Muerta

The glow of runes flicker on the edge of dragons visions, hatchlings play with the thin air and chatter to nothing. A sweet smell of roses fill the air whenever these things happen.

Muerta hangs out on the top of the spires, watching over a clan that had replaced her own so long ago. Her eyes dark red, glow softly in the gaze of older dragons, only for just a second. One could mistake her glow for a trick of light if they didnt believe in such stories. So much time has passed, the cave has changed and shifted, her spire the only remaining show of what came from hundreds of years in the past.

She is not a malevolent spirit, rather a peaceful one. One who watches over the new clan, keeping them safe from the demise that once plagued her clan, and brought her own death. Yet… She cannot remember it. Day after night, she spent many hours thinking about the past, what she mightve done to bring her into a realm where she cannot move on to seek out her family and friends. If she was alive, it would surely keep her up at night.

To take it in, she remains only in her spire, safe in the upper portion of the lair from the evils that simmer in the lower, where the mind of a ghost can be warped and shifted into a twisted view. With her harmony, and the poltergeists discord, it can create a tense feeling inside of the lair, thick and angry, startling the living dragons inside. However, since the poltergeist wakes in the day, and she wakes in the night, it rarely happens.

For now, she is a protector, a hatchling calmer, and a long lost mother to the new clan.

Written by TropicalPancakes