"Honorable father," the voice, thick and commanding, cut through the air of the shimmering palace. The walls, woven with pure white energy, thrummed with life—stars flickered around them like they were sentient, each one pulsating with a raw, primal energy. The room itself was vast—an enormous expanse that could house hundreds of thousands. And in its center, kneeling before the towering throne, stood the young man.
He was no ordinary being. Long, black-and-red leather wings stretched from his back, the bones jutting outward, holding the skin together in a way that screamed power. His humanoid form was marked with dragon traits—his tail, long and covered in scales as black as night, swayed behind him like an omen. Golden horns, sharp and domineering, arched upward with an arrogance that dared the heavens to challenge him. His crimson eyes glowed with a fire that matched the intensity of his dark hair, their slit pupils marking him as something more than mortal.
The young dragon's gaze was fixed on the throne, where his father sat. The great one, Primarion, the original dragon—the creator of the universe itself. He was a sight to behold, his form massive, easily towering over two meters in height. His face, impossibly handsome and beautiful at once, seemed to command the very fabric of existence. When his eyelids fluttered, it was as though the universe itself stirred, shifting in unison with his movements. His golden eyes—like twin suns—gazed down upon his son, a presence so overwhelming, it felt like the weight of creation itself rested upon his gaze.
"Grrrrrrhhhrrnnghh…" A low growl rumbled from deep within Primarion's chest. Powerful and domineering, it still carried an unusual undercurrent—an unsettling anxiety that even the immortal dragon couldn't mask.
His golden pupils gleamed like suns in an endless void, his black horns a sharp contrast to the universe around him. His enormous wings—like blackened shadows—seemed to shield the cosmos itself from anything that might dare approach. Yet today, something had disturbed even him. Something hung in the air, a scent of doom that even Primarion couldn't ignore. The world itself was shifting. And it was unraveling.
"I've called you here today, my beloved son," Primarion's voice was deep and reverberating, a force of nature that carried both wisdom and weight. "To announce troubling news." His gaze pierced through the young dragon's soul, a presence so powerful, it could see into the heart of his son. The young dragon quickly rose to his feet, lowering his head in pure, unwavering respect.
"The universe is stirring," Primarion continued, his words heavy with foreboding. "Something is wrong—something has cracked. Even I, who have witnessed the dawn and the dusk of time itself, cannot fathom what has caused this. But I know this much: The world is ending, and I must leave you with one final message. You will gather our family, all of them, for my last words to you."
The young dragon's voice faltered, his eyes wide with confusion and disbelief. "Honorable father, what do you mean—?"
"Silence!" The roar of his father's ancient voice shattered the air, freezing the young dragon in place. It was so powerful, it seized his breath and chilled his bones. "Go now. Gather them all. You have one minute, no more. After all, you are the eldest. When I'm gone, you'll have to face the world alone. The weight of this entire universe will rest on your shoulders."
A single minute stretched into what felt like eons. Primarion's fingers flicked through the air, and the world responded. The ceiling and walls began to melt away, dissolving into nothingness. From the outside, one would have seen the grand palace—the heart of the cosmos—surrounded by millions of stars, slowly dissolving into the void. Only the floor and the throne remained, towering and defiant, as they overlooked the very creation itself.
In the distance, a small group of dragons glided through the air, their massive, powerful bodies moving in harmony with the stars. As they neared, their forms shifted, seamlessly morphing into humanoid shapes before landing gracefully on the platform. Fifteen young men stood tall, each distinct, their features marking them as unique. Three women quickly took their place beside the one who ruled them all. One of them, however, stood out—her belly swollen with life. She was pregnant.
"Good, you were fast." Primarion nodded in approval.
CRACK
Without warning, the universe itself split apart. The expanse of space tore in half, the white light spiraling like a web through the void. There was no clear origin to the fracture, but it seemed to revolve around Primarion, the one who had created it all.
The faces of the dragons shifted instantly, panic flashing in their hearts. They were immortal, yet now, death itself seemed to have come to reclaim what it once owned. The fear was thick, but it was quickly extinguished by the words that followed.
"From ashes, everything rises. To ashes, everything shall return. But that does not mean I give my approval for it to happen." Primarion's hand reached toward the sky, and the universe itself seemed to halt in response. It held its breath—he felt its pain, its fear. And he felt it too. But he would not allow something he had created—his life's purpose—to crumble into dust.
"From today onward, my sixteen sons will rule this universe together. Each of you will claim one of the major words—sharing," he decreed, his voice heavy with emotion. "You will protect my soul within these words, stabilizing the universe for eternity. As for me... I shall return to ashes, and watch over you from the blanket of death." His words resonated with undeniable emotion.
The universe rumbled. Primarion's body began to grow, filling the throne. Soon, the towering black dragon—its color a reflection of the universe itself—roared into existence. His massive wings unfurled, reaching into the sky, and then everything turned blindingly bright.
I am grateful for whoever gave me life, for granting me the chance to shape the world with my hands and craft my family as I saw fit. For that, I shall return the favor. I will protect my child—the universe—and gift it my essence. Take me, oh universe. Take all of me, for I shall forever protect you, even in death's embrace.
The watching dragons saw his massive form begin to evaporate, until only his powerful, beating heart remained suspended in the air. A spiral of energy coiled around it, pushing the onlookers back—far, far away—more than a thousand light years in an instant. Sixteen fragments of divine light tore through the fabric of space, each shooting off toward its designated world. And so, Primarion, the God-Dragon Progenitor and creator of the universe, bid his final farewell.
"You can't die... You are my only hope. I'm sorry for what I must do, but you must live," a soft voice whispered, caressing the faint remnants of his consciousness. "You must return as the god you once were, and help me gain the power of eternal time that I never had. I must steal your soul shard of space and fuse it with the knowledge of time I have. When it's ready, I'll have you reborn in the world where the shard was meant to go. Only then will you be able to save us all, my dear father..."
And so, the dragon god disappeared for five million years—until the day a star shone brightly above a small village of dragons, signaling his return.