to live with you and me, King Ryzianth, the protector.”
“And Queen Mavinein, the beautiful,” He teased, tugging at one of her horns and kissing her cheek, “What shall we name her, Queen beauty?”
“Don’t pick yet, we have to see what she looks like, what her first cry is,” She shook her head, “You know me. All of our sons have been the same way.”
“Oh! Look at that! There’s another crack!” Ryzianth gasped excitedly, “I want to stay up all day and night to look at her hatch.
“I have been staying up, Ryzianth,” She groaned, rolling her eyes. The purple mother was tired, exhausted, at that, “While you’ve been scowling at your throne about the reb-”
“Shh!” He halted her, his eyes alarm, “do you hear that?”
They both fell silent, and they leaned in to the egg. A small roar, a cry, a melodic chirping cry.
“Her first sound, like a bird..” Mavinein cooed.
“Next we must see what she looks like.”
“Or acts like.”
“I can’t wait!” The menacing king nearly jumped for joy, his eyes closed.
The two parents watched with intent, the light hitting the egg so delicately that inside was seen the small, curled up dragon of a soft indigo, “Look at that,” Mavinein whispered, “Look at her…”
“As beautiful as you.”
“Maybe even prettier.”
“Never!”
“Maybe!”
“No way! No one can ever be prettier than you!”
“Fine!”
They sat, entertwined in silence, staring at the small egg. She leaned in and nudged the shell, and Ryzianth giggled, pointing at her little leg sprawling out.
“I can’t wait, Ryz,” She looked back up, “I want her now, but she has to work her way.”
“I wonder what she will bring to this world. I wonder who she will bring, where she will bring them… What she will do.”
“We will never know,” She shook her head, “Until she does it.”
“I’ll call her my little petal for now,” Ryzianth chortled, his thin tail brushing against the egg, “I have things to do, King stuff, goodbye for now my darling and little petal.” He stood up, sauntering to the curtain of leaves, pushing through and letting golden light spread across the den, a wide crack appearing on the egg as the shell turned golden in color, the father trotting out of the den and leaping into the air.
She then whispered soft compassions to her child, drifting into a sleep.
