Twilight

The topside part of the lair stands tall and ever-misted by the ocean's spray. The external of the lair is not to be scoffed at, being giant enough to let even the biggest of any dragon able to hide comfortably be it in the isle's flora or waters. This isolated expanse is housing many different dragons, all with strange lives. But you already know that.

Amidst the foliage there is a dwindling path one can follow, and few have. The earthy path--if followed correctly--leads to one of the quiet beaches. One this beach there sits an old dock. A lone lantern hangs at the start, the light inside perpetually lit. It stands sturdy against the waters of time, made from old dark wood. It has occasionally been known to creak every other morning riptide, and once in a while when there's a step taken on it.

Curiously when stepping out of the departing leaves and off of the path onto the beach, the secluded area seems to always be lit by the light of the twilight hour. It was eerie, yet provided a sense of calm.

This is where hatchlings seeking out new homes or those seeking to serve the deity depart. They walk down the dock's long path and with a quiet goodbye and a proud flourish, they fly off to the horizon.

But none have ever departed alone. A figure cloaked in a starry mist will appear and guide them down, acting as the guide between the end of their life here and the start of their new life elsewhere. Their voice was one of a quiet, somber melody, providing words of reassurance and comfort.

There's a kind of magic to be had during the twilight hour. A world in between worlds. A dim cloak of darkness against the gentle light. A bittersweet goodbye to the start of something exciting.