A wind dragon sat beside a fire dragon, both fishing near a place of their broken dreams. The two were of a young age; 19 years old for a guess. "Uhm, Ashburn? How many fishies left," the wind dragon asked. The red-scale Ashburn responded, "I really don't know. There are so many…"

"If I had the element of water, I could tell. Yet I only possess wind," the tinged-white partner told him.

"Warfang was never easy first and now we're standing on our feet as fishers," Ash gave a poignant mood to the chat. "Well, it was your choice," Storm added. "And you jumped in the bandwagon," The fire-wielder replied.

At home, the fire-breather looked at the last rays of sunlight through the windows. "It's spoken that there's a long lost place," Ashburn informed his roommate. "Wanna go swimming in the lake?" he asked Storm. "If there's more fish," Storm added, "and no childish myth hunting." "There will be riches: I mean coins and ouches," the red dragon undertook it. " Are you a kid to believe in old stories?" his friend replied. Ashburn was silent.

The fire-breather had woken up to silence. He saw the cloud-ridden sky and the first hint of daylight outside of the window. Daylight was gone and the clouds were grey. He decided to leave Storm to his sleep: Storm would never follow his quests. Ash liked to explore places and even ones that had myths. He didn't care about what Storm thought about his hobby. Ash didn't go with a cloak, despite the weather. He was going to a lake different than the ones they'd went fishing in: The lake was huge and surrounded by a mountain rise.

At the lake, Ashburn went in the water. But he wasn't a good swimmer: it wasn't a lack of skill he had, but the fact that he couldn't see under the water. He rose up to the surface for air. After a plethora of breathtaking and going back underwater, Ash still couldn't adapt underwater. It felt like chasing myths was no longer fun to Ash. No sooner he had enough time to make it back shore than he tried to return. Ash tried to swim faster. He was about to sink. He landed on a gravel beach, panting a lot. You shall never come again, Ash heard a sentence mentally. He tried to make meaning of what was said. He questioned the voice to get no answer.

Ashburn ignored the voice. It said, Your kind shall never come again. Whoever or whichever spoke to the dragon made him start to dread. You are not worthy of what comes in your path! It sounded physical this time. The fire-breather stopped in his tracks, hearing a thing being disgorged from the lake.

Ash beat his wings, trying to fly back home. The entity saying these words was getting near to him each word a time. When he reared his head, Ash was in total fear: There was a facade of a cliff with the highest height in the world. The cliff was closing in on him. Before him, there was a mountain rise. The dragon needed to raise altitude. The land mass and formations began to close into each other; they were entrapping him within. Expulsion will be our own call, out of the sacred domain and into the forbidden realms! the mystic voice echoed in the dark. The rocky walls covered the firmament. "By the ancestors, what's this trickery!" Ash riposted. Do not bother entering our world, little one! "What world!?" He cried in fear. "The gate to our sacred lands. Don't enter it!" the voice spoke. He started to rue, feeling that he should've listened to Storm.

There was a small crevice. He saw it via the sunlight coming out of it. He flew towards it. The more brightness there was, the more Ash was near the opening. The roof began to stutter and rocks fell. One landed on his head; the rays blurred, but he had to make it. The walls were collapsing down to the inner earth; He tried to maneuver through falling rocks. Making it to the crevice, he was about to be crushed inside. He felt a scrape against the scales of his left foot. Everything he could see was blurry. He yanked it out with force before the mass sank back to the ground. The fire dragon was losing air pressure. He tried to adjust his wings to glide, beating the pain. He soon did before he collided downwards. The mountainside was gone and Ash was lying on the floor. He couldn't believe that it was gone.

The next day in the morning, it was a different lake in the morning. This lake, Marodwin, had sardines with a sweet taste within their flesh. Ash and Storm were fishing in the middle of the lake. On the raft they made out of branches, there was a bucket full of sardines. They couldn't fish more due to their luck. Or maybe Ash was too focused on what happened yesterday: It felt like part of a hallucination. It's all too real to be an illusion, the red dragon thought to himself. He, adventurous in his sojourns, locked back at the lake. He looked where Storm was. Going to places deemed supernatural was now dangerous. Are spirits real? Ash questioned himself. Storm said, "Let's go back home, Mr. Go-About," cutting him off.

Ash still was thinking: How can myths be that real and dangerous? "Storm, we need to talk," Storm heard something from the said, "Just for a short moment." Storm turned his head toward Ash.

Storm: "What now?"

Ash: "Remember yesterday?"

Storm: "The past is gone. When will you learn?"

Ash: "Your actions are annoying me, time and time again. I'm not myth busting anymore. And the past is never gone."

The white dragon paused and hesitantly replied, "Not rightly timed, but I'll talk later."