Memory

In a distant clan withing the Light Flight, there is a long running tradition of Honored burial. Dragons of high prestige, warriors, medics, kings, queens, were all buried underneath a statue depicting their appearance in life. It is as if their body was encased in beautiful marble. The statues are hollowed out and, inside, the blood of the fallen dragon is encased within glass to keep the dragon's soul from wandering too far from it's place of rest. This was originally only done for Imperials, to prevent the formation of an Emperor. But now it is an honored burial for any breed of dragon.

Memory was one of those dragons. An Imperial warrior for his clan, he was incredibly skilled in combat and fought in small battles and full on wars for his clan. When his time came and he eventually perished at the claws of another dragon, Memory, too, was given his right of Honored burial. However his soul was not put to rest properly. The blood that was to fill his statue, was switched with another dragon's blood accidentally. His own blood was placed into the statue of a Fae, causing his soul to grow restless in it's improper place of rest. Over time, in some way that even Memory is unclear, his soul grew strong enough to take control of the statue. Life was breathed into it and Memory lived again, this time locked into the "body" of the Fae statue.

He was unsure what to do at that point. Having been dead before, his family, friends, and mate all thought he was dead and gone. And even if he did find them, they wouldn't believe this small, pale Fae was once the towering, dark colored Imperial warrior he once was. His glowing, crystal eyes stared up at the sky, what seemed like tears of light dripped onto the ground around his feet, fading away as they hit the ground. He didn't want to be here. While being a restless soul was a horrible fate, he didn't want to be alive at this point. He was alone. The entire world was different in this minuscule form. Memory had accepted his own death. It had been a slow process and he was ready to accept the darkness as he bled out on the battlefield. Now he was here, tiny, depressed, and alone. Why was he here? Was he being punished for something? Memory had no clue. All he could do was sit in the Cemetery alone and let golden tears of light drip from his shining golden eyes...