Fifty three miles above the surface the wings of Draco took flight into the night soaring well above habitable conditions for the human body, the pressure would have otherwise collapsed any lung. The thin air chill any bone to dust, however, she was all but human. Zinnia had found solace in the silence, it was within the conclave of the mesosphere she had discovered her character .Valuing her time of solitude, she placed trust in her instincts to which she had finally given in to, that was leading to her current destination.
Zinnia measured the Autumn's day, she believed it all painted in grays. The silence clears her head while it brings the chaos of her own distortions of the mind. Sobering her to back into the reality. Guided by the constellations, she knew as each minute slipped away it only brought more emotional pain. Thousands of years between, the mirror of truth reflected life in a dream- the mirage she allowed herself to believe alluded her in centuries past. Thinking back to how it used to be, she only could ponder, did anyone remember the historic times like these?
Spotted with her keen scarlet eye- Zinnia by instinct recognized the sweeping lands of fire that she had once called Heijiv -home.
Once she could have claimed she was devoted to the shared responsibility of her tribe, but the ways of behavior and the community's corruption spread like the wildfire that had incinerated the land, along with their traditions. Once heavy in culture, the only richness that remained was the soil to where the monasteries had once been. Previously she need not venture into the world's peril, everything the Draconids could possible desire was within their community. Being thrust into the peril of the world outside of her own has forced her to evolve even greater than she was trained from the expected standards of the Draconid way.
Without verbal communication, Draco understood the deepest desired that even she could not recognize lay dormant in the recesses of her heart. Often it had been advantageous in conducting successful coups, however, the incessant occupancy of another mind invading her own had built a resentment. Which in turn lead to a self hatred for harboring any ill feelings to her only loyal companion in life. Moments akin to this one, flying through the peaceful days of the night sky had eased her restless mind. Draco, with the typical words unsaid knew what to do.
Spiraling with articulate skill, the dragon swirled with precision towards their unfortunate destination. Landing with the ease of decades of experience, he reconnected with their devoured holy land once again. Hesitantly, the young woman focused her attention on the demolition and rubble of what was Meteor Falls. Its atmosphere had completely shifted-once occupied with the jubilant laughter of children, and the practiced battle cries of her proud people which had made the silence become ever-clear. Nothing was no longer needed here. Lack of noise had sapped the Falls of any life, it has become a desolate wasteland, and she couldn't feel any more ashamed. Downcast, she lowered her head, the overwhelming shame was visibly concealed by her bangs.
Paralysis had inhabited her body, the shock would have gone unnoticed if not for her precious Draco. Slowly he cocked his own head in questioning and a worried expression read as easily as a book written across his face. Expressing concern at her fragile state, he urged her with his encouragement by tenderly rubbing his head against her clenched fist.
Seething through her tense teeth, the slaughters of war had scorned deeper scars than the impressions of the meteors along the cave floor. Running her delicate fingers across the craggy rock walls, artistic expressionism conveying the rich history had been erased in just one swipe.
Reclaiming her place among the people who had in all honesty, treated her as an outcast, ironically was immeasurably valuable. Home had always been a state of mind, but what was Home when no one was left alive to share it?
Self supporting her spirit had exhausted all energy and drained her motivation to move forward. Ambition had formerly sparked her soul, and fueled her veins, but now all that remains was a bloodless vessel.
Stroking the reliefs along the stone walls, nostalgia laced it grooves and its lack of life. Once again, consumed by the regret suffocating her airways, awareness had been as blocked off as her oxygen. Emancipated by the constraints of introspection, the sound of unfamiliar foot falls had reigned in her terror. Hesitantly, the feet suddenly had a voice-
"Lorekeeper?"