The Dragon and the Fox

In a world where there were no humans, in a time where there was no war, at a place no one dared enter, a white dragon lay next to her egg.

She watched the stars at night, and how the moon made its dance across the sky. She watched as the sun rose and set, dictating the loves of her fellow creatures. She watched as the clouds gathered, formed, and dispersed, only to reform once again. She watched as th grass grew slowly and the flowers budded, bloomed, and then withered.

Nothing deterred her from her egg. Not this time.

This dragon, Aramynta, had lost four eggs already. Predators, accidents, and other things had left her devoid of children for the past thirty eclipses. This egg was her last one, as her husband was dead.

She would not let it break. She would not abandon it.

Then, one night, the sky was black.

There were no stars. There was no moon. Only darkness and a void, empty space where the beauty of the night sky had been.

Aramynta laid her ears back and gazed at what was once sky with uncertainty. She knew what this was. The Night of Darkness.

The Night of Darkness only happened once every thousand eclipses. It was a day where the Rift—the gateway to the Shadow World—tore itself open, and spirits and shadows were free to roam the world of Cyalia, terrorizing the honorable beasts that lived there.

Aramynta turned to her egg, planning to find a cave to rest for the night and keep it safe from any danger.

She froze.

Her egg—her beautiful, pearly white egg—was black and jagged looking. Cracks were forming on the surface, which swirled with scarlet and shadow.

It was hatching.

No, no, no, no! Aramynta thought frantically, rushing to her treasure, her only treasure. Please! Not tonight! Any other night! Please!

But the egg would not listen. It couldn’t listen, being an egg. Unhatched dragonets tend to be quite daft when it comes to other dragons’ problems.

Aramynta watched, helpless, as the egg began to hatch. Tears began forming in her blue eyes. She knew what she had to do, but she waited a little longer.

Finally, the shell burst, revealing the little dragonet inside. Aramynta let out a sob.

What had happened to her dragonet?

It was black. Its horns were already sharp, curved and twisted inwards like the demons that she had seen. The yolk of the egg was stained red—unlike the original white and gold—making the dragonet look covered in blood. It’s teeth and claws were pointy and jagged.

Aramynta scooped up the dragonet—her dragonet—in her talons, then walked slowly to the edge of the cliff she had been resting on. She would throw it off, then fly away. It was the safest choice. Who knows how much the Rift would affect the dragonet with its darkness and corruption?

Aramynta held the dragonet over the cliff, watching the sea churn down below. Far, far down below. She imagined her dragonet’s little body broken at the bottom.

Could she do it?

Could she do what was necessary?

At that moment of hesitation, the dragonet opened its eyes. They were blood red, with white slits.

“Mommy?” it said in a tiny voice. Dragons were born with the ability to form simple sentences, although Aramynta had never truly believed that until now.

Mommy. That word sent a chill down Aramynta’s spine. She’d never been called that before.

How could she throw something that could speak off of a cliff?

How could she throw her own dragonet off of a cliff?

Aramynta withdrew the dragonet from the edge and held it to her blue chest, feeling its heart beat. She felt the tears squeeze out through her eyes, down her cheeks, and onto the dragonet’s head, forming white splotches wherever they touched.

“I can’t get rid of you,” she whispered. “But I can’t keep you. I am sorry.”

She gently set the dragonet on the grass and took a step back.

“Mommy?” the dragonet asked again. Aramynta turned away.

“Goodbye, little one,” she said. She spread her wings and took off into the sky, her heart burning with regret and sadness.

The little black dragonet watched her go, not understanding what was going on. Why was the big, white dragon leaving?

He was left alone to watch the black sky. He didn’t know that he was the wrong color and shape. He was unable to comprehend why he was alone. But he was, and he was getting colder now.

Suddenly, two creatures descended from the Rift towards the little dragonet.

“Oh yesss,” one of them hissed. “A dragon. You will be of great ussssee to usss.”