When Order became supreme in the world, there were some that opposed its dominion. A small sect of the uncorrupted dragons refused the might of Order and fled to the mountains, their own creations. These dragons were untainted - they still breathed orange, and their scales were still stone. Black wings carried them far from Order, to the opposite side of the globe. And yet, even here, Order's enforcers attacked them, blue flame on orange, steel against rock. The dragons could not stay still - if they did death was inevitable. One by one the uncorrupted dropped until there was only one.

He had no name, because it was not needed. All that was required was knowledge that he was the last of his kind - the dragons that did not fall to the cold grip of Order. But even he would fall.

A phoenix - a massive, burning bird clad in steel and fury found him. Day after day they danced in the clouds, flame meeting flame, talon against steel. Sparks flew from their clash, igniting the earth and burning away the trees. Impacts from their crashes molded the soil, creating massive lakes when the rain cried out in fury. Oceans formed under their deadly duel, and yet one was still no stronger than the other.

An equal and opposite force. This dragon, this final unchanged dragon, slashed open the chest piece of the phoenix, and with his bone talon brought it down.

But Order is not one to give up easily. Injured during the battle, and having caused severe damage to the surrounding environment, the dragon had nowhere to land, and nowhere to rest. Magma covered most of the orderly earth in a scorching sea, save for the still empire that was thankfully far away. Exhausted, the uncorrupted fell into the waves of molten rock, where he was incinerated down to the bone.

But in his battle, the dragon had uncovered something - another crystal, this once black, opaque, and covered with points. It found the bones of the dragon, without life and without soul.

This crystal called the flowing magma home. Change was natural in its heated home, and day by day everything changed. This was no exception. Seeing a part of its world become static and unmoving, it desired nothing more than to tear down the Order. This dragon could perhaps serve a purpose. A perfect vessel to spread the corruption.

It was dead, but that did not matter. The crystal changed it anyway. It rose its skeleton out of the waves and took it to the unchanging lands. There, it molded life into it - the trees, the beasts, the animals, none were spared in the reconstruction process. The end result was a twisted mess of mangled flesh, with wooden bones, wolf teeth, owl eyes, bat wings, and goat horns. When life was sparked into it the first thing it did was scream. Perhaps it desired death, or destruction, but the crystal would have none of it. It burned its will into its own, becoming one and the same. Suddenly the reanimated Frankenstein of a dragon had an overwhelming urge to crush and destroy the Order that had purified its land.

It called itself Chaos. And it too was infectious.

Order suddenly found his army dying. One by one, the metal-clad beings of stillness and peace became abominations of stone, wood, and flesh. Suddenly his subservient dragons had wills of their own, and desires that they pursued. Many of these desires came from deep within - the minds of the former dragons suddenly being in charge instead of Order's indomitable will.

Order ordered them destroyed, and mobilized vast armies of mortals and dragons to take them down.

The mortals would prove to be his downfall.

The chaotic crystal changed the mortals. It gave them freedom - released them from Order's chains. And suddenly Order found his armies attacking him.

It was over before he realized. Order had been destroyed. Splintered. Gone. It withdrew from the now freed mortals, its empire gone. Chaos, its mission successful, left the mortals to their own desires.

They became nations. The Loxodon Union. Equestria. Bull Tribes. The Isles of Gryph. Cervidium. Saddle Arabia. They forgot that they were once ruled by dragons. The dragons that now stayed in their mountaintop rookeries, afraid or not needing to interfere with the lives of mortals. A peace, if that was even a proper name.

But peace is merely a prelude to war. And war will come.