As the dragon soared high above the jagged peaks, its great wings slicing through the thin mountain air, a quiet settled over the group. Renard and his comrades remained silent, sensing the gravity of the moment. Lyra sat at the base of the dragon's neck, her fingers clutching a small scale that shimmered like liquid silver. She felt the dragon's immense strength and warmth beneath her, a living force carrying them higher than she'd ever imagined.
The dragon's voice resonated in her mind, no longer thunderous but quieter, softer, almost conversational.
"You must have questions, child."
Lyra hesitated, still in awe of the creature. "I don't even know where to begin. You know who I am, but I don't really know anything about you... or your kind."
The dragon chuckled, a deep rumble that vibrated through its chest. "Fair enough. We dragons have always been a mystery to those who walk the lands below. Few see us, fewer still speak with us. It was not always so."
Lyra leaned forward slightly, curiosity shining in her eyes. "What do you mean?"
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The dragon's wings shifted slightly, catching a thermal that carried them higher. It exhaled, a long sigh that seemed laden with memories. "Long ago, we dragons did not live in solitude atop these peaks. We shared the world with wolves, bears, deer, and men. We were guardians then, not just of the mountains, but of balance itself."
"Guardians?" Lyra echoed.
"Yes," the dragon replied. "When the world was young, my kin and I were entrusted with the elements—fire, wind, water, earth—and the wisdom to keep them in harmony. We guided the cycles of the seasons, the flow of rivers, the renewal of forests. But..." It paused, its voice dropping. "Man's greed disrupted that harmony."
Lyra's brows furrowed. "What happened?"
The dragon's eyes seemed to darken as it recalled the memory. "Men grew jealous of our power. They sought to control the elements, to wield them for their wars and ambitions. They came to us not with reverence, but with weapons. At first, we sought to reason with them, but their thirst for dominance knew no bounds."
"Did you... fight them?" Lyra asked hesitantly.
"We had no choice," the dragon admitted. "To protect the balance, we defended ourselves and the world we were sworn to guard. But in doing so, we became monsters in their eyes. Stories spread of our wrath, tales of villages burned to ash, though it was men who lit the fires. They turned the world against us."
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There was a long silence before the dragon continued, its voice tinged with sorrow. "One by one, my kin fell. Great dragons of flame and stone, of ice and thunder, slain by the very creatures we sought to protect. And so, we retreated. Those of us who survived hid in the mountains, watching as the world below grew louder, harsher, and more fractured."
Lyra tilted her head slightly, her expression one of quiet understanding. "You've been alone all this time?"
"Not entirely," the dragon replied. "We few who remain speak to one another across the winds, but it is not the same as sharing the skies. The solitude has been... enduring."
Its words carried weight, but Lyra remained focused. "That must have been hard."
"It was necessary," the dragon said firmly. "We live because we adapted. Our silence protects what little remains of our kind. But you, child... you are different. You bring the promise of change."
Lyra blinked, confused. "Me? How?"
"You remind us of the balance we once fought to protect," the dragon explained. "Your gift does not destroy or dominate—it heals, restores. You are what we dragons once were: a guardian of harmony."
"I don't know if I can live up to that," Lyra admitted, her voice small.
"You already have," the dragon rumbled, its voice dipping into a tone filled with deep reverence. "Perhaps you do not know this, but the winds carried tales of your deeds even before I laid eyes upon you. Do you recall the peaks of the Frozen Fang? My kin there were on the brink of death."
Lyra frowned in thought before gasping. "The dragonlings! I didn't know they were..." Her voice trailed off, realization dawning.
The dragon's massive head tilted toward her, its golden eyes glowing faintly. "Yes. The two young ones who could barely stand. You found them when others had forsaken them. Their breath had faltered, their hearts slowed, but your touch brought them back to life. Do you know what that means to a dragon?"
Lyra's voice was barely a whisper. "I only wanted to help them. I didn't even think—"
The dragon interrupted, its voice carrying a strange, quiet intensity. "You didn't think. You felt. You saw their suffering, and you acted without hesitation. That is what makes you special. My kin owe you their lives. And so do I."
The dragon shifted its great wings, gliding smoothly as it continued. "The younglings told us of a girl with fiery hair and gentle hands. A girl who sang to them as she worked, though she did not know their language. A girl who took her own pain into herself as she healed theirs. They are alive because of you, and through them, my kind has hope for the future."
Lyra's face reddened slightly, embarrassment mingling with her awe. "I just did what anyone would do."
"No," the dragon said, its voice firm. "Many saw them, but only you stayed. Only you gave of yourself so freely. That is why you are more than a legend. You are the bond that mends what was broken. You are a savior not just of wolves or men, but of us all."
Renard, who had been listening intently, added quietly, "It's true. Everywhere Lyra goes, things just... feel better. Like the forest itself breathes easier."
One of the comrades, Alric, grinned. "It's why we've got her back, no matter what. She's not just a legend to us anymore—she's family."
Lyra blushed, ducking her head. "I'm just doing what I can. I don't know if it's enough."
The dragon let out a soft, almost paternal chuckle. "Humility suits you, child, but do not doubt your impact. Even in my solitude, I have felt the ripples of your presence. The winds carry your name. And now, so do my kind."
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After a moment of quiet, Lyra asked, "Why do you call me the Red Savior? What does it mean?"
The dragon's voice grew solemn again. "The legend is ancient, even older than my kind. It spoke of a child who would come in a time of great imbalance, when the bonds between the realms of beasts and men were fraying. This child would have the power to heal not just wounds, but the rifts in the hearts of those around her."
Lyra's fingers tightened on the dragon's scales. "I'm not sure I can fix something so big."
"Perhaps not alone," the dragon said. "But your presence is the beginning of something greater. You are the spark that reignites the flame. Others will follow your light."
As they crested the final peak, the dragon's voice softened. "Look ahead, child."
Lyra lifted her gaze and gasped.
The Land of the Dragons stretched out before them; a hidden valley cradled by jagged peaks. Rivers of molten gold wove through lush forests, their glow illuminating the crystalline trees that shimmered like diamonds. Massive nests made of stone and precious metals dotted the cliffs, and the air was alive with the distant roars of other dragons.
"It's... beautiful," Lyra whispered.
The dragon's chest swelled with pride. "It is the last refuge of my kind. And now, you are welcome here."
As the dragon descended into the valley, Lyra felt a strange mix of awe and responsibility settle over her. She had entered a world few ever saw, and she knew she would leave it forever changed.