Jyia

The way the windlight catches on your royal crown with sorrow Reflects your darker way of life, you're lighter than a sparrow. Candescent sulphur light at dusk, revered by shadow nymphs Won't catch you in a million years, not even in a glimpse. They praise your might with songs a-glory, content to see you shimmer But they don't know the hurt within, your tears are ever thinner The past moves back, the future comes, content to dance forever You live in limbo and are crazed to seek the love you've severed There's emptiness inside you now, sophisticated matter Between salvation and despair... you'll always chose the latter.

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The Scarred Wastelands were no home for a dragon like Jyia. He had always felt there was more to life than the eternal devotion for decay his kin pushed him towards.

It started with an eerie feeling whenever he was alone in the Abiding Boneyard- surrounded by corrosive fogs and striking wails of sorrow, the Skydancer felt his skin crawl. Something that he should have loved repulsed him. His friends, devout to the Plaguebringer, scared him. Whenever he found a reclusive spot among the contagion, it would soon be taken over by putrid corruption and he was forced to always stay on the move.

With no family, nor friends to speak of, Jyia tried to look around his home and find a place where he could belong. Some dragons snarled at him, others tried to rip his feathers and fur off to make him look more approachable to their own kin. There were those who ignored him, trapped in a mindless maze from which not even the most devout worshipers of the Plaguebringer could free them. He saw no one, nobody to relate to, and that was probably wh he was so close to falling into Vulture's claws.

She was one of the only Plague dragons that ever approached him in the Scarred Wastelands. Her clan- or rather, her gang was known in the region for their fierce allegiance to their Flight. Ever since they met he had always been weary of her ways, the Mirror having been the only dragon that seemed rather welcoming and warm. What at first was a firm no to her invitation to join her ranks soon turned into a nagging but soft compliance. When he thought of the pungent Plague ways, he felt nowhere near connected to Vulture, but whenever she showed a dash of compassion, Jyia couldn't help but be lured in more and more.

For months, he kept postponing the invitation, feeling more and more alone with each passing day. And each night he'd struggle to fall asleep, thoughts of their concoction, rapture, keeping him awake. On one hand, could he really subject himself to such strange magic? Or would it just be easier to give in and give Vulture the control that she wanted?

In the end, he decided that any 'medicine', however foul, would be better than living on the rest of his days in a pitiful sorrow of his own demise. He visited with Vulture, promising himself to her clan in a few day's time.

'I just need to tie up loose ends...'

That was his promise, or rather, his excuse. Everyone knew Jyia didn't have any loose ends to tie up, but that he needed a few more days of freedom to himself before his welcome into her clan.

He took that time and wandered around the Abiding Boneyard, trying to relinquish all thoughts of what his life could have been like. As day shifted into night, under the warm Twilight of Sornieth, Jyia bid farewell to his freedom. That was when the Song came to him, a distant whisper- wordless and emotionless at first. He listened, curious as to whom might have sung so beautifully in such a desolate desert. His search was fruitless. All thought the night he scoured, asking any and all dragons he came across if they knew anything about the ethereal voice. None could give them answers, some scoffed and mocked him for his absurd questions, others in their mindlessness tried to help him search, only to be distracted by the Plague once more.

Before he knew it, light broke through the corrosive fog of the valley. It brought with it his promise to Vulture, but he could not turn his back on the mystery that had animated his night so easily. Desperate and broken for answers, Jyia not only missed the time of their meetings, but outright fled as far as he could fly. For once in his life, he found something to really cling to, and he was not going to give up his free will before finding out what the Song was, what it meant- who sang it.

At first it was easy to assume that his submissiveness over joining Vulture's gang was but a mild inconvenience, and it wasn't until he threw a rude 'Leave me be, what I do is my own business!' towards her that he learned he had crossed a line.

He ran then, upon seeing the anger in Vulture's eyes. It was the sort of anger that sent chills down his spine. The willingness to drop everything in search of the Song combined with his newfound terror for the Mirror made him take air under his wings and fly. Jyia wasn't sure for how long he flew.

For the longest time he could see the hellish expanse of red underneath him, stretching as far as the eyes could see. He could tell how the Plague fought every bit of nature and took control, he could feel how this had never been home for him. At some point the nightmare of red, bones and sorrow turned into an expanse of night and trickster shadows. The Tangled Woods were, for the Skydancer, a mystery. He had read and heard about the dragons there briefly and he debated taking refuge in the shadows.

Vulture's rapture, still shaking him to the bone, made him fly faster and higher still. He could not land somewhere still so close to her domain.

It wasn't until his lungs were dry and his mouth was ashen that Jyia gave up. He had seen the green forest of the Viridian Labyrinth from miles away and found warmth it exuded welcoming. His wings could no longer carry him, his limbs were heavy and a dizzying storm would not die down behind his eyelids. Each blink made him feel like lead, each break choked him. Jyia approached the woods with a dangerous speed and was barely able to slow down and break his fall into lush branches and bushes. When he fell in the meadow he was sure he was no longer on Sornmieth.

It had to all be a dream. Rich nature like this could not possibly exist in the world. It was a trickery of the mind. As he struggled to stay conscious, he began to believe that the Song too could have been a trickery of the mind, an illusion or better yet... the final lie that would bring him to a place so peaceful for his last breath.

He smiled, turned his head on the dew kissed grass and breathed in fresh air. It no longer smelled of dearth. This was something different. Jyia was content to close his eyes forever in the sunny glade.

And so he did, but the Song had plans for him. His sleep would not be eternal.

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The next time Jyia came though, battered and bruised, hungry and thirsty, he struggled to find his footing. It was unbelievable, the dichotomy of his senses. It felt incredible to finally step on something that wasn't dead or dying, but his limbs hurt too much to move far. He explored, as best he could, the little patch of forest that had broken his landing. Jyia was weary of all the sounds of the woods, shifting leaves, broken twigs, but the chirrup of birds enticed his curiosity.

He found fresh water and some questionable insects to feast on. It was when he came across a lake, barely stumbling forward, that he first set eyes on Maeron.

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