The Brightest Night

The star-filled sky was calm, stars shining and twinkling like silver bells. But the earth beneath was in turmoil, two armies clashed, the warriors of the light and the shadows of the darkness. The cries of war were at their highest peak.

Avrae dashed across the battlefield, her scales shining like the sky above in the moon rays, she was desperately running to the forest for sanctuary.

A little, leather pouch was swaying from her mouth. Inside the pouch was the last hope against the darkness, the pouch was holding precious cargo. It was a pearly baby dragon, the young dragon's name was Orion, his scales were black as obsidian with streaks of silver.

As Avrae sprinted past the battle, a dragon shaded by the night saw her and the chase was on, his name is Seeker. He chased her into the forest, her face was cut and bloodied by the tree branches, she tucked the pouch into her mouth to shield it. Seeker was drawing near, He lunged forward, grappling for her swaying tail and thrusting her over his head, her scales skidded across the trees behind her, knocking several trees down in her wake leaving a trench where the timber was. The tree bark cut her scales until their silver color was washed out, and a mere rust color remained. Avrae limped to her feet, a single shimmering tear ran down her scarred face.

Seeker got up on his hind legs menacingly, making himself look massive. His wings erupted from his back triumphantly. Suddenly! a great ball of fire, like a shooting star, crashed into his chest, leaving a scorch mark where the attack landed and knocking the dragon unconscious. Massive tarragon with dark grey horns, tattered wings, and a body made of black rock was landing, but briefly exhausted from the attack.

His name was Spyro. He saw the injured Avrae and sprinted over to her.

"Are you okay? are you okay!", he screamed. No matter how loud he screamed she could not hear him, she was too badly damaged to hear anything, except Orion's sharp cry. As he called out like a child, rain danced down from coiling clouds that hovered above him, The monsoon, dripped along with Avrae's scales, returning her radiant silver color. The water pooled up in Orion's mother's wounds, the skin closing in on themselves.

"The rain of the ancients, it has returned!" Spyro exclaimed. He heard the muffled cry that had erected the storm, it was coming from the leather pouch that was now lying on the damp ground. Spyro approached the pouch and examined it. The big dragon peeled it open to see the tenant occupying the small space.

Avrae saw the accord that had started between her son and the stranger, in a confused rage she sprinted at him, with claws out, she clawed at his leg in an angry lunge, he howled in pain, as the rain dribbled down his leg cinching his scales together slowly, he looked down at his leg in frightened bewilderment, he backed up slowly, not risking the mother's wrath again.

She made her way back to her son gingerly, to see if he was alright and that the stranger didn't harm him in any way, she peeked her head in the pouch, Orion greeted her with a little yawn and a hug to her snout. She picked up his limp little body in her mouth and plopped him down on the wet grass. Orion rolled around, relieved to be out of the pouch. He walked about, running and rolling in the mud like it was a playground. All the while Avrae watched him, her eyes would occasionally dart back to Spyro, to make sure he kept a safe distance from her meager whelp.

Spyro was struggling to stand from his place under the damp green trees, With what little strength he had left, he beat his mighty wings and in a matter of seconds he was standing up again. Avrae spun towards the stranger, her teeth shining like daggers, and her eyes glaring at him through slits.

Orion walked over towards Spyro, and jumped on his tail, and carefully sprinted up his back, each step faster than the last. Spyro flinched but adjusted to the whelps claws gripping his scales.