Zenith

Lyra Cadens Hatchery

Further evidence that nothing good comes from the Lyra Cadens Hatchery.

Zenith is a proud dragon. A very proud dragon. Altogether too proud. This stems in large part from her appearance; when she arrived, she was the only dragon in the clan with the circuit gene. Her brilliant markings contrasted flawlessly with her black scales, making her striking and beautiful. And she knew it.

She was wildly offended when Tegan was brought to the clan with the intent that they should breed and pass on that rare and coveted gene. To think that she would want anything to do with that mad little fae! She even swatted at him when he came too close. (She is quietly blamed for his sudden disappearance.)

Unlike the other dragons, Zenith named herself. (It was her unfortunate teasing that landed Nadir with his contrasted name.) She considers herself above the other dragons of the clan, including and especially Irganon and Ragna, the highest-ranking females. Who are they, she thinks, that they should be above her? She was born to be a queen, and a queen she will be some day. So far, she has had several run-ins with both older females, and has been punished by being assigned as Irganon's helper/pack mule for gathering trips. Everyone hopes time and exhaustion will wear the sharp edges off of her personality.

~~~

As the years went by, Zenith began to notice something painful. After rejecting suitors as being not good enough, she found herself alone. She realized she had not had a nest in a very, very long time. This in and of itself did not bother her, but the loneliness ached. Time passed, and her pride took a terrible blow. She looked at herself in the polished obsidian walls: the sparkling gold wings, the electric blue lines, worth so much when she first arrived, contrasting beautifully against her black hide.

Her plain black hide.

Plain. No one wanted her as a mate, because surely the plainness would be passed on to her children. This, again, did not bother her. But it made her worthless to the clan. She was continually dragged on foraging expeditions, but otherwise...she had no company. Her self-confidence plummeted; she considered sneaking away in the night, or offering herself up to the Flamecaller. But in the end, change scared her. She lost herself looking in mirrors, and water, and hating what she saw. She tried to hide it under a costume brought back from a festival, but nothing helped.

One day, while serving as a pack-mule for a Market trip, she snuck away to the Scrying tents, just for a moment. She looked at the magic, the different patterns, but none of them suited her. She fled, near tears, and hid herself in one of the deepest tunnels of the lair, intending to take herself to the altar the next day.

Help came from an unexpected source: Aeden, the unofficial heir to the clan. He did nothing, simply sat nearby and waited. The silence was too much for Zenith, and she found herself telling everything that was upsetting her, a torrent years in the making. Her voice rose into a high wail, but she couldn't bring herself to care. Once she was finished, the skydancer tilted his head, "Before you decide to go, maybe we could try a small change or two, to see if it helps?"

"Like...like what?"

"New clothes, maybe, and that cockatrice isn't...exactly helping."

"I don't...all right?"

Will you come back with me? We'll see what's in the hoard."

~~~

A few days later, Zenith found Aeden waiting for her at the entrance to her den. "I found one other thing you might like."

"Another? You've already done so much..."

He smiled, "But this one is the most necessary."

Her breath caught as he held out the slim scroll, "A gene scroll! You can't be serious! The expense!" But he was, patiently holding it out until she was able to take it, claws trembling. The magic rippled over her, marking her skin with one of the newest patterns.