THE BRIDE OF FLAMES

IMMORTAL DRAGON: BRONZE

The wind howled across the valley, swirling around the fallen red dragon lying on the ground. Its scales still glowed faintly with the last traces of fire. Above, the victor rose into the sky like a dark shadow, letting out a cold, mocking laugh that echoed through the air. As the figure disappeared into the clouds, a sharp click broke the silence, a final sound that marked the end.

A faint glow pulsed from the chain around the sleeping Bronze Dragon’s neck. Without warning, the pocket watch snapped open with a sharp click, its bronze casing gleaming dully in the dim light. The chain trembled as if stirred by something unseen, and the watch’s hands began twisting backward, their jerky motion unsettling, like time itself was being forced to break.

From within the polished brass casing, a minuscule bronze dragon, no larger than a sparrow, unfurled its wings with a delicate rustle. His scales shimmered a bronze hue, glinting with enchantments that hid him from prying eyes, though the deep, pulsing glow of his body was enough to show the purest light.

The little creature crawled out with a languid stretch, his wings folding around him like a cloak of invisibility, his tiny claws tapping against the cold metal with a faint, melodic sound.

He paused for a moment, his black eyes scanning the horizon in rapid succession. His long, thin tail swayed nervously, and his tiny nostrils flared, testing the air. "It's the scent of burning dragon flesh"

Then he discovered it was a thick and acrid, no one would miss this disaster, not with the smoke still rising like a column from the dragon’s lifeless body.

His wings flicked, sending a ripple of magical energy through the air as he peered through the dense fog of smoke that had settled in the valley. The distant shadows of mountains loomed, dark and ominous, but there were no immediate signs of any approaching witnesses.

Still, the little bronze dragon's heart raced. "Better safe than sorry" he thought, his breath coming in quick little bursts.

He took a deep breath, and then, with a flick of his tail, he summoned the magic within him. A gust of wind erupted from his mouth... a powerful gust for such a small creature, but enough to tear through the air in a spiral, creating a small whirlwind that gathered strength. Leaves, dust, and fragments of burnt earth danced in the storm’s grip, swirling in chaotic, shifting patterns as the small hurricane took shape.

The wind shrieked around him, rising with a growl of the earth beneath as it lifted the detritus of battle into the sky. The sound was like a quiet storm, a whisper of nature's power, but to anyone who stood close enough to hear, it would have been deafening... a warning to anyone within miles of this strange, magical disturbance.

The bronze dragon smiled faintly to himself, proud of the subtlety. His task here was done. He darted into the sky, vanishing into the shadowed clouds, blending perfectly with the darkening sky as the wind continued its chaotic dance below.

The small, magical bronze dragon knew the next step. The task that lay ahead would require him to disappear into the currents of time and shadow, to shift, to change, to become a mere whisper in the grand scheme.

But for now, he could allow himself the brief satisfaction of knowing that he had averted the first great catastrophe of the day.

As the last trace of the wind died down, leaving only the faintest echo, a new quiet fell over the valley—a silence that seemed to promise something darker still was to come.

The tiny bronze dragon hovered over the fallen form of his larger companion, his wings still, the breeze from the storm dying down to an eerie stillness. The fire had been extinguished, but the warmth of the embers still clung to the air. The ground around them was scorched, a testament to the ferocity of the battle that had just taken place. Yet the dragon’s once-vibrant scales, which had glinted like polished red in the firelight, now seemed dull, tarnished by the weight of loss.

The little creature’s eyes darted over the injured red dragon’s body, his heart racing in desperate need of a solution. He placed his tiny, delicate paws on the charred skin, calling on every ounce of magic at his disposal. His wings hummed with energy, and a soft, shimmering light began to envelop his claws as he tried to channel his healing power. His tiny breath came in uneven bursts, casting blue ripples through the air, but the magic was weak. The scales of the red dragon felt cold, far colder than they should have been.

"Come on, come on," the little bronze dragon thought. "Don’t let it be too late."

He pressed harder, desperate, but the larger red dragon's pulse grew fainter by the second. His breaths—ragged, shallow—slowed to a painful rhythm, like the fading tick of a dying clock.

Then, finally, with a slow exhale that seemed to echo through the night, the dragon’s heart gave its last thump.

Silence.

The bronze dragon's little wings drooped in defeat as he bowed his head in sorrow.

Then, as though the night itself were grieving, something strange began to happen. A soft, ethereal glow—blue and otherworldly—began to pulse from the red dragon’s still form. It flickered like a tiny flame caught in the wind, its delicate light dancing in the air like a wisp of magic refusing to die. The glow, as if tethered to something far beyond the red dragon’s body, swirled in the air for a brief moment, gaining strength as it rose.

The bronze dragon’s eyes widened in realization.

"No… it’s not over"

The tiny flame shot upward, higher and higher, its glow intensifying, until it burst free of the red dragon’s body, leaving a trail of soft, glimmering light behind.

The little bronze dragon was too slow to chase after it, and in an instant, the essence was gone, slipping through the sky like a comet destined for some unknown destination. He turned his head, his heart aching with the weight of the loss, but even that light was a sign of something greater, something not yet finished.

But where could it have gone? The essence? His friend’s last breath, drawn from the soul of a creature tied to time and space in ways he could scarcely understand?

The wind picked up again, but this time it felt different. It whispered with the promise of something ancient—something beyond the dragon’s comprehension. The little beast hesitated for a moment longer, unsure whether to follow the trail of glowing essence or remain where he was. The feeling in the air was thick with anticipation, as if the world itself was holding its breath.

He glanced back at the now-empty space where his friend had once been. There was no sign of the massive red dragon.The body had vanished completely, as though it had never existed at all. The ground around him was bare, scorched, but not a trace remained of the creature who had fallen here.

As the essence floated away into the horizon, the little bronze dragon whispered a word in a tongue only known to those who existed beyond the veil of immortal time.

“I will follow…”

With a flap of his wings, he ascended into the night sky, leaving behind the charred valley, following the blue glow, knowing that this was not the end. Whatever had just happened was far from finished. Something darker, something deeper was at play, and the little bronze dragon was not about to let it slip into the shadows without finding answers.

And so, as the wind swirled around him, he disappeared into the horizon, with the last traces of blue light guiding him toward an uncertain fate, where time and essence interwined together, in a tapestry he was meant to unravel.