The Consequences of Dreaming with Dragons

Prologue:

Since The Shadow engulfed our homes in the deepest dark, this family has been subject to turbulent torment. No one person suffered more at its hands than The Fell. The Shadow caused a distortion to the light in them, such that they were barely recognizable, indistinguishable from the grey-scale, monochromatic colors around them. Right from wrong, good from evil, melded together under its oppression.

Many of us knew them before the radical change they underwent. Whether as family or as friends, each of us understood they were not what they had come to expect any longer. Before, they were kind, those who knew them can attest to it. Stoic, wise, caring, and yet.

Even after the change, they were our tree, we thought them incorruptible. We do not believe they understood how dangerous their actions truly were to those around them. Morally, there may have been justifiable grounds. As the seven that regretfully stood by and watched, take our heeding well; Dragons are bringers of change. They can provide you with the means to destroy and rebuild, as easily as they can tear it down with flame and stone, letting the earth take its ruins, you nor anyone can prevent a tree from sprouting, given time.

This is what we have been able to piece together, an account as detailed as we can provide of the consequences of dreaming with dragons.

First, we begin this cautionary tale by telling you of one man; his name was Felir, of The Fell, and dragons fear the fallen.

He had yet to begin cracking open the egg of his secluded life when his dreams would forcefully take an unnatural shape. He would bear witness to mountains gripping the earth and taking flight, comets making their way from the cosmos, scraping oceans. Life blooming out of its bounds like a newborn butterfly free from its cocoon, with an eerie excitement. He would witness much more than the impossible, much more than what could be deemed real and he wouldn't see it with his eyes closed, however it was what he saw with his eyes open that truly left an unnerving mark on the man. We would like to begin before these events, before The Shadow fell.

He was just fifteen, tall, with a sturdy body much like his father and his father's father before him, and he was still growing. Much like the generations of fathers that made their living at a lumber mill, atop a large mountain with many smaller mountain peaks at its crest amidst a range of oddly smaller mountains. He was dark haired and perhaps a little more portly than his peers. One cannot blame a child for enjoying his mothers food, nor can they be blamed for retaining those habits as they grow. His mind was sharper than those around him, dulled by the soft sheath of self imposed isolation, he did have friends but preferred books, he read but preferred to daydream, daydream about anywhere else but where he lived and anything else but his daily life. Thus he believes in every fairytale story his mother, Levina, ever told him in the hope that he'd fall asleep. Levina was not aware of the impact these stories had on his imagination, and what influence his gifted mind would have on the world that would soon be atop their families and friends' shoulders.

Most every night was spent dreaming of what the creatures and lands in the stories Levina told him, might look like, trying his best to piece together the details she added. The lands that she did her best to describe, the cultures and traditions, he is familiar with most, thanks to Levina. There were nights Fel woke from a heavy sweat, having scared himself awake after dreaming of creatures, environments and weather that encapsulated the area's he had never seen, area's he had not felt or heard but could vividly picture. Lightning storms forking across the skies, only ever striking the most imposing northern peaks that dared to scrape the cosmic blanket that wrapped around this world. Southern trees that were larger than entire homes, tall enough to sway like wheat in the violent humid winds. The sun peeking through the cover of imposing plantlife that houses the marshlands to the east like an organic greenhouse. The sun reaches the flower beds deep beneath, striking water wherever it pools, as if seeking it out, providing warmth to the critters that gather in their tunnels and burrows. In the west, a herd of Antelope hurdle through the course, sandy brush as they attempt to escape from the cackle of Hyena, softly treading behind them, as they hunt. In the middle kingdom, a King of men chases boars with his company of silver knights and nervous squire, abandoned all too willingly by his court.