Spectre
(#51764346)
"No one can hear you, silly."
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 50/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Light.
Male Spiral
This dragon is hibernating.
Expand the dragon details section.
Collapse the dragon details section.
Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
3.89 m
Wingspan
3.39 m
Weight
129.17 kg
Genetics
Cyan
Cherub
Cherub
Aqua
Bee
Bee
Pistachio
Capsule
Capsule
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 25 Spiral
Max Level
STR
5
AGI
8
DEF
5
QCK
6
INT
8
VIT
5
MND
8
Lineage
Parents
- none
Offspring
- none
Biography
Spectre
"You can't kill what's already dead."
The true story of the Hewn City
Doesn't end the way it begins;
Yet it seems more haunted now
Than it did when it actually was.
Long ago, the Hewn City was a place of grandeur and elegance, rivaling even the massive citadels of the deities. Stone columns spiraled up to massive marble overhangs, and the interiors were furnished much like an elaborate banquet hall, with room for hundreds- if not thousands- of guests. There was never a dull moment in that place, for every second of every day was filled with laughter and the din of constant noise.
The city seemed perfect- no rules were ever broken, no disagreements or fights ever took place. The festivities occurring every night were open to anyone, often accruing so many visitors the halls couldn't contain them all. The buildings, the streets, even the atmosphere itself was alive with the excitement of those who passed through.
But the city had a secret.
A dark secret.
A curse.
The perfect city was nothing more than an elaborate ruse. Its goal was to draw others in- make them feel safe in the most dangerous place in the land- and it worked. No one wondered why the day never seemed to end. No one was curious how personalities changed in the blink of an eye, nor did it occur to them to ask why no one ever seemed to sleep. Food was never eaten, drinks were left untouched. And in the small, secluded alleyways everyone instinctively avoided, screams went unheard.
___________
Spectre was the narcissistic brother. Calm and collected on the surface, but a seething ball of rage underneath. He took offense to the smallest of insults, even if they were said in jest.
He was the master of behavior and emotion, able to manipulate others at will with his speech. He could make anyone believe anything, and found great satisfaction in ruining the lives of those around him.
He believed he was vastly superior to everyone, both alive and dead- and interfering with that belief was a very dangerous thing to do. Anyone who did would eventually regret it.
He'd take them away from the rest of the group under false pretenses, and lead them to a secluded area where the silence ran eerie and thick. The malicious intent would filter into his pale eyes, but his gentle, quiet voice would remain the same- as would his reassuring smile.
Even as he took the dagger in his claws.
"What's wrong?" He'd ask.
Then he'd chuckle. "No one can hear you, silly."
_________
When his malicious intent revealed itself in his pale eyes, his quiet, gentle voice didn't waver- nor did his reassuring smile fade. If anything, it only widened when he took the dagger in his claws.
His kind smile didn't fade- not even when the sounds of the celebration gave way to eerie silence- and even when his malicious intent revealed itself in his pale eyes, his quiet, gentle voice never wavered.
He couldn't take a joke...not if it could also be perceived as an insult.
His kind smile never faded- not even when the sounds of the festivity gave way to eerie silence- and when his malicious intent revealed itself in his pale eyes, his quiet, gentle voice didn't waver.
"What's wrong?" He'd ask.
He'd chuckle. "No one can hear you, silly."
true intentions revealed themselves in his pale eyes, the quiet, gentle way he spoke never wavered.
The kind, gentle manner in which he spoke never wavered, either- even as the malice entered his eyes
he held the dagger in his talons. When excitement turned to fear,
The kind smile never faded from his face- not even when he took his latest target to the secluded areas no one ever seemed to go. The quiet, gentle way he spoke was never replaced with a harsher tone.
The city was run by a pair of narcissistic ghosts- corruption ran through it- and them- if anyone dared to look.
Underneath all of the elegance and perfection
corrupt pair pulled the strings.
leading them to pour into the streets instead. With so many dragons, the sheer amount of them became the root of the problem. No one would notice if a few disappeared the next morning, and those that held the extravagant displays knew that.
The city was not perfect; not even close. The corruption was so well hidden, under layers and layers of lies, that not every resident knew what was true and what wasn't. Their city of perfection was not one at all, but a large, dramatic ruse meant to draw others in, and it succeeded in doing just that for a very, very long time.
The two that created it did so with that very thought in mind. If no one knew where the lies stopped and the truth began, they had no hope of unraveling everything they had done.
______
The Shade's dark magic was responsible for their resurrection. They had been buried in the Deepcarve Forest a few years before the Shade hid itself there, and even though the Shade was long gone by the time they awoke, the magic remained. It took a few years for it to build enough to awaken the dead, but when it did it woke both of them at once, filling them with corruption that contorted their memories and twisted their ideals into the Shade's own.
Spectre was the eldest, having been the first of the two to wake. His mark was upon every building within the city; even some of the dragons that lived there bore it, though they had no recollection of him giving it to them. There was one other symbol beside his own- one for him, and one for his sister. Every permanent resident had one, whether they knew it or not.
There were only two ways for them to receive such a mark, one used by his sister, and one used by him. His sister simply whispered a few words under her breath, which linked the magic of that dragon to the magic of the town. They couldn't leave after that, nor did they want to, and their personality often changed slightly when such a link occurred. Spectre preferred to do things a little differently, however.
He only marked those that had crossed him in some way. Whether it was simply a sarcastic comment that wasn't supposed to be taken in a serious way, or a dragon that was actively trying to rile him up- he treated them the same way. Each night there was at least one dragon that tried to break through his seemingly calm and passive demeanor, but what they didn't realize was that he was an expert at hiding his feelings, and even when he was angry he could go on pretending that everything was just fine.
He enjoyed the thrill of the hunt; the emotions he locked away when in a public setting he let loose on whoever had upset him once he finally managed to get them alone. He often seemed psychotic in those moments- for even as he held a knife as long as his forearm in his talons, the kind smile that he always wore didn't fade, nor did the calm, quiet way in which he spoke, even as he gazed down at his prey with the murderous intent of the Shade itself.
"What's wrong?" He'd ask.
He'd chuckle. "No one can hear you, silly."
_______
calm, quiet way in which he spoke didn't cease
and gazed down at his opposition with the murderous intent of the Shade itself, he kept a kind smile on his face.
An isolated building was the opportune place for him; it provided an area where he could do whatever he wanted and the others would never be able to hear his prey's screams.
"What's wrong?" He'd say, in a kind, calm voice.
He'd chuckle. "No one can hear you, silly."
There was a philosophy, in that place. They shouldn't dwell on the past- brooding over things they had no ability to change was idiotic. Some refused to listen to that advice, however, either because they had a grudge with someone else there or they just didn't want to forget who they really were. So their memories of the past were wiped away for them
Dragons that bore those marks were tied to the metropolis from the moment they received them until the end of their lives. They were picked out of the hundreds of dragons that passed through the gates each day, for a multitude of reasons. Some were picked for their skill set
In Spectre's case, they were mostly chosen for the thrill of the hunt. He enjoyed watching their faces widen with panic when he slipped out a knife as long as his forearm, or contort with puzzlement when his eyes took on a malicious edge while his voice stayed at the same kind, calm pitch that it was always at.
They were picked from the throngs of dragons that passed through the entrance gates every day, either because they were good company or one of the three
Spectre was the eldest of the three that created the Hewn City. The Shade's dark magic was responsible for his resurrection and desire to construct such a thing, giving the other two the same drive as him when they were finally awoken as well. The Shade had been cast out long before they woke, but its magic remained, building until it became powerful enough to wake the dead.
His mark was placed on everything, from the buildings to the dragons themselves.
I'm calling a redo
The Hewn City was once a place of grandeur and elegance. The nights had an end, back then, and the buildings were so grand travelers from all across the continent came to visit for the sole purpose of seeing them up close. In the large central hall, festivities were held every night, often lasting into the early hours of the morning. Everyone was welcome; not a soul was ever turned away.
To the ordinary dragon, everything seemed perfect in that city. No rules were ever broken, not a crack could ever be spotted in the architecture. Everyone seemed cheery, full of life and enthusiasm that rivaled even the rambunctious wind flight. However, there were problems within that city, deep, terrible secrets that proved to be their undoing.
None of the visitors realized that the reason no rules were ever broken was because there were none to speak of. Anyone was free to do anything they wanted without consequences, leading many citizens to prey on the tourists that they entertained. They lured their victims in with a false sense of security, only to stab them in the back with it later. And they did it for a very, very long time.
Even with the corruption and crime that occurred behind closed doors, the city maintained it's false sense of perfection. The few tourists that survived never realized anything was wrong; instead they simply assumed that their friend or acquaintance had decided to stay. Which they had, and never would they leave. The victims of the Hewn City simply became part of the elaborate scheme designed to hide the truth from everyone else, for even in death they appeared alive.
Only three dragons were vital to the creation of the Hewn City and it's inhabitants. Those three were remnants of the Shade, living manifestations of the dark power the planet had absorbed when the evil being had been hiding within it. Their magic came from the Shade itself, and was linked to Sornieth's own, powering them even when the Shade had been cast away. The reason for their creation lies in the glowing runes that marked their burial sites; placed there by the Shade itself, on the boundary of light and shadow territory.
The magic that imbued itself into the forest seeped into the still forms that lay within the soil, awakening them for the first time since they died. Their memories were twisted and contorted when they awoke, destroying the dragons they had once been with a deep, vengeful hate that guided their actions from then on.
They had no care for hospitality, back then. Visitors were few and far between, rendering such an act unnecessary, at best, and with a larger picture at the forefront of their minds, they wanted to waste as little time as possible to get where they wanted to go. Things changed when the city had finally reached completion, though; their aim was to draw in visitors, not scare them away.
Spectre was one of the oldest living within the walls of the city. His once lustrous colors had paled over time, and the memories of his life before were few and far between. Their philosophy was to never dwell on the past, and it served them well.
Any dragon that survived the city always spoke of how friendly he was. He was rarely found without a ring of tourists around him, sharing in his laughter or entranced by one of his many stories, which he often repeated many times over the course of the night as his group shrank and grew. His demeanor was much different from the others'; he didn't seek to captivate them with a bubbly personality, as so many did. Instead, he sought to draw them in with his calm demeanor and sharp wit, which became ever-popular the longer the night went on.
Despite his friendly exterior, he wasn't much better than any of the others. He was calm and collected on the surface, no matter what he was feeling on the inside. It was impossible for anyone to know that they'd stepped over the line, and as soon as they crossed it there was no going back. His fury was unforgiving, and it always ended in death for his opposition. But the worst part of it all was not the dagger as long as his forearm that he pulled out once he was finally alone with his prey, but the sincere smile and the calm, kind way in which he spoke, even as he stared down at his victim with the malevolence of the Shade itself.
When the Hewn City fell, it came with little warning. Cracks formed in the pillars, and a quiet, subtle groan reverberated throughout the building. Then something snapped; the roof caved in, and the pillars that supported the building from within splintered apart as the ceiling tumbled into the main corridors, sealing them forever in vast, immovable piles of marble and stone. Everyone that had been within the structure before it's collapse died, their screams of shock and panic echoing in the room long after they stopped emitting the sound.
The reason for it's collapse was a single intelligent dragon. That dragon discovered the lies and corruption that hid beneath the surface, finally putting all of the pieces together after he saw a dragon he knew to be dead, walking about the city as if it had never occurred. The buildings contained their power; he could feel it pulsing through the stone, mending any crack or gap in the construction before it ever showed. He figured the best course of action was to destroy the buildings, then, if they contained all of the power that kept the dead alive. Every single one he brought to the ground in a jarring display of magic and strength, knowing full well he'd be the only one alive after everything was said and done.
He was correct, but not in the way he had intended. Three others had survived the catastrophe, the very three that had started it all.
Their power came from somewhere else entirely. They didn't store it in the foundation of the buildings, as the others had; it stayed within them, allowing them to travel wherever they wished to go, without being bound to the city that they had created. Somehow, the dragon that had destroyed everything they had worked towards mimicked the destroyed buildings' ability to contain magic, replicating it with a shadowed bracelet that he wore wherever he went. But it wasn't able to contain the magic of all three; the power of one was all it could take at once.
Spectre was the one, and at the same time he was being captured, his two co-conspirators, whom he thought of as family, were destroyed. But only one was truly gone.
Spectre could hear the rage-filled exclamations that emanated from his sister-in-crime, realizing that whatever his captor had done to them wasn't enough to completely destroy her. She'd be back, and together they'd destroy the only dragon that knew what they truly were.
The Hewn City fell into disrepair when they left. The magic the buildings had been collecting over the years was released into the atmosphere when they fell, tainting the very air with Shade-touched dark magic. With each passing day, the length of the night grew longer, while the day grew increasingly short. The magic seeped into the remains of the marble pillars and stone structures, cracking and breaking the delicate construction, sending off ricocheting sounds as far as the ear could hear. Only the skeletal remains of the ancient buildings survived, and the rare ghost story is all that is left of many of the inhabitants of the Hewn City. Two remain out of the many that had once populated the area, but invisible they are to the average eye.
Thank you Auraea <3
Featured on the front page November 18, 2020
"You can't kill what's already dead."
The true story of the Hewn City
Doesn't end the way it begins;
Yet it seems more haunted now
Than it did when it actually was.
Long ago, the Hewn City was a place of grandeur and elegance, rivaling even the massive citadels of the deities. Stone columns spiraled up to massive marble overhangs, and the interiors were furnished much like an elaborate banquet hall, with room for hundreds- if not thousands- of guests. There was never a dull moment in that place, for every second of every day was filled with laughter and the din of constant noise.
The city seemed perfect- no rules were ever broken, no disagreements or fights ever took place. The festivities occurring every night were open to anyone, often accruing so many visitors the halls couldn't contain them all. The buildings, the streets, even the atmosphere itself was alive with the excitement of those who passed through.
But the city had a secret.
A dark secret.
A curse.
The perfect city was nothing more than an elaborate ruse. Its goal was to draw others in- make them feel safe in the most dangerous place in the land- and it worked. No one wondered why the day never seemed to end. No one was curious how personalities changed in the blink of an eye, nor did it occur to them to ask why no one ever seemed to sleep. Food was never eaten, drinks were left untouched. And in the small, secluded alleyways everyone instinctively avoided, screams went unheard.
___________
Spectre was the narcissistic brother. Calm and collected on the surface, but a seething ball of rage underneath. He took offense to the smallest of insults, even if they were said in jest.
He was the master of behavior and emotion, able to manipulate others at will with his speech. He could make anyone believe anything, and found great satisfaction in ruining the lives of those around him.
He believed he was vastly superior to everyone, both alive and dead- and interfering with that belief was a very dangerous thing to do. Anyone who did would eventually regret it.
He'd take them away from the rest of the group under false pretenses, and lead them to a secluded area where the silence ran eerie and thick. The malicious intent would filter into his pale eyes, but his gentle, quiet voice would remain the same- as would his reassuring smile.
Even as he took the dagger in his claws.
"What's wrong?" He'd ask.
Then he'd chuckle. "No one can hear you, silly."
_________
When his malicious intent revealed itself in his pale eyes, his quiet, gentle voice didn't waver- nor did his reassuring smile fade. If anything, it only widened when he took the dagger in his claws.
His kind smile didn't fade- not even when the sounds of the celebration gave way to eerie silence- and even when his malicious intent revealed itself in his pale eyes, his quiet, gentle voice never wavered.
He couldn't take a joke...not if it could also be perceived as an insult.
His kind smile never faded- not even when the sounds of the festivity gave way to eerie silence- and when his malicious intent revealed itself in his pale eyes, his quiet, gentle voice didn't waver.
"What's wrong?" He'd ask.
He'd chuckle. "No one can hear you, silly."
true intentions revealed themselves in his pale eyes, the quiet, gentle way he spoke never wavered.
The kind, gentle manner in which he spoke never wavered, either- even as the malice entered his eyes
he held the dagger in his talons. When excitement turned to fear,
The kind smile never faded from his face- not even when he took his latest target to the secluded areas no one ever seemed to go. The quiet, gentle way he spoke was never replaced with a harsher tone.
The city was run by a pair of narcissistic ghosts- corruption ran through it- and them- if anyone dared to look.
Underneath all of the elegance and perfection
corrupt pair pulled the strings.
leading them to pour into the streets instead. With so many dragons, the sheer amount of them became the root of the problem. No one would notice if a few disappeared the next morning, and those that held the extravagant displays knew that.
The city was not perfect; not even close. The corruption was so well hidden, under layers and layers of lies, that not every resident knew what was true and what wasn't. Their city of perfection was not one at all, but a large, dramatic ruse meant to draw others in, and it succeeded in doing just that for a very, very long time.
The two that created it did so with that very thought in mind. If no one knew where the lies stopped and the truth began, they had no hope of unraveling everything they had done.
______
The Shade's dark magic was responsible for their resurrection. They had been buried in the Deepcarve Forest a few years before the Shade hid itself there, and even though the Shade was long gone by the time they awoke, the magic remained. It took a few years for it to build enough to awaken the dead, but when it did it woke both of them at once, filling them with corruption that contorted their memories and twisted their ideals into the Shade's own.
Spectre was the eldest, having been the first of the two to wake. His mark was upon every building within the city; even some of the dragons that lived there bore it, though they had no recollection of him giving it to them. There was one other symbol beside his own- one for him, and one for his sister. Every permanent resident had one, whether they knew it or not.
There were only two ways for them to receive such a mark, one used by his sister, and one used by him. His sister simply whispered a few words under her breath, which linked the magic of that dragon to the magic of the town. They couldn't leave after that, nor did they want to, and their personality often changed slightly when such a link occurred. Spectre preferred to do things a little differently, however.
He only marked those that had crossed him in some way. Whether it was simply a sarcastic comment that wasn't supposed to be taken in a serious way, or a dragon that was actively trying to rile him up- he treated them the same way. Each night there was at least one dragon that tried to break through his seemingly calm and passive demeanor, but what they didn't realize was that he was an expert at hiding his feelings, and even when he was angry he could go on pretending that everything was just fine.
He enjoyed the thrill of the hunt; the emotions he locked away when in a public setting he let loose on whoever had upset him once he finally managed to get them alone. He often seemed psychotic in those moments- for even as he held a knife as long as his forearm in his talons, the kind smile that he always wore didn't fade, nor did the calm, quiet way in which he spoke, even as he gazed down at his prey with the murderous intent of the Shade itself.
"What's wrong?" He'd ask.
He'd chuckle. "No one can hear you, silly."
_______
calm, quiet way in which he spoke didn't cease
and gazed down at his opposition with the murderous intent of the Shade itself, he kept a kind smile on his face.
An isolated building was the opportune place for him; it provided an area where he could do whatever he wanted and the others would never be able to hear his prey's screams.
"What's wrong?" He'd say, in a kind, calm voice.
He'd chuckle. "No one can hear you, silly."
There was a philosophy, in that place. They shouldn't dwell on the past- brooding over things they had no ability to change was idiotic. Some refused to listen to that advice, however, either because they had a grudge with someone else there or they just didn't want to forget who they really were. So their memories of the past were wiped away for them
Dragons that bore those marks were tied to the metropolis from the moment they received them until the end of their lives. They were picked out of the hundreds of dragons that passed through the gates each day, for a multitude of reasons. Some were picked for their skill set
In Spectre's case, they were mostly chosen for the thrill of the hunt. He enjoyed watching their faces widen with panic when he slipped out a knife as long as his forearm, or contort with puzzlement when his eyes took on a malicious edge while his voice stayed at the same kind, calm pitch that it was always at.
They were picked from the throngs of dragons that passed through the entrance gates every day, either because they were good company or one of the three
Spectre was the eldest of the three that created the Hewn City. The Shade's dark magic was responsible for his resurrection and desire to construct such a thing, giving the other two the same drive as him when they were finally awoken as well. The Shade had been cast out long before they woke, but its magic remained, building until it became powerful enough to wake the dead.
His mark was placed on everything, from the buildings to the dragons themselves.
I'm calling a redo
The Hewn City was once a place of grandeur and elegance. The nights had an end, back then, and the buildings were so grand travelers from all across the continent came to visit for the sole purpose of seeing them up close. In the large central hall, festivities were held every night, often lasting into the early hours of the morning. Everyone was welcome; not a soul was ever turned away.
To the ordinary dragon, everything seemed perfect in that city. No rules were ever broken, not a crack could ever be spotted in the architecture. Everyone seemed cheery, full of life and enthusiasm that rivaled even the rambunctious wind flight. However, there were problems within that city, deep, terrible secrets that proved to be their undoing.
None of the visitors realized that the reason no rules were ever broken was because there were none to speak of. Anyone was free to do anything they wanted without consequences, leading many citizens to prey on the tourists that they entertained. They lured their victims in with a false sense of security, only to stab them in the back with it later. And they did it for a very, very long time.
Even with the corruption and crime that occurred behind closed doors, the city maintained it's false sense of perfection. The few tourists that survived never realized anything was wrong; instead they simply assumed that their friend or acquaintance had decided to stay. Which they had, and never would they leave. The victims of the Hewn City simply became part of the elaborate scheme designed to hide the truth from everyone else, for even in death they appeared alive.
Only three dragons were vital to the creation of the Hewn City and it's inhabitants. Those three were remnants of the Shade, living manifestations of the dark power the planet had absorbed when the evil being had been hiding within it. Their magic came from the Shade itself, and was linked to Sornieth's own, powering them even when the Shade had been cast away. The reason for their creation lies in the glowing runes that marked their burial sites; placed there by the Shade itself, on the boundary of light and shadow territory.
The magic that imbued itself into the forest seeped into the still forms that lay within the soil, awakening them for the first time since they died. Their memories were twisted and contorted when they awoke, destroying the dragons they had once been with a deep, vengeful hate that guided their actions from then on.
They had no care for hospitality, back then. Visitors were few and far between, rendering such an act unnecessary, at best, and with a larger picture at the forefront of their minds, they wanted to waste as little time as possible to get where they wanted to go. Things changed when the city had finally reached completion, though; their aim was to draw in visitors, not scare them away.
Spectre was one of the oldest living within the walls of the city. His once lustrous colors had paled over time, and the memories of his life before were few and far between. Their philosophy was to never dwell on the past, and it served them well.
Any dragon that survived the city always spoke of how friendly he was. He was rarely found without a ring of tourists around him, sharing in his laughter or entranced by one of his many stories, which he often repeated many times over the course of the night as his group shrank and grew. His demeanor was much different from the others'; he didn't seek to captivate them with a bubbly personality, as so many did. Instead, he sought to draw them in with his calm demeanor and sharp wit, which became ever-popular the longer the night went on.
Despite his friendly exterior, he wasn't much better than any of the others. He was calm and collected on the surface, no matter what he was feeling on the inside. It was impossible for anyone to know that they'd stepped over the line, and as soon as they crossed it there was no going back. His fury was unforgiving, and it always ended in death for his opposition. But the worst part of it all was not the dagger as long as his forearm that he pulled out once he was finally alone with his prey, but the sincere smile and the calm, kind way in which he spoke, even as he stared down at his victim with the malevolence of the Shade itself.
When the Hewn City fell, it came with little warning. Cracks formed in the pillars, and a quiet, subtle groan reverberated throughout the building. Then something snapped; the roof caved in, and the pillars that supported the building from within splintered apart as the ceiling tumbled into the main corridors, sealing them forever in vast, immovable piles of marble and stone. Everyone that had been within the structure before it's collapse died, their screams of shock and panic echoing in the room long after they stopped emitting the sound.
The reason for it's collapse was a single intelligent dragon. That dragon discovered the lies and corruption that hid beneath the surface, finally putting all of the pieces together after he saw a dragon he knew to be dead, walking about the city as if it had never occurred. The buildings contained their power; he could feel it pulsing through the stone, mending any crack or gap in the construction before it ever showed. He figured the best course of action was to destroy the buildings, then, if they contained all of the power that kept the dead alive. Every single one he brought to the ground in a jarring display of magic and strength, knowing full well he'd be the only one alive after everything was said and done.
He was correct, but not in the way he had intended. Three others had survived the catastrophe, the very three that had started it all.
Their power came from somewhere else entirely. They didn't store it in the foundation of the buildings, as the others had; it stayed within them, allowing them to travel wherever they wished to go, without being bound to the city that they had created. Somehow, the dragon that had destroyed everything they had worked towards mimicked the destroyed buildings' ability to contain magic, replicating it with a shadowed bracelet that he wore wherever he went. But it wasn't able to contain the magic of all three; the power of one was all it could take at once.
Spectre was the one, and at the same time he was being captured, his two co-conspirators, whom he thought of as family, were destroyed. But only one was truly gone.
Spectre could hear the rage-filled exclamations that emanated from his sister-in-crime, realizing that whatever his captor had done to them wasn't enough to completely destroy her. She'd be back, and together they'd destroy the only dragon that knew what they truly were.
The Hewn City fell into disrepair when they left. The magic the buildings had been collecting over the years was released into the atmosphere when they fell, tainting the very air with Shade-touched dark magic. With each passing day, the length of the night grew longer, while the day grew increasingly short. The magic seeped into the remains of the marble pillars and stone structures, cracking and breaking the delicate construction, sending off ricocheting sounds as far as the ear could hear. Only the skeletal remains of the ancient buildings survived, and the rare ghost story is all that is left of many of the inhabitants of the Hewn City. Two remain out of the many that had once populated the area, but invisible they are to the average eye.
Thank you Auraea <3
Featured on the front page November 18, 2020
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