Remember, this is a meme with many contributing authors, so make sure to click the link at the bottom of the image to take you to see more!
Anyhow, as always this is un-edited mostly, so forgive any errors. :
Movement across the planes as a phoenix traveled always reduced us to ash. I could sense my father’s discomfort with dissolving into ash, but it was required and he was a king so he didn’t complain.
The great hall of the Assembly was magically protected. None could enter but the assembly, and up to two companions they must bring on their own fire. Our entrance would not be on my father’s fire, but my own power.
That alone would shock them.
The downpour of ash in the middle of the circular room wouldn’t hurt with our hope for dramatic impact, either.
I felt my father lose consciousness once we had scattered across the void, and I let my energy gather him close. Just for fun Spark and I let our energy fly around the room, ruffling their crest’s before we zoomed up into the dome.
While the dragons below us eyed the room suspiciously I drew my father’s ashes in with my own and nudged him to consciousness. The first murmurs below let me know it was time to show ourselves.
Our ashes drifted down slow at first, like flakes of dust catching in the light. As they grew thicker, the dragons around us began to take notice. Green, blue, yellow and red eyes turned toward the growing pile of ash.
A whisper of energy separated my father’s ashes from our own and in a whirl of power and my own red fire he came back into human form. His cheeks flushed, eyes still bright silver, he radiated a new sense of strength like he’d been as revitalized by the experience as I always was.
I grinned and let the fire overtake me to stand tall beside him, Spark perched on my shoulder. “Good morrow, my lords.” I bowed down to one knee, my right hand curled before my forehead in a sign of respect. My inability to fully transform into a dragon had led to a compromise since I had no crest lower in respect to my elders.
“Rise, Child. You are not their inferior.” My father spoke with warmth and pride I hadn’t heard in years. “They are yours. I hadn’t quite realized what you’re capable of.”
Pride and a bit of embarrassment probably colored my cheeks, but I did as he commanded. “My lords, I have come in hopes of staying your desire to begin a war again. To tell you the truth of what I am, of what the hybrids are. Our kind cannot afford another war, and the human race does not deserve the wrath of Alatus.”
“The truth of what you are is an abomination.” Gardolden, a particularly old and stuffy dragon with bright yellow eyes signifying his ties to the northern lands bristled. His forefeet curled over the edge of his ledge and he crouched as if to pounce. “You came in without the aid of your father. That shows how dangerous you are.”
“I, and my father’s phoenixes are the only beings capable of breaching your magical protection, because we are the only ones descended of a race older than your precious dying dragon magic.” I smiled, and hoped the malice and intent behind my words had their impact. “If I was a threat you’d already be dead. Did you not feel me ruffle your crest before we showed ourselves?”
“Is that a threat?”
“Not yet. Just a point of fact.” I turned my back on the blustering Gardolden, and scanned the dragons behind me. The twelve men along with my father represented the greatest powers on the Wyvern plane. Thirteen total. It stood to reason they were scared.
“The time for secrets is over.” Jdyne’s voice carried through the room without effort and stilled all protest. “I have attempted to protect the princess, your future queen, mind you, for too long. It’s time you learned the truth.”
“A Terran can never be our queen. We told you that years ago, Jdyne.” Sigda, a green-eyed dragon with opalescent scales called from my left. His eastern lands were vast, and he’d always been kind and indulgent of her in her youth. Good to know allegiances were so weak.
“I am more than Terran. More than Wyvern. Perhaps you are just scared, Sigda. Perhaps you all are. Change has never been welcome to the dragons, after all. It took you millennia to give up the Terran plane and let them be.” I lifted my chin, and turned to face the man that once told me stories alongside his son. A son now dead.
“And look what they’ve done with it.” Sigda refused to look at me.
“Your son, and my best friend, Tamyr was lost in our last war, Sigda. At one time you wanted us mated. Now you question my role in our world?”
Sigda’s crest sank flat to his head and his wings fluttered, a huff of steam curling from his nostrils.
“So many of you know me, and you have known Alatus. Will you truly let the inflammatory words of an ill-tempered and jealous one determine our futures? Will you let us battle and destroy what’s left of our world, and let him destroy another plane and its inhabitants because he is power-hungry?”
The prompt this week is the picture to the left.
