The war between Aurora and Estera has been raging for near a millennia. On this day, it will end with a final bout, in it they will destroy each other engulfed in flames of fear and hatred. For humans fear what they can not control and hate whatever they fear.
A world born of magic, its growth has mutated it into something unrecognizable, a fusion of magic and technology, what they call science. Because of this desecration of what was once sacred, the magic has been running out for quite some time. And along with it, more than half of the indigenous species, those born more powerful were dwindling at the hands of humans who were once considered the weakest: Elfs, Fairies, Dryads, Centaurs, Sylphs, all disappearing.
And when the last of their kind dies they will just be a legend, a dream in the annals of history. The ignorant people will laugh at the young and idealistic children who believe in them, not forgotten, but certainly not remembered either, at least, not as they truly were. Even that won’t happen, that is, if nothing can stop this war, but people can change, I have seen it. I am the last of my kind, an Elder Dragon. On this day, on the last of the millennia, I take flight toward the battlefield to stop this war. I wonder if I will die. I wonder if it will mean anything. I hope it will.
Dragon's Last Dance
Author
Silver Snake
Magician of NUF|Show-off|Awkward|Genius
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