The winds changed as if heaven itself had moved in response to the events happening. Three figures—the God of Dragons, Longmu, and Longwang—forsook the stage of playing, taking with them stunned crowds of Dragon Tribes. Whispers of the air crept like restless spirits. Some dragons froze in awe, letting their thoughts be completely overwhelmed by the divine decree granted upon them; while others, especially members of the Black Dragon Tribe, felt the ripples of fear running through their lines. They were the ones who proposed this grave punishment: breaking wings and shattering horns - and now, they stood among the crowd, small child standing tall over them as god.
Back in the ceremonial grounds, the air felt heavy with silence as well as tension. The head Elder struggled to rise; his body shook as he pushed himself up from the ground. His once-proud stature, the manifestation of the ancient authority of the Dragon Tribes, now seemed diminished. The earth itself had scarred beneath his hands from the weight of the power of the Dragon God, as if even the land had bowed to Shenlong.
The dragons gathered round, their eyes riveted with suspended breath for what the Elder was to say. For most of them there was power before them beyond anything they could possibly conceive. The air was heavy still from the young Dragon God's aura, like thunder on some distant horizon, and it was the first time that the dragons whose prides were incredible felt a shift beneath themselves in the universe. Now, the mighty head Elder, who had ruled with iron will for a thousand or more years, stood broken before the face of a power that could dwarf even the oldest of them.
Then, with a great heave, the Elder stood, brushed dirt from his tattered robes. His face was as blank as uncarved stone; but in his eyes was the weight of ages. A single silence fell over the entire assembly as the Elder slowly raised his head speaking; his voice rang through and commanded a forced authority.
"The God of Dragons has returned."
His voice still sounded steady, but it lacked power. It had neither command nor assurance to it but something closer to resignation. The dragons bowed their heads low, but it was not done out of fear for the Elder-no, not that. No, they bowed their heads in reverence to the young god who simply walked away.
The Black Dragon Tribe stood on the fringes of this gathering with hearts aching with a unique kind of dread. They had uttered words to damn Longmu and Longwang for the most barbarous tortures. But today those same words seemed to be chains caged around their necks. The elders of the Black Dragon Tribe were glancing nervously at one another as they realized the bet they placed and lost. All the plans and goals which they have developed were smashed with just a glimpse of the God of Dragons' eyes.
"How do we continue?" asked one of the elder sages of Black Dragon quietly.
"For now, heads need to bow down," said another sage, whose voice quivered. "But tread softly. This young god will not forgive us lightly if at all."
As for the mother, father, and son, they kept sailing farther away from the gathering in the far distance. Longmu finally opened her mouth, speaking softly but warm with motherly tenderness. She had long since kept silent, caught between wonder and incredulity, as she watched her son now big and godlike let them out from their suffering. Now, her heart welled up not with pride for what her son was but with something deeper and more intimate, the joy of seeing her child, whom she thought was gone, standing before her.
"All this time," she started to say, her voice shaking slightly, "we have waited for this day, the day we may finally meet our son, not as a child. but as the being you have become."
He looked away, and his bright golden eyes met hers. Raised alone with no guidance from his parents, he knew not how to react now. He felt the depth of their love, their pride, yet also the sorrow at losing the years.
Longmu stretched out her hand, and in sudden, great emotion, she laid it on his cheek. Tears welled up in her eyes but she constrained them, a smile spreading across her face. "You have no name yet," she breathed softly. Her hand trembled a little as it stroked out towards the features of her son she hadn't seen in years, a son now radiant with holy power beyond what she could have ever conceived of. "We never had the chance to give you one."
The young dragon god's face softened. He had grown accustomed to his lack of a name, needing nothing of the sort when he wandered alone, only by his strength. Yet, in front of his mother, those lost years leaned in to him now. For the first time, he felt a longing for something he had never desired before: a name-a familial connection to the family he never knew existed.
And Longmu's voice grew stronger now and her words were bigger than all this moment: "You are our child, born under the stars, for greatness, but the path has been hard. I have thought long and hard, wondering what we might have called you had we been given the chance." She paused, her gaze locked into his now as though she were seeing him not as the God of Dragons, but simply as her son.
"I call you, Shenlong," she said, soft, yet firm in voice. "The god of all dragons, the celestial dragon who'll guide us through the heavens."
As she spoke the name, it seemed as if the world did, too. A gentle breeze arose about them, as if the elements themselves acknowledged this was an important moment. Shenlong's eyes blinked with feeling: gratitude, warmth, perhaps joy, though he had long since learned to conceal these. His mother had named him; no one else could have.
The silence that followed seemed to stretch on into eternity. Longmu's heart was heavy with an emotion she couldn't begin to describe, and she reached out to embrace her son. Shenlong hesitated for just an instant, then let himself be enveloped by her arms. His divine aura faltered momentarily and softened, becoming gentle upon them as he allowed himself to be a son, if only for this moment.
Longwang stood a little apart from them, looking at his wife and son. Sharply featured, he seemed softened by the tenderness in his wife's gestures. He had always been the stoic-one-the proud man who stood tall and tall in the face of every trial. But now, this heart felt swelling up with emotion, too. He had fought for decades, fighting to live in a world which had abandoned them, and there, stood his son, the epitome of all that they had struggled to give.
Longwang approaches them with a soft smile. He reaches to touch the shoulder of Shenlong. His grip is firm yet comforting. "I cannot guess what your life has been nor possibly know all the trials you've made," he continued in a deep and steady voice. "But you have to know this, my boy. As your father, I stand by your side for all eternity. Whatever step, anything at all next, you will not have to face it alone."
Shenlong turned to his father, and for the first time since being reunited with his parents, a small smile tugged at his lip. It was a passing smile, almost imperceptible, but enough to tell his father he had heard. His life alone for so long, dependent on nothing but power, Shenlong realized in this moment he was not alone anymore. He had his parents, and that was enough.
The lull between them was broken by a cutting voice through the air like a blade.
"So. you have reconciled with your family."
It was ice cold, dripping with malice and a streak of power. It came from the shadows, echoing off the trees, a whisper of death itself. Shenlong's eyes narrowed, and in one fleeting moment, his divine aura burst forth once more, protecting him and his parents as if by some sort of protective barrier.
From the darkness, a figure advanced. Wrapped in shadows, the shape was indistinct, but the ancient aura it emitted was powerful - an aura that rivaled that of Shenlong.
Longmu and Longwang tensed up, but, instinctively, they reached for their son, only to be halted by the proud stance of Shenlong, whose eyes fixed onto the visitor. His heart pumped in his chest not from fear but from some unknown thrill. Be this someone, they came for a reason, for one purpose: to challenge the God of Dragons.
As he drew near, the air turned cold, and from gentle caresses, the winds now howled with violent fury.
It was over.
The storm had begun.