A Fury of Flight and Fire

There weren't always dragons in the Valley.

At least... that's what the town elders claimed. That the Kingdom's true history is nearly extinguished, snuffed out of existence by the creatures that have invaded our country.

No one speaks about the old ways anymore. Not just because it's forbidden, but because it resurfaces old wounds that remind them of everything they lost... What younger generations will never experience. We'll never see the rolling hills of the Sycamore Highlands in its rich and verdant state. The sky will never return to the crystal blue the elders say my eyes resemble. The once-esteemed Dysomonian Palace will never stand high in its original glory. But what's most depressing is there will never be celebrations, festivals, or laughter in the streets of my little town in the vale; Edenburry. One of the few remaining villages left untouched by the war that has raged for over sixty years.

The war started the day they arrived. Doomsday is what we call it, whereas the intruders dub it Founder's Day. As the story goes... During a storm, a massive mysterious ship crashed onto our shores. The large group of exotic outsiders aboard appeared untouched by the collision, and unconcerned they had just become stranded.

Based on their features, it was clear to all that the strangers weren't from our lands. Dysmonian's have an array of sun-kissed skin tones. Hair colors are various shades of blonde, copper, brown, and everything in between. But most distinctively are Dysmonian eyes, which are noticeably vibrant in blues, greens, and hazels. The new arrivals were pale, with raven hair. Their eyes were abnormally red, onyx, and yellow.

Up until their arrival, the elders thought our country, Dysmonia, was the only one in the world. So the late King approached the newcomers, asking where they had come from, and what they wanted. But the strangers didn't want to talk... They wanted our surrender.

Then creatures they called 'dragons' emanated from the skies. The foreigners used them to take our King's power- claiming our continent for themselves. The invaders became known as the Dragon Lords; masters of the flying, fire-breathing reptilian beasts.

Dysmonians were unprepared for such an attack. Having no chance to defend themselves against the Dragon Lords and their giant monsters who curiously obeyed them. Especially since fire they could spew incinerated everything in their wake. And so, the King yielded.

But then something more unexpected happened. Individuals began to fight back despite the King's submission. Except they weren't mortal either, at least not like the rest of us. Before this war, magick didn't exist. Suddenly, two separate dangerous entities emerged blessed with ethereal powers.

They call themselves sorcerers. Having the ability to fight the ravening dragons with powers no mere mortal could fathom. A knight's sword leaves no mark on dragon scales. Catapults only aggravate them. A sorcerer's inconceivable magickal attacks seem to be the only effective way to combat the giant serpentine monsters. We know little about them, but it seems most sorcerers have the capability to control elements. A unique few harness other rare magickal properties, like portalling; moving from one place to another in the blink of an eye.

And so, they fought, vengefully as though they had a long personal feud.

Dysmonia was no longer the land my ancestors knew as civilians became caught in the heart of the chaos.

Our country was peaceful before their appearance- or so the elders say. Nothing dangerous hunted us down and forced us to either submit or perish. No one lived in fear. Now, fear is a necessary part of our survival.

No one knows the sorcerers' true motives, but we know one thing; they've lived among us since before Doomsday. People were scared once they discovered their neighbors and friends had been sorcerers all along.

Before my grandfather died, he told me about a sorcerer he knew in his youth. He swore that the sorcerer was the nicest young man he had ever met, and often wished his son-in-law, my father, was more like him. Even after my grandfather learned the man was a sorcerer, he still adored him. He said the man's character was enough to convince him the sorcerers were not the bad guys... But not everyone shares his sentiments.

Especially not my father, Drake Ryder.

My father believes that if we had just allowed the foreigners to reign, they would have left us to live in peace. He blames the sorcerers for innocent lives that have been lost... For the homes that have been destroyed... For the terrible air quality. His accusation never made sense to me, because the smoke, fires, and calamity all began with the dragons. Though I also hold the sorcerers accountable for contributing to our country's desolation.

Because it wasn't any of those previous tragedies that stirred the new madness that's plaguing our communities. Limited resources issued as a result of the war, and have brought out the worst in people.

It rarely rains, meaning water is hard to come by. Dehydration is not our only concern; our inability to grow crops means starvation is imminent. And anything that does grow is likely to be burned by dragon fire. There is rarely meat. Forest animals have been driven out of their homes, hunted to extinction, or wastefully desecrated by the dragons. Fishing from the sea has been the main method to obtain sustenance; until recently. Fishermen have been returning with fewer catches due to overfishing. There are too many mouths to feed and not enough to feed them with.

The war has ruined everything.

Still... out of all that has happened, I haven't even touched on the worst of it.

Last night, on my eighteenth birthday, I wanted to celebrate, so I snuck out of my room. My father is our town's municipality and mandates a curfew to remain indoors once the sun sets to not provoke a passing dragon's rage... but I didn't care. I often defied my father's strict rules out of principle and pride. Plus, it was a blood moon and I wanted to witness it.

Only my adventure didn't turn out according to plan.

At first, everything was going well. Not a dragon in sight.

That changed once the blood moon reached its highest point. With no warning, the tan skin on my arms turned into scales. My fingers morphed into sharp, elongated claws. Leathery wings sprouted from my back. A long spiky tail grew from the base of my spine. Finally, I felt liquid heat collect in the back of my throat and coughed out a lungful of blue flames. Fear and disbelief don't even remotely cover what I was feeling. I was horrified. I had become a dragon.

I panicked as I examined my newly transformed body. There wasn't anything recognizable about myself. I did, however, discern that out of all the variations of dragons there are, I had turned into a small blue wyvern. The same color as my eyes- my mother's eyes. Which I found odd because dragons were usually red, onyx, or mustard colors.

My initial assumption was that I had been cursed by the blood moon. That made no sense, though. I allowed myself a brief calm moment for logic to help me rationalize my thoughts. Or, rationalize it enough that things started making sense.

Then something occurred to me like a bolt of lightning striking a tree- sending numbing sparks throughout my veins. I rarely believed rumors, but I had heard them. Everyone had. Whispered that the foreign intruders weren't just controlling the dragons. They were the dragons.

Apparently, it wasn't a rumor.

I had wondered why our town never fell victim to the fire-breathing serpents. Why my father was so against the sorcerers. Why he insisted we submit to the dragons. Why he doesn't look like most people in town; with his obsidian hair, pale skin, and dark, predatory eyes. It's all clear to me now, shocking my system further as I recognize the depths of my father's betrayal.

He's one of them.

... I'm one of them.

It's apparent that I am no longer going to be an innocent, non-participant in this war.

My name is Seraphine Ryder, and I've just become the very threat everyone wishes to destroy.