The Fallout

With everything going so well in Calendêhl, Draugonir turned to the final creatures he wanted in their new world: his own brood. When Vaeloth learned of his companion's plans to create dragons in Daurinath, he fiercely opposed it, never wanting the infighting of his own kin to devastate his newfound home. But Draugonir disagreed and wished not to be the only ones of their kind, so the brothers fought savagely above Calendêhl, resulting in Draugonir being wounded and fleeing across the sea, while Vaeoloth remained, cursing his brother for trying to destroy their only home.

Draugonir's Retreat     His long, black body weaved its way through the sky. The sapphire eyes scanned the churning waters. There was an island not too far in front of him. There was no sign of life, just black rocks, and rivers of lava glowing in the dusk. The long whiskers around Draugonir's nose and mouth quivered. The aching pain of the wounds inflicted by his life long companion, throbbed across his whole body. The landing was far from his usual graceful gliding to a halt, more like a mad scrabble of claws on slippery stones and fighting for balance. He looked behind him, across the vast ocean, waiting in suspenseful silence for a small speck on the horizon announcing his one time friend and soulmate coming to finish his work. Nothing. For a moment he collapsed onto the hot rock, trying to regain his composure. He wanted to close his eyes, but he knew, sleep had yet to wait. He lifted his upper body and started to sway gently to and fro. He opened his mouth and spewed forward a clutch of eggs, glistening silver, obsidian, gold, sapphire, and emerald. This was the legacy of his species. The promise he had made in rageful spite to his brother, now it was full filled. His head reared back one more time. He released his breath on the eggs, bathing them in lightning. This was enough. The rest would be done by the warmth of the rock. He could rest now. In a century or two, he would wake up, in time for his brood to hatch. They would rule this world together, and from here the possibilities were endless. He curled up in a tight circle, a mist arose around the island and the last sounds Draugonir heard for thousands of years were the roaring of the sea and the grumbling of the volcanoes.