The Waters of Northern Ixtacotak

I crashed through Elderia's atmosphere with a boom great enough to spawn religions. My dragonite shell incandesced with the velocity of my descent, but held firm. When my vehicle met Elderia's surface, it ought to have been apocalyptic. An egg vast enough and massive enough to contain a Greater Dragon of my magnitude should have delivered a combustive end to the world that was to host me. To this day I theorise that the same elements that gave me form also shielded Elderia from my violent arrival.

Make no mistake, though: my entry was not without evidence. The epicenter of my landing was marked with a crater twice my wingspan, and deep enough to uncover most any tomb. The rim of this geological bowl stood higher than the sea that encompassed it; diking the site from the water until the next storm would surmount it.

After some time, the rigid barrier between my surroundings and myself felt less like a bulwark and more like a cage. I became increasingly aware of its proximity to my entire body. Like a droning sound it wore on me until I was driven to escape it. When forcing up against it failed, I turned to digging at it with my ferociously sharp claws. The fruitless outcome of this attempt stoked my restlessness. My desperation mounted so high it would have seemed I needed escape as badly as I needed breath.

Breath. That was an option I had not yet explored. However, it was not something I needed to consciously consider. Even as my digits scraped in vain at my cage, I could feel it welling up within me. Like the windy forefront of a storm, it rushed up my long, winding neck. Finally, it sprang forth in a glorious bloom of spiritual energy. The initial resistance of my shell quickly yielded to the brilliant projection; breaching and crumpling like parchment in a downpour. In my mania I continued to swipe at my surroundings, breaking and batting away any segment weakened by my breath.

My liberation was eventually won, and my new form was unveiled to the world in a pool of albumen. Unaccustomed to an existence unsupported by fluid, and somewhat exhausted by the rigor of my escape, I simply fell limp in the flooded base of my now decimated shell.

As I recovered my strength with closed eyes, I overheard the apprehensive reactions of those attending my birth.

“Spirits, deliver me!” the shadowy one breathed in awe.

“Fuck, that was close!” the capricious one exclaimed, having nearly been flattened beneath a shard of my shell.

“M-Mother?” the scalding one wondered tentatively.

“Where am I? What is this?” the rejected one asked with profound disorientation.

“I’ve been… answered…” the expiring one murmured with pleasant surprise.

Time slowed to a crawl for those in my presence as the spontaneousness of what had transpired had left them unsettled and bewildered. The five of them had been deposited equidistantly and pentagonally near the rim of my crater. As the astonishment of my new-born form ebbed, they took notice of one another; almost as if surprised that they did not stand alone before me.

Caution gave way to curiosity, and they advanced on me. All of them shared some semblance of the same question – about whether I was who they thought me to be, and whether they should dare to believe their wishes had been realised. Even the True Dragon found the strength to drag his broken form near, seemingly denied his fate by my bringing him here. Arriving at my fresh body, they granted a generous berth to one another. The canine was avoided especially; presumably taken to be more fearsome than the dying dragon.

“Is it dead?” the elf asked about me irreverently.

“That would be incredibly anticlimactic,” the human replied. “Not to mention inconvenient.”

“She’s not dead!” the dragon choked with surprising vitality. “You think a creature shaped and sent by the Ur-Wyrm itself could fall to stillbirth?” he said between fits of coughing up his own blood.

“There are only five previous instances to suggest otherwise,” the demigoddess pointed out with collected indifference. “Why shouldn’t we think it’s possible?”

“Perhaps she simply sleeps,” the wolf proposed.

“The pup is right,” the dragon asserted. “In the first hours of her life, this Greater Dragon has yet to acclimatise.”

“Greater Dragon?” the elf echoed. “Then it’s true? All of it? We get our wishes?” There were embers of hope in her voice.

A moment passed as each of them attempted to find evidence that their respective desires had materialised. It ended with them all looking to one another in case their disappointment was the exception.

“It is true,” the dragon said, ending the pause. “But I cannot speak on the status of our wishes. I have never attended a Dragonfall, nor spoken with one who has. Even so, I have not yet been removed from this plane of existence, so I suspect there may be more to come.”

“How long will she sleep for?” the human inquired.

“Impossible to say,” the dragon answered. “Those of her size can sleep for durations that would outlast the hibernations of other species. However, it does seem a bit soon for her to fall into one so lengthy.” He then succumbed to another fit of bloody coughing.

“Speaking of lengthy: have you seen her body? She’s coiled up a dozen times over like a serpent,” the elf observed.

“She’s not a wurm,” the human commented. “See the wing over there?”

“Not an eastern dragon either then,” the demigoddess added. “Perhaps a drake?”

“What are those?” the wolf asked.

“Slim, agile dragons with wings and limbs. They’re relatively typical as far as dragons go, but they can be more slippery than sea slugs.”

“Speaking from experience?” the human asked with an amused smirk.

“Not my own.”

“Are we supposed to wake her up?” the elf asked. “Perform some sort of ritual to… I don’t know, welcome her?”

“I’ve never heard of such a thing,” the human admitted.

“I have!” the wolf declared. “I have heard many stories mentioning celebrations in honour of one’s birth!”

“I… don’t think that’s quite the same thing,” the elf said, suspecting that the canine may have been conflating notions.

“He’s not exactly wrong, though,” the human said thoughtfully. “Today is her birthday.”

“I fear we are straying from the matter at hand,” the demigoddess interjected, growing weary of the prattle. “Perhaps we should just attempt to rouse her.”

“I wouldn’t be so eager,” the dragon warned.

“Why not?”

“We haven’t any idea the disposition of this behemoth. You forget, though our presence here implies the granting of our wishes, that is no guarantee that this Greater Dragon will possess any degree of selflessness. After all, there is no telling what price she will extract.” Some of the confidence left his voice with the last of those words.

“Would you prefer that we pray she never wakes up?” the human asked facetiously.

A tense pause ensued as the quintet absorbed the volatility of their situation. Eventually a set of paws padded towards me.

“What are you doing?” the elf asked alertly.

“She’s going to wake up sooner or later,” the wolf answered. “A friend would welcome her into this world.”

I then felt a broad, wet tongue lapping at my muzzle. I believe he intended it to be a gentle method of awakening me, but with every sensation having a degree of novelty to it, it all melded in a swathe of ambiguity. Hence, it was with urgency rather than grace that my eyes snapped open. Even in the cloud-obscured daylight my pupils pinched down to narrow slits. My groan of irritation rumbled through my crater, frightening those in my presence.

Needing a better view, I hoisted my head skyward. My entire form came unravelled to adopt a stance that was better primed. From over a hundred metres up I gazed down at my awestruck audience, not even at my full height. There they were. The exact ones I had chosen in my descent.

My descent. My choices.

Admittedly, this train of thought momentarily distracted me. My attention swivelled to my own body, curious as to what had materialised from my selections. My new anatomy was a brilliant mosaic of verdant scales. The two arms before me were drawn tight with muscles powerful even for one of my size. Both ended in five-digit hands, themselves tapering to claws almost five metres in length. From my back spanned two wings nearly as wide as I was long. Broad and thin, there was a sinewy strength to them. Everything from my neck to my torso to my limbs to my tail visibly communicated a wiry might.

I would later find that I possessed features I had not explicitly demanded. My waist was set wide, two swells defined my breast, and scales of a darker hue surrounded my eyes. Though these attributes went beyond my specifications, they pleased me, as they satisfied details of my physical self-image.

Content with the flesh and blood that was now mine, I considered the other series of gifts I had endowed myself; my magic. Yes, I felt it – the figurative ocean of mana within me. With my diet of the unrefined element, it would be both cache and banquet to me. There was, however, one thing more important to my survival than sustaining myself.

Returning to the floor of my crater, I eyed the Elderians, still captive in their own uncertainty. I moved on to the debris of my shell that littered the ground. Shards warped by my breath could be found in a great many sizes. I selected a piece to my liking and plucked it from the glassy bowl. For the second time, I readied my breath. I took a tremendous inhale, tensed my body, and drowned the shard in my hands with spirit breath. The shard grew malleable, like iron subjected to the heart of a forge. With my hands I reshaped the now semisolid dragonite into a crude egg. Once the shape was set, I channelled forth a rivulet from that ocean of mana. With it, I cast an anchor for my own mortality into the egg. A spell so powerful demanded a fair commitment of time and mana alike, but once it was over, I was immortal so long as the egg or myself persisted.

My phylactery completed, I strode to the edge of my crater, and allowed it to roll free of my grasp. The metallic egg plummeted to the water and crashed through it with a hearty splash. Between islands as we were, the waters were not deep – at least not for one of my size. Here the guarantee of my survival would be hidden away from most any that would pursue it.

“HEY!” screamed out an attention-seeking voice coloured with impatience.

Lazily, I delved back down again; dropping my head nearly level with the comparatively tiny elf. I situated my head perpendicular to my summonees, giving myself a single-eyed, but intimately close view of them. My eye being nearly as big as her entire form, I imagine the elf was given a full-body reflection over my slight pupil. I waited for her to speak. If she had something to say, she would say it.

“What’s going on here?”

I gave no reply to this as I had no interest in recounting my experience to this stranger.

“When do we get our wishes fulfilled?” the human asked. It was another question seeking an answer that was not yet deserved.

There was a pause at this, as though my silence was diminishing their curiosity.

“Are- Are we sure she can understand us?” the wolf asked the others.

“Forgive them, your excellence. They do not know to whom they speak.” The dragon engaged in a display of humility, but was severely hampered by his own condition. It was difficult for him to bow when he could barely raise his head to begin with. “I am Obranask of the Barren Pass,” he said with more than a little spluttering and blood. Not-so-subtly, he looked to the demigoddess.

“I am Nyxili, daughter of Nyx, the Molten Mother.” Her delivery carried much more confidence than the dragon’s.

“My name is Delathwyn, and I hail from the Everfont Woodland.”

“I am Ren, humble disciple of the Dragon of Light Who Hides in the Darkness.”

“Oh, and I’m Vanrir.”

Silence returned. I think they expected me to deliver my own introduction then.

“Have we offended you, milady?” the dragon warily hacked.

The only thing about them I found offensive was Obranask’s ragged state. To hear his **** coughs and watch him leak all over wore on my nerves. What had he wished for again? To live? It appeared that he was withheld from **** for the moment by some power, but it was plain that he would never carry on without it. I resolved to grant his wish.

Bracing my hands on either side of the group, I readied my breath once more. I inhaled, tensed, and gave all the signs of what was to come. By now they all recognised them, and all with the ability scattered clear of my mark.

Obranask was left panicked and flailing. “Wait! No! WAIT!”

Like a sapling before a rotted dam, the True Dragon was thoroughly washed in the deluge of spiritual energy that surged from my maw. When it was over, the others emerged from their cover behind my planted hands. Presumably, they expected to see naught but scorches and ash. Rather, they saw the black dragon in the best state they had yet.

“What is…? I… Oh my…” Obranask mumbled, reeling from his near-**** and new sensations alike. “I feel spry; virile; energetic. I was not an old dragon by any measure, yet I suddenly feel fresh as a hatchling! What is this?” he gazed up at me in pleasant surprise.

“Spirit breath,” Ren answered on my behalf. “My master spoke of this. Attuned to the spirits of all things, it will mend the living and rend the raised.” He spoke as if reciting the words of another.

“You have my eternal gratitude, your eminence,” Obranask said, finally delivering a proper bow.

The five of them looked at me with what I presumed to be a new appreciation. I stared back with the same stony expression I had worn all the while.

“Why are we here?” Nyxili inquired, posing the first question deserving of an answer.

“You are here to heal,” I said with my new voice for the first time. My words boomed out to the Elderians below and travelled over the water – perhaps even reaching the islands in the distance. I spoke with a slow cadence; careful to convey my meaning with transparency. “This world I have arrived on is rife with troubles diverse and deep. Though they are grave, they are nothing I have not seen before. They are also not without solution. Almost as plentiful as the plights are the beings especially equipped to combat them; and yet the woes persist.

“No more. My arrival marks the entry of Elderia and all its inhabitants into the Age of the Sixth Greater Dragon: Abhedananda. I vow that this age will be defined by a pervasive and profound shift away from the savagery and malice that troubled all previous eras. I will drag this planet out of its forsaken state if I must; and you will be the first five to enlist in my cause.”