Storm walked through the caves that made up the nesting grounds of his clan.
He was a young dragon with azure blue scales along his back, while those along his underside was an lighter almost grey kind of blue.
At his current age, he was a little bigger than a horse.
His slanted, deep blue eyes that were the color of the open skies his race adored so much, eyed the other dragons wandering through the tunnels.
A mane of hair the color of moonlight flowed from the back of his long neck and head, ending at his shoulders where two leathery wings grew from his back.
All four of his powerful legs ended with curved claws that Storm took a great deal of care to keep sharpened at all times.
His long muscular tail ended with a small patch of fur the same color as those on his head.
Two horns had grown from the back of his head, but had yet to reach the full length of those from the adults dragons in his clan.
Today was the anniversary of the day he hatched 50 years ago. At half a century of age, dragons were officially welcomed into their clan as full adults of their kind.
Storm longed for this day, when he could officially join the clan as a productive member of their society.
Their clan was small, never more than 20 dragons at a time, as a result, resources were always low and every member was needed in order for the clan to function.
When the clan grew too large, younger dragons would break away from the clan to form nests of their own.
Dragons also transferred members of their kind between the few surviving nests in the world in order to minimize the risk of inbreeding between their kind.
His clan built their nesting grounds in a small mountain range miles away from any other settlements.
The continent that they called home, was named 'Xylos' and was filled with all manner of mystical creatures. Long eared Elves that inhabited the forests, Stout Dwarves that built vast underground networks, feathered griffins that often competed with the dragons for the skies and the nesting grounds. All called this realm 'home'
Although minor conflicts or territorial disputes sometimes sprang up between the many races , the land was relatively peaceful and free of large scale wars. All that changed with the arrival of the creatures that eventually came to be known as 'humans'.
No one knew where they came from, they arrived from the sea with a massive fleet of ships in tow. They landed upon the shores of the continent and soon began to stake a claim.
New races coming from the sea wasn't that uncommon and the newcomers were welcomed with open arms by the other races of the world.
The greed of this new race was insatiable however, they kept expanding, taking more and more territory from the other races with every passing year.
They tore down forests to make way for their cities and claimed vast swaths of land as their own. Driving away the animals the dragons and griffins needed for food.
The people of Xylos petitioned them to stop, but they never did, and eventually a war broke out.
The many non human races, banded together and attempted to repel the invaders, but by this point they were too well entrenched.
The humans had built vast fortresses of stone and iron bigger than some mountain ranges and their skill at making instruments of death was unmatched.
Their numbers were endless and for every human that fell, another would rise to take his place.
Slowly the other races were pushed back to the isolated fringes of the world that the humans had refused to settle. Forced to hide from the human hunters that continued to hunt for them even to this day.
A few communities of elves and dwarves were captured and dragged back to human cities where they were forced to work as little better than slaves.
Resources and territory were scarce in the fringes and everyday was a struggle for survival for the people that called these territories home.
Storm stopped at a large mirror that was built into the cavern wall and admired the reflection that was staring back at him.
His people had discovered that by breathing their fire on common sand, they could create a material that although fragile, had great reflective properties, while creating a material that allowed light to pass through it unhindered.
They named this material 'glass' and built large mirrors to admire their appearance with, or large domed ceilings that allowed light to pass through into the underground caves, while still protecting the dragons from the elements outside.
He fixed his mane, then using a clawed finger, traced the thin scar that started at the bottom of his neck and traveled down the entire length of his chest.
"Will I always bear this mark of my foolishness?" Thought Storm grimly.
Storm earned this scar when he was still a mere hatchling with barely a decade of experience.
A fierce thunderstorm had formed around the mountain range, ignoring the warnings of his elders, he snuck out of the nest to soar through the storm, enjoying the cool rain falling on his scales and the winds that propelled him through the sky.
A single bolt of lightning struck him in the chest as he soared through the sky.
He should have died that day, but instead something miraculous happened. The lightning changed his entire physiology.
He lost his ability to breathe fire on that day. No matter how hard he tried, the ability his race was so well known for always eluded him.
Instead, he was capable of breathing a bolts of lightning, not unlike the same one that nearly claimed his life. The only dragon in history capable of doing so.
His fellow nest mates renamed him 'Storm' on that day to mark his new ability.
As he continued to admire his reflection, a gentle touch on his shoulder broke him out of the contemplative daze he had fallen into.
He didn't need to look in order to see who touched him. He could recognize her scent from anywhere in the world.
"Aurora" Storm whispered fondly.