Rise of the Darkness

Who are We?

Oculeera

Snow. By now I have seen it appear on the tops of the mountains, but I have never seen it fall until now, as I fly back to my residence. Tiny bits of cold white, falling slower than a raindrop. The steam from my breath melts the delicate flakes directly in front of me but still others fall, brushing my wings especially.

I have heard of the trouble snow can cause. Master Wukro had taught the various advantages and dangers of flying in all sorts of weather conditions. A snowfall like this, heavy but dry with little wind, will hinder few dragons. But the cold mirrors my feelings ever since several days ago, when I hurt Novayar.

They wanted to see our fighting skills. I obeyed but look what happened. I should have just gone easy on him. They already wanted to test me against a more skilled opponent so I should have just waited until then. Not even worry about hitting Novayar too hard. Yesterday both Masters had me wrestle against a strength dragon, a true test of my abilities. My tail, which had probably suffered a few broken bones before I healed it, still hurts from that test. But I can accept getting hurt while training. Hatchlings often hurt themselves while trying new things, and I was no exception.

Novayar, on the other hand, is. Humans try to protect their little ones from any and all harm, Master Indra told me. That is why their young have a higher survival rate than that of dragons, but it makes them soft and sometimes weary. They want to see him get hurt a little, to toughen up, though a concussion is not exactly what they were looking for. Bruises and broken bones can be healed quickly, though still give a dragon a taste of pain. I just do not want to be the one inflicting that pain. Especially not to Novayar, who not only is not accustomed to it but also faces a much longer road ahead regarding the prophecy.

But what can I do? We are to spar more often in the future. There are good reasons for it, beyond those given. I cannot just hold back like I want to. Maybe I could, but both Masters will call me out on it and force me to wrestle better. They will make me improvise more I just as I did with whipping my tail. They will make me move faster, slash harder, push more against a dragon that cannot handle a fight. It just makes no sense to me to do all of this now, and not later.

Too soon the Sky Building comes into view, and yet another lonely night. No flames from Novayar practicing control of his fire. No questions on what a word means in a book or light chatter about nothing of importance. Not that we just talk much, with both of our minds focused solely on our training or on our books.

I do not even bother transforming when I land. Slowly I walk on all fours, tired from another day of training. Bits of snow fall from my wings and scales as I walk, but even as I glance back at the mess I am creating, I do not feel like caring. Another dragon exits their room some ways down the hall and shakes their head at me, but still I continue walking.

The door is ajar, so I merely push it open with my head. I should close it, block the draft of cold air from the hallway, but my legs continue carrying me towards my room.

"Oculeera," says a familiar voice. I turn towards Novayar's room and see Xanmet-kal standing in his doorway. "Come here."

Since she was in her human form, I transformed before following. Why did she want to meet me in there, though?

My eyes widened when I looked inside. Novayar sits up on his bed, though covered in blankets. He looks half asleep, while the Greatest Elder is wide awake standing next to the bed. I guess I am somewhere in between.

"I'll let your Masters inform you two of the changes to your routines regarding the near future, and of what is to come. I wanted to check in on you two to make sure we get past this minor incident in a proper way," she said.