The loss of another pillar of hope was felt by the entire world. The sky was bright and clear. The sky, now bright and unclouded, bore no trace of the gray tint that had stained it for so long. Sunlight poured over the broken lands, not in celebration, but in mourning.
Some wept for a brother.
Others mourned a mentor.
But all grieved for their leader.
Velkaar had been more than a dragon. He was the unshaken foundation of an age. A flame that shone bright as a star.
Now, that flame had gone out.
And still, in the hearts of those left behind, his warmth remained.
***
Something broke out of the egg.
A soft crack echoed in the stillness of the hidden cavern, delicate yet full of promise. Then another.
With one final push, a small claw, trembling but unmistakably draconic, pierced through the shell.
The egg split open.
From within, a hatchling emerged, covered in glistening scales of iridescent dark and gold. Eyes glowing with innocent light, not yet dulled by sorrow or war. Its wings were fragile, still wet and folded against its sides, but there was strength in the way it lifted its head.
It looked around, sensing nothing of its kind, yet feeling something deep in its soul. A presence, a memory, a legacy.
Whispers poured into her-not in words, but in echoes. Lessons carved in soul and flame, passed down through the remnants of Velkaar's final gambit.
The little dragoness saw fire and war. She saw love and loss. She saw the rise of dragons and their fall.
And she understood. She understood what she had to do.
She walked out of the ruins. And under the sun she laid to sleep.
Uhm. Alright...
You definitely need a break sometimes to sort your thoughts.
She is probably thinking about her journey.
After some time she stood back up and started walking.
She had no direction in mind.
And even if she had, I doubt she would have known the way.
From time to time, she stopped to rest. What began as short pauses slowly stretched into long moments of silence. Minutes slipped into hours. Eventually, an entire day passed beneath the quiet sky.
Then, in the distance, a forest emerged.
The little dragoness blinked, her eyes wide with quiet wonder.
She stepped forward, drawn by instinct more than thought. Hunger was a strong driving force. She moved deeper, brushing past twigs and branches, her tail leaving faint trails in the soil.
Every sound was sharp in her ears. The crunch of leaves beneath her feet. The distant call of birds. She did not yet know what was safe to eat or what might strike back. But she listened. She watched. And she learned.
With time she learned to hunt, learned how to hide, learned how to fly, and nearly died in the process of learning to not eat berries that were discovered on random bushes.
Isn't she a genius? In my opinion, no...
She satiated her hunger by hunting some of the wildlife, clumsy at first but guided by instinct and a growing awareness of her strength. With each victory she accomplished, she grew more and more fascinated by the world around her. After all, she was nothing more than a curious child.
Not all creatures fled from her. Some watched from the foliage around her, cautious but unafraid. She often played with them, chasing birds or rolling in piles of fallen leaves alongside curious beasts. There was laughter in her movements, even if she didn't yet know the word for it.
When the sun reached its peak, she would find a patch of moss or a sun-warmed rock and sprawl across it.
Now that I think about it, dragons and cats share many characteristics, don't they?
Time went by fast. A year has passed. The dragoness has grown into a fine hunter. Yet an unknown feeling has settled in her heart, threatening to consume it.
She was lonely. So lonely. Yes, she did make friends with some of the residents of the forest, but that did not change much in her heart. They played, they shared warmth, some even snuggled beside her when she slept.
But it wasn't the same.
Their eyes did not reflect her own. Their sounds were foreign, their thoughts too simple. She could not speak with them, not in the way her heart yearned to. And so she chose to leave the forest.
It had fed her, sheltered her, and given her a place to grow, but it could not fill the hollow ache in her chest. The warmth of sunlight and the rustle of leaves were no longer enough. She needed more.
She needed a friend.
She opened her wings, still small and unsteady, but strong enough.
And with a deep breath, she leapt into the sky, following the wind.
She traveled for days, stopping every now and then to find prey. And of course, her hobby of sleeping under the sun hasn't disappeared.
One day, on the horizon, she saw a building. She circled over it, curiosity pulling her lower with each pass. It was unlike anything the forest had offered.
Yet what took her attention was the figure going in and out of the house every day. An old lady carefully tended to a small garden every day without a worry in the world.
The little dragoness felt something stir inside her. She felt longing for the first time. She watched for hours, then days. And then she descended.
Giving quite a scare to the poor lady. Seeing an ancient race capable of molding the world to its will would probably shock anyone. She stared. Not in fear, but in awe. In recognition.
Because she knew something the dragoness did not.
She knew this creature was the last. The final ember of a once-great flame. A living echo of an era long gone. And so the lady, whose name was Esme, decided to take her in as her daughter.
Taking a dragon as a child wasn't easy, even more so a wild one like this one was about to drive any parent crazy. But Esme was patient, forgiving, and quite unshakable.
She never raised her voice. She never flinched when flames sparked in frustration or when sharp claws tore through fabric or wood. She simply spoke softly and waited for the dragoness to listen when she was ready. She taught her some magic and even helped the little dragon take the form of a human, that is, if you didn't count the horns, wings, and tail. And sometimes, she even read stories of dragons to the dragoness.
It wasn't discipline that tamed the little dragon.
It was kindness.
The old lady taught the dragoness many things: language, mathematics, culture, patience, and even some manners. But the most important thing she gave to the dragoness was a name.
Velessa.
Their time together was sweet. Five years may seem long, yet for Velessa, it was far too little. Esme was in her fifties, but her health had been fragile from the start. And so, on a rainy day, Esme got sick. She hid herself in her room.
Yet she still visited the garden, tending to it with trembling hands.
And quietly, when she thought that Velessa wasn't watching, she began to dig a large pit in the far corner of it near most of her flowers.
One morning when Velessa woke up, she found a long letter containing instructions on how to take care of the house and garden. Esme even prepared clothes and money for Velessa. The letter also mentioned searching for and contacting a friend of hers named Peter if she ever needed help. At the end of the letter was a simple "I love you" and a goodbye.
After reading it, Velessa stepped into the garden.
And saw the pit filled...
She stood there, silent, the letter still clutched in her hand.
She stood there and cried for many days.
Until eventually the tears ran out.