I awoke to darkness, the air thick with the scent of earth and stone. My body felt stiff, my limbs sluggish, as if I had been asleep for far too long. A dull ache sat deep in my bones, the kind that came not from injury but from sheer stillness. When I stretched, the cavern walls trembled, dust cascading from above. The sound echoed in the silence, unfamiliar and strange.
How long had I been here?
The question lodged itself in my mind, stirring something uneasy in my chest. I tried to recall the last thing I remembered.
Flying.
Wind rushing past my wings. The sky stretching endlessly, the world open and vast. My family was with me. I knew that much. I could almost hear their voices, feel their presence.
Then—
A flash of light.
Pain.
Blinding, searing, terrible. The sensation of falling, the sky ripping away from me. And then… nothing.
I sucked in a sharp breath, my chest tightening. What had happened? Where were they? My wings twitched instinctively, but the cavern was too small to spread them fully. I flexed my claws, the rough stone beneath them grounding me. I had to get out. I had to see the sky again.
A faint glow seeped through a crack in the ceiling. Moonlight. I turned toward it, my muscles protesting as I moved. With a deep breath, I braced myself and pushed against the weakened stone. The crack widened with a groan, pebbles and dirt tumbling down as fresh air rushed in. Cold, crisp, unfamiliar. With a final heave, the opening gave way, and I pulled myself up into the night.
The sky opened above me, vast and endless.
I stilled, breath catching in my throat. Stars—countless, brilliant stars—dotted the heavens like scattered gemstones. For a moment, I simply stood there, gazing upward, the cool night air wrapping around me. I had seen this sky before, but it felt different now, as if I were looking at something distant and untouchable.
A breeze stirred the treetops, rustling through the leaves in a gentle whisper. The scent of pine and damp earth filled my lungs, sharp and fresh. Slowly, I stretched, unfurling my wings to their full span, testing the stiffness in my muscles. The motion sent a shiver through me, and I arched my back, relishing the long-overdue movement.
I stretched my wings wide, letting the breeze wash over me, before lowering them and turning my gaze to my own body. My green scales shimmered in the soft moonlight, their smooth surfaces reflecting a faint, almost ethereal glow. I ran my fingers across the curved plates, inspecting each one for any sign of injury or damage. There was no discomfort, no obvious mark that suggested I had been through anything worse than the time I'd spent asleep.
But as my hand slid down my left side, something caught my attention. Just under my heart, a faint scar marred the otherwise smooth surface of my scales. It was an odd sensation, as if the wound had healed ages ago, but the memory of it lingered beneath the surface. The scar was jagged, the edges still slightly raised and darker than the surrounding green. I traced it with the tip of my claws, a shiver running down my spine.
What had happened here? Was it from the flash of light that had sent me falling from the sky? The memory was too vague to be sure, but the scar seemed to be a silent reminder of whatever had caused it.
I exhaled slowly, the weight of the discovery settling on me. I couldn't remember the cause, but the scar was proof that something had happened—something that had changed everything.
The forest loomed ahead, dark and vast, its towering trees silhouetted against the starlit sky. I turned in a slow circle, taking it all in—the open space, the untouched wilderness, the way the moonlight filtered through the leaves and dappled the ground in silver.
For now, I simply breathed.
The night stretched vast and open above me, and I had no reason to stay grounded. I crouched low, flexing my wings, feeling the familiar tension in my muscles before I leapt into the air. My wings caught the wind instantly, the updraft lifting me effortlessly. For a moment, I simply hovered, letting my body remember the motion, then with a powerful beat, I climbed higher.
The trees below stretched endlessly in every direction, a dark and endless sea of green. The forest was old—untamed, untouched. I could see no signs of roads or settlements, no lights flickering in the distance, nothing to suggest people had ever set foot here.
And yet, I knew where I was.
Not the name of this place—if it even had one—but its position. I could feel it as naturally as breathing, an instinct humming deep in my bones. North was behind me, the air colder and thin with the promise of mountains. South stretched out before me, warmer, open. And to the east, something vast and unbroken called to me, the scent of salt drifting faintly on the wind.
Hunger gnawed at me, an urgent reminder that I needed to find food. I turned southeast, following the instinctual pull of open space. My wings cut through the cool night air, carrying me swiftly over the treetops. The forest stretched on beneath me, unbroken, the canopy swaying gently in the wind.
Then, the trees ended.
The land sloped downward, giving way to rolling dunes and a vast stretch of water beyond. The ocean. It shimmered under the moonlight, its waves rolling onto the shore in a steady, rhythmic pulse. I hovered for a moment, taking in the expanse of the beach. It stretched in both directions, an endless boundary between land and sea.
To my right, the shoreline curved away, bending east before rising into cliffs. The land lifted in jagged steps, their edges weathered by time and tide, and atop them, trees clung stubbornly to the rocky surface, their roots woven deep into the stone. I followed the cliffs with my eyes as they stretched eastward—until they suddenly disappeared. The land made a sharp, unnatural turn west, as if something had carved the coastline abruptly away.
I frowned.
Something about it unsettled me, but I shook the thought aside. I had more immediate concerns.
I dipped lower, gliding down toward the water. If there were fish, I would sense them, feel the faint traces of warmth and movement beneath the waves. But as I circled lower, scanning the waters, there was… nothing. No flicker of motion beneath the surface. No sign of life at all.
I exhaled sharply, frustration creeping in. How could the ocean be empty?
Then, I felt it.
A presence—not something external, but something close. Familiar.
My mana.
It surrounded me, saturating the air, rolling in invisible waves across the land and sea. I hadn't noticed it at first, but now that I focused, it was impossible to ignore. The energy clung to everything, thick and heavy, like the lingering warmth of a fire long after the flames had died.
Had I been radiating it all this time?
The realization sent an uneasy shiver through me. During my slumber—however long it had lasted—I must have been releasing mana without restraint. Enough to seep into the very fabric of this place.
Had that driven everything away?
I inhaled slowly, then let out a long breath. It was pointless to keep searching for life. If there was anything left in this place, it had long since learned to stay far from me.
Hunger still gnawed at me, but I wouldn't find what I needed here. I turned away from the water and beat my wings once, gliding back toward the treeline. If nothing else, there had to be fruits or plants I could eat. I would find something.
I had to.