My name is Alexander, and I was just having a normal day walking home from school. Out of nowhere, a car came speeding toward me, crashing into me and sending me flying. It hurt—a lot—and everything quickly faded to black. I was dying.

Man, this sucks. There were so many things I never got to do: travel to another country, learn to drive, or even find love beyond my family. My family… they’re probably going to be sad, even though I haven’t really connected with them much in recent years. Oh well.

Where I ended up was all darkness—strangely peaceful and comforting. I felt so tired.

When I woke up again, I realized I could move, or at least try to. What the…? Was I reincarnated? I always daydreamed about reincarnation. If I had to be something other than human, I always thought I’d want to be a Komodo dragon. They were my favorite animal—venomous, giant lizards, just really cool. Plus, I loved dragons, especially when they were the protagonists in novels.

Wait… I feel sleepy again.

The next time I woke up, I could move a bit more. This kept happening—waking, moving a little, then falling back asleep—until one day, I realized what I was. This time, when I woke, I could feel all seven of my limbs. Wait, seven?

I reached out, touching leathery wings on my back and feeling a long, scaly tail. I ran a hand over my face, and sure enough—there was a snout. I was reincarnated as a dragon!

That explains the constant fatigue. I was still in an egg, growing as a baby dragon. I’m so tired again.

When I woke next, I felt the urge to move, to escape. I thrashed around, cracking the egg little by little until, finally, I broke through. A few shards of light streamed in. I pushed my head out, and after my eyes adjusted, I saw it—a massive cave, lit by sunlight spilling through the entrance.

To my left, I saw five other blue eggs. “Those must be my siblings,” I thought. To my right was an enormous pile of treasure—gold, gems, armor, and weapons. It was so large, I couldn’t even see the other side.

Then I felt it—warm, crisp breath on my scales. I turned and jumped back. Somehow, I had missed the enormous dragon right behind me! I panicked for a second, but then I remembered: dragons shout their true names when they’re born. And right! Dragon memories—they’re inherited.

Everything clicked. I had died and been reborn as a blue dragon in a small clan. That’s good and bad. The good? Well, I didn’t die. And I was reborn as a blue dragon, which is probably the best kind of chromatic dragon. Blues are second only to reds in strength, but they’re smarter and better with magic. Plus, we tend to win fights against the arrogant reds. We also have the lowest mortality rate for hatchlings.

The bad news? I wasn’t a metallic dragon. In the best-case scenario, I’d have been born a gold dragon—the strongest and most favored by Bahamut. But honestly, being the best chromatic dragon isn’t too shabby.

Mother was staring at me intently. Right—my true name!

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“Azuron Drakthor Stormbreaker,” I declared.

After I shouted it, her expression softened, and she returned her gaze to the other eggs. Then, out of nowhere, hunger hit me hard. I looked down at my cracked egg and, with little hesitation, began to eat it. Weird, right? I just came out of this thing, but whatever—it tasted good, and I was starving.

After finishing the egg, I looked at myself. My paws—hands?—had five claws each, almost like fingers, with thumbs, and were covered in blue scales. I twisted my long, serpentine neck around to see more. My wings were bluish and leathery, and my tail was about as long as my body—around a meter. From snout to tail tip, I was about 2 meters long. or my length was 1 meter without the tail.

Across the cave, there was a large dragon-sized mirror. I trotted over, surprised at how natural moving on four legs felt, despite having walked on two my whole previous life. Thank the dragon memories for that. When I reached the mirror, I saw myself in full: four legs, two wings, a tail, and an entire body covered in deep blue ocean-like scales. My underbelly was a lighter, almost white color. Tiny horns sprouted from the back of my head, and my snout was strong and long. My muscles were already robust under my scaly armor.

My wingspan was about three meters, and while they looked a bit weak, I knew they’d grow strong. I couldn’t fly just yet. That wouldn’t come until I became a wyrmling, which would happen around six months of age.

The most striking feature, though, was my eyes. They were a swirl of blue, red, and yellow with slitted pupils.

Wait. What about my privates? I stretched my neck down, lifting one of my back legs. All I saw was a slit. I panicked but then remembered—reptiles have internal parts. A quick search through my dragon memories reassured me. According to them, my horns were too big, my muscles too robust, and my tail too long for me to be female. The clincher was my scent—I smelled like a male.

I ran over to my mother, who was still watching the other eggs. One of them was shaking, and soon, a small blue head popped out. The little dragon looked around, crawled out of its egg, and shouted her true name: “Zalyndre Valtoris Stormbreaker.” She started eating her eggshell, just like I had.

I couldn’t help myself and snuck over to steal a bit of her eggshell. As I was munching on it, I glanced at Mother. She gave me an approving nod, but when I went back for more, she shot me a stern glare. I realized there was a limit to how much we could take from each other.

Eventually, I spat out what I’d stolen and gave it back to my sister, who happily gobbled it up. Mother returned her attention to the rest of the eggs, which were all starting to shake and crack.

As I waited, I began to think about my senses. My nose could pick up so many smells. I could smell my gender, my mother’s hoard, and even the faint scent of prey animals outside the cave. The air was filled with the smell of lightning and smoke. My eyesight was sharp, probably enhanced with darkvision since the cave was dim. I could hear every tiny sound my mother and sister made. Even taste and touch felt heightened. Although I hadn’t liked raw eggs before, the eggshell tasted amazing now. And despite walking on stone, I barely felt the rough surface against my scales.

While I was lost in thought, the rest of my siblings hatched. Two of them, both males, shouted their names—“Zarothan Kryos Stormbreaker” and “Vaelrath Zephyros Stormbreaker”—before they began eating their eggshells. But the last two dragons were different. They were only about a meter long, with smaller wingspans. They hissed like feral creatures, not in the smooth, intelligent way we did.

Mother frowned as she looked at them.

“Dragon beasts,” she said, her voice booming through the cave. “The disgrace of all dragons, barely worse than feral whites.”

She grabbed them with her front paw and said, “You two will come with me.” Before leaving, she turned to the rest of us, saying, “Stay here, young ones.”

With that, she left the cave, taking the dragon beasts with her.

Suddenly, I was overwhelmed with fatigue. Curling up like a cat, I closed my eyes and thought, ‘I wonder how this life will go.’ With that, I drifted off to sleep, ready for whatever came next.