Three thousand years ago, terrifying monsters ruled the lands and seas of the continent of Varia. In the wilderness, there was the Tyrant Lizard. A towering massive lizard standing on two muscular hind legs, its powerful jaw could crush through even the heaviest armor of its prey. A fully grown Tyrant could tear a slog into pieces with the force of its bite alone. And with its unparalleled hunting ability, came a voracious appetite. These nightmare inducing carnivores were also highly territorial and brash by nature. 

The Basilisk. A monstrous serpent. It dwelled in mountains and caverns, preferring solitude. The beast preferred to lure its prey into its domain, and then strike when the prey least expected it. The serpent tended to be more shrewd and calculating than the aggressive Tyrant Lizard.  

The Wyvern. Wingless, two legged, bat-like creatures. Wyverns stalked the lands and fed on carcasses left behind by other carnivores. Occasionally, it would scare off other scavengers off fresh kills and steal their prey. 

And then there were Raptors. On average six feet tall, these pack hunters were highly vicious and intelligent. They were the most feared creatures lurking in the wild, maybe even more so than the Tyrant. For what raptors lacked in size, they made up for in their pack hunting and tendency to pick bones clean. Their diet consisted of mainly small mammals, critters, scavenging, and…. humans. More than any of the other beasts, raptors seemed to particularly like the taste of humans. There have been frequent tales of small children going missing. Sometimes even a grown man. They would be found days later, clothes torn and bones picked to pieces. 

But the great beasts of the land all could not stand one thing.  

Fire. 

And it was with the discovery of fire, two thousand years ago that humanity could finally emerge from a lifestyle of scavenging and hiding. They pushed back the great beasts all the way into the deep wilderness, so called areas beyond human control due to constant stormy torrents of wind, thunder, and heavy rainfall, blotting out any fires.  

And then there were the dragons. A more aristocratic cousin of the fearsome Tyrant Lizard, dragons were a species forged by a close connection with magic. Little is known about dragons, as the last documented sighting was well over a thousand years ago. Recent breakthrough discoveries found ancient Tyrant remains scorched by dragon fire. Perhaps dragons had gone extinct, or deep into hiding, much like present day Basilisks. 

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Dragons had become a myth, a popular subject of ancient tales. Much had been written and documented about dragons before their numbers began to dwindle, until they were never seen again. All sorts of fantastic stories remained, many exaggerated and non factual. Tales of the brown dragons that ruled the western plains, of the red dragons that thrived near active volcanoes, of their fire breathing, their massive wings, and their lost majesty. 

But there had never been mention of a black dragon. Not a single mention. Black dragons were not just considered rare, like the rare green dragons—they didn’t exist.

Forte stared at his black dragon egg. Fire rose from the pile of oak wood, licking the air. The misty swirls on the egg were unmistakable--he had seen them many times in children's books. This was without a doubt a dragon egg, or at least an uncannily accurate representation of one. He sighed, and carefully put the egg back into his knapsack. Thoughts raced through his head.

What if it hatched? 

What would I do with it? 

Is it valuable? 

Maybe I should sell it.

I wonder why that wolf had a dragon egg. An egg for a dragon that’s not supposed to exist, no less. 

…

What would I name it?

…

Forte chewed at the thought. 

Vlad, maybe. 

Or Stella if it’s a girl. 

...

No, it’s a dragon, not a person. 

A dragon should have a majestic name. 

A name worthy of a dragon. 

My dragon. 

As he thought, he looked at the misty black streaks that lined the egg. A smile slowly crept onto his face. 

When you hatch……. I will name you Nightmare.

A soft chuckle emanated from behind. Forte span around, examining the foliage for any sign of movement, as he slowly stood up. He drew his blade. 

Kekekek…

The soft sound was coming from his knapsack.