Creative Corner

This is basically a thread for me to post lore and descriptions that I can't or don't want to put in my dragons' bios, including stuff that is very blatantly non-canon. It will also be for general organisation of ideas and if (for some reason) people want to ask me lore questions. I'm hoping doing this will force me to write more, and also make it easier for me to do so. And I know I said this is for organisation, but's it's more of a general archive, so don't expect anything to be in order. [rule] Dragons with full lore: [list][*][url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=30787561]Midnightsun[/url] [*][url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?p=lair&tab=dragon&id=298065&did=30787560]Ashsong[/url] [*][url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=30491859]Bluehour[/url] [*][url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?p=lair&id=298065&tab=dragon&did=32818935]Astera[/url] [*][url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?p=lair&id=298065&tab=dragon&did=43742612]Smolderhearth[/url] [*] [url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/41375623]Daybreak[/url] [*][url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/32822533]Surelight[/url] [*] [url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/31148461]Rosevine [/url] [*] [url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/37596312]Zero[/url] [/list] Dragons that need lore: everybody else. [rule] [center][b]Links[/b][/center] Lore Stories: [LIST] [*][url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/cc/2461327#post_33715650]First Impressions[/url] [*][url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/cc/2461327/1#post_34265079]Through the Depths, Pt. One[/url] [*][url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/cc/2461327#post_34700157]Through the Depths, Pt. Two[/url] [*][url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/cc/2461327/1#post_38153687]Through the Depths, Pt. Three[/url] [*] [url=https://www1.flightrising.com/forums/cc/2461327/1#post_45005033]Sleepless Nights[/url] [/LIST] Lore References:[LIST] [*][url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/cc/2461327#post_33716647]Gods and Elemental Magic[/url] [*][url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/cc/2461327#post_33734387]Titles and Ranks[/url] [*][url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/cc/2461327#post_34227187]Gender and Romance[/url] [*] [url=https://www1.flightrising.com/forums/cc/2461327/1#post_47882726]Healing and Medicine[/url] [*] [url=https://www1.flightrising.com/forums/cc/2461327/2#post_48388740]Nutrition and Cuisine[/url] [/LIST]

It’s a quiet, respectable shoreline scattered with pinkish shells and ropes of drying seaweed. There’s not overly much to see or do; there might be a gull wheeling about overhead, and occasionally some seaglass washes up, but there is no excitement or adventure to be had. There are never storms; the waves are never large or aggressive; no sharks or whales can be spotted; there is absolutely no danger whatsoever.

The sheer, overwhelming safeness of the place is disconcerting.

Most never linger long. They stay an hour, maybe two, but then the oppressive security drives them to leave. Very few manage to watch the sun set over the calm waters, and even they flee the moment night sets in.

A pity, really, as night is the only time the beach sheds its cloak of safety.

Once the stars show, bioluminescent creatures spiral up from the depths, pale and twisted bodies blinking in unnatural rhythms. Monstrous jellyfish, white-green and pearlescent, wander upwards, and far below the surface is the the distorted image of something sleek and predatory. The wind picks up, tossing the waters into a roiling foam, and a pale blue mist rises from the sea and hangs just above the sand, static and unmoving. Voices drift from the horizon, songs and laughter beckoning, as though the sun itself is calling from its home beneath the waves.

At midnight, the wind stops, the sea smoothing out until it lies glassy and motionless. The voices grow insistent, and the blinking creatures slide into rows and columns as though ordered by some silent command. The jellies bob to the surface, milky bells shining like hundreds of full moons. A soft, comforting song lisps through the air, traveling aimlessly for miles.

As though entranced, they come: the weary and the broken, the seeking and the restless. From every horizon, they march slowly and steadily in. Each smiles with peace at the still waters as they step from shore to sea and reach out to touch the ethereal jellies.

The huge bells are silky and soothingly cool, and a silvery-greenish light wraps around each person that placed a hand on them. With a pulse of glittering light, all vanish, leaving the ocean and beach empty and quiet once more.

Out near the very edge of the horizon, submerged beneath an unfathomable amount of water, the people are deposited. The cave they arrive in is lit by glowing mosses and fungi, and detailed etchings in a foreign art style cover every surface. Behind them is a wall of water, the jellies that transported them dutifully drifting off into the depths. The water ripples and bulges as though resentful of its containment, but the silvey runes holding it back stay true.

There is a quiet tapping of claws on stone, and a darkly armored Pearlcatcher quickly becomes visible in the bluish-green light. Her voice is somewhat deep, and very melodic, and she flicks her ears happily as she bows. “Hello, hello,” she begins, keen eyes flicking from arrival to arrival. “I am glad our song lead you here safely. I am Astera, the soldier and guide. You, then,”--here she bows once more, deeper this time-- “are our esteemed guests.”

She motions with her tail for them to follow, and they trail behind her closely as she carefully and thoroughly explains what, exactly, has happened.

“Maybe you've heard stories of us, the distant refuge in the sea that calls to the broken and beaten. We are plainly more than just legend. We live to serve, and exist solely to ensure your happiness and wellbeing. We help, we protect, we shelter. That is why you were drawn to us; you all need what we have, and we are more than pleased to provide it. Stay as long as you need or as short as you like. There is no judgement here, only peace.”

She leads them through winding tunnels to a massive, high-ceilinged cavern dotted with enchanted, white-flamed torches and floored with elegant crystal tiles. “Here is the Centre, the intersection point for all tunnels and pathways.” She pauses, one ear giving a slow, thoughtful flick. “Where are my manners?” she suddenly says, elegant voice echoing crisply off the domed ceiling.

She spreads dark blue wings and turns to face her new charges. Nearly prostrating herself before them, her horn and wingtips resting on the crystal floor, she says, solemn and joyous at once, “The Waypoint welcomes you.”

Disclaimer: I came up with this set of gods, colours, and magics before I had even heard of Flight Rising, so if something seems similar to the Flight Rising deities or game mechanics, it is coincidence.

---

The first god was Untlim, who hails from a higher plane of existence beyond comprehension. With his power of creation, he made everything from the physical world to the infinite stars, even the very void that everything exists in. But maintaining such a vast creation was too draining for the young deity, and so he also created thirteen other gods to help him ensure stability and rule over his world.

The fourteen gods each have an associated elemental magic, three colours, and various other spheres of influence. Each god is also paired with another that shares their same driving goal or ideal that they believe the universe should emulate.

---

Certain species are more attuned to the gods than others; these are often referred to as the elemental races, and it includes elves, centaurs, and harpies. Individuals of these species are born with an inbound affinity for one of the fourteen elemental magics and slight alterations to their appearance that reflect that, e.g. a fire-aligned elf might have warm, reddish skin and silvery hair.

A subset of the elemental races is the draconic races, consisting of the truly elemental species: dragons and mer(dragons).

Draconic races are born without any elemental affinity, but once they physically mature their natural inclination towards one element will solidify and they will fully attune with it. This can be seen visually in their eye colour: dragons have the eye colour of the primary colour (first listed) of their god, and before maturity have prismatic/kaleidoscopic eyes.

Once this occurs, the elemental affinity can never change, and the dragon will only ever be able to use that type of magic. They can still practice alchemy and enchant, but will not be able to use the more general spells accessible to other races. In return, dragons are naturally powerful spellcasters, able to warp and weave their element in ways difficult for non-dragons to understand. They are also immune their element, e.g. fire dragons cannot be burned by fire, water dragons cannot drown, ice dragons cannot freeze, ect.

---

Untlim, god of Moon Arcana and Order Primary colours: black, purple, blue Other spheres: Marriage, Death, Night, Protection, the Moons Lenno, god of Ice and Pleasure Primary colours: white, red, purple Other spheres: Games, Family, Seasons, Parenting, Optimism Vellia, god of Fire and Unity Primary colours: red, black, silver Other spheres: Performing Arts, Camaraderie, Food, Armistice, Humor Sorna, god of Time and Knowledge Primary colours: orange, blue, white Other spheres: Collaboration, Records, Language, Study, Meditation Mertisal, god of Water and Freedom Primary colours: grey, red, blue Other spheres: Music, Storytelling, Storms, Wandering, Imagination Tynosam, god of Healing and Peace Primary colours: pale blue, brown, orange Other spheres: Diplomacy, Altruism, Brotherhood, Domestication, Compromise Koletti, god of Earth and Honour Primary colours: brown, black, red Other spheres: Respect, Leadership, Humility, Idealism Self-Reflection

Aenith, god of Sun Arcana and Order Primary colours: gold, white, red Other spheres: Law, Pilgrimage, Day, the Suns, Prayer Roaqon, god of Arcana and Pleasure Primary colours: purple, orange, gold Other spheres: Scrying, Fortune, Pragmatism, Sorcery, Cynicism Prin, god of Thought and Unity Primary colours: pink, brown, blue Other spheres: Memory, Community, Emotion, Persuasion, Stability Ytarga, god of Lightning and Knowledge Primary colours: dark blue, purple, green Other spheres: Discovery, Invention, Exploration, Sailing, Metalworking Xerm, god of Wind and Freedom Primary colours: pale green, red, gold Other spheres: Revolution, Change, Celebration, Spirit, Flight Mimshra, god of Life and Peace Primary colours: dark green, blue, white Other spheres: Agriculture, Hunting, Sacrifice, Hierarchy, Amalgamation Varzir, god of Poison and Honour Primary colours: neon green, black, orange Other spheres: Strategy, Improvisation, Medicine, Authenticity, Independence

---

The types of elemental magics are as follows:

• Moon Arcana: create illusions and temporary objects
• Sun Arcana: create shields, wards, and flashes of light
• Arcana: control force in its purest form
• Ice: create, sculpt, and bend ice
• Thought: read minds and sense emotions
• Fire: create, bend, and control fire
• Lightning: create, direct, and halt lightning
• Time: slow and speed up time in relation to oneself
• Water: create, move, and shape water
• Wind: create, direct, and bend wind
• Healing: heal wounds and cure sickness
• Life: create and influence life, flora and fauna
• Earth: create, shape, and move earth
• Poison: create and direct a vast array of toxins and acids

Flocks of dragons vary in organisation from region to region and flock to flock, but there are two universal constants. The first is the presence of the positions Flock First,
Flock Second, and Flock Third, and the second constant is the concept of unique titles for each individual.

For the purpose of this reference, any flock with more than 65 permanent members is a large flock, and any fewer is small.

---

Flock First, Second, and Third are positions that are not voted on or consciously chosen, rather dragons in a given flock will simply gravitate towards those roles. In some flocks there is a confirmation process to make the rank official, but not all do this.

Flock First is a position for level-headed dragons with a mind for the big picture. They should be at least somewhat ambitious, with a desire to improve the flock. Their role is to provide the group with the groundwork ideas and ideals to forge themselves into something great, as well as serving as a non-biased authority figure to make decisions in times of crisis or interpersonal conflict.

Flock Second is a position for social dragons with an eye for detail. They should be hard-working and tireless, with an enthusiasm for self-improvement and a belief in the First's ideals. Their role is to manage the everyday goings-on of the flock, by making sure that every dragon is acting in accordance to the big picture. They need to be able to turn broad ideas into detailed plans and work well with the First.

Flock Third is a more minor position for dragons with a military mindset. The Flock Third becomes the acting leader in times of violence and war, and so they must be commanding, confident, and inspiring. They also must be able to effectively organise a fighting force and come up with a workable strategy under pressure. When the flock is not under threat, the Third is usually in charge of general security, but nothing more.

In some smaller flocks, the Flock First, Second, and Third serve as the leaders, though this is not always the case; some large flocks have multiple leaders, with the First, Second, and Third only getting involved when necessary. In very small flocks, there might not even be a Flock Third; in this case, the Flock First or Second double as the Third should the need arise.

In terms of organisation, most small flocks only have a leader or two, with some not even having any kind of formal ranking structure. Larger flocks often have multiple leaders overseeing various duties, sometimes with councils or other such bodies convening to decide on flock-wide issues. Larger flocks are also more likely to have a rigid rank structure, with a definitive tiering of individuals and their roles.

Some flocks have sub-flocks, which are groups of dragons that act independently within the larger flock, have their own Flock First/Second, but still defer to the primary leaders and recognise them as authorities.

---

In addition to ranks, dragons also have titles, which may or may not be related to their place in the flock.

Titles can be based off of many things, such as nicknames, professions, talents, appearance, origin, etc. The only requirement is that each title is unique to one dragon and one dragon only. Dragons within a flock may have the same name as another, but no two dragons within a flock will ever have the same title. Titles serve a similar purpose to human surnames in that it further sets apart otherwise similarly named individuals.

Dragons may be formally addressed by either their title, or their title followed by their name, e.g. Cleric or Cleric Surelight. Informally, dragons are addressed by name only, though occasionally titles are used, and titles are always used if two or more dragons share a name.

Dragons are different than most species in that there is technically only one sex, this meaning that each dragon is reproductively compatible with every other dragon. Because of this, a dragon's gender is much less obvious to non-dragons, and is also more fluid than in perhaps other organisms.

Generally, dragons have three main gender categories, though there is room for variation due to cultural or personal differences. Nonetheless, most dragons identify as one of the following:

• Point: the dominant gender, in cultures with a gender hierarchy. They typically are in charge of the family unit and stay in the core of the territory, and are expected to take on some sort of intellectual or creative pursuit when they aren't managing the family or relations with other flocks/units. They typically lay the eggs*, but don't usually act as the main caretakers for the hatchlings. In flight with other dragons, they fly point, hence the name.
• Trail: the most aggressive gender, typically dragons that are built for combat. They are the protectors of the family unit, flying all throughout the reaches of the territory and even beyond to deal with threats. They are also generally the most social, forging bonds with other families/flock, and are generally the main caretakers for chicks. In flight, they fly far ahead of the rest or trail behind to watch for threats.
• Slipstream: generally the most submissive gender, and sometimes trend smaller. They are the providers of the family unit, either working or hunting/farming for the others, as well as general errands and menial labor. They focus on maintaining flock relationships, strengthening existing inter- and intra-flock bonds, and are secondary caretakers for chicks. In flight, they fly directly behind the Point.

Naturally, these are only typical traits common to certain cultures, and it is rare for any dragon to embody all of them at once with no deviation. Not all draconic cultures have clear-cut gender distinctions, and many have gender roles that are far more fluid than what is detailed above.

In most forms of draconic, each gender category will have its own pronoun, but when using other languages, dragons adapt; Points typically use feminine pronouns, Slipstreams use masculine, and Trails use both in equal amounts.

---

Romantically, most dragons mate for life but are not monogamous, though some very rarely do form pairs. Instead, dragons form open or closed polyamorous groups ranging from 3-12 individuals, with a strong bias towards the middle of the range.

Composition-wise, family units stereotypically have a 1:1:2 ratio of Points to Trails to Slipstreams (meaning that for every one Point, there is one Trail and two Slipstreams), though any combination is feasible. Some groups purposefully strive towards the "Golden Ratio", others don't care.

Courting at first occurs only between two dragons who are interested in each other, and varies wildly from culture to culture (e.g. some presents gifts and have a specific set of steps to go through, others have a focus on doing tasks together as a pair, etc.). After the first two have decided to pair up, they then usually seek out compatible others to bring fresh dynamics into their relationship. Courtships then continue, only now with each new mate being included with courting the soon-to-be. In a few areas, after dragons pair, it is custom for single dragons to court them rather than the other way around.

Sometimes, romance just doesn't work out, and a dragon leaves the group. Due to their long lifespans, many dragons actively avoid holding grudges, so the split is as painless as it gets. It isn't uncommon for more than one dragon to leave at a time, usually because one has a serious grievance and the other feels more attached to that one dragon than the others.

If romance does work out, then expect the group, once it stops actively looking for more members, to remain stable for centuries. The inner dynamics of such groups (once again) vary wildly from culture to culture and unit to unit, but in general there is an additional emphasis on sharing, reliance on others, and communication compared to more monogamous species.

---

*Points typically lay the eggs because they are usually the largest and that is simply the most pragmatic option for egg-laying species (see also: birds of prey). In groups where the Point is not the largest, then the largest is the one who lays the eggs, be they Trail, Slipstream, or something else entirely.

Far from the Waypoint proper, down where light no longer could reach and the creatures grew haunting and ethereal, two dragons dove even deeper. Each dark blue themselves, they merged and flowed with the surrounding sea, odd currents clawing at their sides and dragging at their limbs. With one lantern apiece, they could barely cast enough light to stop themselves from melting into the blackness, but yet stood out as two supernovas against the void.

"You're positive that the field will hold?" Astera asked, decades of experience speaking underwater keeping her voice clear and understandable. "The pressure is getting intense; even I'm starting to feel it."

Her companion, the comparatively massive imperial Stormtide, gave a slow shake of his broad head, the inky water making his movements sluggish and inelegant. Stormtide gesture minutely to the set of darksteel bands on his fore- and hindlegs, the simple pieces of jewelry gleaming silver-white as a testament to their heavy enchantments. From there, tiny runes wove all over the imperial's sleek, deep blue scales, encasing him in a protective, magical shell.

"I am certain that the enchantment will work. It held up during Ashsong's test, and there is no reason for it to fail now." The telepath's voice echoed in her head. "I am breathing perfectly well, and there are no signs of leaks."

"Perhaps, but Ashsong is a water dragon, and maybe..." Astera flicked her ears dismissively. She understood her adopted son’s reasoning, but he was still inexperienced. "Fine. But if you feel the runes start to give, get out as fast as you can."

"Indeed."

Not satisfied, but not knowing what was bothering her, Astera continued to lead them deeper. Her natural elemental affinity kept her safe, but even then the chill of the dark waters stirred a sort of primal fear in her heart. Strange, foreign currents came from below, twirling with unnatural warmth as they skimmed past her wings. Above her, Stormtide grunted, sending out a small cascade of bubbles as he tried to right himself.

"Steady on!" she called back to him, pointing further below them with a wing. "I can't see it yet, but the disturbances are certainly coming from there."

To his credit, the imperial was not hopeless in the water, and caught up quickly by swimming not unlike an eel. Throwing greenish wings wide for stability, he peered down with keen eyes into the near pitch black.

"I cannot see anything." The mind-voice was slightly irritated, but otherwise unemotional. "Are you positive, Enchantress Astera? The currents could also stem from further north.

"No. Just..." Astera flapped her wings in frustration, jerking slightly upwards. "I can't explain it. It's like when I sing: I don't know what notes I'm singing, I just know they're the right ones."

"Very well. I trust your judgement." His tone remained impartial, but Astera knew the imperial enough to tell he was still skeptical.

Astera said nothing, only swimming purposefully with measured strokes towards what she knew was the source of the misplaced currents plaguing the Waypoint. She strained to focus her eyes against the uniformity of the sea, switching her lantern to her jaws for even the slightest edge.

Still lagging behind, Stormtide thrashed his tail and pulled his wings in flush against his body, his own lantern glowing dimly from where it was chained to his shoulder.

The pearlcatcher dove on, finally glimpsing a blur of movement somewhere at the edges of her lantern's reach. She paused her descent, wings half unfurled, and took the lantern back into her talons. Just within her field of view, she saw it... a dark smear, slowly spilling and swirling in the twisted water.

She felt a soft presence in the back of her head, not unlike the feeling of Stormtide's mind-speech, and the sea calmed. No more pushing currents or tugging flow. Just stillness and the black of the depths.

There was peace.

But... she knew something was wrong. She was forgetting... forgetting what? It was annoying, not being able to remember. She wanted to just feel at ease, feel safe, but some part of her was rebelling.

There was more pressure building in her head, sharper this time, and focused.

Something massive slammed into her, knocking her further down. She turned to see a sleek form, draconic... an imperial dragon.

Stormtide.

He was struggling violently, violet tinged currents of water driving into his side. Jerked helplessly this way and that, the imperial spread his wings, but the currents shifted their attacks to destabilize him.

The pressure is Astera's head finally abated, and it was followed by a roar of mental sound:

"Astera! Get out of here! It's some kind of telepath, and you need to leave before it assumes full control over you. Please, go! You need to leave, you must... Astera!"

"I can't leave you, Storm!" Astera tried vainly to use her own water magics to halt the churning sea. "We'll scare it off, and then get back to the Waypoint and--"

There was a small pulse of silver light. The runes protecting Stormtide shimmered brightly for a moment, then fell away.

---

To part two

Stormtide was impressed by Astera’s optimism, at least. Even as violet tendrils of water whipped at her hard enough to draw blood, the pearlcatcher continued her futile attempt to reach him. He didn’t see the point of it, truly.

The runes were down, the enchantment was gone, and it was over. The weight of the sea would kill him before he ever got the chance to drown. He could feel his ribs caving under the pressure, forcing his dwindling breath through his mouth. His spine shifted painfully; his hips gave an audible snap; a terrible crushing sensation came from his abdomen.

Stormtide knew how it was going to end, even if Astera did not.

But then there was… singing. Singing in such a strong, sure voice with words that echoed with power and majesty. Silver pulses swept through the sea, temporarily driving back the turmoil of purple.

Managing to turn his head under the immense pressure, Stormtide looked down to see Astera still doggedly rushing towards him, her singing slicing through the emptiness of the deep sea. She reached out with a claw towards his nonfunctional bracelets and a small arch of silvery-blue energy twisted out to bridge the gap.

Weightlessness. Breath.

Astera poured her soul into the failing enchantments, silver magic streaming from her and keeping the unrelenting force of the sea at bay.

Stormtide could scream with relief, but settled for wrapping his long body around the pearlcatcher, shifting so she was clutched to his chest and near enough to keep the enchantments in his bracelets active.

Astera couldn’t pause her song to say the words--not without risking Stormtide’s life--but he felt her lightly tap at his foreleg and knew, like he was hearing her steady, musical voice say, “Get us out of here, son.”

He spread his wings, ready to ascend, when the violet current returned full force. It seemed to know where he was already injured, pummeling into his ribs and hips and forcing agonized whimpers of pain from him. His wings flailed haphazardly, sending the panicked imperial only further into the deep.

Mind unfocused, his protection for himself slipped, and he felt an animalistic presence bear down on his thoughts. Stormtide lashed out mentally, aggressive and fearful, but the being never faltered with its two-front assault.

He hoped, briefly, to catch a glimpse of intelligence, of sentience, but was met with only blind instinct and dispassionate obedience to the natural order.

He pushed back again, briefly letting the currents have their way with him, this time projecting an image of bestial anger and wild, untamed emotion. The being flinched back, and it was all the opportunity Stormtide needed to expel it fully, shoring up his defenses in case of another attack.

But he had other problems.

Astera was growing tired, her song not quite so confident or loud, and though it was holding, the enchantment was threatening to give. The imperial could feel its moments of weakness as the slow push and pull of the weight of the sea.

He needed to swim upwards, get himself out of the range of this creature, and get back to the Waypoint. He had to.

And yet he knew he should continue going deeper.

It was the clearest thought in his head, the only one that mattered. It was like Astera with her singing; the sudden intuition was breathtaking, and he truly almost gasped with the realisation before remembering he was underwater.

He dove.

The purple waters helped him along, and he lashed his body from side to side despite the vehement protests from his spine and pelvis. His wings pressed tight and low against his battered body, and his lifeline--his friend and mentor and mother--Astera was kept pulled to his chest. His lantern did nothing to light the way, because there was nothing to light: the sea was vast and empty and barren.

The currents followed him, this time trying to pull him upwards rather than drag him down. The creature twisted and coiled near the edges of his vision, predatory and cruel.

But he swam ever downwards.

Astera’s song grew quieter yet, and the brief moments where he felt the weight of the sea were coming more and more often. He hurt down to his bones, the pain numbing him through until he could barely tell if he was even swimming anymore.

Each breath he took felt wet, and he didn’t know if it was because of the failing runes or the blood in his lungs.

Then the currents stopped, and the water was perfectly still. Something dark and slippery brushed past his tail, fleeing, but he was focused elsewhere

Before him was a pulsing light, cyan and glowing with the essence of the sea. It drifted close to him, growing brighter until he could see the entity it was attached to.

The creature--a different creature than the one before--was blackish blue and covered in faintly shimmering lines of white. There were eyes, many eyes, all silver and blinking in unison.

The light drew closer, grew brighter, and the full form of the creature was outlined.

Gigantic. A leviathan. Huge. Big. Big. big. big big big big too big too big too igb toobgi toogbi toob gi too

The light touched the very tip of his nose, and he was consumed by the spirit of the sea.

---

To part three

Astera came to slowly, only aware in bits and pieces.

The soothing calmness of the sea, the dappled warmth of the sunlight on her sides, the soft breeze whispering by her ears. Opening her eyes, she took in the glassy expanse of undisturbed ocean, the reflections of clouds gliding smoothly along the still, greenish blue.

Her head and shoulders were above water, bathed in warm, subtropical light, and the rest of her laid submerged atop an underwater rock formation, worn down by aeons of breaking waves. The waters were shallow and colourful fish darted between reefs below; only a couple meters away was the shore of a small island

Across from her, lying laxly on golden sands and studying the sky, was Stormtide. His deep blue scales shone nearly black when contrasted against the pale beach, and dark, greenish wings spread wide to heat under the noon sun. Small trails of broken off scales circled around the imperial, and cracks and scars were visible all over his body.

“Stormtide,” Astera began weakly, her voice nearly gone due to her singing. “Are you well?”

“Enough,” he said after a pause, turning away from the clouds to face her. Though his tone was flat as ever, there was something vaguely disturbed in his expression. “Zero's patrol should have him passing by here soon. Once we are found, the others will find a way to get us safely back to the Waypoint.” He paused again, and there was the rough sound of him swallowing. “I… something strange has happened to me.”

“Storm?” Astera asked again, this time dragging herself upright and making the awkward flight over to him. The sand was silky and her claws sank down into it. “What--down there, what happened?”

“It was so big,” Stormtide muttered, more to himself. “Too big. I was… I was so small, felt small…” He blinked those huge pink eyes at her, as if he was just now realising she was there. “You are unhurt?”

Astera flicked her wings affirmatively, then tentatively said, “The creature that attacked us? The one that was telepathic?”

Stormtide gave a distant shake of his head. “You were nearly unconscious when I saw it. It had this bright--so bright and silver-- this light that, this light that shone into my soul. Became my soul. I… something's changed in me.”

And as he said it, as though to prove his words true, a patch of scales on his side creaked and suddenly shattered off his body, falling like blue-black glass to the shore. Underneath, now exposed to the elements, was a swirling, glassy plane of bright blue tinged through with golden magic. It gleamed in the sun like crystal, and Astera could suddenly see the glimmers of blue-gold light coming up through the spiraling cracks in Stormtide's glossy scales.

Underneath the smooth, metallic sheen of dark blue was now a core of bright, glowing molten crystal that pulsed with the energy of the sea.

“You…” Astera exhaled, reaching out with what little magical strength she had left. Something within Stormtide, something new and still developing, weakly thrummed back.

The imperial gasped at the foreign sensation. “My magic…” He paused. “I am still a telepath, but now there is… something more.” Grimacing in pain as he struggled to stand, Stormtide flared his wings for balance and kept as much weight as possible off his back legs. Turning to the sea, he visibly composed himself and his newly exposed core pulsed brightly, flashing silver.

The incoming wave glittered with spots of silverish blue, and instead of calmly whispering onto and away from the beach like all the others, it suddenly rushed forwards violently as though pulled by an invisible force.

The glow from Stormtide receded, as did the wave from the beach. The imperial gave an exhausted sigh, collapsing back onto the sand with a stifled grunt of pain.

“You are blessed,” Astera murmured, striding to stand by Stormtide's broad head. She nuzzled briefly into his cheek, licking his ear affectionately. “To have the gift of multiple elements… The gods must be pleased with you.”

Stormtide made a quiet sound of agreement, busy trying to lie in a position that was easy on his hips. “What of the other dragons, ones maybe less… accepting?”

“We of the Waypoint will always support you, and the others are not worth worrying over,” Astera said quietly, letting a wing stretch protectively over Stormtide's head. How ridiculous she must look, a pearlcatcher trying to shelter an imperial! “Those creatures down there, they will plague us still, again and again until we can scare them away for good. I will need to train you in the ways of water, Stormtide, if we are to have a successful expedition.”

Stormtide, slowly sliding away into sleep, huffed in a kind of exasperated fondness. “I suppose this means I am going to remain your apprentice for some time then, Enchantress Astera.”

Astera was about to reply when a shadow fell across the beach, and the two dragons looked up to see the massive, pastel form of Zero descending rapidly towards them. The other imperial’s face was creased with worry, but when he spoke relief was in his voice. “Astera, Stormtide? Rosevine and Eclipse are on their way, we’ll have you back at the Waypoint soon.”

Stormtide grunted softly in acknowledgment, mostly asleep, and Astera stood guard by his dark head. “Good to see you again Zero,” she said with a tired smile. “We have a lot to tell everyone about back home.”

It was hard, sometimes, for Poiesis to fall asleep. It wasn't a mystery why, that's for certain. With her role as Speaker, she had the final thoughts and memories of thousands of long-dead dragons rattling around her head. Most of the time, they stayed put, settling softly in the back of her skull like a warm blanket. But some days…

Some days they frayed apart, scattering into millions of tiny pinpricks of foreign, half-remembered sensations that danced around her thoughts like so many colourful snowflakes. And on these days, Poiesis knew better than to expect sleep to come.

Dragging herself from her bedding and being careful not to wake any of her nestmates, the black and red mirror crept silently from the dorms and into the dark halls of the Waypoint. The cavern might have been maze-like to some, but Poiesis had been living at the Waypoint since its inception and navigating the twisting, looping tunnels was second nature by this point.

Her wandering, half mindless trek led her to the Garden, and she breathed deeply as she crossed over the threshold. There was something so intimately nostalgic about the scent--the sweetness of hyacinths and lilacs, the gentle musty odour of fallen leaves and damp soil, the subtle spice of the lovingly-tended cinnamon trees. There was no wind, not down so deep beneath the ocean, but the leaves still rustled and whispered, moved by an unknown force. The pool in the centre glowed silver from within, and the waterfall that fed it burbled quietly in the stillness.

The enchanted crystal lights hanging from the ceiling had been dimmed from their usual prismatic splendor to a soft blue violet that rippled and spun around the cavern, dripping slowly off dark green leaves and onto the mossy floor. The mosses and ferns themselves seem to cast their own light, a pale greenish blue, that rose up in tiny flecks to drift in the same mystical wind that rustled the leaves of the trees so gently.

On the opposite side of the Garden, the cavern walls fell away to the inky sea, the water held back by rows of glittering silver runes. Deep sea fish and jellies floated upwards, translucent white and pearlescent against the blackness. Every so often there would be a glimmer of neon blue, a bit of bioluminescence forming a miniature star so far away from the sky.

The Garden was truly a sanctuary, the safest and calmest place in all the Waypoint. Walking its winding paths with even steps, Poiesis let the ambience sooth her, the fractured memories she carried slowly beginning to settle once more where they belonged.

Upon reaching the central clearing, her mind was centred, but she was still not yet ready to fall asleep. But that was just fine for Poiesis, because she was not as alone as she thought.

“Why, what brings the wondrous Speaker Poiesis to these fair gardens this eventide?” Amber said quietly, a far cry from his usual bombastic volume. The wildclaw was lounging on the small outcropping of rock that overlooked the pool, for once not in his full bardic costume. Instead, he wore only a plain white shirt and his characteristic feathered cap, his silver flute and sitar lying within arm's reach.

“Things were somewhat… hectic… in my head. I needed a walk to set them straight.” Poiesis leaped up to join Amber on the rocks, enjoying the slightly improved view of the lush, twilit Garden.

“Indeed, Speaker Poiesis?” Amber muttered, shifting a feathery wing so it draped warmly over the dark mirror. “Does the honourable Speaker require anything of Ambrose, Bard Extraordinaire? He would gladly perform any task for so loyal a friend and flockmate.”

“Watch the jellies with me?” Poiesis asked, turning her gaze to the far side, where the Garden opened up to the ocean.

“Ambrose can think of no greater idea,” Amber whispered, picking up his flute with a slight flourish. “Music, venerable Speaker? Or would perhaps silence fit her mood better?”

But Poiesis could not reply, because she was already lost in that swirling world of luminous jellies bobbing in deep blackness, the slow waves of violet light from the crystals above matching the rhythmic pulses of the jellies.

Amber hummed to himself, a short snatch of a melody, before lifting the flute to his mouth and starting to play. The notes were clear, almost crystalline, but flowed like liquid glass. The song was low and calm, pulling in and out like waves on a starry, distant shore, and the notes rose and dipped slowly and fluidly.

When Poiesis came to hours later, Amber's wing still resting warmly on her back, the light in the Garden was slowly beginning to shift back to its typical bright kaleidoscope. Though no one else had entered the Garden, the Waypoint was no longer silent, as the minute hum of activity could be felt in the air as the dragons awoke and began their duties.

And Amber, at some point in the night, had switched from the flute to his beloved sitar. He plucked a strange yet deeply familiar melody, one that wove and danced and glittered like dewdrops or spinning stars.

And softly, so so softly, his voice flowed in that natural harmony, the words just barely able to be told apart from the haunting music of the sitar:

“Fall, fall, fall through th’ deep
Deep, deep, deep blue flow
Flow, flow, flow of th’ sea
See, see, see how much
Much, much, much I love
Love, love, love how you
You, you, you are my
My, my, my bright star
Star, star, star of th’ sea
See, see, how much…”

Healing is a complex science, and many dragons dedicate themselves to learning the many facets of both magical and mundane healing. The best results are achieved when both are used in tandem, so doctors looking to become experts must study for decades.

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Magical

Magically based healing has two subsections: elemental healing, and alchemy. Elemental healing magic is naturally only available to dragons of that element, but luckily alchemy is available for all to learn. Elemental healing magic is used to heal physical injuries, and alchemy can be used to create antidotes and cures for many diseases and infections. Notably, wound healing magic is unable to set bones (which must then be done by claw), and alchemy cures are ineffective against certain illnesses.

The primary upsides to magical healing methods are their extremely rapid effects and potency: healing magic can seal a severe wound in seconds, and alchemical tinctures can cure deadly diseases in a day. The major downsides to these methods are the fact that they are exhausting for both doctor and patient, and often deeply painful. Healing magic to close wounds is thus only used for moderate to severe injuries when mundane methods would be less effective, and alchemical cures can only be used when the patient is strong enough to handle the strain.

Despite this, magical healing methods are deeply useful, especially in field and emergency medicine where every second counts to save someone’s life. With proper and rapid administration, alchemy can prevent disease outbreaks before they start, and many illnesses have been eradicated thanks to aggressive alchemical medicine campaigns.

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Mundane

Mundane healing is done through various means, some physical like bandages and sutures, and some chemical like various herbal reductions. It is important to note that these herbal medicines are not alchemical in nature, as there is no magical manipulation of their properties. Anyone can learn mundane healing, and while it is not as flashy as magical healing, it is just as effective at saving lives.

The upsides to mundane healing are their accessibility, and versatility: anyone can be trained to do basic healing and wound care, and the methods are always applicable for any health situation. The major downsides are that mundane methods can be very slow, and in some cases ineffective for certain magically induced illnesses. Mundane healing methods are best for non-life-threatening injuries and diseases, where a slower recovery is adequate, and for preparing a patient to be healed with magic. As magical healing is so strenuous, many times a patient must be partially treated with other means for them to have the strength to withstand the magical healing.

Mundane methods are the most numerous and diverse of the healing arts, and the most widespread. While not as effective at saving someone from the brink of death, mundane healing is the primary method used to treat everyday injury and sickness, as it is both effective at halting and preventing many kinds of ailments.

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Medicines

The following is a list of common medicines, and their uses. Italics indicate something is alchemical in nature.

• Apple Dew: given to hatchlings to help with minor ailments. Adults are put off by the too-sweet taste.
• Caffeine: more potent for dragons than other species; reduces lethargy and stimulates appetite. Also causes headaches.
• Cold Touch: does not cure any disease per se, but a very powerful fever reducer.
• Feather Willow: reduces itching and other skin irritation; most commonly used by feathered dragons during molting.
• Lightleaf: helps eliminate and prevent infections when applied to wounds, and can reduce low level fevers.
• Panacea: can eliminate most infections and illnesses over the course of a day. Extremely difficult to make, but most flocks always have at least one dose at all times.
• Sweetrose: a painkiller, preferred over others because of its low addiction risk for dragons. Is actually quite bitter.
• Taste of Sky: reduces muscle weakness and improves endurance; care must be taken to not use it to mask genuine issues.