Silver

There weren't always dragons in the Valley. There had never been. It was the Eve of Talock, and Cliff Arhdou had one last load of firewood to deliver before he could join the celebrations. The forest opened up before him, and the hum of his Kei-truck was quiet as it ran over the foliage. He glanced around the hinterland, breathing in the scent of pine. The breeze that brushed past his window came with nostaglia of old children's tales and working at his grandfathers shrine. Memories that had long since faded. There was an abrupt jolt that pulled him out his stupor, the impact creating throbs in the base of his neck, and he blinked rapidly, trying to clear his vision. Black spots swirled, and he felt fingers of nausea caress their way up to his throat. Clamoring out of the vehicle, he swiped the remains of breakfast off his lips and steadied himself on the door as he looked above himself; his eyes were met by a mass of flesh, its long neck twisted in an unnatural manner, and its eyes remained opened and lifeless.

Dragons. He thought, the realization echoing in his head and adding to the already dulling ache. The sight alone sent his body rigid, worried about how he would haul firewood over the Markson's cottage with a body of a dead dragon in front of him. He leveled his eyes at the creature in front of him, baffled by the sheer size. It flattened the trees around it, the pines poking at weird angles as if it was an egg in a bed of feathers. If this one is dead… what killed it? He pondered. Regret swiftly filled his body as a roar shook the air, causing his gaze to jolt up. There, another dragon flew above, circling as if preying on something with blood dripping from its snarl. He couldn't help but think he had more significant problems than Ellaria Markson yelling his ear off about late delivery in all his confusion. Winter was coming, and the loads were running sparse.

He pondered for a moment, wondering if anyone else could see the dragon flying above. Its wings created a pulse in the air and a breeze below; even the trees swayed contented as though they'd been spared by the body, and we're basking in a summer's embrace. Feeling returned into his limbs as he crept back into the cabin of his truck. Hunching his body behind the driver's wheel, which now sat at an odd angle because of the crash. If it had seen him, he didn't want to know. Instead, he patted his pockets, frantically searching for his communication device. There was no service in this part of the Vale, and transporters primarily relied on frequency stones to help them connect to dispatch. He'd been lucky it survived the crash uncracked, thanking the Seven as he dialed the emergency line. Not before a few long breaths, a voice broke through—" Cliff, Cliff Arhdou, ID# 1667563, requesting emergency transport. Can you hear me?" He switched from looking at the device to pushing it next to his ear as if to aid with the transmission.

"Cliff Arhdou ID# 1667563, what is your location?" A dispatcher's static voice inquired. He looked for landmarks, anything other than the two dragons surrounding him. "I-I'm not sure. I crashed or got hit? Either way, there's a dragon's body in front of me. Please send it back up. Immediately." There was gentle desperation to his whispers, an uneasiness in his chest.

"A Dragon?" Disbelief tinged her voice, and he sighed, running his fingers through his hair to calm himself. "Yes. A Dragon. I know how crazy this sounds, but there's another flying above, and I just need to get out of here. Please, please use my location. I didn't hit my head, I didn't break bones, I'm lucid and terrified." He breathed out. Another roar vibrated the air, and the dispatcher went silent.

"I'm looking for your frequency right now. Stay. Put." She gently urged, whispering as if the dragon would hear her. Her voice was unsettling, an edge that unsettled him further. Time didn't move, as if it too had frozen in the presence of ancient beasts. He waited and waited with bated breath, crunched into the corner of his truck, staring at the body in front of him.

"Cliff? Cliff, are you still there?" Her hushed voice came fast and anxious. "Yes. Yes, I am." He replied,

"We found your location. We're setting up a portal and sending in the military brigade. Stay where you are. Somehow you were transported near a Gap. May the Seven be with you." He froze. A Gap? How did he end up here?

That's when he felt it. A woman appeared among the tree trunks as if she'd watched him this whole time. There was no godly air around her, no dramatic aura to announce her entrance, just a quietness that agitated one's senses. The dragon flying above descended, the gush of wind throttling the vehicle. She had silk black hair with olive skin and delicate features, her eyes a silver sheen. The white robes that wrapped her body were glistening in the sun's rays, but her hand looked frail as it reached out toward the creature.

Her silhouette looked familiar, and he searched through memories trying to place every history class he'd been forced to take in school and every painting he'd seen in the Temple. She didn't belong to the Seven… did she? His eyes shook as he recalled a vague image of her, a discarded painting buried in the catacombs of his grandfather's shrine. Hura. The Mother of Threads and Time, the tale was spotty in his memories, but he knew her appearance meant nothing good. The forest had gone quiet. The dragon held still in the air, and Cliff waited for the portal to reach him with trepidation, praying they'd arrive sooner rather than later.

She regarded him for a second, her white robes rustling in the wind as her child nestled behind her, its eye alone dwarfing her frame. She shushed her child and whispered words of comfort, the language not registering in his ears. The louder she spoke, the more the intense ringing amped up, leaving a trail of blood down the sides of his ears. All it took was a blink, and they'd both vanished. Time resumed, and the energy thrummed back into the forest; birds chirped, the trees left undisturbed as if a body hadn't crashed into them. His truck still damaged from impact. He released a breath he didn't know he was holding and felt his limbs weaken. A portal flashed ahead as soldiers in uniform poured out, medics running towards him. The night of Seven Moons was here.