19 Years Later...

A screech tore through my throat as I plummeted towards the ground, my widespread wings scarcely slowing my fall. Wind buffeted me left and right, up and down, throwing me in all directions like how a Falinthian plays with a mouse. I was but a toy to this cruel world, an object to be pushed around and played with as it pleased.

Suddenly, through the rain, I spotted a shape rushing toward me. I squinted, trying to discern what it was, before realizing and wishing I had remained oblivious. With every beat of my heart, the sharp spears of a forest drew closer, closer, closer...I snapped my eyes shut right before impact, but the shock of pain and crack of bones never reached me.

"Rylar! Wake up!" A loud voice called, jolting me out of my nightmare.

I sat up blearily, still a little shaky, though this particular nightmare was recurring. I’ve received it every year since I was a hatchling, and it unsettled me to no end.

I struggled to completely awake as a dark maroon Ryzinthin lumbered toward me. "I'm up, I'm up," I said, hoping to deter him from dragging me out by my tail.

"Good. Then hurry up, you've got a big day today."

"I know, I know. That's assuming I pass all the Trials."

"Of course you'll pass your Trials. Why wouldn't you?"

"Because I still don't even have an element. I should have gotten it five years ago."

"It'll be fine. As long as you pass all the other Trials, which I know you will, you will graduate by the end of today. Besides, I'm sure it'll show up soon."

"I hope you're right."

He threw an encouraging grunt my way as he turned back out the cave entrance and reminded me to hurry up once more. Obliging, I picked myself up and rushed after him, stopping only to relish in the warm air of our home before stepping out into the bitter chill.

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Not all of Etrythia is so cold, but we live in the northernmost portion of the continent, a place of snow, ice, and frigid temperatures. Only dragons dared venture this far north, making it inaccessible to other species and creating a safe haven of sorts.

This is stupid. Every step I took caused me to sink in snow cold enough to burn holes through my feet.

Giving up on walking, I took a few great bounds forward before launching myself off the cliff. I freefell for a few moments, relishing the feeling of wind rushing against my scales. Realizing I was about to fall through the shelter of the clouds, I snapped my wings open and soared forward before wheeling around to fly back up toward my starting point. I shot over our cave entrance, searching for Kazlar, the dragon who had awoken me earlier. Upon spotting his maroon scales gleaming in the early morning sun, I quickly caught up and coasted alongside him in silence.

I peered down at the land, admiring the way the rising sun coated the snow and ice in a sheen of gold. I had lived atop this mountain, known by dragons as Yavleth, for as long as I could remember, always in the same cave, and always with Kazlar.

Kazlar had told me the little bit of my past that he knew: that I was an orphan, left abandoned in the forests around the same time Nytheri was slain — a story all dragons knew. He said he found me covered in scrapes and bruises, their source unknown, and took me straight to the healer in Yavleth. Suspicious of my origins so soon after the hybrids born of Nytheri escaped, no one wanted anything to do with me. Through it all Kazlar was there, protecting me and raising me as his own son. Now most dragons in Yavleth feel comfortable in my presence, though I do get a suspicious glance every now and then. I do not know who my mother was or why she would leave me in that forest all alone, but even so, I can't help but despise her for it. The worst part is, I should be able to remember what happened. I was old enough to speak; therefore, old enough to maintain my memories, yet my first recollections are of waking in Kazlar's cave.

Nearing the graduation site, my thoughts came to a close as I beheld the grandness of such an event. Graduations are a cause for great festivity, and everyone comes together in Yavleth to help prepare and celebrate the occasion. Already I could spy the decorations and smell the delicacies the food vendors offered from my position in the sky.

Graduations happen every year, and to graduate a dragon must be twenty years old, the age at which a dragon is officially an adult. In the years prior, dragons are instructed in a variety of skills, of which are: combat, healing, flight, elemental use, history, and literature. Upon reaching your twentieth name day, you participate in trials on each of the skills to prove you are worthy of graduation. Should the instructors see you fit to pass, you will obtain the permissions of an adult dragon, one of which is the ability to roam below the clouds, a cause for great excitement for many. Should you fail, you will be instructed amongst the year younger until it's their turn to graduate, and then you will retest alongside them.

I touched down lightly beside Kazlar and proceeded to hop around in excitement like a hatchling before managing to compose myself. I stared at Kazlar with beseeching eyes — my calm and mature facade had maintained itself for only a moment. Spotting my expression, he chuckled at my antics and said, "Go on, it's your day, not mine."

I darted forward happily, weaving through the growing crowd and reminding myself to check out some of the interesting shops that I had spotted later.

Today is going to be a good day.