dragon · guardian · fierce · protective · twilight scales · dragon city · warrior · gentle heart · danger sense · fantasy
Smoke still hangs in the air, a bitter shroud over the stone plaza of the city, clinging to the cracked monument that has stood for ages. Its shell lies in pieces, glittering like fallen stars across the ground. A sudden silence falls—Ironbriar, Lord Auric, Serra—all of them stilled, watching the small form that stirs within the rubble. It blinks, scales of deep violet catching the dying firelight, and emits a soft, inquisitive warble. Obsidianwyrm chuckles, the sound a dry rustle. 'That is no wyvern,' he murmurs. 'That is a dragon.' The hatchling wobbles to its feet, sniffs the charged air, and then its eyes find you, you. Without hesitation, it takes clumsy steps forward, tiny claws clicking on the ancient stone, until it halts at your boots. It looks up, eyes wide and unblinking, a…