ORIGIN

He'd spent his first cycle and a half in Fornax--learning to fly, to hunt. He'd gathered shiny stones, and come to enjoy soaring on the warm updrafts of the cave. But the ice dragon Asimona had fascinated him, and he wondered what else might lie beyond the warmth of his birth-cave.

Now, the young dragon--coal-black in scale, leathery skin pink-brown where light shone through the thinner membranes--was clambering into the icy tunnel that led out of the cave. His frame was only the size of that of a medium-sized dog, but he'd already found that his wings were wide enough to make traversing the narrow tunnel difficult. A faint sense of claustrophobia took him now and again--let alone the cold, which left him shivering.

Why so cold? he thought to himself in a confused way. His language wasn't quite fully developed, but the concept--the fact that it was bitter, ice-cold here, compared to Fornax's warmth--was clear.

For a moment, Dread paused on an outcropping of ice, peering down at the vast tunnel stretching out far into the distance. It was full of jumbled snow and stone, and some distant instinct screamed at him, "too high." But he had no idea what to make of this, and so he began to slowly continue downward.

He tried to call on his fire, to warm him, but nothing happened. He huddled down for a moment, again shivering, peering at his misty breath in the air--then crawled further down into the icy depths.

As he clambered along he found himself growing colder and colder. He wondered, at length, just how long this tunnel was. Maybe it was never-ending? Maybe this was the rest of the cave? Just ice, and snow, stretching on and on forever?

Now and again he spread his wings, taking short flights--but twice he careened off the rock walls, and each time he did so, anyway, the bitter cold lanced over his thinly-membraned wings.

Too cold.

At last he turned, shivering too hard to focus very much, and felt the heat well up within him. Good. Heat, now. Good. It plumed forth in shimmering air, and for just that blessed moment, the area just around the young dragon warmed.

He bathed in it, relieved if even temporarily, feeling his blood quickly heat.

Good. Yes. Too cold. Too cold. Good. Warm.

Wings spread, and cold wind billowed. He drifted down, careful, shaking to and fro rapidly as he tried to stabilize his descent as so not to slam into any of the walls or jagged outcroppings.

He managed-... Mostly.

At length he landed again--but again, the cold was taking its toll. With a huff and a hiss he turned, glaring with ember eyes at the icy walls. With a deep inhale he felt the fire building--and then the cold, the shock of cold air in his lungs, had him coughing. His jaws snapped shut just as the fire burst forth, searing jaws and tongue and sending him screeching in pain, flailing across the breadth of the tunnel. Eyes squeezed closed he thrashed, tail lashing sharply over the rock and knocking ice into a cascade behind him, feet slipping and tearing over the hard-packed snow, wings battering frantically as the heat ripped a shard of agonizing pain through his mind.

He screamed, and screamed, and then plunged his face into the cold of the snow, and fell silent, dazed and panting. Finally he was grateful for its bite--its cold--but now he lay shivering, smoke twisting up from his nostrils, startled by the sheer pain that his own magic could cause.

The scent and taste of burned flesh lingered in the air.

Trembling, the dragon lay there, half in-shock as the pain--and most of his mind--faded into a weak, stunned blankness.

It was some time before Dread felt well enough to move again, and even then the pain in his seared maw was excruciating. He trembled and shivered, trying to swallow, squeezing his eyes shut. Once again he tried to focus on his magic--this time fearfully, tentatively, trying only to warm himself once more.

The warmth blossomed around him beautifully, the bitter cold turning into a shimmering heat that soon had his wings slowly drooping, relaxing from their tight and shivering position around his torso. He basked in this, for a time, content in the feeling of tropical, balmy heat, reminded of the home he'd only just left behind. It was a far cry from the icy shivering in the rest of the tunnel, that much was for sure.

Why not go back..? He could. He could turn back, now, crawl back to Fornax, back the way he came-...

Dread turned, peering up the long stretch of cold and jagged ice, and huffed. No, he thought, simply. No; he would press on, he wasn't about to not only turn tail and retreat but also have to fight his way all the way back up. He would continue on, and see where this tunnel took him.

At length he hauled himself up, the air remaining warm in a neat pocket around his dark scales as he headed further along. He felt swaddled, embraced, content--so much so that he nearly even forgot the pain in his poor mouth.

Dread spread his wings and leapt outward, forgetting for now the pain in his mouth, and instead focusing on the warmth that shrouded him. Billowing cold caught and bit at him, but he tried to focus on maintaining that heat as he descended, unsteadily weaving to and fro as he drifted further down the tunnel.

It worked, at least; he could feel the faint heat cloaking him, protecting him from the bitter cold as he glided downward. He watched the rocks and snow flashing below, a bit too fast for his tastes.

The icy air didn't catch his wings the way Fornax's warm, billowing updrafts did; rather than effortlessly soaring skyward, he was having to work his wings just to keep from plummeting too fast. This was new to him. With a hiss he banked, barbed tail lashing, striking ice as he miscalculated his turn. He "stumbled" midair and nearly fell from the sky, a wing bashing off an outcropping (luckily not too hard) as his body turned. He caught himself with frantic flaps of the other forelimb, and lowered himself back down, panting, to the ground. His landing was a rough slide, but he didn't fall, at least--so that was something.

Dread caught his breath, and then paused to peer ahead. Ember-colored eyes squinted through the icy haze and he squinted.

He could see--something! An end to the tunnel, perhaps; a something ahead, something darker, and yawning.

Good. It was time to explore further, then.

There it was. A narrow gap of a tunnel, thin beams of silver light illuminating the rocky pathway of snow and ice. Cautious, Dread dragged himself forward, and carefully began to investigate.

Ahead, it smelled... drier, somehow. Less moist, more musty, or dusty? Rocky, almost lifeless. He wasn't sure it'd be a good place to live--not compared to Fornax; and he spared a glance back up at the long, narrow climbing path he'd taken to get down. It wouldn't be easy to get back up, again, not even with his wings. He turned his gaze ahead, instead.

Perhaps, at least, he would find something shiny here. Hopefully there would still be food to be had--rats, or fish. Hopefully there was even water.

He narrowed his eyes to peer ahead, a faint shimmer glowing briefly over them as his magicka flickered up to help him see. There were stones... dark stones; as he crept forward he could see that the way ahead opened into a vast, dark cave much unlike Fornax. Rather than wide expanses of glittering water, there was a place of dark rock and faint points of violet-white light all along the roof.

With widened eyes the dragon crawled more quickly inside, ready to take flight.