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When There Were Dragons

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~+~ The world of fantasy was long gone and only little magic remains. All the creature’s that were left now ran wild within the hidden world of Nirvana. A large sanctuary molded from the broken past created and heavily guarded by the strongest species that there was, but infertility and disease killed off all of his kind except one. Diaval, the last Dragon. Victoria Mills didn’t think that she was anyone special, certainly not enough for something to keep watch over her since the beginning of the strange occurrences in her dreams that poked the sleeping, secluded beast. She had the ordinary life that she loved. A job, an apartment with her best friend as her roommate, she could do whatever she wanted. There was really nothing out of ordinary in her life. Everything was routine and it was a safe bubble for her. During the day she would remain content in the comfort of normal. At night is when she is lured into fantasy. ~+~ What if you slept And what if in your sleep You dreamed And what if In your dream, you went to heaven And there plucked a strange and beautiful flower. And what if When you awoke, you have that flower in your hand? Ah, what then? ~ Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Romance / Fantasy
Lily Saphire
5.0 2 reviews
Age Rating:


The beginning starts at the end.

There was once a time when a world similar to Earth existed. It was the world always spoken of in Fantasy stories. It was an alternate version with the similarities of the landscape but with trails, medieval Taverns, Villages, and Kingdoms. It had Wizards, Witches, Warlocks, and shillings as currency. Centaurs and Orcs battled for land, Mermaids and Sirens swam through the waters, while Kingdoms rose and fell. All the books of forever passion, the hero in white, shining armor. This was the world of the origin of those stories.

Fantasy and the tales of love would be written into books. Magic was plentiful, although still dangerous to those that toiled in it, there was still a land that thrived. A land the Dragons defended.

Indeed, there were once dragons that ruled the skies, they were both extroverted and introverted creatures. Solitary to all but a mate and their pups. A species that thrived on battle and dominion, they fought to bring back to life their dying world. The world was ending because of the Witches and Warlocks, because of the human Nimp mortal kings that came together to work with them. A plan that Diaval had tried to stop.

In a world of Fantasy, there was always a hero and a villain. A story in the making to be written for years to come. There were always twists and turns, the rush to save the world from others to destroy the source of evil that could end everything. He wasn’t the hero that could save the world in time in this tragedy.

There was so much betrayal. Even with the memories he only had centuries in the future curled up in his large comfortable bed, he could not forget the number of times someone had betrayed someone else, even in his group. It made his tasks so much harder when you can never trust one another, with the number of thieves and killers ready to stab you in the back.

All the insanity for the power of the crystal that was once the center of everyone’s attention. The crystals once formed a yellow silly orb that made mortals go insane for it, believing it gave them power and immortality. Diaval planned to destroy it with his magic and the combined source of his kin, but when he got there the orb was on the ground shattered since it was thrown around by everyone that fought for it.

It was that orb that brought about the beginning to the end of the world dug up from an old tomb somewhere by the Nimps. The shards all turned into ash in front of their very eyes, everything around them flashed so brightly. They had doomed themselves with its curse.

Magic itself became scarce. All had lost theirs but the Dragons with their magical potency being too high resorted to them being targeted. Not even their caves were safe. Even when it was them that broke the cursed orb in the first place, they still blamed the flying beasts. They turned their fear, their hatred towards them. It was suddenly their fault. It made him grit his fangs tightly in rage.

He knew he needed to turn away from guarding the stupid mortals and protect what was left of his kind. Although small, they can be brutal if they want to be. They can kill more than fine, just like Dragons can. At this point, who was even in the right anymore? All it became to him was bloodshed. He tore mortals apart to protect his own from those that threatened them.

Perhaps it was for good reason the world he once lived in fell apart, he wondered. When the mortals had finally fumbled with the wrong magic, a source greater than all of them that should have been left alone. No hero or savior to help them out of the situation in time, even when he was foolish enough to try. Why did he even try to save such races that were so selfish?

When the orb plagued all the species around them until not only did they become sick, they could not bear any other desperately needed infants from the few claimed females they had left. The same went for the dragons, whose infertility was already low enough. They were already struggling with their numbers. The sickness, something that they were not used to once being immune to everything, tortured them slowly to death by rotting their wings and making their scales fall off.

Diaval himself was never affected by the illness. The Orcs, the Centaurs, the Elves, and the normal human they had called Nimps helped cause the destruction. As years moved on, Diaval being an immortal Dragon such as he, knew that in this scenario all he could do is watch as the world of Fantasy crumbled before him slowly. The sickness rotted away those that were not only his friends but his family. His body still did not catch the sickness, and when he watched his loved ones die, he wished that he did.

His brother Xan and his brother’s mate Vere, his mother and father, his brother’s precious, beautiful twin female dragonets he would have died for, his sister, all the Royal bloodline was dying off.

He had tried to save them, he had tried to find every herb, he tried giving his blood. He used so much power he could conjure. His brother passes, and his mother is found unable to wake up from slumber, he had found so many of his family sleeping only to not wake up again. To see their breathing stop. The little ones they had was no exception to this merciless pestilence. His brother’s promise of a future and a memory of him he wanted to keep alive, although Diaval had tried his hardest to keep them well, they pass away in their sleep when they were too tired to wake up anymore.

Diaval still felt the pain of the fate of his family, remembering the time he was afraid of nothing, he was so sure with their immortality nothing could take them away from him until they were all laying around a home that was once theirs. A home large, spacious, and beautiful. Perfect for a Royal Dragon family. As a Dragon, he held the two dragonlings in their human form in his arms and curls up, uncaring for getting a sickness he would take gladly. They were the last of the family that he had. He mourned them badly, wishing that he had not failed them. As King, he should not have failed them.

The twin little Dragonlings had not looked upon the beauty of the world, especially the one fantasy would have offered. They were nothing but goodness, their laughter pure. He missed his nieces dearly. The disease continued around the world, and Diaval continued to watch the rest of the world waste away from this sickness slowly. Those who once thought their magic protected them, fed on that. It fed on the weak much worse, however. This turned the magic inside them, it makes itself eat them from the inside while they were helpless to do anything about it.

He was the strongest of his kind, yet he did not get the plague. He observed the others outside of his family were also decaying away. Bodies were laying all over the soil, a sight that horrified him flying over the other dragon littering the ground of their homes.

He becomes lost. After decades has passed and the plague washes the world over into complete anarchy for those that were left, only a few Dragons were remaining that were all so young compared to him. None reached over fifty when it was him that has existed for thousands of years, they were mere pups. Mostly rogues that had gone deeper into hiding, others that seemed to be immune to the disease like him, but had lost their partner.

At this point, Diaval was sure that the fall of the fantasy world was due because they did not deserve magic. They did not deserve a world that was once so beautiful, once so breathtaking, and then take it away from those so young and undeserving of death because of selfishness they tried to defend everything from. The remaining few by his side were sharing the same thoughts as he.

Why did they even try to defend a broken world?

They watched as the lingering few were dying off. Not all the mythical creatures were dying so easily, Diaval had also seen good in the Werewolves, Vampires, Mermaids, and Phoenix, the other fantasy creatures. It was the Nimps, the Dwarves, the remaining human-like few that Diaval was beginning to despise. He could feel growing hatred for them. Cruel and selfish things.

It was the youngest of them that made the idea, it was the remaining Dragons that followed his word so willingly with nothing else to lose. Being the oldest, once being the King, now resorted to the leader of the remaining few. The youngest explained they could just leave this world; they would make one of their own. Large enough for the remaining creatures of the realm to come to for sanctuary.

There would just be creatures and not the ones the sickness attacked destructively, those that can be humanoid, they would have to be checked before entering this realm if the magic that was shielding it didn’t kill it on impact. Since Dragon’s can nearly shift into fully human. Werewolves had a shield to all kinds of magic, although their young and women were affected the most by the plague that affected the weak.

They used the rest of the power they had left to create the sanctuary they would call Nirvana. A part of the land from their home before, a place vast and endless. The last of themselves to put into the world they wanted for their design. The shifters and animals that wanted to run free for hours and a place for a whole pack to make a home and fulfill their desires, there was more than enough space for them to run as long as their heart’s content.

Anything with wings can fly across the sky and land on numerous mountains without fear of a trebuchet or iron bolts. They can fly over and around the mountains to feel the clean winds. It was their vision of peace for everyone they can save and live, where none fought over lands. Everyone had a section. A place for the innocent to go, where the evil and the plague could not touch.

And that is why it was named Nirvana.

Peace came at a price. A payment that Diaval didn’t know would fall heavily on his shoulders for the rest of his endless life, with this being his last wish to preserve what was left of the Fantasy world. The last race of Unicorns, Manticores, Golems, Basilisks, and most of the creatures of myth came to the new realm made by the last remaining Dragons. When all the others died, it was Diaval that remained. His blood being the strongest, it still held so much great power being Royal, and what was left from the conversion of the others. It was more than what the last of the kind could handle in the circle they were in to form their last hope for others, even at the cost of themselves. Their wishes were bigger than even he thought… they created a paradise they would never look upon.

Diaval was furious death did not take him for another time. Why did his body have to withstand the power, although it was as painful as he was sure the others felt? It was pain that lingered on, writhing on the ground amongst the bodies of his dead kin. So much pain, but unlike the others, would not be succumbing to death. Why, after all of this, that he did not die? That he did not get plagued as his family did and held their bodies while they passed away? A family he assumed he would have for eternity?

He remembers his remaining following kin standing at four corners as they fused all of their magic, everything that was left of them. What was left of the broken world, all to create just a piece of it, hidden away in the world In Between, controlled completely by him. Cassius, Rokin, and the youngest Astra. The three others that were the last, are now buried in the place where they passed away. Except him.

Nirvana became his garden that needed time to flourish. It had three sections named after the Dragon’s that sacrificed their lives. He planted a magical, sacred tree around where he buried them. He tended to the vast lands and flew around to see all of its extraordinary beautify and lovely sky. There was so much space, so open and free, there were ruins here and there of the world it was torn away from and reclaimed by nature. It takes his breath away seeing the beautiful lands, it had been some time since he had seen trees that haven’t been burnt and their bark made of ash. Bodies did not litter areas and there were no bone graveyards. This place carried magic in it as well, it was thick in the air, a world outside all others. A world where they brought all the remaining magic to.

We did it, he wishes he could tell them. We did it…

The lands were large, it was more than plentiful for the rest of the creatures of Fantasy to come to make their home. And that’s what his next mission was, he went back and invited those that the Dragons has spoken that would join their worlds. Dragons had the power to traverse between domains. The Fantasy creatures are more than desperate for a new home. The Griffins claimed their section of mountains, and the Pegasus herded with normal horses, werewolves and vampires coexisted. A hidden, magical little world.

Death, sacrifice, the small symbol of hope from the young Dragons that also still had so much to live for. Yet it was him, one that has already lived a thousand lifetimes, it was him that has to live on. To be the last one. He had searched the broken realm, now reduced to ash after everything was set on fire, the last bit of the orb’s wrath. Whatever wildlife was left was dead, the water drained, and the circle of life corrupted. He went to every cave a Dragon could be living in, but all he found were the skeletal remains of his kind.

So many sad sights, and so many times his hope dwindled to try to find someone of his species. He had found so many others in need, but none that gave him hope of his race.

Do not let me be the last, do not let me the last…

He didn’t know who he was praying to, it was to no one. He didn’t worship anything except survive for another day. One cave was too much for him to handle with his heart currently tender from the harsh clues leading up to the fact. The old remains from another of his kind, a female Dragoness, obvious from the missing rib, the smaller body, and collapsed wings cradled around the remains of her babies. The cold and starvation killed them. The male perhaps was killed while out finding food, it must have been desperate measures to leave them alone.

The last of his kind that survived the plague was killed by the lack of food and the shift in temperature that made everything freeze. The world was even growing inhabitable. He stood over the sad display with his muzzle low. He was once strong, feared brutal King amongst his entire Clan, he was the highest rank and has been so for many, many centuries. He did not cry. Seeing the end that was laid bare for him, the ending of his hope… the tears streaming down his obsidian scales, the little ones dying from the cold because the mother must have passed holding on to her infants to keep them warm. Females can’t breathe fire and the one that the father left must have died out.

It smothered his hopes, his fear was becoming real. I am the last. It was a hundred years since the shattering of the orb, and it was because of that orb that he now stands in a world that was once a dream. Everything was covered in ash and snow. The volcanos in the distance and the snow collided. Everything was chaos. Life was gone, because of greed. Because of bad mortals. Because they didn’t deserve such a world…

He had tried everything. As a King for his kind, there was only so much that could have been done, or could it be that he had not done enough? Or he was a hero that had failed to save everyone. With help, he made another world, a fantasy away from the broken version, and it was just him that survived to watch it prosper. He would look over this realm and keep what little of their precious world it once was. That would be his task from now on since he had nothing else. This would be a paradise.

If remains upon him to keep the scars on his body for survival, then so be it. The Last Dragon with power still greater than the rest in his realm. As intended, he became the ruler of Nirvana.

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