The Earth was in a state of peace, a harmony carefully woven by the elemental dragons. Dinosaurs and other ancient creatures roamed the land, living in balance with the forces of nature. The world was wild and untamed, yet stable under the watchful presence of the dragons. Each element—fire, water, earth, air, ice, and light—had found its place, creating a delicate equilibrium. The dragons, silent guardians, watched over the land, their vast power hidden just beneath the surface of the world they had shaped.
And then, humans emerged.
They were not born of the dragons' influence. These creatures, frail compared to the towering dinosaurs, evolved naturally, living in small tribes scattered across the land. At first, the dragons paid little attention to them. Humans were like any other species—weak, struggling to survive, and insignificant in the grand scheme of the Earth's existence.
But something was different about them.
The influence of ancient darkness still lingered. Though Typhon had been defeated and trapped, its aura, subtle and imperceptible, still touched the Earth. Its dark energy seeped into the very fabric of reality, and though it had little effect on most of the creatures of the world, humans were different. The dragons noticed strange behaviors in this new species—humans, unlike the other animals, were erratic, unpredictable, prone to aggression and greed. They fought amongst themselves, overhunted, and often acted out of fear, even when there was no clear threat.
It was as if the presence of Typhon's lingering influence made them susceptible to chaos.
The dragons, at first, merely observed. These new beings were strange, but they posed no threat to the balance. Yet, over time, the chaos within the humans grew. Small skirmishes between tribes turned into wars, territories were overhunted to the point of collapse, and where humans gathered, destruction seemed to follow. The dragons realized that the dark forces were affecting humans in ways they hadn't expected. They could see that, without guidance, these creatures could disrupt the balance of the Earth itself.
The Golden Dragon was the first to sense it. Roaming freely across the lands, it saw the instability rising in the human species. The erratic behavior of the tribes set them apart from the other animals. While most creatures lived in tune with the world, humans struggled against it, constantly driven by internal forces they could not understand.
It was time for the dragons to act—not as creators, but as guides.
The Earth Dragon, ancient and patient, was the first to approach. It watched from the distance as a small tribe struggled to survive the coming winter. They had built crude shelters, barely enough to shield them from the cold, and their firewood stores were pitiful. The Earth Dragon moved silently beneath the ground, its presence sensed only by the earth itself. Slowly, it began to guide the humans, showing them how to shape the land, how to build stronger shelters from the rocks and wood that surrounded them. The dragon never revealed itself fully—only small signs, movements in the earth that the humans followed instinctively.
Over time, the tribe's homes became sturdier. They learned to work with the land, not against it. The Earth Dragon's influence was subtle but profound, and it was felt in every stone wall and thatched roof the tribe built.
The Water Dragon was next. It sensed a tribe that had settled near a great river, but their efforts to harness its bounty were clumsy. They could fish, but they did not understand the river's currents or how to work together. The Water Dragon swam silently beneath the surface, its movements creating gentle ripples that seemed to speak to the humans. They began to notice how the fish moved with the flow of the river, and slowly, they learned to cooperate, building simple rafts and nets that allowed them to fish in harmony with the water.
The Air Dragon's influence was less visible but no less significant. It encouraged humans to explore, to move beyond their small camps and seek new lands. It filled their lungs with the breath of life, showing them the vastness of the skies and the endless possibilities of the world. The first explorers, guided by gentle winds, began to travel farther, seeking new lands and new opportunities.
The Fire Dragon was the boldest of them all. It appeared to a tribe on the brink of starvation. They had lost their fire to a storm, and without it, they were slowly succumbing to the cold. The Fire Dragon, its eyes burning with the heat of the earth's core, approached the tribe, offering them the gift of fire once more. But this time, it did more than just reignite their flames—it showed them the true power of fire. The tribe learned how to harness its warmth, how to cook their food, and how to keep the darkness at bay. Yet, they also saw its destructive potential when one careless spark set their entire camp ablaze.
From that moment on, the Fire Dragon's lesson was clear—fire could sustain life, but it could just as easily destroy it. Balance was essential.
The Ice Dragon brought resilience. In the far north, where the winters were long and unforgiving, it taught humans to endure the cold. It showed them how to preserve food, how to hunt in the snow, and how to survive when the world seemed frozen and lifeless. Under the Ice Dragon's guidance, humans learned to adapt to even the harshest environments.
The Light Dragon, the final guide, gave humans awareness. It filled them with an understanding of the world's cycles—the rising and setting of the sun, the changing of the seasons, the rhythms of life. Under the Light Dragon's influence, humans developed a deeper connection to the world around them. They began to mark the passage of time, to plan for the future, and to understand their place in the grand tapestry of life.
Yet, despite the dragons' guidance, humanity's struggle continued. The dark influence of Typhon still lingered, whispering to the deepest parts of their minds. Greed, fear, and anger crept into their hearts, especially in times of hardship. When resources were scarce, tribes turned on each other, wars erupted, and entire communities fell to ruin. The dragons watched, unable to intervene in every conflict. They had given humans the tools to survive, but they could not prevent them from making their own mistakes.
In one tribe, the gift of fire became a curse. They used it to burn forests, destroying the land around them in their quest for dominance. The Fire Dragon, angered by their recklessness, withdrew its guidance, leaving the tribe to learn the hard lessons of balance on their own. Many perished, but those who survived understood the dangers of unchecked power.
In another, the Earth Dragon guided humans to build towering structures, using the stone of the land to create homes and monuments. But in their greed, they overused the resources, leading to the collapse of their own society.
Over time, however, a bond formed between humans and the dragons. The dragons remained distant but ever-present, guiding humanity with subtle signs and influences. And though humans were flawed, they slowly learned the lessons the dragons had to offer. They learned to live with the land, to respect the balance of nature, and to control the chaotic forces within them.
The dragons, in turn, came to respect humanity. These creatures, while susceptible to darkness, had the capacity for great harmony. They could thrive if given the right guidance, and they had the potential to maintain the balance of the world if they learned to control their own instincts.
The night sky shimmered with stars as a small tribe gathered around a fire, their faces illuminated by its warm glow. They had learned to live in balance with the world, guided by the dragons' subtle hand. Above them, unseen but ever watchful, the dragons circled the Earth, their vast forms hidden in the elements.
The path ahead was long, and the dragons knew that the darkness of Typhon would always linger, an imperceptible force that might one day resurface. For now, however, there was peace. Humanity had taken its first, uncertain steps toward understanding the balance of the world, guided by the dragons. And though the dragons remained ever watchful, the future was uncertain.
Then, without warning, the light began to dim. The stars in the sky flickered and faded, and the warmth of the fire slowly vanished. The world—the tribe, the Earth, the creatures, even the dragons themselves—began to blur, their forms dissolving into shadows. The trees, the mountains, the rivers, all receded into a vast, dark emptiness.
The firelight collapsed inward, like a dying ember, leaving nothing behind but blackness.
In the end, there was only silence. The world, once alive with light and life, had vanished entirely, consumed by an infinite void. No stars, no earth, no sign of the dragons—only black, endless, and quiet, as if none of it had ever existed.