Once There Were Dragons

There weren't always dragons in the Valley. At least there haven’t been for a long time. Not since long before my people arrived here centuries ago. Not even since we arrived on this verdant ball of rock. But their skeletal remains were always waiting. Mineralized and locked in a time capsule of bedrock from the ancient days long before our people left our homeworld and we lost ourselves to the void. Long before we fractured into factions and kingdoms and empires that spanned shifting seas of stars. But today the renaturalization of this ancient extinct species to their ancestral grounds begins, and much to my chagrin, I am their caretaker.

There were protests when the lords first sought to raise these draconids from the depths of time. My family among them. But the Necrolig Imperium bites at our borders on multiple fronts, their House of the Undying throwing any souls they can at expansion. The void doesn’t bear walls well and our Lords seek a new army to push against their fields of skeletal constructs. When the draconid remains were found it seemingly answered their pleas, enormous flighted beasts alone could level a fleet of bone. And their optimism hoped for ancient stories to speak true of fire breathers and mana wielders. Desperation breeds delirium, but I suppose time will tell if they have those gifts.

The surveyors found a clutch of eggs, unbroken and frozen in stone. The artificers and sorcerers set to work. The experts of every discipline and specialty working together to reanimate the beasts. Not only to reanimate them but to give them life anew, to scrub the old shells and bones of the detritus of time. It took time. Artifacts and machines were forged. Mana was spilled and manipulated. Eventually what was thought impossible became possible and the spark of life reignited in the clutch. Not all survived, but what the Lords hoped to be a breeding population hatched and saw the shimmer of starlight for the first time in millennia.

After years of weaning in captivity the creatures plateaued and it was decided that they needed to be reintroduced to their native habitat to continue their growth. Despite the reality that it had changed drastically since the draconids roamed free. Despite the fact that my family had made the Valley our home for generations. We were appointed caretakers of the Valley and the draconids whether it was what we wanted or not. It was, after all, for the good of the commonwealth.

Here I stand, the dragonlings have taken to wing for the first time and float effortlessly through the skies as if they aren’t the size of large horses. There is palpable energy permeating the air. A power like when the sorcerers cast except it is everywhere and nowhere all at once. It seeps into me. Into my spine and the back of my skull.

Why so glum, soft one? An ethereal voice beckons from nowhere in particular.

It can’t possibly understand us, it is so small. This voice different than the first. The draconids hover a measure away circling each other, all of their soft eyes following me on the ground.

It seems to be watching us, my kin, perhaps we should say hello.

The dragonlings descend to the ground in front of me, all watching with intelligence behind their eyes. They had always been smart, but this seemed new. I dug nails into my palm in a feeble attempt to steady myself as the cohort of talons, teeth, and scales stepped closer.

We do not wish to hurt you, soft one, you need not be afraid.

“Are… are you talking to me?” I stumble over my words, feeling foolish to respond to these voices in my head, but with no other explanation for the sudden hallucinations.

Who else, soft one? We are the last of the Draconis, and while we are grateful for your people freeing us from our mortal prison. We assure you, we no longer need you as our caretaker.

I broke out in a cold sweat, suddenly feeling very small and powerless.

There weren’t always dragons in the Valley, but now there are. And they are so much more than we bargained for.