Clan Lore

Many moons ago, obscured amoung the luminescent tangles of the Starwood Strand, a lone egg began to hatch without a single soul to witness the dawn of its life. Cocooned by a nest of branches and roots constructed with the delicacy only another dragon could have wielded, the young fae had just enough room to stretch her tiny limbs for the very first time. When she could finally open her eyes, they grew wide in awe of the ethereal sight that greeted her, unable to comprehend the mystic majesty of her own home.

Thousands of lights twinkled above her, scattered throughout the canopy that protected her nest. Oblivious to the glimmering canvas of stars that dangled in the sky just above, yet she saw herself within them, as if in a dream. The glowing flowers that surrounded her—starblossoms, as she would later call them—served as her only companionship through the long night that followed her birth.

When the sun spilled over the horizon and the starblossoms retreated into their shimmering petals, the lonesome dragon felt sadness for the first time. She couldn't stop herself from crying when the comforting illumination the flowers had provided soon vanished, replaced by the blinding beams of a ball of fire so far away and yet, it seemed, so very close. She was bathed in the warmth it brought, a temporary distraction from the grief of her loss. Rays of sunlight cascaded through the gaps in the canopy that shrouded her with all the seeming of a ribbon that she could reach out and grasp in her weak claws.

Hunger kept her frail body from venturing out of the safety of her nest. Her calls for something, someone to nurture her had only been answered by echoes in the darkness. Her voice had turned hoarse, failing her in her time of need. In a fit of desperation, driven by instinct to fill her stomach, she crawled unsteadily through the wicker that concealed her, only to find open air beyond the branches of her nest. As she fell, her small heart fluttering wildly, she closed her eyes, unable to scream.

But there was no impact. When she next opened her eyes, she found that the trees soared past her in a blur, the wind caressing her scales like the embrace of a mother she had never known. She was cradled tightly in the arms of another whose wings beat steadily around her, keeping them both aloft. When the wind died down and the world around her stopped moving so quickly, she was gently deposited onto the soft, damp forest floor. She looked up to find two wide, rosy eyes trained on her. They were so full that she could see her own reflection in them, curiosity urging her forward until their noses clumsily bumped together.

The two dragons snorted and sniffed at the contact. Though her saviour was but a fledgling fae like herself, he could already use his wings and he taught her how to do the same. Neither of them knew where they had come from or whom had left their nests abandoned in the trees, but that mystery didn't seem so important now that they had found each other. They grew quickly in the moons that followed, occasionally crossing paths with stray dargons like themselves, or wanderers just passing through. They quickly realised that they needed names and so appointed their own: the female declared herself Glaide, while the male decided upon the name Sceril.

It became apparent rather quickly, however, that Glaide was not like other fae. Her dreams began to grow more detailed and more intense, even sometimes startling her from her slumber. She would see things that normal dragons shouldn't see, events that had yet to unfold, and while those she tried to warn or inform of their fates kept their distance out of fear, Sceril stayed by her side, an ever present source of comfort and support. They deduced that these dreams—some of which began to plague her during the day as well as the night—were much more than just that, but rather visions, prophecies. Sceril was certain that she had been blessed by the Arcanist himself, though for what reason they could not discern.

It was one such vision that encouraged the two of them to begin building their own clan in place of the one that had abandoned them, right there in the Starwood Strand. While they had many hatchlings of their own, destined to become lovers from the start, they welcomed dragons of all flights of life into their open wings. Wanderers, orphans, even those who did not wish to speak of their pasts—all of them were treated just the same as their own offspring.

And so the dawn of Clan Eclipsium emerged.

Though they had founded this colony of misfits and ragtag dragons, they were never meant to remain there forever. Once their clan had grown large in number, had become fierce enough to protect their own, and had embraced the peace that Glaide and Sceril had taught them to uphold, Glaide received her final prophecy. She saw her parents and Sceril's, two pairs of mates belonging to the same bygone clan, and witnessed the truth of their disappearance into the Arcanist's embrace. She saw herself and her mate reunited with them. She saw herself amoung the stars, a vision not unlike the very first thing she had gazed upon when she had first opened her eyes to the world.

She knew, then, that it was time for them to pass on their legacy to the next generation, for Clan Eclipsium had learned as much as it could from them. With heavy hearts that carried both sadness and anticipation, they finally took their leave of the Starwood Strand, vanishing into the night without a trace to heed the Arcanist's call. Though their clan would wonder where they went, lost and confused in their absence, Glaide knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that they would persevere. She did not leave them without hope, after all.

The morning after their departure, a young nocturne awoke to the gift Glaide had left for her: the crown of her rule. Though it was such a tiny thing, just big enough to fit on one of her fingers, the message was clear. This dragon, a humble broodkeeper who had spent her life repaying her debt to the clan by watching over their young, had been chosen by their exalted oracle to carry on the clan's legacy. Though this new responsibility intimidates her, Desdemonia is determined to embrace her new role as matriarch with strength and courage. As much as she can mustre in the eyes of her newfound subjects, that is.