Vayle

The Tangle's shadows allow for not a glimmer of starlight inside. It is not invited. It is not allowed.

Most dragons, below the surface of the thick shadow and vine, would never know the need, or the lining, for light. Most would never discover how the twinkling starts looked, or the reflective moon's white beams. Most, if not for the nights where the forest's magic reveals itself for the few nights each year where survival is replaced by festival and hunts with tricks. The trickmurk circus, luring in dragons from everywhere without fear of the sickening dark. The one night a year where the leaves aren't quite so oppressive.

So as the vines unfurled to welcome visitors, as the mushrooms glowed bright as they were unchoked, an egg's shell caught the mite of starlight, catching and capturing that glow within the crystalline eggshell, and... Cracking, to reveal a dragon named for the night, born in the night, surrounded in night-

Except for that first sight. The stars. The stars he would never forget. Always long for, always pursue- that. That would be home, despite the forest's contest with the dream. The sky was truly the limit, for a nocturne who's egg was so alien to the grace of the light that mere witness covered the hatchling with twinkling light, and shards of those stars.

Could it be possible for him to reach? Or will the fantasy end as another wish, given to a shooting star that never heard?