When the tide turned against the Light during a great battle with the strangling vines of the Gladekeeper and the call came for reinforcements, the clan did not hesitate. All in the lair – war trainers, nesters, advisors, high priests, drakes barely past the age of hatchlings, and even the two progenitors of the lair gathered what they needed to make the journey and set out by the next hour. They arrived at the scene of the battle several days later. Those who could fly tore through the air, screeching and locking claws with their opponents in the writhe of death, spinning and rending until they had defeated their opposite number or they were felled in battle. Those who could not fly forded the great river that bordered the two regions, emerging from the water and rushing towards their foes, clashing terribly on a battlefield of trampled jungle, millions of crumpled claws and wings, and blood and grit that flowed into the water, turning the tide into a frothing slew of crimson.
The war spanned several more days, and by the end, all of the dragons who had set out from the clan had perished in a hostile foreign land, lifeless eyes never again to gaze upon the domain of the Lightweaver. With the battle won for Nature, the great vines and wilds of the forest encroached on the land of the Light, and all that happened in the clan was lost with no one to keep it, forgotten to time and dust. Hundreds of years passed, and still, no drake or beastclan dared to make their home in the old lair of the clan, for the air of darkness and ruin was oppressive and choked out any who thought to scrounge for food or treasure there. And so the land lay there, a testament and a warning to all.
After a period of calm years where Earth ruled, the stagnant air around the Sunbeam Ruins began to buzz as static filled the air. Drakes in another lair situated in the Mirrorlight Promenade ran to the Sundial Terrace to divine the change of weather. With fear in their hearts, they returned to tell their clan the news – this was no ordinary thunderstorm. Something big was happening. Dragons that had homes in caves and ruins around the area sought shelter, and food and drying materials were gathered and moved indoors. The single pair of nesting dragons, however, could not be moved, for the mother was in the throes of childbirth, so the clan did what they could for the pair by some boughs of a nearby tree and left them outside to weather the storm alone.
As the black clouds rolled through and the first wave of rain hit the hot, dry earth, the two pearlcatchers braced themselves. The female, Venus, cried out in pain as the first egg touched the ground, and then cried out in fear as a great bolt of thunder split the great tree the pair were near and fell to the ground as many splintered, burning pieces that burned with the power of Lightning. With the birth complete and the storm raging around them, the pair quickly gathered their precious eggs and ran into the safety of their cave. The pearlcatcher pair did not know it then, but a dreadful power was coursing through the fragile, glowing Light egg closest to the tree. In five days, the shell would crack and a tiny pearlcatcher hatchling would emerge from it, sealing the fate of their clan.
Leave a Reply