The Glass Siren

There weren't always dragons in the Valley. Long ago, before the Sun was extinguished and the Valleys discarded by filth, there were Humans. A race of no particular talent or skill, the Humans were a greedy and destructive race, whose feet trudged loudly over that which the Earth had given them. When thousands of years had passed, the Earth became uninhabitable, and the Humans became extinct. The Earth, which was no longer known as Earth, was renamed. When the first of the creatures pulled its head from a pile of ash, Crepegrum was born.

Over time, the Dragons built themselves from fire. It began with an egg, formed from the disintegrated wreckage the Humans left behind, tended to by a Phoenix that rose from its ashes. It was rather bizarre, the ways the which the Earth rebuilt itself after being destroyed. The Phoenix brought birth to the Dragon, which brought birth to another. When hundreds of years had passed, the once-lively homeland of the deadliest disease became once again lively.

There weren't always dragons in the Valley- but there was always life, brought forth by one creature or another, in ways the Human race could never have sustained. The dragons, who lived at the peaks of the Valleys, became tamed, vivacious companions for the new race of Humans that rose from the rubble. They were Humans of wisdom and wit, more advanced than any Human had been before them - and they thrived. For when one race became weakened by the dust and the disease, another race rebuilt itself. When the Dragons, whose voices could be heard across all of the land, prepared for a fight, the Humans of the Future never dared let them fight alone.

Seren Cross, a witty and resourceful witch, was always the last to arrive. The Circle spread across the graveyard which housed the remains of the Past, guarded by the granddaughters of the witches who couldn't be burned. Seren Cross was a woman of eighteen, the most recent Witch in a long line of Witches, whose red hair could be seen at nighttime from atop a Dragon's back. Not all dragons could be tamed. Not all witches held the secret to being a tamer.

"I apologize, my Lady," said Seren to the Witchiest Woman, to whom she owed her knowledge. "I became rather distraught during my afternoon tea, which is rather unusual for me. I'm afraid I needed to take a moment to compose myself."

It was nearly time for the Initiation, a practice for all young Witches. When a Witch came of age, she was subjected to a rather rigorous test of wits, eager to prove herself to the High Priestess, who was a stern woman. Seren, at the time of her Initiation, would have but one objective - to prove herself as a Witch. The Initiation was the biggest day of any new Witch's life. Seren had met many a woman who quivered before the Priestess. Seren vowed to be better than them.

The Priestess was a Witch named Nova Nightshade, the eldest of the Coven. Cursed at a young age, Nova lived inside the body of a child, though she was Elderly. The Curse of a Dark Witch could never be undone by a White Witch - though many had tried. Nova lifted a hand, bidding Seren and her Sisters good morrow, and spoke in a booming voice.

"Do not fret, my Child. The Night of the Fall is dawning, leaving even the bravest souls quaking in their leather-buckled boots. It would be quite unusual for a young Witch to remain at ease during such a time."

Seren took her spot in the Circle, among Aenwyn and Bluebell, Witches of similar age. Both had, in past years, been victim to the Fall. Overhead, a Dragon swooped, flicking her tail with the speed of a thousand winds. "Sisters," said Seren, her arms stretched to the skies, "I beg you - do not become lost in battle."

The Night of the Fall remained, through the years, the most frightening of all the nights. It was a race war, bound by blood and valor, leaving the weak dead and the powerful in triumph. To neglect the Night of the Fall was to neglect one's duty as a Citizen, and therefore, to neglect the Highest Elves. Seren had met the Elves, once. No one spoke of them. Certainly, no one dared look an Elf in the eye whilst speaking.

When a Dragon roared, all of the land shook. When a Dragon slept, all of the land slept too.

On the highest peak of the nation, above Valleys and Plains, a Vampyre feasted on the blood of a Witch. Dex Lafayette, the most ancient of the Vampyre-folk, could slay a Dragon in the blink of an eye. With skin that nearly froze a Witch with a touch, and teeth that pierced the hardest of hides, Dex was not a creature to befriend. A Vampyre made a terrible friend.

When a Dragon roared, most cowered in its sight. When the Dragon swished her tail of spikes, Dex bit easily into her armoured neck, to feast until he was filled.

A chill came over the land. It was a chill that buckled the knees of the Mortals, leaving their bodies on edge. The first of the dragons, Drayce Fury, whose claws were made of ice, had frozen many a Mortal, and would freeze many more. She roared, swinging the spikes of her tail through the air, breaking free from the Vampyre's fated fangs.

In the cemetery, the Witches chanted - their voices rising high into the skies. It was time.

Crepegrum was a fiery place, ruled by ancient Elves and Dragons, far too hot for any Human to survive. Some had tried. All had perished, swept into dust with the rest. "Come, Eagon," said Seren, and the Dragon came. He was a yellow Dragon, scaly, who overpowered his prey by hypnotizing them. Seren was a Dragon-Trainer, the second in the history of the land.

Sometimes, a Mortal would mate with an Immortal. This was uncommon, as Crepegrum was a prideful and egoist nation; such matings were always done in secret. The offsprings of such pairings were considered strange, and they were feared. Seren was one such offspring. The daughter of a Witch and a Vampyre, she aged much more slowly than her fellow Witches, and she possessed powers no Mortal could fathom.

Nova lifted her dark, freckled hands. "The Night of the Fall is upon us. Sisters, may the Keres be with you."

The war cry of a Phoenix could be heard across all the land. From the highest peaks of the Mountains to the deepest depths of the Seas, the creatures of Crepegrum gathered to prove themselves worthy to the Elves. The land was dark, an eerie fog spreading across the cemetery.

It was a battle of wits and strength, clearing out the weakest of the land so that the strong could reproduce. For, according to the Elves, to be weak was to be a dishonor. Seren had been training since girlhood, and was eager for the Night. At eighteen, one became Grown, and the Grown were required to show themselves in battle.

The Night always left a mess in its wake: bodies of the vulnerable scattered alongside the stones of the cemetery. It was a suitable place for the bodies to fall. Most of the Grown fell on their first battle, but Seren was skilled, and she dodged the attacks of her enemies with ease. A being of her species was called a Llewel, and a Llewel was mighty.

Seren's mother had been slain on a Night many years before, when Seren was merely a girl. Her father, who lived among the Vampyres at the uppermost peaks of Crepegrum, stood across from her in battle.

"Eagon, Lurch."

It was easy for a Dragon to kill a Mortal. Eagon, who was middle-aged in Dragon years, swept over the fallen with his mighty clawed feet, capturing the mind of Dark Witches with his eyes. The Dark Witch had eyes of green, a wand of aspen wood, and turned on the other quickly, Eagon's purple eyes perusing hers.

"It is fate," said Seren. Climbing atop the powerful back of Eagon, she waved a pointed hand, fleeing with the Dragon into the skies. As the dark moon blanketed the land, Seren soared off, her long red hair swooping out behind her as she flew.