Description: My name is Garble. I am a dragon. I am young, scarcely more than a hatchling in the eyes of my fathers. But I am wise in the ways of my people, and I have long striven to teach my fellows that they should expect nothing from dragons and learn to stand on their own. I thought myself a good dragon.

But now a foundling, a dragon raised abroad with no knowledge of his own spirit, has bested me in the greatest contest of all time. I have knelt before a Dragon Lord whose age numbers less than the scales between my claws. And he has led upon me a penance that is at once cruel and merciful.

I must go home. And every dragon I meet along the way, I must embrace, without telling them why.

Prose It Is Not for Me to Say

I remember when I first heard the call of the Dragon Lord. The burning in my scales, the glow in the darkness of my cave, and the drive to seek out my lord were all so overwhelming. As I leaped from the shadows and took to the sky, I dared to hope that this meant what I thought it did; that now was the time for a new Dragon Lord, and that I would have a chance to take the throne for myself.  Even as I was joined by the banter of my broodmates, my thoughts ever lingered on visions of the Bloodstone Scepter resting in my talons.

When at last we arrived on the shores of Razorscale Beach overlooking the Flamecano, I was greeted not with the sight of an aging and decrepit Dragon Lord, but the pony-hatchling. I speak of Spike, that thrice-accursed dragon who knows nothing of himself and is little more than a pony in dragon's armor. His ignorance is an embarrassment, but worse than that is his chivalry. The child does not stand alone, and believes that no creature should. When he stands alone, as a dragon should, he stumbles and falls. But if he stands together, as those ponies have taught him, he is unstoppable. He reaches out to those who fall, rather than leaving them. He is everything that a dragon should not be, and I hate him for it.

But every time that I insulted him, every time I tried to knock him low and assert dominance, he refuses to hate me. When I take from him, he acts as though I asked, and tells me I am welcome. When I strike, however I strike, he turns the other cheek and takes it in his stride. His scales have grown hard since last we met, and when I mock him, it is like mocking a mountain.

The Dragon Lord arrived soon after to distract me. The challenge he set for us, to run a gauntlet and fight for the scepter, excited me. Only the strongest would survive. I knew that Spike was sure to fall, and when he made the foolish decision not to run from the impossible, I gave him the push he needed. I flew across the sea, and stayed aloft while others fell to the harsh attacks of the geyser serpents. I knew I would become the Dragon Lord.

Then the slingtails brought me crashing back down. In less than a minute, I went from the sky to the worthless earth, pinned down by a massive boulder. I saw Spike, having crossed the waters despite the odds, and I called out to him. He had no reason to believe me, no incentive to push the rock off of me, but he did it anyway, and when I mocked his weakness he acted as though I had thanked him. At the time, I did not know why he did it.

Even looking back now, his reasons still elude me.

As we made our way deeper into the gauntlet, Spike outpaced me continually. I discovered that he had secured an alliance with the Dragon Lord's daughter, Ember. Her swift flight and impressive strength formed a terrifying synergy with his sharp mind, and they wound their way through countless trials without so much as a scratch. Even I, who was scarcely more than a few feet behind them at any moment, took more than my fair share of beatings.

I caught up to them at the scepter itself. I fought Ember tooth and claw for the power, believing that she was the only real threat. But as we wrestled, something else was happening. That impetuous pony-hatchling had reached the scepter. Next Chapter: Nocte Estimated time remaining: 16 Minutes