Qamar

"The Veilspun? Pfft, don't make me laugh!"

Qamar wasn't always one of them, one of the veiled ones. He wasn't always covered with thorns, rendering him unable to touch others, and even himself, in some cases. He wasn't always this dreary, this serious.

Once upon a time, Qamar was an arrogant, vain skydancer, who thought himself better and smarter than the common folk. His shimmery, starry hide, flecked with red-blue hues, was enough to captivate those around him, and he was always praised for his looks, told that, some day, he would certainly become the favorite of a clan, the shining beacon of beauty and power. He wallowed in this praise, eagerly lapping it up as his admirers flung complimeht after compliment at him, and those who called him out for his arrogance he simply chalked up as jealous.

As a shadow dragon, of course he'd heard of the veiled ones. Tales from his clanmates, from everyone around him; do not go through the forest near Wispwillow Grove, or the veiled ones will take you.

Arrogant as he was, Qamar always laughed such things off. Really now! What kind of fairy tale was that? What kind of rational dragon would believe such things? Certainly not him, he who was so smart, so amazing.

When others cast doubt on his confidence, accusing him that he, too, had been unwilling to travel through the forest, he'd puffed his chest, and laughed deeply. As if he was scared! He'd just never found a need to travel through it.

But if it would prove to those below him that their silly fairy tales were just that, fairy tales, he would do what no otherd ragon dared.

And thus, Qamar left for the forest.

While travelling, he sang, he laughed. Talking to the trees around him in a taunting tone, feeling very high and mighty. He called for the Veilspun, yelling for them to come out, to show themselves already, or were they too scared? Oh, but of course, the so called Veilspun didn't exist, and if they did, clearly they were too cowardly to confront him, Qamar.

A mistake he would never forget.

As time went by, he found his laughter dying down, found himself sobering up. Had he seen that tree already? He'd been in here for awfully long time, hadn't he? Shouldn't he have reached the other side by now?

How strange.

As time went on, he found himself feeling more and more uncomfortable, certain now that he was treading the same paths over and over. Night time had long settled in, and exhaustion was creeping at his bones, but he wouldn't give up yet. He had something to prove.

"What's all this, then? Veiled ones, are you leading me in circles? Is that the best you can do? How cowardly! Show yourself!"

He quickly realized he should not have said that.

Giggles echoed in his ears from every side, disorienting him as tiny pinpricks of lights surrounded him- no, not lights, but eyes. Faster than he could have imagined, an entire colony of tiny, giggling dragons descended upon him.

He lost consciousness before he could even scream.

The next time he woke up, everything was different.

Everything was bigger, for one.

Qamar, panicked and uncertain of what had happened, tried to move, to get up, only to find that his body was covered in thorns, limiting his movement- his once sparkly hide had gone, his feathery wings were changed, almost see-through, like those of a bug. Hair felt like it was everywhere, and he could hardly move without stepping on it.

"Well well," A giggling voice reached his ears, "how are you feeling, hmm?"

A dragon, one unlike he'd ever seen, appeared before him, razor-sharp grin on its face.

"Are we real now, foolish creature?"

Qamar couldn't help but flee with a cry of fear.

Generation 9 Birth Lair: Taishiro I am a Night Warrior! If you're interested in knowing more about the generations project that is my heritage, please click the button!