Cycles of Time

With fog and darkness closing on the remaining River Lands, Saphira Mistwalker urgently flew home to consult with her elders. She hoped and prayed to the Great Mother that the River Lands and their inhabitants could yet be saved. But the ancient wise ones of her clan could give her no more advice. So, frantic and frustrated, she flew back again across the seas. She arrived to find ...

Desolation

... everything was desolate. Most of the continent had been consumed by the fog. Even the elven lands where she landed were devoid of life, lingering dying and abandoned under a veil, the sun giving a lurid glow to the foggy sky. Saphira hissed and roared out her pain and frustration, and hung her head in sorrow, her tears dripping to the barren ground. She coughed and gasped for breath when the fog rolled over her.

With her heart heavy, Saphira slowly flew home, growing weaker even when she stopped where she could to eat and rest. She arrived in the ancient forest deathly tired, filled with despair. Her elders and family tried to heal and comfort her, but inconsolable, she withdrew to the deepest shadows of the forest to be alone with the old magics. Overcome by her grief and the evil fog's effects, she fell into the healing sleep of dragons. When her kindred found her, she was deep in the grip of that singular reverie known only to her kind. The wisest among the shadow dragon clan were consulted. They foresaw Saphira returning to the two-legs in a distant time, and counseled that she be allowed to sleep. The clan wove their most powerful shadow magics where she lay to protect her, allowing their Princess to sleep for nearly three hundred years.

When Saphira awoke she felt cleansed and filled with a renewed urgency to go out into the world. Because of the healing sleep and the magics laid around her she appeared to have aged not at all. Still brash and impatient, she wished to be off immediately, but her elders demurred, since she was not fully free of the reverie. Finally, with their blessing, she set out again, driven to seek her purpose and place again away from her people. She turned on the wind, following the strange tug that led her, wondering where it would take her.

When she reached the new lands that called to her, Saphira wove her shadows of concealment. Much was strange to her eyes, for here was a two-legs city like and yet unlike the ones she had seen before. The surrounding country held many familiar things, but many looked ... old. She gulped as she observed the changes that had occurred in the world in the centuries she lay sleeping. Was there still a place for her beyond her forest haven? Did the two-legs remember her kind, and if they did, how would she be received?

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Strange New Land

As she wheeled and glided over the lands, she sensed familiar presences. 'No', Saphira thought, 'this could not be ... or could it?' Many of her two-leg friends from the past were long-lived like she was, but how had they come out of the calamity centuries ago, and how could they actually be here? She dropped lower, approaching a wild area of the lands, and saw a drum circle like those in the River Lands long before. Figures danced around the fire, familiar faces. With a joy awakening in her heart she thought she had lost, she dropped to the ground and dismissed her shadows, appearing to those in front of her.