The Astral Key

Chapter 2

The universe died.

Parasites. All of them.

Worlds without the breath of magic. Worlds whose source keys went into slumber, drained to its heart. After all the training underneath Sielet-Tiamat, the parasitic pain never left zir mind. Their first attack on one of the planets full of parasites, who looked so much like the men who lived upon their world. Instead of swords who breathed the same magick, whose armor glanced off each blow, these ones threw out power from death-bringing instruments, who rejected magic into its being.

All the colours on those dying planets dimmed and blurred. Monochrome to darkness. Sukoalie, 'one who breaches the stars' in the tongue of elder ones. A spoken name, to be breathed into importance. If zhe tried to look past the dying magic, zhe could see the beauty those planets could be. Until more pain entered their mind, and zhe crossed zer scaled tail around zer legs.

Questions bespoke a break in scales. They were their world's powerful defenders, their side of the Astral Sea remained bright. Sukoalie considered the pit below, where two of his kin flapped their wings, dropping one of their own to the ground. Spikes proved good seats for a view of the punishment of Bahamut. For those whose minds couldn't see the parasites.

Zer heart stirred with the call to protection. Many agitated hisses filled zer head, while dragons coiled around their spiked seats. They were in the belly of the mountain, where the cities of the dwarves lived in their small houses of stone and beautiful masonry outside. Tall spires which dared touch to the same height of their peak.

Everyone saw the threat, and with the dragon's power, they would bring magic back to a dying Astral Sea.

Deep drums sounded from the high seat of the clan Elders. Among them, a large male of a dragon, whose scales burned with hot coals. Orange highlighted the strength around his limbs, setting his dark scales alight with the flames he expelled from his mouth to bring attention to the leader of their clan; Muzat-Bahamut. Only leaders of clans ever were given the title of Bahamut.

A part of zim longed to be gifted by the Astral Sea for a chance. Ever since zhe was a hatchling, zhe dreamed of being a star-treader.

Screeches broke zer train of thought.

Blood splattered the pit floor, staining the dirt. Scales dropped, piece by piece as some warriors ripped the scales out of the smaller dragon's body. No one dared take their gaze off the punishment. All for fighting the thought of parasites.

Except it's what they are, and they will never change. They refuse to listen, to see through the grey fog of their creation. Sukoalie shifted zer feathered wings against his flank, while Mazut-Bahamut's eyes glowed with fury. Beneath zim, one of the men of the bipedal kingdoms.

"Attention, my clan," Mazut growled, his voice thundering above the screeches. "Know the corruption is reversible. Every dragon able needs to shed their scales of their grip. You will be cleansed in the mirror source," he spoke to the small dragon in the pit, who had stopped screeching after an appropriate amount of scales had been collected, their power and glow lost. "Clean your scales of the smog of the other worlds."

"Sukoalie," a voice whispered to zer left while the cleansing continued. A broodcarer flew down from their spikes to breathe ice onto the smaller dragon's flank. A gentle process, his own broodcarer had done it as a hatchling to calm his nerves.

"Sukoalie."

"Yes, Vielrir?" Suko dared turn zer head to the dragon on the spike next to him. Zer younger broodbrother.

He craned his neck closer. "Are you going to the next recovery for the source key?" His little feathers puffed between his scales. "I want to come."