Spinner

History
The hewn city. Spinner had feared it as a hatchling, the one dark spot in the Lightweaver's lands. A blight, as her father called it while he organized the piles of artifacts that filled his charge's walls.

Now the shadows seemed to bring a certain feeling of comfort, her dark scales easy to disguise within it. She tended to a library, much like the museum that her father had taken to as his charge. Many of the books were in ruins, and she struggled to repair them with her massive claws. Many were of ancient magics, just as powerful as they were dangerous. But the language they were written in was dead, and they were useless to her.

Soon the shadowed halls lost their somber silence, the sound of a cheerful hatchling disturbing the silence and warming Spinner's heart.

The chirps and squeals of joy were broken by a shriek of terror, and Spinner rushed to the sound. Her son hung from the talons of a harpy. The massive dragoness lunged, but all she was left with was a limp green body and a few feathers. Her boy was still, and her heart lay in pieces.

So she turned to her books, and began to translate. She would have her son back, even if she had to shred the world to do it.