If my existence could be summarized, it would begin and end with the term despised.

  Perhaps other words would provide a more thorough explanation, yet they won’t carry enough importance, nor would they do me justice. Keeping it plain is, after all, what my brothers have decided on my behalf. None asked if I agreed to it. Rushing to them for such a thing to be revised would only become another lapse.

  My nature is enough of a burden to them already. No wonder why this mission has fallen upon my wings, dragging them downward with each flap. Not even Materium’s unseen hands can reach me inside this place. What surrounds me now is an unsightly beast. Discreet claws form through the darkness, sharp enough to tear my skin loose and tear me apart. These rageful clouds gaze at me. As far as my tiring eyes see there is naught but sheer darkness. Thick, spreading, devouring darkness, desiring to consume me at any moment. The glorious light of my kins’ city is a memory by now. A pleasant one. Light resides here also, but its purpose isn’t to guide me, but to deter me from advancing. It wants me to surrender to its thirsty lines that dart around me, eager to pierce my body. I evade its attacks, but for how long? Surely at one point I will fall victim and be consumed. That future is nigh.

  This darkness hides something within. At first it required me to squint, but presently it doesn’t hide anymore. Something mixes with it. Eyes of a deep red arise alongside the lightning, sending shivers through my splitting body. Storms occur wherever I lead my sight. Thrusting my head downward helps me not. Lifting it only worsens their hunger. These dark clouds of utter rage are children of chaos itself. The Jila churns around me, shadows shifting like nightmares, while the clouds change their shape and appear to be battling in hues; red against black, black against red. If they could speak, surely they would say: “Soon, you will be ours.”. Surrendering feels like the reasonable outcome of my situation. Death is, perhaps, bliss.

  Is there an outcome to all of this? Is there a practical, palpable, perceptible reason for me to be here? The Tribunal is nowhere to be seen and I doubt they will make this chaotic prison their new haven. The Jila houses nothing but a horde of salivating beasts disguised as lightning and clouds. Traversing it yields no success. I have not penetrated it and I have made no progress in uncovering the Tribunal’s whereabouts. I soar amidst the stomach of a monster and nothing can save me nor wishes to. Not my brothers. Not the beings representing the Tribunal. My kin names them creators. Creators wouldn’t curse their creations as they have done with me. They have granted my brothers such wondrous powers, yet left me a mockery, trapped between their natures and possessing no real, useful purpose. And now they have abandoned us all and left the dragons to fend for themselves against a curse that shows no sympathy, no regard for Tribunal’s children. No regard for the Materium as a whole. I don’t need the knowledge of my ancient counterparts to understand these simple analyses.

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  Voices emerge from my wings. They plead with me to return home. Each movement they make is heavy and unwilling. I don’t condemn them, just as I don’t condemn my tail and how curled it has become. I rub my limbs together, building up the necessary courage to face the consuming Jila, yet my throat is tight and my limbs tense whenever my sight picks up on new movements. Glancing back is impossible; the essence within my neck despairs at that thought. I can feel Jila’s unsatied teeth pursuing me, gnashing when I flap my wings and soar forth. Moving forward and continuing my quest are, sorrowfully, my only two choices.

  Discreet chains are hurled my way. Inevitable is the result of this mission and my made up boldness. I am trapped within this cursed place, unable to return home to my brethren, incapable of finding any trace of the Tribunal. Why would they believe they dwell here? I doubt their minds are capable of emerging with superior plans. Becoming the target of a curse cannot be an easy obstacle to overtake, especially when my poor brethren are failing in doing what they have been crafted to. Oh, how terrible their position is. Where are you, Tribunal? Why have you abandoned your glorious dragons to such a crushing defeat?

  Whatever this task will bring my kin, I will continue. Watching them perish is something my eyes cannot glimpse. I am aware of the futility of my efforts, for my existence has taught me naught besides it. Yet I have no choice but to persist. Fulfilling this mission and bringing our creators home is, hopefully, something that will cure my beautiful brethren. I persevere for their sake. Maybe this way I will make an impact on the Materium that will last forever.

  I, Khonameol, afflicted with a birthright curse distinct from what my kin is facing, will do whatever it is my essence can do to disrupt their damnation from working unrestricted.