I was the only one who had learned to harness the wind incarnate.
Or so I first thought.
Those creatures who were actually magnificent animals though we misinterpret their fright as hostility.
Their wings a swirl of color, claws of iron, scales of brilliance.
I have to save them, ride them, learn them.
Dragons.
The one who can control them is suddenly powerful.
I rode my mount through the winds alone, until I met him.
A youth, innocent but mature, riding a legend with jet-black wings.
He was unmasked, and I saw the fear, the shock, the wonder.
His dragon-was it a Night Fury?-looked at us, and I saw unwavering loyalty yet surprise.
The I decide to take him back to my sanctuary.
As we make the journey home, I notice his attachment to the creature, his desperation, his bond to that dragon with midnight scales and emerald eyes.
When I reached out to him, intending to knock him out for the time being, he draws back, startled, and I freeze.
His eyes are wide, frightened, and they are piercing, green, almost like his dragon's.
I looked into those dragon eyes, and I saw myself.
I say a name almost long forgotten, the name of my son.
He stares at me, a memory flickering in his face.
And then, those emerald eyes lit up.
Dragon eyes.