--The Night of the Dragon--
The moon was slowly waning into nothingness amidst the heavy darkness of the starless sky. Deep among the shadows that littered the earth far below, there echoed a mournful cry. It was the night of the Dragon, that lonely night when all turned to the moon for their light, only this night she was failing them.
Xorbinth’s cry trailed off as he gazed, unbelieving, watching the last sliver of the beautiful moon hide behind a cloud. With her disappearance, all hope vanished. The young blood-red dragon kneaded the earth with his claws, churning it into mud. His huge wings unfurled as anger and despair welled up inside him, leaving behind a blank emptiness that he could not fill.
Jovann would be watching, Xorbinth knew. Somewhere, beneath a tree, he would be standing, a cup of cold coffee in his hand and a sinister smile spreading over his face. He was the enemy of all dragons and by this cruel act he was merely fueling the fire. If he could control the moon, then he could control and possibly destroy the dragons.
The winter night was chilling and a few tiny snow flakes were beginning to fall, but Xorbinth’s heart was warming with the hatred he felt for his enemy. He looked up again and the sky was like a dark mirror, showing him exactly what he was. A spark of hope and joy sprang up in his breast and Xorbinth launched himself into the air. He would save the moon.