Araris

The first rays of morning light paint the sky in palest gold. Gentle dawn flows over the horizon. The dark of night recedes. The land is slowly stained with the faintest of sunbeams.

Stillness and tranquility reign.

The Lightweaver gazes down at her work, satisfied. The tender light of dawn is pleasing to her. Its soft hues brighten the heart and soothe the spirit.

It is a peace needed by so many.

The Lightweaver stretches out one hand. Deft claws pluck strands of light from the air. With intricate movements she twines them together, weaving softest sunbeams into cloth.

Beneath her hands a tapestry begins to take shape. The vestigial grey of night fades slowly to cream, then blends into rich shades of gold. The faintest silvery shimmer of the morning stars graces the fabric's edges.

Quicker now she works, weaving in ends and snipping them off. The cloth gleams with the light of the rising sun. The Lightweaver unfurls it before her just as the sun crests the horizon, bursting forth in the full glory of morning.

With delicate motions the Lightweaver shapes the cloth. As she works it begins to develop texture and form. Ripples in the fabric become scales. A fold and a few tucks create the shape of a wing. Limbs unfurl and talons curl.

From the dawn light she crafts a dragon.

The Lightweaver cradles its still form in her hands. With great care she lifts it and holds it close. She closes her eyes and exhales softly. The breath of life flows from her lips, glowing with vibrant brightness. It seeps into the tiny Nocturne.

All is still.

Then - slowly - he stirs. Tiny limbs tremble and stretch. Sharp teeth flash as he yawns. "Araris," the Lightweaver croons. He shudders with joy to be so Named. "Araris," she murmurs again.

Pale eyes blink open. The first thing he sees is the gleaming, sunlit form of his goddess. The sight of her dazzles him. All he can perceive is her brightness, her beauty.

All he can see is the Light.

It is that Light which Araris carries with him wherever he goes. The Nocturne whelp views the world through sun-touched eyes, seeing all in hues of brilliant gold and yellow. Shadows hold no fear for him, nor even blackest night, for there is no darkness which cannot be made brighter by his presence.

The quiet peace of dawn always surrounds him.

He is the promise of the day to come.