Book 3, Prologue: The End of an Age

Year 686 – Farmer's Moon – Caerus

Membranous wings sliced efficiently through the tropical night air, effortlessly carrying her along the coastline. Great lungs filled and emptied with the rhythm of the ocean swells below. Under clear black skies, eyes of burnished bronze scanned the gentle, sandy coves as they slipped silently beneath her, the pale blue and yellow of the moons tracing glimmering trails along the ridges and crests of her serpentine body from graceful head and neck to the finned tip of her long tail.

She could sense the others some distance ahead, a disturbance in the tranquil solitude she normally enjoyed: a necessary evil.

Her eyes scanned the velvet skies again, unspoiled by any light of mankind or other races. The pale blue Boki, gift of Aralieth to His children, was centered in the midst of the larger moon, Nali. Together they stared back down like a lidless eye, their concurrence confirming the timing of the gathering.

Seventeen years, she thought. Has anything changed since the last time? Or will this be yet another report heralding the close of our legacy?

Gentle sea breezes caressed her wings as she descended, skimming the swelling obsidian seas. Ahead her destination came into view, a wide rock plateau jutting out from the coastline, rimmed with the dim white of seafoam. Five massive serpentine figures gathered upon its surface, their necks craning at her approach.

Good. They have come. And I am not the last.

She circled once, scanning the skies and surrounding waters, finally descending fully. Three great sweeping strokes of her wings brought her down gently to the rocky surface, her ancient claws scraping stone as she settled. The others dipped their heads in respectful acknowledgment of her arrival.

"Welcome, Amicharvelyx," the largest of them greeted her, his voice a smooth rumble. He ruffled his wings, arranging them against his mighty, scaled body.

"Haelijiur," she answered, lowering her head in deference. She took measure of her gathered kin, greeting each with her eyes. They were of varied form, smaller than their leader, but no less fearsome. "Have you waited long?"

"Only a moon cycle," another answered, the barest hint of a smirk teasing his lips. Water pooled around his serpentine coils, his violet-blue iridescent scales gleaming bright in the moons' light.

"Olthuneaus," she grinned warmly in return. "We can always count on you to lighten the mood."

"The years pass slowly, I must admit," the sea wyrm answered. "It is simply torturous to spend them without someone of equal wit to converse with."

"Oh, quiet yourself, ancient one," another of the wyrms interjected, her voice soft and kind. "You very well know there are none among us who could rise to that challenge." She was smaller than the others, light-bodied and nimble, with translucent wings that fluttered with every breeze.

"You wound me, Khalissandra," Olthuneaus feigned injury, crossing his forelegs and laying his head down upon them. "Ancient one, she says. Bit of an exaggeration. In truth, I am only very old."

"Must we do this at every gathering?" a gravelly voice intruded. As if from nonexistent shadows, a dark form stepped forth, elongated head low as he entered their circle. The moonlight seemed to retreat from him, leaving only the vague impression of a hulking black presence.

"Do what, exactly?" Amicharvelyx challenged sternly, her head raised high. She'd never trusted this one, and with good reason.

"Pretend to enjoy each other's company," the shadow wyrm replied, his voice the embodiment of the bitter cold fens he'd made his home.