Once upon a time there was a kingdom between the Emberglow Hearth and the Flintlock Fumaroles. The coatls who lived there were fisherdragons. They were grateful for the wide variety of seafood the bay offered, and their king taught them to be modest, and gentle with 'lesser creatures'. Life was good for many years.
The king aged poorly, however, and became ever more obsessed with leaving his mark on the world. He would often rant to the dragons at court about how he deserved a monument of his power. A monument as high as the skies. They did not dare to disagree, and to appease him they built a mighty factory. The poor fisherdragons did not know what happened inside, but they were uneasy. Often they saw black smoke billow forth from the building. The most daring of hatchlings tried to sneak as close as they would and they swore to high heaven that they had spotted blue lightning and pink sparks among the unnatural dark clouds.
Ever since the factory had started spitting out bile, the Old Fisherdragon noticed that the riches of the ocean became less rich; the waters of their beloved bay heated up. Upon investigation, the Old Fisherdragon found a stream of scalding hot water running from the factory to the ocean. He looked out at the waves, pondering how the fisherdragons barely had enough food for their families, while the king was dining and boasting every night.
Soon after his discovery the Old Fisherdragon pulled his net into his boat and found it filled only with sparkling stingers. He leaned out of his boat, took a deep breath and shoved his face down. The sight of an underwater desert greeted him; he could not make out anything other than sand and jellyfish.
That night, the Old Fisherdragon did not go to his house but to the king's palace. He was not lead to see the king but the Arch Chancellor. The Arch Chancellor was a fae dragon, the only one in this kingdom. The Old Fisherdragon thought about the pink sparks that allegedly shot out of the factory's chimney.
'You and the king are responsible that we are starving!' the Old Fisherdragon burst out. 'There are only jellyfish left in the sea! It's an invasion!'
'I am merely doing whatever my king demands,' the Arch Chancellor replied modestly. The Old Fisherdragon noticed that the Arch Chancellor had not called the guards to put him into jail.
'You...you are not agreeing with the king, then?'
'My dear man, what you are implying is treason.'
The Old Fisherdragon scowled. 'Oh, is it? But are you not the Arch Chancellor? Is it not in your job description to be plotting against your king?'
Amusement showed on the fae's face. 'What would you say about a deal? You free my friend from the heart of the factory, and I will see to your king.'
'What do you mean, your friend in the factory?' The Old Fisherdragon felt like he had nothing to lose, which was why he would ally himself even to this most suspicious individual. If only it would help his fellow coatls.
'Don't you know?' The Arch Chancellor's voice was dangerously soft. 'The king has taken prisoner of my friend, a ridgeback dragon, and keeps him in his services.'
'If this is true, I shall free your friend,' the Old Fisherdragon said and left to unite the poor fisherdragons of town.
The very next day, an army of underfed but angry coatls stormed the factory, tore down its walls and freed a mighty ridgeback. It took flight immediately, but the fisherdragons marched on to the palace, not hindered by any guards (who were rather busy vandalizing the palace themselves) and cornered the king.
'Who do you think you are, destroying my only chance at a sky high monument in respect of my greatness?!' the king spat at his subjects.
'I don't have time for your ramble,' the Old Fisherdragon yelled. 'Arch Chancellor! Arch Chancellor! Your friend is free, fulfill your promise!'
The Arch Chancellor, who had waited in a dark corner as was his due, came out and spoke to the king thusly: 'Upon your death it shall be! A monument in the skies, the evidence of greed and madness shall forever blaze in the night sky as a reminder that there are no lesser creatures, whether they be ridgeback, or fisherdragons, or creatures of the ocean!'
And a bright magenta light blinded every present dragon.
When the fisherdragons and guards got their sight back some time later, the Arch Chancellor was gone, and so was the king. But ever since that day the constellation called the Sparkling Stinger twinkled in the night sky.
Once upon a time there was a kingdom between the Emberglow Hearth and the Flintlock Fumaroles. The coatls who lived there were fisherdragons. They were grateful for the wide variety of seafood the bay offered, and their king taught them to be modest, and gentle with 'lesser creatures'. Life was good for many years.
The king aged poorly, however, and became ever more obsessed with leaving his mark on the world. He would often rant to the dragons at court about how he deserved a monument of his power. A monument as high as the skies. They did not dare to disagree, and to appease him they built a mighty factory. The poor fisherdragons did not know what happened inside, but they were uneasy. Often they saw black smoke billow forth from the building. The most daring of hatchlings tried to sneak as close as they would and they swore to high heaven that they had spotted blue lightning and pink sparks among the unnatural dark clouds.
Ever since the factory had started spitting out bile, the Old Fisherdragon noticed that the riches of the ocean became less rich; the waters of their beloved bay heated up. Upon investigation, the Old Fisherdragon found a stream of scalding hot water running from the factory to the ocean. He looked out at the waves, pondering how the fisherdragons barely had enough food for their families, while the king was dining and boasting every night.
Soon after his discovery the Old Fisherdragon pulled his net into his boat and found it filled only with sparkling stingers. He leaned out of his boat, took a deep breath and shoved his face down. The sight of an underwater desert greeted him; he could not make out anything other than sand and jellyfish.
That night, the Old Fisherdragon did not go to his house but to the king's palace. He was not lead to see the king but the Arch Chancellor. The Arch Chancellor was a fae dragon, the only one in this kingdom. The Old Fisherdragon thought about the pink sparks that allegedly shot out of the factory's chimney.
'You and the king are responsible that we are starving!' the Old Fisherdragon burst out. 'There are only jellyfish left in the sea! It's an invasion!'
'I am merely doing whatever my king demands,' the Arch Chancellor replied modestly. The Old Fisherdragon noticed that the Arch Chancellor had not called the guards to put him into jail.
'You...you are not agreeing with the king, then?'
'My dear man, what you are implying is treason.'
The Old Fisherdragon scowled. 'Oh, is it? But are you not the Arch Chancellor? Is it not in your job description to be plotting against your king?'
Amusement showed on the fae's face. 'What would you say about a deal? You free my friend from the heart of the factory, and I will see to your king.'
'What do you mean, your friend in the factory?' The Old Fisherdragon felt like he had nothing to lose, which was why he would ally himself even to this most suspicious individual. If only it would help his fellow coatls.
'Don't you know?' The Arch Chancellor's voice was dangerously soft. 'The king has taken prisoner of my friend, a ridgeback dragon, and keeps him in his services.'
'If this is true, I shall free your friend,' the Old Fisherdragon said and left to unite the poor fisherdragons of town.
The very next day, an army of underfed but angry coatls stormed the factory, tore down its walls and freed a mighty ridgeback. It took flight immediately, but the fisherdragons marched on to the palace, not hindered by any guards (who were rather busy vandalizing the palace themselves) and cornered the king.
'Who do you think you are, destroying my only chance at a sky high monument in respect of my greatness?!' the king spat at his subjects.
'I don't have time for your ramble,' the Old Fisherdragon yelled. 'Arch Chancellor! Arch Chancellor! Your friend is free, fulfill your promise!'
The Arch Chancellor, who had waited in a dark corner as was his due, came out and spoke to the king thusly: 'Upon your death it shall be! A monument in the skies, the evidence of greed and madness shall forever blaze in the night sky as a reminder that there are no lesser creatures, whether they be ridgeback, or fisherdragons, or creatures of the ocean!'
And a bright magenta light blinded every present dragon.
When the fisherdragons and guards got their sight back some time later, the Arch Chancellor was gone, and so was the king. But ever since that day the constellation called the Sparkling Stinger twinkled in the night sky.
What do you suppose a jellyfish thinks about?
Well, no, they don't have brains. Or most organs. They are nothing like us. But I wonder what it is like to simply exist, and never strive for greater things. To never desire to create, or mold the world around you, or write stories about it… what would it be like, to simply… be?
In the first age, when the world was still young, there was scarcely a moment of peace. As each deity fought each other, their elements crashed and churned in a violent dance. Where an ocean stood one day, a mountain rose up the next. Any creatures that happened to spring up were quickly drowned, or crushed, or burned. But not the electric stinger.
Jellyfish have no natural lifespan, you see. They do not die of old age. They live until they are killed. There is no peaceful end to a jellyfish, no loved ones surrounding it, no God that it looks forward to meeting at the end.
And so, it drifted through the oceans. Even as the world's water was violently tossed into the air, or forced into underground tunnels, or sucked into great, swirling tornados… the jellyfish persisted. When Stormcatcher, born in conflict, rose to strike down one of his siblings, an errant bolt of lightning struck the jellyfish, giving it it's characteristic sting. A gift from a God, or a mere cosmic accident?
Could it have known? When all you know is ocean, and you have no thoughts, do you notice that the water is hundreds of feet in the air? Do you notice that beside you, the gods of a million dragons could not care less about what happens to you? Do you feel anything? Nostalgia for the ocean you once drifted through? Or is it a constant state of contentment, unbothered by the complications other organisms create for themselves?
Through the crashing of the oceans and the skies and the turbulent storm, the jellyfish drifted. When our world was regularly being torn apart, the jellyfish drifted. When sea and sky became one, the jellyfish drifted away. And one day, it drifted past a star. I wonder what it thought.
Come on, don't make fun of me. So what if I'm waxing poetic about a jellyfish?
You think I'm making up the story? Do you have a better one? No. No, it isn't because of the time you were stuffing things in a canon to see how far they would shoot- did you actually put an electric stinger in there?
No, the moral of the story is to be like the electric stinger. Unbothered by the randomness of the universe. Able to follow the flow of whatever's going on. You know what I mean. I’m not making it up. Of all creatures in this world, the electric stinger is the only one who lived past the first age, and right now, it’s staring straight at us.
Well, no, they don't have brains. Or most organs. They are nothing like us. But I wonder what it is like to simply exist, and never strive for greater things. To never desire to create, or mold the world around you, or write stories about it… what would it be like, to simply… be?
In the first age, when the world was still young, there was scarcely a moment of peace. As each deity fought each other, their elements crashed and churned in a violent dance. Where an ocean stood one day, a mountain rose up the next. Any creatures that happened to spring up were quickly drowned, or crushed, or burned. But not the electric stinger.
Jellyfish have no natural lifespan, you see. They do not die of old age. They live until they are killed. There is no peaceful end to a jellyfish, no loved ones surrounding it, no God that it looks forward to meeting at the end.
And so, it drifted through the oceans. Even as the world's water was violently tossed into the air, or forced into underground tunnels, or sucked into great, swirling tornados… the jellyfish persisted. When Stormcatcher, born in conflict, rose to strike down one of his siblings, an errant bolt of lightning struck the jellyfish, giving it it's characteristic sting. A gift from a God, or a mere cosmic accident?
Could it have known? When all you know is ocean, and you have no thoughts, do you notice that the water is hundreds of feet in the air? Do you notice that beside you, the gods of a million dragons could not care less about what happens to you? Do you feel anything? Nostalgia for the ocean you once drifted through? Or is it a constant state of contentment, unbothered by the complications other organisms create for themselves?
Through the crashing of the oceans and the skies and the turbulent storm, the jellyfish drifted. When our world was regularly being torn apart, the jellyfish drifted. When sea and sky became one, the jellyfish drifted away. And one day, it drifted past a star. I wonder what it thought.
Come on, don't make fun of me. So what if I'm waxing poetic about a jellyfish?
You think I'm making up the story? Do you have a better one? No. No, it isn't because of the time you were stuffing things in a canon to see how far they would shoot- did you actually put an electric stinger in there?
No, the moral of the story is to be like the electric stinger. Unbothered by the randomness of the universe. Able to follow the flow of whatever's going on. You know what I mean. I’m not making it up. Of all creatures in this world, the electric stinger is the only one who lived past the first age, and right now, it’s staring straight at us.
A long time ago, within the ever-changing sands of the Shifting Expanse lived a young, jaded Fae. He was arrogant, crass, and very rich. Many suitors and beggars often flew to his perch upon the cliff face of the Carrion Canyon, but none would return with little more than what they had already carried.
Still, even though this dragon had everything, he felt something was missing. And so one fateful evening, he flew off into the night to search for something even greater than what he had.
As he flew toward the neverending sky, he spotted something quaint nestled between the tide pools of the Tsunami Flats. A small, lonely hut stood on the shoreline, a stark black against the pearly white sand and cerulean blue waters. The Fae became curious, wondering how someone could make such a home among the shifting tides. He plunged through the air in a bout of madness, swirling down until he rested upon the sands.
Near the water, watching the tide gently pour in, was an electric-blue Skydancer holding a small creature within their left claw. “Excuse me?” The Fae called out. “What are you doing here?”
The Skydancer looked up, giving a gentle smile. “My job is to write tales upon the heavens above, giving life to those below. Tonight is this little one’s time.” The Skydancer held up their claw, nudging a small blue jellyfish towards the Fae.
As Fae stared at it, one fin flipped up in confusion. “But… why? What’s the point? In my opinion, anything like this deserves nothing of the sort.”
The Skydancer chuckled, setting the jellyfish back into the water. “You may think that, but it’s important to tell the history of Sornieth- both in text and in the very world around us.”
The Fae’s fins flipped down as he glanced back to the water. “Then… Do you get paid?”
Another bout of laughter as the Skydancer sits down against the sand.
“No- no. I think the honor of doing this is payment enough. Even if no one remembers my name in hundreds of years, I know the stars will.”
The Fae sat down as well, gazing up into the twinkling stars. “... You’re a rather interesting character… You deserve to be remembered… for all this.”
The Skydancer gave a sad smile, this time ruffling their feathers. “I do not choose who remembers me. That is up to them.”
A second of silence before the Fae began to speak once more. “I know I will remember you. Even if the world forgets… What is your name anyway?”
The Skydancer grins. “Polaris. And you?”
The Fae flutters a little closer, scooting next to them. “Wulong.”
Polaris smiles again, turning their gaze back to the stars as the two revel in the comfortable silence of a familiar stranger.
A long time ago, within the ever-changing sands of the Shifting Expanse lived a young, jaded Fae. He was arrogant, crass, and very rich. Many suitors and beggars often flew to his perch upon the cliff face of the Carrion Canyon, but none would return with little more than what they had already carried.
Still, even though this dragon had everything, he felt something was missing. And so one fateful evening, he flew off into the night to search for something even greater than what he had.
As he flew toward the neverending sky, he spotted something quaint nestled between the tide pools of the Tsunami Flats. A small, lonely hut stood on the shoreline, a stark black against the pearly white sand and cerulean blue waters. The Fae became curious, wondering how someone could make such a home among the shifting tides. He plunged through the air in a bout of madness, swirling down until he rested upon the sands.
Near the water, watching the tide gently pour in, was an electric-blue Skydancer holding a small creature within their left claw. “Excuse me?” The Fae called out. “What are you doing here?”
The Skydancer looked up, giving a gentle smile. “My job is to write tales upon the heavens above, giving life to those below. Tonight is this little one’s time.” The Skydancer held up their claw, nudging a small blue jellyfish towards the Fae.
As Fae stared at it, one fin flipped up in confusion. “But… why? What’s the point? In my opinion, anything like this deserves nothing of the sort.”
The Skydancer chuckled, setting the jellyfish back into the water. “You may think that, but it’s important to tell the history of Sornieth- both in text and in the very world around us.”
The Fae’s fins flipped down as he glanced back to the water. “Then… Do you get paid?”
Another bout of laughter as the Skydancer sits down against the sand.
“No- no. I think the honor of doing this is payment enough. Even if no one remembers my name in hundreds of years, I know the stars will.”
The Fae sat down as well, gazing up into the twinkling stars. “... You’re a rather interesting character… You deserve to be remembered… for all this.”
The Skydancer gave a sad smile, this time ruffling their feathers. “I do not choose who remembers me. That is up to them.”
A second of silence before the Fae began to speak once more. “I know I will remember you. Even if the world forgets… What is your name anyway?”
The Skydancer grins. “Polaris. And you?”
The Fae flutters a little closer, scooting next to them. “Wulong.”
Polaris smiles again, turning their gaze back to the stars as the two revel in the comfortable silence of a familiar stranger.
[url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/43609741][img]https://www1.flightrising.com/rendern/350/436098/43609741_350.png[/img][/url]
[img]https://www1.flightrising.com/static/cms/equipment/13240.png[/img][img]https://www1.flightrising.com/static/cms/food/1032.png[/img][img]https://www1.flightrising.com/static/layout/lair_icons/63.png[/img][img]https://www1.flightrising.com/static/cms/trinket/21558.png[/img]
Star Jellies
Standing atop a desolate mesa within the Shifting Expanse, Fomalhaut gazed into the dark sky, focusing on a constellation he could not recall seeing before. Jotting down some notes, he repositioned his telescope, a complex design of his own invention, composed of a dizzying array of convex and concave mirrors all precisely aligned for maximum reflection. This particular grouping of stars reminded him of the sea. He suddenly imagined a vast Cnidarian, swimming languorously among the deep void of space, intermittently pulsating with colourful bioluminescence. This thought caused him to become disoriented and he swooned, losing his balance. As he fell, he inadvertently kicked one leg of the tripod on which the fragile telescope was mounted, upending the whole lot. The instrument was launched from the momentum of the falling tripod, and in horror Fomalhaut watched as it flew through the air in a great arc, only to land by unceremoniously bouncing several times before coming to rest.
Sighing, Fomalhaut gathered himself up from the dusty ground and headed to the fallen telescope, mirrors irretrievably shattered. He suddenly let out a laugh, startling a small nocturnal gecko. Inspecting the broken instrument, Fomalhaut told the wayward lizard, “It’s a collide-a-scope!” which elicited peals of more laughter. The lizard remained unimpressed.
Packing up his battered telescope and tripod, also broken, Fomalhaut was distracted by distant flashes of lightning from the western sky. He watched for a bit, trying to catch a glimpse of the cloud-to-ground strikes. After a few moments of introspection, he set out in the direction of the lightning, hoping to find more fulgurites for his collection.
Standing atop a desolate mesa within the Shifting Expanse, Fomalhaut gazed into the dark sky, focusing on a constellation he could not recall seeing before. Jotting down some notes, he repositioned his telescope, a complex design of his own invention, composed of a dizzying array of convex and concave mirrors all precisely aligned for maximum reflection. This particular grouping of stars reminded him of the sea. He suddenly imagined a vast Cnidarian, swimming languorously among the deep void of space, intermittently pulsating with colourful bioluminescence. This thought caused him to become disoriented and he swooned, losing his balance. As he fell, he inadvertently kicked one leg of the tripod on which the fragile telescope was mounted, upending the whole lot. The instrument was launched from the momentum of the falling tripod, and in horror Fomalhaut watched as it flew through the air in a great arc, only to land by unceremoniously bouncing several times before coming to rest.
Sighing, Fomalhaut gathered himself up from the dusty ground and headed to the fallen telescope, mirrors irretrievably shattered. He suddenly let out a laugh, startling a small nocturnal gecko. Inspecting the broken instrument, Fomalhaut told the wayward lizard, “It’s a collide-a-scope!” which elicited peals of more laughter. The lizard remained unimpressed.
Packing up his battered telescope and tripod, also broken, Fomalhaut was distracted by distant flashes of lightning from the western sky. He watched for a bit, trying to catch a glimpse of the cloud-to-ground strikes. After a few moments of introspection, he set out in the direction of the lightning, hoping to find more fulgurites for his collection.
This was a little more character-driven than I anticipated, but it still works. Loving all the submissions so far btw!! You guys are all so creative [emoji=skydancer star size=1]
Stories in the Stars Day 1: Electric Stingers
Words: 594
[url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/68268555][img]https://www1.flightrising.com/rendern/350/682686/68268555_350.png[/img][/url]
The stargazing party was abuzz with tales for the celestial stinger lighting up the sky. Talk of witches, kings, and gods filled the air, explanations both fantastical and mundane. The atmosphere was lighthearted and fun, filled with outlandish tales and good laughs all around. And then someone scoffed.
The group of dragons quieted down and looked for the source of the derisive noise. A source who was very much willing to be identified, as they loftily rose from their spot on the ground. They were certainly a strange sight to behold; a Skydancer wearing a glowing mask that completely covered their face and with wings that shone like the stars themselves. After they saw that they now commanded the attention of most of their companions, they began to speak.
"Entertaining stories, to be sure." Greenwing's voice was muffled by the helmet but their speech was understandable. The headgear gave their voice an echoic quality. "But that's all they are: stories. The true origins of this constellation could not be more clear." This statement was followed by them turning their head to face the other dragons, as if they expected unanimous understanding and agreement. When they saw only confusion on their companions faces, they continued. "Is it not obvious? This arrangement of stars is in no way accidental. What we are witnessing is an attempt at communication from creatures beyond Sornieth."
The group was silent for a moment before another dragon decided to speak up. "So you're saying aliens made this constellation to talk to us?" he asked. The hesitancy in his voice and the dubious expressions of the rest of the group told Greenwing that they weren't getting their point across as well as they had hoped.
"Of course not," they replied. "Why would extraterrestrial beings wish to speak with dragonkind? Such superior intellect would go to waste on such a primitive kind. This message is intended for their brethren that live among us; creatures we know as jellyfish." Upon being met with complete silence once again, they sighed. It appeared more explanation would be necessary. Not surprising; they shouldn't have expected mere dragons to understand the complexities of alien life.
"Jellyfish are biological anomalies. No brain, no blood, no heart. They brazenly disregard what is understood to be vital for living creatures. Creatures on Sornieth, at least." They cleared their throat, an almost mechanical sound thanks to their helmet, then continued with their speech. "That is because they do not come from this land. I do not now how they arrived here, of all places, but they are far from their home in the galaxy above."
Finally, they got to the point. "This constellation acts as a beacon. When the jellyfish see it, they will realize that they are displaced from their true home. How they will return, I do not know, but I am positive that it is a sign from their kin. It has to be." A tinge of desperation could be heard in their voice near the end. It was almost as if they were trying to convince themselves with their words.
The silence of the stargazing party was deafening. Clearly, most of the others were skeptical of Greenwing's outlandish claims. Miffed with the cold reception their tale had received, the Skydancer returned to their place on the ground with a huff. Their Wildclaw companion seated next to them turned to face her partner. "It's okay, Greenie. I thought it was a great story."
And hidden from the rest of the world, a small smile graced Greenwing's features. "Thank you."
This was a little more character-driven than I anticipated, but it still works. Loving all the submissions so far btw!! You guys are all so creative
Stories in the Stars Day 1: Electric Stingers
Words: 594
The stargazing party was abuzz with tales for the celestial stinger lighting up the sky. Talk of witches, kings, and gods filled the air, explanations both fantastical and mundane. The atmosphere was lighthearted and fun, filled with outlandish tales and good laughs all around. And then someone scoffed.
The group of dragons quieted down and looked for the source of the derisive noise. A source who was very much willing to be identified, as they loftily rose from their spot on the ground. They were certainly a strange sight to behold; a Skydancer wearing a glowing mask that completely covered their face and with wings that shone like the stars themselves. After they saw that they now commanded the attention of most of their companions, they began to speak.
"Entertaining stories, to be sure." Greenwing's voice was muffled by the helmet but their speech was understandable. The headgear gave their voice an echoic quality. "But that's all they are: stories. The true origins of this constellation could not be more clear." This statement was followed by them turning their head to face the other dragons, as if they expected unanimous understanding and agreement. When they saw only confusion on their companions faces, they continued. "Is it not obvious? This arrangement of stars is in no way accidental. What we are witnessing is an attempt at communication from creatures beyond Sornieth."
The group was silent for a moment before another dragon decided to speak up. "So you're saying aliens made this constellation to talk to us?" he asked. The hesitancy in his voice and the dubious expressions of the rest of the group told Greenwing that they weren't getting their point across as well as they had hoped.
"Of course not," they replied. "Why would extraterrestrial beings wish to speak with dragonkind? Such superior intellect would go to waste on such a primitive kind. This message is intended for their brethren that live among us; creatures we know as jellyfish." Upon being met with complete silence once again, they sighed. It appeared more explanation would be necessary. Not surprising; they shouldn't have expected mere dragons to understand the complexities of alien life.
"Jellyfish are biological anomalies. No brain, no blood, no heart. They brazenly disregard what is understood to be vital for living creatures. Creatures on Sornieth, at least." They cleared their throat, an almost mechanical sound thanks to their helmet, then continued with their speech. "That is because they do not come from this land. I do not now how they arrived here, of all places, but they are far from their home in the galaxy above."
Finally, they got to the point. "This constellation acts as a beacon. When the jellyfish see it, they will realize that they are displaced from their true home. How they will return, I do not know, but I am positive that it is a sign from their kin. It has to be." A tinge of desperation could be heard in their voice near the end. It was almost as if they were trying to convince themselves with their words.
The silence of the stargazing party was deafening. Clearly, most of the others were skeptical of Greenwing's outlandish claims. Miffed with the cold reception their tale had received, the Skydancer returned to their place on the ground with a huff. Their Wildclaw companion seated next to them turned to face her partner. "It's okay, Greenie. I thought it was a great story."
And hidden from the rest of the world, a small smile graced Greenwing's features. "Thank you."
[url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/33935352][img]https://www1.flightrising.com/rendern/350/339354/33935352_350.png[/img][/url]
“So, kids, what do we know about constellations?” the fox-dragon asked to his class of generally bored dragonets. “[url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/22306791]Onyx[/url], thank you for raising your hand. You can go first.”
“I mean, they’re stars. In the sky. That a bunch of ancient protodragons decided looked like stuff. Like, why are we learning about this anyway? Shouldn’t we be battling? I’d rather battle.”
[url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/20890117]Electra[/url] shot a grin at the Fae. “I thought you would totally be into horoscopes, dude!”
Onyx swatted Electra away, huffing in displeasure. “Shut up.”
Kendall sighed and shook his head. “Culture is a very important thing to learn. Just because it is not so immediately practical as battling or hunting, does not mean it has no use at all.”
The teacher looked out at his class again. [url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/61340608]Curious[/url] shakily rose his paw, then slammed it back down again as if he were swatting a fly. “Curious?”
“Oh! Uh, it’s nothing!” The skydancer stammered. “I mean, it was kinda dumb anyway…”
“Aww, c’mon, share it!” [url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/58962698]Akebia[/url] whined. “I’ll give you my jadevine at lunch if you do!”
“Oh, you’re too good! I’ll share my story… But only if the teacher allows it!”
Kendall nodded his approval as the students leaned towards Curious, eager to hear every bit.
“So, I really only know one constellation. It’s… uh… the jellyfish one?” The skydancer looked towards Kendall for approval, and he nodded. “Yes. It is the jellyfish one. That exists. Okay. Yeah. I got this.”
Electra put a comforting paw on his shoulder. “Is there more to the story?”
“Of course there is! I wouldn’t get this nervous-y just from telling you guys a jellyfish constellation exists! So anyway, I remember this because, like, I used to have this cool star map, you know? And it had this jellyfish, and it had a bunch of other constellations on it. Like, I can’t remember them, but they were there. But so I had my map, and it was nighttime, and I could barely read it because it’s night and there isn’t much light. I didn’t even think to bring a pocket bauble with me. Silly me, right?”
“Yes, yes, silly you, can we get [i]on with it?[/i]” Onyx snorted.
“Right! Right, so I was trying to look at my star map, and I couldn’t because it was dark, did I mention it was new? Because it was new. That’s why I didn’t realize you couldn’t read it in the dark. And did I mention I was at the beach? Because that’s kinda important. So I’m at the beach, with my star map that I can’t read, looking up in the stars and seeing if I can guess any from memory. Or just from how they look, I guess. And I’m dipping my toes in the water because it’s a nice and cool night. And then… guess what?”
“What?” Akebia exclaimed, practically shouting from excitement.
“I’m looking up at the sky, and I’m seeing a mass of stars, and I’m thinking, ‘Ooh, this could be a jellyfish! There’s these trails of stars that look like tentacles!’ And then, as soon as I think that, I feel a massive SHOCK! An actual jellyfish! And then my star map flew out of my clutch, and it probably sank into the water or something, and I never saw it again, the end.”
“So, kids, what do we know about constellations?” the fox-dragon asked to his class of generally bored dragonets. “Onyx, thank you for raising your hand. You can go first.”
“I mean, they’re stars. In the sky. That a bunch of ancient protodragons decided looked like stuff. Like, why are we learning about this anyway? Shouldn’t we be battling? I’d rather battle.”
Electra shot a grin at the Fae. “I thought you would totally be into horoscopes, dude!”
Onyx swatted Electra away, huffing in displeasure. “Shut up.”
Kendall sighed and shook his head. “Culture is a very important thing to learn. Just because it is not so immediately practical as battling or hunting, does not mean it has no use at all.”
The teacher looked out at his class again. Curious shakily rose his paw, then slammed it back down again as if he were swatting a fly. “Curious?”
“Oh! Uh, it’s nothing!” The skydancer stammered. “I mean, it was kinda dumb anyway…”
“Aww, c’mon, share it!” Akebia whined. “I’ll give you my jadevine at lunch if you do!”
“Oh, you’re too good! I’ll share my story… But only if the teacher allows it!”
Kendall nodded his approval as the students leaned towards Curious, eager to hear every bit.
“So, I really only know one constellation. It’s… uh… the jellyfish one?” The skydancer looked towards Kendall for approval, and he nodded. “Yes. It is the jellyfish one. That exists. Okay. Yeah. I got this.”
Electra put a comforting paw on his shoulder. “Is there more to the story?”
“Of course there is! I wouldn’t get this nervous-y just from telling you guys a jellyfish constellation exists! So anyway, I remember this because, like, I used to have this cool star map, you know? And it had this jellyfish, and it had a bunch of other constellations on it. Like, I can’t remember them, but they were there. But so I had my map, and it was nighttime, and I could barely read it because it’s night and there isn’t much light. I didn’t even think to bring a pocket bauble with me. Silly me, right?”
“Yes, yes, silly you, can we get on with it?” Onyx snorted.
“Right! Right, so I was trying to look at my star map, and I couldn’t because it was dark, did I mention it was new? Because it was new. That’s why I didn’t realize you couldn’t read it in the dark. And did I mention I was at the beach? Because that’s kinda important. So I’m at the beach, with my star map that I can’t read, looking up in the stars and seeing if I can guess any from memory. Or just from how they look, I guess. And I’m dipping my toes in the water because it’s a nice and cool night. And then… guess what?”
“What?” Akebia exclaimed, practically shouting from excitement.
“I’m looking up at the sky, and I’m seeing a mass of stars, and I’m thinking, ‘Ooh, this could be a jellyfish! There’s these trails of stars that look like tentacles!’ And then, as soon as I think that, I feel a massive SHOCK! An actual jellyfish! And then my star map flew out of my clutch, and it probably sank into the water or something, and I never saw it again, the end.”
@Sinjin @StormDragon21 @Sandydragon595 @Forestwolf @Mutation @Saronai @Wylin @romlily @Tenrecidae @AloVra @Pensacola @Scatterspark @Bxy26 @dragonpals @robouiop
Hi Everyone. Here is the next constellation:
[img]https://i.imgur.com/pDLIRiV.png[/img] [item=Dusk Aconite]
[b]Dusk Aconite[/b]
[b]You have until July 27, 2021 17:42:00 FR time to submit your story.[/b]
An unremarkable plant by day. These pale flowers blossom under the light of the full moon and reflect its glow, turning the delta into a starlit sandscape.
24
2
Dusk Aconite
You have until July 27, 2021 17:42:00 FR time to submit your story.
Miths in the Moonlight, Dancing in the Aconite
When some dragons look up at the moon, they see the weathered, smiling face of a dryad. Others, a little bunny making a tasty treat. The dragons of the Shifting Expanse know exactly who lives on the moon: A sturdy, stocky mith, antennae perked, ready to get back to work with their hammer. Every month, the miths of the moon make a dangerous journey to exchange the fruits of their labor with their comrades on Sornieth. They light up the moon as their beacon, and the dusk aconites open, shining back to welcome them.
Indeed, miths can be seen in the fields during the full moon. Presumably, they are just doing what miths do and pollinating the flowers, taking an occasional aconite to use for food or medicine. Maybe a dragon may catch one at rest, gazing up at the moon, before the mith soon notices it is being watched and, instead of running, decides to simply watch its watcher. Dragons often lose these staring contests, feeling unnerved. It’s just the mith doing what miths do, looking at lovely lights for too long. That’s all.
“It’s rude to watch the miths do their work in the aconite, so we don’t.” A fae patriarch of a small clan in the delta explains to his hatchling. Yes. It’s just rude. It’s not that they scare us, or we think we’ll find something we shouldn’t. “During the full moon, we stay inside.” He pets his child’s head, knowing they are not satisfied, but at least hoping they are warned. “Watch the aconites near our house if you want to see the pretty flowers, dear one.”
The faeling was certainly not satisfied with this. The next full moon, they snuck into the aconite fields, just as their father had told them not to. If the miths thought they were rude, the little fae could simply apologize and go back home, they thought. It was not long before the hatchling found themself in the field of flowers, watching a small group of mith hunched over and digging. The child was enchanted by the sight…
“Hello, little fairy!” A strange, but not unkind voice from behind startled the hatchling. They turned around, ducked their head, flared their fins, and gasped when they saw the mith before them. They…think the expression was friendly?
“What brings you to the aconites tonight, young fae?” asked the mith. “You know we do our work tonight.” One hand rested on the miths hip, the other on the hammer propping her up from the ground. “These flowers don’t pollinate themselves, and we need them for our medicine and food.”
“Medicine and food?” The fae looked down. “You are not from the moon? I thought it would be neat to see you if you were…But Father says it is just a story. People here tell it to make their lives more entertaining, he says.”
“No, little fairy. We are not from the moon.” Mith knelt and held her hand out to the small fae, beckoning her to hold it. What a trusting child. “But I don’t know what’s more enchanting or wonderful than a little fairy dragon that can shoot sparks, do you?” Mith knew the dragon would not be satisfied by what they saw as their mundane, however.
“How about a flower that never wilts, and always glows?” She asked, the smile apparent in her voice. The hatchling’s headfins immediately perked as Mith produced a small bunch of dusk aconite contained in a glassy orb. “Place it out during the full moon, and Mith will be watching.” The child was almost too small to carry the object.
“It is very dangerous in the Delta at night. Be good and let my friend carry you home while I finish my work, alright?” The fae eagerly nodded, scooped up into Mith’s soft arms and transferred to those of her companion. An enchanted sleep soon took over the faeling.
Mith and her other comrades watched as the mith carrying the hatching turned and headed to the direction of the fae clan, stepping over the corpse of a strangler, bludgeoned with a hammer. She sighed. “That almost went sour.” Comrade nodded, slapping his hammer against his hands. “Their kids are so cute, you know? Would hate to have to. You know. “
As dawn came and the aconites closed, the mith completed their exchange and returned to the stars. Unhatched eggs and pollen for well-fed larvae. Even as they travelled the expanse of space, dusk aconite were still their host plants, and dusk aconite would only live in the Delta of Sornieth. A reminder of where home was and would always be.
(Note: The dusk aconite, to me, resembles a moonflower. These are pure white and only open at night. Hawk moths love them!)
When some dragons look up at the moon, they see the weathered, smiling face of a dryad. Others, a little bunny making a tasty treat. The dragons of the Shifting Expanse know exactly who lives on the moon: A sturdy, stocky mith, antennae perked, ready to get back to work with their hammer. Every month, the miths of the moon make a dangerous journey to exchange the fruits of their labor with their comrades on Sornieth. They light up the moon as their beacon, and the dusk aconites open, shining back to welcome them.
Indeed, miths can be seen in the fields during the full moon. Presumably, they are just doing what miths do and pollinating the flowers, taking an occasional aconite to use for food or medicine. Maybe a dragon may catch one at rest, gazing up at the moon, before the mith soon notices it is being watched and, instead of running, decides to simply watch its watcher. Dragons often lose these staring contests, feeling unnerved. It’s just the mith doing what miths do, looking at lovely lights for too long. That’s all.
“It’s rude to watch the miths do their work in the aconite, so we don’t.” A fae patriarch of a small clan in the delta explains to his hatchling. Yes. It’s just rude. It’s not that they scare us, or we think we’ll find something we shouldn’t. “During the full moon, we stay inside.” He pets his child’s head, knowing they are not satisfied, but at least hoping they are warned. “Watch the aconites near our house if you want to see the pretty flowers, dear one.”
The faeling was certainly not satisfied with this. The next full moon, they snuck into the aconite fields, just as their father had told them not to. If the miths thought they were rude, the little fae could simply apologize and go back home, they thought. It was not long before the hatchling found themself in the field of flowers, watching a small group of mith hunched over and digging. The child was enchanted by the sight…
“Hello, little fairy!” A strange, but not unkind voice from behind startled the hatchling. They turned around, ducked their head, flared their fins, and gasped when they saw the mith before them. They…think the expression was friendly?
“What brings you to the aconites tonight, young fae?” asked the mith. “You know we do our work tonight.” One hand rested on the miths hip, the other on the hammer propping her up from the ground. “These flowers don’t pollinate themselves, and we need them for our medicine and food.”
“Medicine and food?” The fae looked down. “You are not from the moon? I thought it would be neat to see you if you were…But Father says it is just a story. People here tell it to make their lives more entertaining, he says.”
“No, little fairy. We are not from the moon.” Mith knelt and held her hand out to the small fae, beckoning her to hold it. What a trusting child. “But I don’t know what’s more enchanting or wonderful than a little fairy dragon that can shoot sparks, do you?” Mith knew the dragon would not be satisfied by what they saw as their mundane, however.
“How about a flower that never wilts, and always glows?” She asked, the smile apparent in her voice. The hatchling’s headfins immediately perked as Mith produced a small bunch of dusk aconite contained in a glassy orb. “Place it out during the full moon, and Mith will be watching.” The child was almost too small to carry the object.
“It is very dangerous in the Delta at night. Be good and let my friend carry you home while I finish my work, alright?” The fae eagerly nodded, scooped up into Mith’s soft arms and transferred to those of her companion. An enchanted sleep soon took over the faeling.
Mith and her other comrades watched as the mith carrying the hatching turned and headed to the direction of the fae clan, stepping over the corpse of a strangler, bludgeoned with a hammer. She sighed. “That almost went sour.” Comrade nodded, slapping his hammer against his hands. “Their kids are so cute, you know? Would hate to have to. You know. “
As dawn came and the aconites closed, the mith completed their exchange and returned to the stars. Unhatched eggs and pollen for well-fed larvae. Even as they travelled the expanse of space, dusk aconite were still their host plants, and dusk aconite would only live in the Delta of Sornieth. A reminder of where home was and would always be.
(Note: The dusk aconite, to me, resembles a moonflower. These are pure white and only open at night. Hawk moths love them!)
Dusk Aconite
A long time ago, there was a traveler, crossing the great expanse of the Highland Scrub to visit their family in their old clan. It was several days' journey by foot or wing, but the traveler didn't mind, for the storms were mild that season and the landscape was beautiful, in its own way. They knew the path well, and had no concern about being able to find their way.
The first couple of days were no more difficult than expected. The desert is hot and dry, but they had plenty of food and water, and knew where to find more. They met the occasional small clan or nomad on their way, and rested beneath the roiling sky each night. On the third day, however, the weather took an unexpected turn, and a sudden sandstorm swept across the plain.
The traveler scrambled to find shelter, but they were caught out in the open, in the middle of a stretch of cracked earth and sand, with not a cave or overhanging ledge within easy reach. They managed to find a thorny thicket of cacti just as the storm came upon them, and huddled down amid the prickly plants to wait it out. It was no use, though; the storm was too fierce, and the wind caught their wings and pulled them from their hiding place.
When the storm finally died down, the traveler looked up... and did not know where they were. The sandstorm had tossed and spun them around, and the sand had shifted dramatically, leaving them without any landmarks to orient themself. If they flew up high, they might be able to see far enough to figure out the right direction to go, but they were tired, and the sky was beginning to darken as the sun went down. After a bit of thought, the traveler decided that the best course of action would be to walk a while and look for shelter. After some rest, in the light of day, it would be easier to find their way again.
They were in luck. After an hour or so of walking, they saw a small oasis in the distance. Though their feet were sore and tired, the traveler hurried eagerly toward it. It would be a perfect place to rest for the night. It didn't take long to reach the oasis, and they drank deeply of the cool, fresh water, and curled beneath a tree to sleep.
It seemed like they'd only been asleep for less than an hour when the traveler was woken by soft light brightening their eyelids. Could it already be dawn? They opened their eyes and were amazed at what they saw: the heavy stormclouds had broken, and the pale light of the full moon poured through, illuminating hundreds of little silvery blossoms all over the oasis. The traveler no longer felt so tired. They got up and looked all around in wonder. In all their years, they'd never seen a sight like this.
As they walked through the flowers, taking in the spectacle, they noticed that the blooms weren't just clustered near the water. It seemed that a trail of them wound away into the desert, illuminating the sand like... a road. A road of pale stars.
When they stepped out onto that road, the traveler no longer felt tired. They felt energized, in fact, as if the moonlight had woken them just as it had the glowing flowers. They followed the flower-spangled path, running with such energy as they hadn't had since they were young. Eventually, the light from the flowers began to fade, but it wasn't much longer before the sun began to rise again, illuminating a landscape that was very familiar. Somehow, over the span of a single night, the traveler had crossed the rest of the distance back home.
A long time ago, there was a traveler, crossing the great expanse of the Highland Scrub to visit their family in their old clan. It was several days' journey by foot or wing, but the traveler didn't mind, for the storms were mild that season and the landscape was beautiful, in its own way. They knew the path well, and had no concern about being able to find their way.
The first couple of days were no more difficult than expected. The desert is hot and dry, but they had plenty of food and water, and knew where to find more. They met the occasional small clan or nomad on their way, and rested beneath the roiling sky each night. On the third day, however, the weather took an unexpected turn, and a sudden sandstorm swept across the plain.
The traveler scrambled to find shelter, but they were caught out in the open, in the middle of a stretch of cracked earth and sand, with not a cave or overhanging ledge within easy reach. They managed to find a thorny thicket of cacti just as the storm came upon them, and huddled down amid the prickly plants to wait it out. It was no use, though; the storm was too fierce, and the wind caught their wings and pulled them from their hiding place.
When the storm finally died down, the traveler looked up... and did not know where they were. The sandstorm had tossed and spun them around, and the sand had shifted dramatically, leaving them without any landmarks to orient themself. If they flew up high, they might be able to see far enough to figure out the right direction to go, but they were tired, and the sky was beginning to darken as the sun went down. After a bit of thought, the traveler decided that the best course of action would be to walk a while and look for shelter. After some rest, in the light of day, it would be easier to find their way again.
They were in luck. After an hour or so of walking, they saw a small oasis in the distance. Though their feet were sore and tired, the traveler hurried eagerly toward it. It would be a perfect place to rest for the night. It didn't take long to reach the oasis, and they drank deeply of the cool, fresh water, and curled beneath a tree to sleep.
It seemed like they'd only been asleep for less than an hour when the traveler was woken by soft light brightening their eyelids. Could it already be dawn? They opened their eyes and were amazed at what they saw: the heavy stormclouds had broken, and the pale light of the full moon poured through, illuminating hundreds of little silvery blossoms all over the oasis. The traveler no longer felt so tired. They got up and looked all around in wonder. In all their years, they'd never seen a sight like this.
As they walked through the flowers, taking in the spectacle, they noticed that the blooms weren't just clustered near the water. It seemed that a trail of them wound away into the desert, illuminating the sand like... a road. A road of pale stars.
When they stepped out onto that road, the traveler no longer felt tired. They felt energized, in fact, as if the moonlight had woken them just as it had the glowing flowers. They followed the flower-spangled path, running with such energy as they hadn't had since they were young. Eventually, the light from the flowers began to fade, but it wasn't much longer before the sun began to rise again, illuminating a landscape that was very familiar. Somehow, over the span of a single night, the traveler had crossed the rest of the distance back home.
[i]You come across a small gathering of hatchlings. Somehow they seem familiar...very familiar...[/i]
[center][url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/63309942][img]https://www1.flightrising.com/dgen/preview/dragon?age=0&body=12&bodygene=8&breed=11&element=7&eyetype=7&gender=1&tert=17&tertgene=19&winggene=6&wings=9&auth=f13038d5fc82017a8eef2c771dc0e33bbb09ddbb&dummyext=prev.png[/img][/url][/center]
"This is a story that I know." Shadowling propped herself up on her wings and held up her claws for silence. "Pay attention, because I won't repeat myself. Ever." She glared at [url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/63659364]Windling[/url], who was trying to see which whistles made the loudest noise.
"Oh, sorry!" Windling dropped the whistles and settled in expectantly, tail vibrating until it carried the Spiral up into the air...quietly.
"Once upon a time, long, long ago, there was an Imperial who lived in the Tangled Wood. His mane and scales were as black as the night, as black as his heart. He brooded on the border of the Light realm, with hatred in his heart for the goddess who had disowned him and his kind."
[url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/63289025]Lightling[/url] squirmed but said nothing. The other hatchlings pointedly ignored her.
"One day, as he plotted his revenge, he saw a young Pearlcatcher Acolight. She was late to her evening prayers, and she was stumbling over her long robes, too close to the border. A branch caught on her hem, and she tripped and rolled into a messy knot. The bordermagic was very strange there."
"I bet it was!" [url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/63803864]Arcaneling[/url] put in excitedly. "What was the ratio of mana capacity to output in the average ley-line?"
Shadowling fixed him with a deadpan stare. [url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/63678444]Stormling[/url] leaned over and loudly whispered an approximation in Arcaneling's ear. The two bent over a piece of paper and began whispering and scribbling calculations.
"Go on," said Tideling.
"Anyway, the Imperial thought that ingratiating himself with a member of the Lightweaver's court would be the best way to enact his revenge. So he helped her up and spoke kindly to her. At first she was afraid of the massive dark dragon, but as she got to know him, she realized that he was a dragon just like herself. They began to meet frequently, always on the border."
"And then they fell in love." [url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/62676043]Earthling[/url] sighed dreamily. "I like this story."
"No," Shadowling said. "That's not what happened." She cleared her throat. "The Imperial's plan worked just as he had hoped it would. The trusting Pearlcatcher believed him when he said he wished he lived in a land as bright as hers. One day she brought him into the temple courts. That's when he unleashed all the rage in his heart, fueled by the darkness of Shadow magic. Many Acolights were killed that day, and the temple was utterly destroyed." The small Nocturne's face was just a little too gleeful. Lightling frowned at her sister.
"I [i]don't[/i] like this story," Earthling whimpered. "What happened to the Pearlcatcher?"
"She died right then and there of a broken heart," Shadowling said.
A tear rolled down Earthling's cheek. Shadowling continued relentlessly. "The Imperial returned to his home in the shadows, which somehow seemed even darker than they had been. It was not until weeks later that he realized the [i]were[/i] darker, too dark even for him. The Shade had crept into his heart and into his home."
"Oh dear, I never saw that coming." [url=https://www1.flightrising.com/dragon/63705788]Iceling[/url] rolled his eyes. "Should I have frozen him?"
"The Imperial needed assistance," Shadowling continued, ignoring the interruption, "but he lived in a very lonely part of the border. No loyal Shadow dragons were near to help him. And thanks to his actions, no Light dragons were anywhere near, either. The Shade was consuming him. He eventually fled to the ruined temple, where he died, trying to find the Pearlcatcher's pearl with his last efforts."
"That's a terrible story!" Tideling exclaimed.
Shadowling shrugged. "Many eons later, after the borderlines had shifted considerably, dragons found the remains of the temple and all who had died there. They thought the story was so terrible that they begged the Lightweaver for help to create an everlasting memorial to the story."
"I helped!" Arcaneling crowed. "I made the stars shine."
"Yes," Shadowling grumped, "and they're too bright. The Dusk Aconite flower represents the Pearlcatcher and her pearl, and the reflection in the sky represents the Imperial. He is far, far away, and too late, he reaches for her. And on moonlit nights, she glows in return. But there aren't too many moonlit nights in the Tangled Wood," she added with some satisfaction.
You come across a small gathering of hatchlings. Somehow they seem familiar...very familiar...
"This is a story that I know." Shadowling propped herself up on her wings and held up her claws for silence. "Pay attention, because I won't repeat myself. Ever." She glared at Windling, who was trying to see which whistles made the loudest noise.
"Oh, sorry!" Windling dropped the whistles and settled in expectantly, tail vibrating until it carried the Spiral up into the air...quietly.
"Once upon a time, long, long ago, there was an Imperial who lived in the Tangled Wood. His mane and scales were as black as the night, as black as his heart. He brooded on the border of the Light realm, with hatred in his heart for the goddess who had disowned him and his kind."
Lightling squirmed but said nothing. The other hatchlings pointedly ignored her.
"One day, as he plotted his revenge, he saw a young Pearlcatcher Acolight. She was late to her evening prayers, and she was stumbling over her long robes, too close to the border. A branch caught on her hem, and she tripped and rolled into a messy knot. The bordermagic was very strange there."
"I bet it was!" Arcaneling put in excitedly. "What was the ratio of mana capacity to output in the average ley-line?"
Shadowling fixed him with a deadpan stare. Stormling leaned over and loudly whispered an approximation in Arcaneling's ear. The two bent over a piece of paper and began whispering and scribbling calculations.
"Go on," said Tideling.
"Anyway, the Imperial thought that ingratiating himself with a member of the Lightweaver's court would be the best way to enact his revenge. So he helped her up and spoke kindly to her. At first she was afraid of the massive dark dragon, but as she got to know him, she realized that he was a dragon just like herself. They began to meet frequently, always on the border."
"And then they fell in love." Earthling sighed dreamily. "I like this story."
"No," Shadowling said. "That's not what happened." She cleared her throat. "The Imperial's plan worked just as he had hoped it would. The trusting Pearlcatcher believed him when he said he wished he lived in a land as bright as hers. One day she brought him into the temple courts. That's when he unleashed all the rage in his heart, fueled by the darkness of Shadow magic. Many Acolights were killed that day, and the temple was utterly destroyed." The small Nocturne's face was just a little too gleeful. Lightling frowned at her sister.
"I don't like this story," Earthling whimpered. "What happened to the Pearlcatcher?"
"She died right then and there of a broken heart," Shadowling said.
A tear rolled down Earthling's cheek. Shadowling continued relentlessly. "The Imperial returned to his home in the shadows, which somehow seemed even darker than they had been. It was not until weeks later that he realized the were darker, too dark even for him. The Shade had crept into his heart and into his home."
"Oh dear, I never saw that coming." Iceling rolled his eyes. "Should I have frozen him?"
"The Imperial needed assistance," Shadowling continued, ignoring the interruption, "but he lived in a very lonely part of the border. No loyal Shadow dragons were near to help him. And thanks to his actions, no Light dragons were anywhere near, either. The Shade was consuming him. He eventually fled to the ruined temple, where he died, trying to find the Pearlcatcher's pearl with his last efforts."
"That's a terrible story!" Tideling exclaimed.
Shadowling shrugged. "Many eons later, after the borderlines had shifted considerably, dragons found the remains of the temple and all who had died there. They thought the story was so terrible that they begged the Lightweaver for help to create an everlasting memorial to the story."
"I helped!" Arcaneling crowed. "I made the stars shine."
"Yes," Shadowling grumped, "and they're too bright. The Dusk Aconite flower represents the Pearlcatcher and her pearl, and the reflection in the sky represents the Imperial. He is far, far away, and too late, he reaches for her. And on moonlit nights, she glows in return. But there aren't too many moonlit nights in the Tangled Wood," she added with some satisfaction.
