Izanagi by OyasumiKasumi on FR

A sweet, autumn wind blows through the air, rustling trees to the whimsical melody of a bird’s song. The banging of a drum rings unabashedly through the forest, and a chorus of flutes and trumpets shout from across the windswept plateau. A celebration. If you followed the sound you’d find a collection of dragons dancing ritually around a statue sitting peacefully atop the Zephyr Steppes. Glowing runes and plants of all types adorn its divine posture; a single, glowing emerald situated in the middle of its forehead. It’s body twists in itself, weaving an elegant pattern. No wings adorn its body, but smoky incense emits from it’s crown and limbs. The Windsinger.

On the other side of Sornieth, a similar feast is being celebrated. The foliage shakes thunderously as gleeful dragons run rapidly through the underbrush. Laughter erupts from dragons old and young; they know this is a good day. With autumn comes the bountiful harvest, a time of festivities and prayer to their deity, the Gladekeeper. Swift spirals and sauntering snappers all gather at the Behemoth. A hatchling hums a tune taught to them from their first coo, and others follow. Soon, the entirety of the gathering is singing in tandem to the birds’ and wolves’ song.

While the two clans chant and yell, magic is being culminated throughout the land. Each flight’s celebrations should be kept seperate, a legend says, for the power of more than one deity at a time could be catastrophic. Of course, the two flights carried on anyway; too swept up in their partying and planning that they didn’t care to know what the others were up to. Sparks of magnetic energy pulled against each other, the soul of Sornieth being tugged back and forth between the Nature and Wind flights, all while energy is still being drawn to the fluid core. Suddenly, in a burst of light, the pulls of either power stop. While the festivities carry on, a lone egg drops solemnly into the Shifting Expanse.

_The patter of claws on the dry, desert land is the only sound for miles. In the distance, electricity crackles and spreads across the Shifting Expanse, powering machinery crafted by the Stormcatcher’s followers. It’s vibrant blue hue flashes blindingly around the bronze towers, contrasting the dark, stormy sky. It’s going to rain soon. A flock of vultures drag a rotten carcass across the Highland Scrub while straggling chicks nip at the blistering flesh. Venatici grimaces- she never did enjoy the scenery here.

____The pearlcatcher carries on, though, pulling her tattered hat lower across her eyes and slinking through patches of shade. She’s on the search for unsuspecting prey today, and a little peryton seems to catch her eye. Just as she’s ready to pounce, a sonic boom erupts above her, the peryton long escaping. Venatici looks up, cursing at the sky. “You take so much from us, Stormcatcher!” Thunder rumbles, “Give me something to work with here!” As she screams her frustrations at the sky, a single egg drops unceremoniously at her feet. Jumping back, startled, she sniffs the egg. It glows with a light green hue, dampened by quickly advancing weeds. As the thunder booms ahead, Venatici scurries back to bring her clanmates the discovery.

____Gasps erupt from the ragtag clan, dragons slinking out from behind stones and tents. A large Imperial emerges from the tunnels, slow and steady in his steps. Venatici lays the egg at his feet before backing away. He pauses; the strange, light green egg is overgrown with buds and leaves. Regardless, he picks it up gently with his maw and carries it to the rocky nests that hold their future sparks. Phanes trills softly, calling an old spiral to his place. The dragon curls herself around the egg, immediately adopting it as her own.

____A young Izanagi runs rampant through the tunnels of the Carrion Canyon, yelling for his brother, Cernunnos. He laughs and trills, flapping his wings excitedly as his claws click on the floor. Bright green eyes, glimmering with hope and life, flick across the walls, admiring the historic paintings and fossils carved into the stone. His mother, a strong spiral worn with age, calls to him, and he follows her voice out of the tunnels and into the harsh sun. Rhea scolds him for being so irresponsible in the tunnels, where dragons live and sleep. Izanagi just glances around guiltily, folding his arms and wings. Venatici scoffs at his antics. His mother pats him on the head and he laughs, continuing to play in his home.