Legend dictates dragons as mighty beasts, bestowed with preternatural strength of will or physical prowess. Stories describe power over the elements and metals of the earth.
Some painting them as saviors, truth-tellers, shape shifters and more.
They are all right. By my wind, it is, right.
Because.
Time… time is the dragon. The devouring endless cycle. Dragon is this zeal in my hand; dragon is the sand in this vessel I hold, and also out in the waiting wastes.
This is true. But it doesn’t matter. Rival the tears of dragons.
Search the battlegrounds. Believe me.
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Source of worry or just a fool rambling about a past, that withheld? Why are his eyes sometimes blue, sometimes green?