Now, after living as long as I have I don’t like to say I hate things anymore. I had found an ability to quell my wrath against the mortals after having destroyed a few dragon slaying cults. I don’t regret my rampages, magic in the hands of mortals had been exceedingly dangerous. Not just to dragons but the two wars that involved magic had nearly wiped a continent off the world. It had caused that place to become a sea of sand where it slowly rebuilt into the Khalifdoms.

This rain tempted me to hate something though. I felt miserable. A chill seeped through my body and into my bones. The wool lining under my leathers kept me from freezing to death but I was far from comfortable. I could turn my skin to scales to combat the feeling of being soaked from head to foot but if I turned too close to my dragon self the cold would slow me and put me into a great slumber. If I hadn’t learned to shape shift before we failed against the calamity of ice and snow I would have been forced to slumber with the rest of my kin. However I assumed the life of Goretuck and built the survival of mankind around the mammoths and their unerring ability to find places of food.

I learned to love mortals those years. From the human nomad clans, the mushroom farmers deep in the caves that dwarves built, and the elves that fled to the fae realm. That millennia we dragons learned something. We could reproduce with the mortals. Though the children lacked any resemblance or abilities of a dragon. I fathered hundreds of children as Goretuck in those nomadic days to keep the humans alive. Brewmaster, who had transformed into a female dwarf, did her part in birthing as many as he could. The rest of the dragons seemed to have succumbed to the cold and began the long hibernation.

After those frozen years once we learned we could bear children with mortals Brewmaster and I collected as many of our kin as possible. We tried laying with another in dragon form and yet none of us could bear a child. As soon as we turned into mortal forms we could bear children. The heartbreak as Seamstress transformed back into a dragon and immediately lost her first child. She could not handle that after having been so excited to be a mother, she fled the group and swore to never transform into a mortal form. When she left, so did the others. Only when Brewmaster and I tried everything we could did we give up. What we felt for one another was purely clinical but we concluded that only the gods could bring more dragons into the world.

Coming back to myself on this wet road I looked around for some shelter of some kind. I would have to leave the trail if I wanted to find a den or cave to hunker down in. My boots squelched and would often stick to the ground until I pulled hard enough. For the sake of my lute and the supplies and letters I carried I would have to get out of the rain. I left the road and walked into the sparse forest. The leafless branches slowed the rain a little and I found a thick collection of tall bushes. I could crawl under it and it would help with most of the rain. Deciding I wanted to be more comfortable than that I knelt and touched the bushes.

Magic is a delicate thing. Only limited by imagination and experience. Learning to shapeshift was one of the first ways I used it. Summoning great waves of fire in the battle of the first calamity had been the first. I was doing something more subtle now. I reached down into the roots of the plants and encouraged them to be ready to soak up the nutrients the bushes would need. I then went to the buds the plant had sprouted and coaxed them awake despite the cold and near darkness. For the sunlight they needed I fed them magic to make up for it not being there. I then asked the earth to move enough to make me a little more comfortable underneath the protection of the bushes and shimmied under it all.

The rain was immediately better but the earth was cold and damp. I hiked up the back of my shirt enough to show my lower back. I began to change. It was painful mixing the bodies of two creatures but I had studied many birds and grew one massive duck’s wing. The feathers would let the water roll off instead of letting it soak into me. I folded the wing slowly over me like a canopy. Placing my hand against the earth I coerced the earth to be dry and warm. That the sun had baked it and it still held that heat. It took a few minutes to convince it but soon I felt the chill disappear.

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With a contented sigh I pulled my belongings into a pile in front of my chest and pushed the water soaking them out and to the roots to protect them from the heat. Warm and dry I wondered if my journey was fruitless. Profitable had been hard as diamonds even when he was down to two bits. I had hoped the rumors that he was kept alive to use his power to keep the king and queen wealthy. That Sondet kept the prosperity flowing into the kingdom. I pulled the scroll of Redgrass Stargazer out and transformed my eyes into that of a dragon so I could see in the darkness under my wing.

As I read I got a feel for how the cult operated. The key members were all elves. They had spent hundreds of years studying a vast collection of scrolls to learn every weakness ever observed in dragons. Their library held diagrams of the anatomy of a dragon. That when we had enough of our collection left they could restrain and dissect us. Blood Hunt had learned techniques from the healing masters of the east. They would pay families for rights to the dead. Most of their techniques to set bones and sew wounds had spread across the world.

I read more about his training. That his inner fear was that elves were dying out in their quests to save the world from dragons. They saw us as tyrants and despots. All the kingdoms we had run were brought to ruin by our own hands on whims. We snuffed out lives and robbed the world of what belonged to everyone. He spoke of magic and how the cult was working to relearn some of it. The most ancient of elves taught the basics that he had learned. I missed someone in my attempt to get rid of magic once and for all. Redgrass had been put through grueling painful training to get his body to peak physical power. He was taught magic to go even further. A hundred years spent mastering the way of the dagger only to be defeated in moments.

The difference in experience and power was more vast than any mortal realized. They attacked the young dragons first. Dragons like Profitable didn’t have the wisdom to cut when they lost and saw themselves as invincible. I had fled a dozen cults in my time. Surrounded by dozens of highly trained assassins who knew most of how dragons worked. Thankfully everyone that had learned about my collection I made sure perished. I knew that the sheer ability to solve problems that mortals had. How they pulled our collections apart and found every little thing to rob our strength from us. I felt hot tears sting my eyes as I read about the fight against Seamstress. She had been the kindest and most forgiving of mortals. Never having slain in retribution of the fallen dragons.

The cruelty they met upon her to rob her of thought. How they had learned from Brewmaster how best to combat our breaths. The techniques of dozens of cults all rolled into one. It was full of hubris and I made the internal decision to bring down the Blood Hunt. It was becoming too dangerous to leave to fester. I suspected some branches of it spreading through the world. I could also learn more from their library and see if they’ve found any other trails to follow that might lead to a dragon left in the world besides myself.

I grew more and more sleepy as the last of the chill faded from my bones. More thoughts about the calamities of this world filled my thoughts. Of fighting alongside my kin, us children of the gods. I thought of my long forgotten father, Quellis, god of tales and warnings.

Thoughts of the first tale, so primitive language was at the time, that it was more about gestures and cave paintings filled me. Finding and fighting the very first dragon. He was the son of Terus. We were too young to even know what a collection was. We just had instincts to gather one type of thing. The gods intervened in our battle and soothed our territorial desires. Boneshaker and I never got along well. He never saw mortals as anything but waiting vessels to make him stronger.

Rubbing my face with my hands I pulled some food out of my pouch and ate. The more human I acted the less I’d have to focus on being one. I longed to rest, having to stay so active for so long was mentally draining. The long slumbers I gave up so early compared to every other dragon in the world. Full, warm, and full of memories I drifted off to sleep.

I dreamt of the first calamity. That which tore the earth apart.