This story takes place in year 1992 of the 12th Age of Utraeus
Chapter 1: Whispers of Prophecy
"This One Thanks You and Accepts"
There is a small world called Thelessia. Thelessia isn't very remarkable. It's a basic world made up of various races, dominated by humans, but also made up of Elves, Dwarves, and other creatures. Although there are spots where intermingling happens, such as ports and large cities, most races keep to themselves. There is a creature that is not native to Thelessia.
That creature is a Dragon.
On a cloudy night, a young Silver Dragon flew above the clouds, using them as cover. It was only on such cloudy nights that she could transform and stretch her membranous wings. The cool white moonlight glittered off the brushed metallic scales, giving them a slightly iridescent radiance, glowing faintly purple and blue. Her large purple eyes couldn't see below, but she scanned the area with her psionic powers to find a safe place to land.
After scanning the area, she spoke a word in her native tongue, Emphyralian Draconic, and wrapped the clouds around her as she descended, landing in a clearing in some forests not far away from a medium sized town. The size of the town wasn't large, but many merchants and travelers passed through, so there were a number of inns and taverns.
The young Dragon landed quietly. Her type of Dragon wasn't as large as dragons in legends. And she was young, only hitting her Changing Age within the year or so. She was maybe eighteen feet high on all four legs and about thirty-eight feet from the tip of her snout to the tip of her tail with a svelte, leggy, cat-like body, a long, elegant neck, and a wingspan as wide as she is long. After landing, she sat and curled her tail around her legs and furled her wings. She scanned her surroundings again before dispersing the clouds around her.
She began to change her shape, shrinking and contorting. Her scales disappeared into smooth pinkish ivory skin. Her snout turned into a delicate face with a small nose, thickly lashed violet eyes, and slightly smiling pink lips. Silvery blonde hair grew from her head and long pointy ears formed on either side of her head. As she changed into a delicate young girl in a dress with a skirt with many folds, her wings began to shrink and then they stopped. The weight suddenly tilted her backwards. She stumbled with a grunt. "Oof!"
Britiana Silvermoon didn't fall, because of the size of her wings. Although no longer nearly thirty feet wide, they were still large enough to hold her body up. She frowned slightly and screwed her face up in concentration. The wings finally began shrinking again. They retracted quite quickly this time. "Eek!" She fell back and landed on her bottom as the reptilian wings were replaced by large lovely, feathery white wings. With a frown and a grunt, she scrambled to her feet. She folded up her white wings and then they disappeared completely.
She let out a slight sigh. She dusted off her bottom and fluffed her skirt. She checked on the violet stone pendant wrapped around her wrist by a delicate silver chain. She touched it fondly. She didn’t think she’d break or lose it, but better safe than sorry. With this stone, she was able to learn all about her home, her heritage, and her abilities when she was very far from home.
She quickly followed a mental link in her mind.
There was a delay in response, but soon the mental voice of her twin brother replied.
She nonchalantly fluffed her skirt again.
She bid him farewell and closed the connection. She then conjured a bit of magic in her hand and whispered an incantation “Shapir kitman.” Due to her heritage as an Emphyralian Dragon, her true appearance was obviously otherworldly compared to even the native Elves of Thelessia. So, she cast a glamor on herself. Her ears became rounded human ears, eyes turned brown, and her skin dulled slightly. She also cast a perception spell on her person. It slightly influenced people when they looked at her, to slightly forget her face. Therefore, she doesn't stand out or attract too much attention.
She pulled a cloak out of her skirt folds and draped it around her shoulders and headed into town. As far as the townsfolk knew, she and her brother lived in a small house in the forests. She worked for an inn and he's a mercenary soldier. Neither stands out but are considered personable. No one knows that the unassuming siblings are a high-level soldier, and a third-tier mage. No one could ever guess that they were Dragons from another world with psionic powers. She hummed to herself as she took the path into town.
--
The Oxhead Tavern and Inn was a bustling establishment. There were many such places in Tarrytown. There were always strangers coming and going of all ilk. Some good, some not so good. There were humans, Elves, and others mingling together as they passed through to tend their business. Therefore, two figures wrapped in cloaks sitting at a booth with tankards of mead in front of them was not an unusual sight. Even if one was a delicate woman with fine features. She kept her hood up to obscure her from sight. Thus was also not an unusual sight. Her violet eyes scanned the room apprehensively, under her hood even if her face remained calm.
The figure beside her was a man. His figure was tall, and strong. He didn't hide himself, so everyone could see that he appeared to be an elf with sharp black eyes, and long black hair. His skin was pale, and his features deep. He wore a lot of leather and a silken black shirt under his cloak. However, when he opened his mouth to speak, he revealed four short fangs on his upper teeth. His canines and incisors had slight points. His pupils were a slight bit deeper than his irises and were vertically split.
The woman didn't know exactly what Raziel Voidstalker was, but he'd been around since the Seventh Age, more than five hundred thousand years. Only members of the Dracosenati or his descendants could contact him. Which she had to do, twenty-one years ago. "Lord Raziel, are you sure this is the place?" she asked, her calm voice belying her worried heart. It was a bit rough and tumble here.
Raziel smiled slightly. "My dear Lady Silvermoon, calm yourself. One of your children will appear soon," he assured her.
Chrystianna Silvermoon took a deep breath and steadied her nerves. She, of course, did not doubt him, but she'd been separated from her children for over two decades. It wasn't a long time in the span of the thousands of years an Emphyralian Dragon could live, but it meant she missed their entire childhoods. She clenched her fists.
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Early in her pregnancy, she participated in a religious festival called the Moonsong Festival. It was a ceremony led by the High Priestess of the Mystic Temple of the Sisters of the Moons; the three goddesses worshiped by the Silver Dragons of Emphyralis. They were the Singers of Fate. During the Festival, which takes place in the Moonsinger Forest, the High Priestess will try to divine the fate of the Silver Dragons until the next Festival. The Festival only takes place when the three moons of Emphyralis are full. The celestial phenomenon only happens about once a decade.
The ceremony went on without too many surprises, but since the Hunter Wars were still fresh, even the mundane news of rebuilding going well was welcome to all worshippers. After the ceremony, there was a bazaar, a night market that sold food, hosted contests, and had games to play. Couples and families strolled through the trees, listening to the silvery leaves sing in the wind.
Chrystianna had walked alone, rubbing her still flat stomach, humming to the lives that she was growing. A stronger gust blew along the path she took, ruffling her long silver hair, and long skirt. The trees moaned rather than sang. A chill went down her spine and she hurried down the path. Soon a glow caught her attention. It was a moonsong crystal growing from a moonsong tree. Moonsong crystals were neither common nor rare. Many of them could be found in various Temples of the Sisters of the Moons. When exposed to the moonlight, they glowed and hummed. Most moonsong crystals glowed a silvery color, but the one in front of her glowed blue and purple.
She slowed her steps and approached the crystal. Moonlight shone on it, producing a haunting sound. She looked up at the moons shining down on her. She knelt and bowed. "Una, Ianna, Armus, Sisters of Moons, Singers of Fate, this one thanks you and accepts any revelation you have for me," she said reverently.
She currently held the highest rank on the planet, the Grand Duchess of the Dracosenati, but the Dragon Gods were above all. She took a deep breath and stood. She approached and took the moonsong crystal in hand. As soon as she touched the warm, hard surface, images appeared in her mind.
She saw two children curled in their cradles. A nanny slept nearby; her embroidery had fallen to the floor. The lights flickered and went out. Shadowy figures flashed by and her children were gone. She saw herself dash through the adjoining doorway, frantically looking for her children.
As the vision passed, she crumpled to the ground. When she woke, she was back in her room, the First Healer watching over her and the moonsong crystal clutched in her hand.
She settled her heart, let the Healer fuss over her, and thought about what to do. She fretted for a while and discussed things with her advisors and her closest friends on the Dracosenati. First, she had to investigate who would want to take her children, and she had to figure out how to prevent it.
However, every time she thought she had a plan, the moonsong crystal would let her see that it wasn't the right choice. She finally thought about sending her children away, and finally the crystal helped her see her children grow up, smiling and reaching out to her.
After her heart broke, she finally resolved her nerves and set about solving the logistics of her decision. She went north to Isaz to find the Diamond Dragons to have the moonsong crystal split in half and turned into Chronicle Crystal, where she stored the knowledge of Emphyralis and their family. She also recorded several messages of herself speaking to them. They were then turned into pendants, one for each child, so even as they grew up away from her, they would know her and everything they should know.
The next part was figuring out how to get the children off Emphyralis. There were ways only a few years earlier, but after the disaster that plagued the planet for nearly a century, there was no longer a way. Any Amethyst Dragon still alive was too young to Voidjump. But such thinking led her to remember the figure known as the Voidstalker.
She found the relevant information on how to contact him and waited. He came to her. He agreed to help her, for whatever reason. When it was time to give birth, only the Head Healer and her dear friend, a third-tier mage, named Raven Darovan were only allowed to tend to her.
They quickly cleaned the two children and dressed them. Chrystianna named them, gave them each a pendant and magical pouch to hold anything they'll ever need so they don't lead hard lives. She cleaned herself up and the three of them met Raziel in another room. Then she handed her children over to him. That was the last she saw of them.
In the intervening years, she continued to investigate the threads with help. She managed to root out those who plotted against her children, but she never found the mastermind. She and her children would have been the last Silvermoons. She had no doubt that there were internal forces who wanted to take advantage of the chaos of rebuilding to shake the foundations of the world by getting rid of her and her offspring. Not many people even knew who the father of her children was.
Now was the time to bring her children home. She contacted Raziel again and had him bring her to them.
--
When Britiana entered the Oxhead Inn and Tavern, the cacophony of noise hit her ears, and the cacophony of emotion hit her brain. She staggered slightly and frowned, rubbing her forehead. As a Silver Dragon, she had several psionic abilities. The most prominent of her abilities was her empathic abilities. It was a passive ability, and she couldn't block out the low buzz of emotions from others. She could ignore it after getting used to it.
It was a useful ability as it allowed her to sense any one of malicious intent around her. She took a deep breath and took off her cloak, hanging it on a hook at the entrance.
"Bittany!" a loud, coarse voice shouted as an older woman approached with a smile. Britiana smiled back. The locals only knew her as Bittany and her brother as Daniel. Moira was her boss and the owner of the Oxhead. She was a round woman with a voluptuous figure. Her skin was weathered and her hair was brown. She wasn’t dressed to show off, but she wasn’t dressed to cover up either. All the patrons loved her. Her voice was rough but her heart was soft.
"I'm coming, Moira. Sorry if I'm late," she said.
"Pish posh. It ain't so bad. But customers have been askin' for yer briskberry tarts, so ye'll be workin' in the kitchen tonight. Cook's got everythin' laid out fer yer," she said in a jovial manner. She was also looking forward to tarts. Although the two siblings weren't sociable, they were friendly and generous. The staff were always given some of the tarts she made. She also often brought baked goods from home, or medicines and remedies if anyone got hurt or ill.
Britiana smiled and headed toward the kitchen but on her way she abruptly stopped. There was a calm spot in the tap room. An absolutely serene oasis. She turned her head slowly and made eye contact with a pair of violet eyes that were nearly identical to her own. Her breath caught in her throat.
Chrystianna knew the exact moment when her daughter entered the establishment. She saw her take the psychic hit and then shake it off. Her hands clenched again as she watched worriedly. It was only a moment before the plain and unassuming girl looked at her.
A charge seemed to arc between them as they recognized each other. "Tell Cook I'll be there in a second, Moira. I saw an old friend. I want to say hello," Britiana said, finally able to breathe again. She may be able to breathe but her heart was thudding heavily in her ears. She began walking in the direction of the violet-eyed woman.
Moira grinned, not noticing her strangeness. "No problem, pet," she said and bustled off, both her overflowing top and bottom bouncing slightly with her movements.
Chrystianna stood as Britiana moved toward her. The two met and embraced. Tears filled both their eyes as inexpressible emotions filled their chests. They both knew this wasn't the best place to talk and cry and babble giddily, but they still uttered a single word each that expressed everything at once.
"Britiana," Chrystianna gasped.
"Mom," Britiana whispered. They hugged for a moment, then stepped back at the same time. She blinked her slightly blurry eyes. She took her mother's hand. "Come, help me make Grandmere's tarts then we can sit and talk," she said in a slightly hoarse voice as she tried to tap down her emotions.
Chrystianna let out a small laugh. She brushed a hand against one of her eyes. Holding her daughter’s hand, she followed her into the kitchen of the inn. "Where's your brother?" she asked. Why were they separated? She didn’t expect this.
"He's a mercenary,” Britiana answered. “He and his company are protecting a farming village in the west that has had their harvests stolen by mountain trolls for the past three years. They managed to get some money together to hire protection this year," she explained. As she entered the kitchen, she greeted the old cook and then wrapped an apron around her waist. She found another one and handed it to her mother.
Chrystianna gave herself a quick glamor to look like a plain woman of a similar age as Moira. She wrapped the borrowed apron around her waist. She greeted the Cook, minded her own business and didn't ask about the stranger. The two of them worked together to make briskberry tarts. They didn't chat much, but both of them smiled peacefully as they worked together.
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