Creative Corner

When he found the egg, Saraneth immediately knew that he would have to adopt it and raise it. He would have a son, or, gods forbid, a daughter, who he would raise all by himself--he had never had a mate. The adoption passed without incident, and the egg hatched.

Saraneth's first thought was that it was a relief that the little dragon was male, because he wouldn't have known what to do with a daughter. His second thought was that perhaps he was in over his head after all, but as he watched the little tundra tearing at the wolf he had brought him, he also felt the first stirrings of something tender.

If he hadn't told anyone that the tundra, who he had finally named Mauve, was adopted, no one would have guessed. They didn't really take after each other physically, but they had the same passion for the study of magic. Both of them were often seen flying around, their snouts pressed firmly into a book. They were as close as any natural born dragon and his father. Closer, in fact.

Until one day Saraneth was summoned to serve Shadowbinder. Mauve watched his father fly off, accompanied by two other dragons who were going to bolster the ranks of their god's army. He couldn't help but feel sad, even as he felt proud--his father was such a good wizard that he had been chosen for exaltation... and at the same time they would never see each other again.

It was then and there that Mauve decided that he would become as good a mage as his father. Oh, he had always enjoyed reading and studying the arts, but it had been more of an idle hobby than anything. From now on, he decided, he would throw himself into them with all the attention and determination that they deserved.

Maybe, one day, he too would be chosen for exaltation, if he got good enough. Maybe it would mean practicing the gruesome side of magic a little more, and maybe it would take a lot of work and a lot of devotion, but... he would be chosen one day, he was sure of it. And on that day he would see his father again.

One of the lesser known aspects of the Plague flight is that they survive. At any cost. They aren't unfriendly, exactly, but many of them are self-serving, and many of them have lived through hardship that would make any other dragon collapse into a whimpering ball. Dragons in the Plague flight quickly learned that they could not make it on their own. Whereas the wanderer lifestyle was possible to a certain extent in many other domains, it was not in the Plaguebringer's.

Capade knew this better than most. He was one of the brave dragons who had decided to fly off on their own and try to start a new clan. It had worked well, at first. He had found a female Mirror--Kathala, that was her name, and, oh, how gorgeous she was! Scales like polished midnight, claws of steel, perfect glowing red Plague eyes... It hadn't been love at first sight, but it had been close.

One thing had led to another, and they had three perfect little hatchlings. They rescued a Fae half dead from disease, and she joined their clan once she was well enough to speak. Everything was going well, better than he had dared hope when he left his old clan that day.

And then, as though to show her children once again that she could be cruel as well as kind, the Plaguebringer struck with her favorite weapon: illness. (Capade knew, of course, that he couldn't really blame the goddess, she had much more important things to worry about than a little clan in the middle of nowhere... but still, it had shaken his faith badly).

Capade thought that it was the Fae who had brought the illness. She had appeared to improve, getting healthier and healthier, until one day Capade called on her to go hunting together, and found her dead without a single mark on her. Kathala thought that it was just a heart attack or something similar, and they hadn't worried.

But then first one, then another, then all three of their baby dragons--well, they were adults by this point--sickened. They wandered around listlessly, their eyes glazed over with fever, their heads and necks trembling with exhaustion.

The first died, and Kathala started coughing, until one day she, too, lacked the strength to stand. Miracle of miracles: Capade was still perfectly unhealthy.

Plague dragons are survivors. Outsiders may not understand the lengths to which they will go, but to Capade and Kathala it was the obvious choice. They said goodbye with one last caress, and then the Ridgeback took off into the sky without looking back.

He had never told anyone this. His new clan, they were Plague as well. They would understand. It was the perfectly natural thing to have done, the same thing anyone of them would have done... so why did it feel so shameful?

When he found the egg, Saraneth immediately knew that he would have to adopt it and raise it. He would have a son, or, gods forbid, a daughter, who he would raise all by himself--he had never had a mate. The adoption passed without incident, and the egg hatched.

Saraneth's first thought was that it was a relief that the little dragon was male, because he wouldn't have known what to do with a daughter. His second thought was that perhaps he was in over his head after all, but as he watched the little tundra tearing at the wolf he had brought him, he also felt the first stirrings of something tender.

If he hadn't told anyone that the tundra, who he had finally named Mauve, was adopted, no one would have guessed. They didn't really take after each other physically, but they had the same passion for the study of magic. Both of them were often seen flying around, their snouts pressed firmly into a book. They were as close as any natural born dragon and his father. Closer, in fact.

And then Saraneth started seeing Dawnwing. That in of itself wasn't really a bad thing; Mauve was happy that his father--who tended to be somewhat of a recluse--was getting out more. After they had eggs, though it was something different, especially when those eggs and Mauve found himself with two adopted siblings.

Saraneth was understandably busy with his new brood. Baby dragons were needy, obnoxious things which required seemingly all of his attention. But Mauve couldn't help but feeling jealous as their teaching sessions slowly became a distant memory, with all of his father's attention concentrated on the new hatchlings. Without his father next to him, studying magic lost its allure, and Mauve found himself wandering around the lair, listless and upset.

"Mauve," Saraneth said one day, landing next to him and making him jump. "You've not been yourself at all lately. Everyone's remarking on it... dragons have been thinking that you're sick... or maybe there's a female who has your eye?"

Mauve scowled at him. "How can I be happy when my own father is too distracted to spend time with me?"

Saraneth blinked. That thought hadn't occurred to him. "It's not for much longer," he said. "They're already needing less attention than they did when they were newborns... and besides, Dawnwing's looking after them now. So what say you we nip down to that new cafe and spend some time with the books, just the two of us?"

Mauve looked up hesitantly. "Really?"

"Of course! I never wanted you to feel neglected..." Saraneth smiled.

Mauve lunged forwards and hugged his father tightly. It was as though nothing had ever come between them.