Sylas

Sylas breathes in slowly and closes his eyes, taking in the sounds of the sleepy Dragonhome just before the sunrise. It’s quiet, and soft, and the sand rustles in the wind, running down the boulders like tiny rivulets of long dried water.

He breathes out. And makes the first step.

Green sprouts shoot out of the earth, climbing up and weaving around his legs.

He smiles. And makes the second.

Faster, stronger, up and up and around the wings, across the body, weaving, running, scattering along the elongated tail, green, so green, and a bit of red at the roots, more, wider, bolder...

Another step – and they burst out in dozens, hundreds of tiny flowers blooming in the night, the smell so heavy, strong, heady and mesmerizing...

One more. Butterflies start fluttering around him despite the morning chill still hanging in the air, and Sylas smiles when their wings tickle his thigh.

Some say that he’s a summoner of Nature despite having been born in Dragonhome, but he just gets confused when he hears that, as it’s not Nature he calls for when he walks through the humming sands of Dragonhome, it’s still Earth, just... a bit more of its potential, something that it keeps hidden most of the time, waiting for Sylas to coax it out.

He hums contently and opens his eyes again. The grass is soft and lush under his feet, spreading out and covering the entrance to the cave with a thick green carpet. Saar, ever vigilant and guarding their home, nods to him respectfully:

“Elder.”

Sylas breathes again, coating their cave with his power and Earth’s blessing, and nods in return.