Petrichor

The small uninhabited island levitated along the border of the Dragonhome and the Starfall Isles. It took him several tries, but he eventually did it. The tundra, no... bogsneak manage to get himself up to the lone island. Here he was safe. Here away from the other curious mages and near the edge of the Arcanist's domain Chester would be safe and alone. The island wasn't much to look at; Other than a few trees, glowing mushrooms, a small river, and a rose garden it was a very normal island. burrowing underneath the roots of the central tree, the wizard hid from the generous rainfall.

How?

How had his life, his new life given to him by the Arcanist gone so wrong so quickly?

For the rest of the days, he stayed under the roots coming to terms with his new form and learning all he could about it. His wings were gone, his memory was heightened, his sense of smell wasn't as sharp, but his distaste for others grew to the point of isolation. After day 8 Chester finally came out around early dawn. The gradient of pink and orange warmed the sky as he forged for plants before settling down to work. All his research material was in the Observatory locked in his quarters so the bog would have to start from scratch. In a way, he liked it. It brought him closer to his previous life where he was an ordinary dragon and he slowly gained his knowledge through trial and error, not from stacks of scrolls and tomes he dragged himself to read once he reformed.

Perhaps... this was intentional.

The bog shook his head, no. Don't give the Arcanist that much credit, he already has a big head. With the island being uninhabited it was rich with many herbs, plants, crystals... a nice resource of starting materials the wizard could use in setting up the circle around the island. Shards of crystals charged by the stars and runes and lines drawn along the edge of the earth from the paste of glowing mushrooms gave the island a mystical glow from where Chester sat high in the central tree. "Not bad for two weeks work on this island alone, eh Eloté?" The small corn snake slithered happily beneath the ragged hood of the wizard before poking its head out to see. With the glowing full moon rising to its maximum height and the stars above him shining, the Arcane bogsneak began reciting and felt his magic flow through him. The painted lines and runes throughout the land illuminated a bright cyan as the crystals sent beams back to the circle where the caster stood, now levitating as energy surged from him. "As the moon commands the tides, the stars light the worlds, control of this island shall now be mine!" The island shook, lowering a bit before rising and floating forward to the will of the wizard.

Stopping near the Observatory, the crystals and runes dimmed as Chester set foot off and snuck into his room before teleporting all of it onto his island. He landed back with a thud, quickly rearranged some knocked over bottles and headed back up to his place in the tree. Eloté slithered happily back up to his shoulder, "Don't worry, Elo. I think we spent enough around these mages. How about we find a nice spot for us?"

---

(She remembers a jolt of magic dotting down her spine. A wave of energy followed the intricate summoning circle along her stone-like scales illuminating the island. The soft murmur of the Arcane mage filled her ears while his energy pulsated in her ore veins. The island felt herself move from the spot she held for millennia now hovering deeper into the radioactive isles. A rich melody of birds, rogue energy, and the voices of strange creatures soothed the dragoness back into her slumber. When she opened her eyes again she felt... strange. What was once stone was flesh, what was once crystals became organs. Whatever the strange mage had done it had brought her to life she was forever in debt to them.

But... something felt off. As if a piece or two of her was missing...)

---

Look to the skies and one sees a lone island floating nearby the Focal Point. Look back again and in the island's place is an Imperial dragoness with earth rich scales and luminescent runes glowing with each breath she takes. She flies lower to the towering Focal Point where she is greeted by a small Bogsneak decorated with scars, potions, and a frown that melts upon seeing her. From her back trees grow, mushrooms glow, and small critters can be seen fluttering with life.

During the era of the first dragons formed by the deities, dragonkind was young, full of life, and untamed. The world was now flourishing with possibilities as far as the dragons could fly or so they thought. The Beastclans, creatures who lived during the Second Age before the reawakening of the gods were now faced with the mighty demons that now plagued their lands. They conquered, they destroyed, and ultimately they began a war with the many beast tribes throughout Sorneith. Among them was Petrichor an Imperial dragoness who fought alongside dragonkind for control of Dragonhome. Teeth snared and snapped as she caught bodies of her prey and ripped them to shreds instilling fear and hatred for the war beast. Though they were ultimately victorious, the battle was not without casualties.

When Dragonhome was conquered and territory was handed out Petrichor was given a floating island near the border to the Starfall Isles. The island was big enough for her and her hatchlings and with the breathtaking view of the stars far away from the bloody plains of war they couldn't be happier. While she loved the beauty of the earth and its strength, her children longed to watch the stars and often spent nights creating stories for them. It was early morning when she smelled smoke and heard her children scream. Fire was thrown from above while she and her hatchlings were surrounded by flying beasts who had no mind to fight the grown Imperial head on. Hails of arrows tipped with paralyzing toxin was shot down to the mother as she snapped at them in a desperate but slowing frenzy. The cries of her hatchlings being attacked on the burning island rang in her ears and until mother and young had perished in the inferno. With the last sounds and sight of her children, a rage haunted the mother beyond death. Her soul unable to move on and seeking vengeance for them pulled their bodies towards hers. 'Hush now my children... Mother will make them pay.'

Charred scales and bones began to fused together as a dark force fueled and soon consumed the wrath of the mother. The winged beasts had fled at the sight of the corpse rising with heads of young snapping and letting out a ghoulish cry. With the last bit of the Imperials' souls consumed, the emperor rose with a pained roar. For days it roamed with every living thing in its path, beast, and dragon, falling to its power until the Earthshaker and the Arcanist intervened to slay the monster, pull apart the dragons, and give them proper yet separate burial sites. The Arcanist, as the younger god, chose to bury the hatchlings at the two highest peaks of the Crystalspine Reaches to touch the very stars they dreamed of. The Earthshaker transformed Petrichor into a mighty yet beautiful crystal filled island on the edge of Dragonhome, the land she helped conquered, and faced the two peaks where her children rest.

After a millennium of living as an island tomb, she has awoken again by the hands of Chester, an Arcane scintilla who knows no more of her past than she does. Her wrath and memory have left her leaving behind a sweet and caring elderly dragoness who is fiercely protective of the wizard and happily gives him (and those he allows) rides.