My name is Ether, though your books will call me the Grey Ghost, The Plague, The Cloud. But whatever you call me, I am dead. That I am sure of. I was a monster before I was put down, a mindless brute—a tool for a friend, a brother.

But before we get to that, you should hear my beginning, and I ask you not to judge me too harshly.

I was born in the great city of Warfang, dragon capital of Avalar. I was born in the year of the dragon, a special year that only occurs every twelve. The last purple dragon had died nearly a decade before. The clutch I was laid with—not brothers and sisters, you see, just placement—would grow to be my best friends.

I was born into a strange world—one without war—just watching as the world went on. It seems like a unique time. It was a unique time. But as I was saying, I was born in a clutch of three. Three dragons...well, two dragons and one dragoness.

Blackout, the purple dragon of our time, was my hatchmate and best friend. Keira was an ice dragoness with a heart of gold—and my future mate. And then there was me.

The most remarkable thing about me was how unremarkable I was. I was born without a bladed tail, without coloured scales. I was born a grey dragon. A dragon nearly as rare as the Purple.

As we grew up we grew so much closer, like a family. We never knew our parents, thanks to that damn tradition disallowing parents to know their children. That tradition was as stupid as I'd ever heard, but the elders enforced it.

Blackout grew stronger, more powerful, and much larger than myself or Keira. He mastered elements—Fire, Ice, Earth and Lightning—faster than any single dragon mastered their native element. The elders called him a prodigy. How little they knew.

Keira grew into a lean, beautiful dragoness. Her scales seemed to shine like diamonds in the light. Her power over ice seemed supernatural. She loved making things out of ice; flowers, sculptures, patches for Blackout and I to slip on... She grew to be just smaller than myself. At one point I took it as a badge of shame, being nearly as small as a dragoness. But later I held it as a badge of honour.

As for myself, as I already said I was much smaller than Blackout, and only a bit bigger than Keira. My wings were unique, one of the elders said. They weren't the typical huge wings of a dragon, but long and thin. They made for high speeds, and I could fly damn fast. Only lightning dragons could match me in the air.

But the strangest thing about me was what I could do. Greys aren't supposed to have any powers. But I could...turn into ash. The first time it happened, I was about to smash into a wall at high speed—scared my friends and myself to death. But it probably saved me. As time went on, I learned to shape my ash form into walls, whips, and suffocating fog.

Two decades after we had hatched, Blackout and I were heroes of our age. War after war had broken out with the cats of the land. Long, bloody wars that lost us many friends...on both sides. Blackout had had enough. He unleashed the ultimate power a purple dragon could use—fury, pure and cruel. It…levelled the battlefield, saved Warfang, and nearly destroyed the cat clans. After half a decade of fighting, the war was over. But our own fight had only just begun.

As we returned, the elders decided that we should be hailed as heroes, but neither he nor I saw us in that light. We were murderers, fighting against beings with less power than us. But we attended the ceremony in glistening armour and gems. Blackout had managed to plan it out so Keira would be with me. A plan I thanked him greatly for later.

A year later, I was a father. The elders and their stupid tradition be damned, we kept our son and he grew with a family. Jeni was his name. My pride—a strong ice dragon just like his mother. That day, things changed…in the worst of ways.

Blackout took me outside of Warfang to a place where magic floated freely in the air. He looked...different—darker. His scales had become a deeper shade of purple, nearly black. He told me of things that scared me and still do. He needed Warfang destroyed. And he needed me to do it.

Before I could act, a beam of energy shot into my body, growing my form into that of his... Empowering me, putting me completely under his control. I was sent to Warfang with an army of his minions—apes, if I remember correctly.

Keira was there to stop me... She couldn't.

She died that day by my paw, and Warfang fell. My essence filled the city in a suffocating fog of ash. Dragons, hatchlings, it didn't matter—I had no mercy. The city died in the most terrifying way possible.

And Blackout loved it.

I was sent out to conquer the northern regions of Avalar and left a path of destruction wherever I went. But my fate was catching up to me, and it finally caught me in the mountains. My friends—Blizzard, Valter, mates and warriors—struck me down like the beast I was. With thunder and ice I was killed and buried in those mountains, struck down by two of my closest friends.

My story ended that day, or so I thought.

"Ether, wake up!"