Chronicles From the End of an Age

Cascading Earth - 44Yrs BTA

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The ice drake sat facing the ocean, wings held loosely at his side, and his long icy blue tail set idly behind him. The sand around him was frosted in cold clumps. Ice struggled to spread over the waving ocean, constantly breaking and refreezing, shards of ice being washed up and gathering on the shoreline. The salty stench of the sea breeze wafted through the air, mixing with the smell of rotting seaweed. Surrounding the drake was small hills, hiding him away in the cove. At the very top, the trees were still green and luscious, but as the undergrowth moved down toward the ground it back the same icy death as the rest of the cove.

A snarl escaped the drake as a movement in the water caught his attention. He reached out mentally, a snowflake expanding and becoming a near-invisible spike of ice. With a single thought, it shot into the ocean. Moments later it hovered into the air again, a slivery grey fish skewered on the end. It wasn't quite dead, flapping desperately against the spike as it floated over the surface of the water. The drake stopped it in front of his snout, tilting his head as it struggled desperately against its fate. Its eyes were wide, and its mouth opened and closed as if gasping for air. A small bead of blood trickled down the icicle, dripping into the ocean as the fish's attempts at escape grew greater and more desperate. Eventually, though, it gave in, growing still against its capture, and allowing the life to be drained from its flesh. The drake snorted, and with a simple mental prod, the spike flicked in the air, sending the corpse straight into the dragon's mouth. He snapped down the meal with short eagerness, licking his chops, before turning around and padding back across the beach.

The sand was cold against his paws, and an arctic wind seemed to be constantly blowing through the cove, bringing it to below freezing temperatures. The drake didn't mind it at all, rather preferring it to the warmer weather of the lands to the west and south. It kept other dragons away, allowing him to remain in his glorious solitude.

He was a middle-aged drake, around his first century of life, with glittering icy blue scales and larger wings than the average dragon of his species. The frill of horns around his neck was nearly white, and the scales down his flank grew lighter and lighter until they also turned nearly white along his underbelly. The strangest thing about him however was the cold aura that seemed to accompany his every step, as though he himself carried the arctic wind inside him. It was enough to make any living being shiver under its intensity. On the top of his head was also a small frozen patch of ice and hidden within the ice was a dull white stone, a decoration of unknown importance.

A cave awaited him along steeper sections of one of the hills. He walked inside to be greeted with a small roomy space. A barely-held-together nest of dead sticks and shredded leaves sat on one side, and remains of some creature sat frozen on the other. With a huff the drake fell into the nest, curling his tail around his body as he stared absently at the entrance, watching as snowflakes danced through the air, controlled by his mental thought. They changed shapes with his will, flowing together in battles in the shapes of dragons, or combining as the ocean with serpents flinging themselves into the sky, each a resemblance of his daydreams.

For hours he remained, not quite asleep, but not quite awake either, just sitting in the recess of his mind. The world seemed to disappear from existence. Thoughts became reality. Time became inconsequential. It was as though he had adopted another form of reality and was content to remain until he wasted away. A voice suddenly echoed through the cave, one that wasn't part of his reality, breaking him out of his daydream.

"Hello!" it growled in Drakin, the language of dragons.

He blinked, still rather startled, shaking his head to wake himself up. Though as he realised what was happening he found himself remaining silent, wishing whoever was calling him to leave him alone. Occasionally a curious dragon flew by, seeing his icy paradise, and flew down to investigate. Each one left him slightly agitated and annoyed, but part of him did enjoy the occasional chat, reminding him that there was a world out there beyond his self-made prison. The thought didn't make him any happier to hear the noise of claws against stone as the intruder made their way into the cave.