Storms pulled at his wings, straining them to the limit as lightning flared overhead.  Behind him, a trio of the Depraved - reaching with their slender, vicious talons for the cargo he carried.  Heaving to the side, he was raked across his shoulder instead. Lightning flared again, though this time it was his.  Releasing the energy towards his pursuers, he snarled in satisfaction when one charred corpse dropped like a stone from the sky - though the pleasure was short lived.  It’s compatriots keened their agonizing death knell and closed the distance, one latching into his haunches to tear at his wings.

Bellowing in rage, the dark dragon pinned his wings and plummeted, clutching his leather carry pack to his scaly chest as one would a lover.  The wind sang in his ears, bringing tears to his eyes with both the icy rain and the memory of his mate.  Storms were his element - but the frigid north wild was hers.  Together, they’d explored in the manner of their kind - wind whipped and exhilarating flights from the deepest reaches of her bonded range to the highest storm clouds of his.  

 

But this was no courtship flight - and these beasts were no longer Dragons. 

Twisting free of the one clinging to his hind legs, the exhausted male half opened his wings to manage his descent - only to find he couldn’t.  Half frozen and in pain, he realized with a sickening sort of finality that he wasn’t going to survive this. 

Instinctively, he clutched the satchel closer.  Inside, six warm bundles of fresh-hatched ice and lightning nestled closer together; a small creel escaped from the topmost dragonling. One of his sons.

 

His son.

Biting back another roar of pain, the dark dragon spread his diamond wings wide just in time.  The unforgiving ground yawned menacingly back at him in the darkness; appearing almost piqued to have lost such a prize.  The storm howled viciously around him, battering his trembling wings as he surged forward along the canopy of trees until the great plateau gave way to the sea.  The satchel released another concerned creel as their father faltered midair, losing altitude with each wingbeat.   He rumbled back, hoping he sounded more reassuring than he felt - 

 

Then one of those hated tangles of sinew and bone fell on him once more from above - causing him to lose his grip on his hatchlings.  Crying out, he dove after the falling parcel -  his green eyes panicked as the clasp came open and one of his younglings tumbled out.    Days old and unable to fly, the little crystalline female screeched in fear and desperation - one of her brothers diving out of the bag after her in a bravely foolish move.  

 

Their father roared again, this time desperate and afraid.  It didn’t matter that the Depraved one was ripping his wings apart; soon joined by a second and a third as they tore at his neck and throat.  More would come, he knew.  But they didn’t matter - nothing mattered except how far his forearm could reach - one talon hooking the satchel ---

Below them all, something sparked to life as fear, hatred and desperation plummeted towards the angry sea.  Somewhere between the wind and the waves, a fissure took shape, swallowing first the pair of falling hatchlings; then the satchel.  Bellowing, their sire wrenched free of his captors;  falling through the boundary just as it snapped shut. 

 

​​

 

Whatever the fissure had been, the dark dragon realized with a gulp of saltwater that it had done him and his hatchlings no favors.  They’d all fallen into the water anyway - though this sea was tranquil and blue; with a clear sky overhead and only a small scattering of clouds.  Coughing to clear his lungs, the male pulled his much abused wings out into a haphazard fan along the water’s surface, providing him some floatation while he paddled slowly underneath.  Blinking to clear his eyes, he saw four bobbing bundles of scales and quickly made his way to them, fishing his hatchlings out of the water and up onto his back.   Of the remaining two, the crystalline female and dark male were nowhere to be seen.  Chest constricting, he looked over his shoulder at his remaining four, and leaned back to nuzzle them tiredly. “Keep watch for your brother and sister, little ones.” He whispered, his voice a faint shadow of his typical commanding boom.

Still, despite his injuries, he surged forward towards a vague outline of a shore once he spotted it.  The coast was unfamiliar, but the world was large and he had even larger problems than a simple ‘where am I.’  Blood trailed along behind him in the aqua blue waters, and the dragon knew it wouldn’t be long before something came along to investigate.  

 

Either by providence or sheer luck, he reached the shoreline without further incident - pulling himself over the shoals and up onto the beach, where he collapsed in a bleeding heap.  His four hatchlings rolled down his side quickly, burrowing against him and tucking under his wing.  Sinking his head into the sand, the dragon released a low whistle of pain, and closed his eyes.

A moment, nothing more.  Just a moment to catch his breath…

 

A terrified screech woke him with a start.  Rising with a stumble to all four feet, he mantled over his squealing hatchlings as his head whipped around for the source of their fear.  The telepathic ambient between sire and hatchlings was awash with terror, but none knew the source of the sound - at least until one of his daughters looked up and screamed.

Directly above them, no less than five Depraved hovered midair.  His missing son and daughter clenched in their claws.  It was his daughter who had made the initial noise, her bravery earning her a slash across the throat and a bubbling gasp before the Depraved one holding her let go.  Her brother immediately renewed his struggle to get free, earning a network of punctures along his side as his captor held him tighter. 

Their father - pushed beyond his limits yet still reaching for more - reacted on instinct.  His roar, accompanied by a spray of sand as he closed the distance to catch his falling daughter, took the shape of lightning once more.  Directionless, the energy erupted along the entire coast, arching upwards from the soft sands and into the hated bodies above.  Once. Twice.  Again and again and again; the lightning struck with hundreds of rapid flashes.  Overhead, the crystal blue sky turned dark as the pummeling continued.

A final strike, one could say, as the father caught both of his lostlings and cradled them once more to his chest.  Once. Twice. Thrice. The beating of his heart slowed as the charred remains of his adversaries floated as ash on the gentle breeze in the clearing sky.   Mantling his wings once more, he sank down back to the ground and gathered his children to him - murmuring assurances even as he knew they would be fleeting.  To his crystalline daughter, he gave the last of his strength to heal her throat; the sparks of his power swirling around her like snow.

 

“Ashram of Lightning.”  A voice, cool and collected, made him pick up his head slowly and open his eyes once more.  A mirage, surely - the Silver One had been lost years ago … but not. She was here.  The dragons could not lie to each other - she was here….

“Keep them safe, Mara. For Peri. For me. Swear it.”   His words were a faint hiss, more telepathic than spoken.  But she heard him all the same, and a gentle muzzle carefully touched his torn sides as his great heart fell still.  “I swear it.” She breathed, her magic binding her even as her attention turned to the six huddled beneath his cooling wing. 

 

Uncharacteristically, something warm and wet pricked at the corners of her eyes as she reached a silvery talon to the younglings.  “Little ones, come.” She murmured, swallowing uncommon emotion as the babies blinked at her owlishly and huddled closer against the corpse of their father.   Her silver eyes grew shadowed, but she did not force them.  She felt their grief as keenly as she felt her own; so she laid down in the sand beside them, offering her own wing for shelter as Ashram’s slowly sank.  

 

The bravest among them, the dark one, emerged first.  His bright blue eyes were so like his mothers.  Mara’s heart broke for this family anew, wondering what had happened to her friend of nearly a dozen millenia.  Peri rarely left her icy stronghold - and with good reason.  Her delicate hide bore striking crystals coveted by mortals the world over.  It pained Mara to see that all of her offspring shared her burden - beautiful as they were.   But the dark hatchling surprised her; showing an echo of his fathers tenacity and strength. 

 

“We won’t be slain so easily.” He asserted, approaching with his small wings flared and his neck arched.  Covered in blood from his father and his own injuries, the dragonling looked as fierce as he sounded - days old though he may be.    Mara acknowledged his strength with a nod and a gesture towards her side. “My word is my bond, young one.” She replied, waiting.

The hatchling stared at her for a long moment, then turned to his siblings.  Whatever passed between them seemed to work in Mara’s favor, for the youngest and smallest abruptly darted out and burrowed against her side without a sound. Mara said nothing, merely waited for the rest, then gently nosed the strongest up onto her back while she cradled the recently healed and the scared in her arms.

Rising to her feet, she cradled Ashram and Peri’s precious cargo and whispered a silent spell of unmaking - watching it settle across Ashram’s body and slowly turn his remains into a fine, shimmering mist.  Breathing out, the silver dragoness bade her best friend’s mate a place among their ancestors, reaffirming her promise to their children with a subtle tightening of her forearms where three of the hatchlings rested.  

 

“Hold tight, little ones.” She said, spreading her feathery wings.  “This may be a long ride.”