Some background information before we get to the main reason of this post:
A few years ago I joined a Discord server, The Celestial Spire, that has since became a home among my own kind. In celebration of the server’s 6 years anniversary, I have written the following.
A tale woven in honour of The Spire and all that it stands for, told through the eyes of a dragonkin who once strayed from her true nature. For a decade, she turned away from her draconity, setting her wings aside to walk solely in human footsteps, believing that only by fully embracing that life could she find success, purpose, and belonging. But as the years passed, an emptiness grew within her, a quiet ache that no achievement could ease.
It was only when she dared to look inward, to face the part of herself she had cast into shadow, that she began to understand—peace would not come from denying who she was, but from embracing it. And so, her journey led her back to the sky, back to the echoes of wings long silenced, and finally, to The Spire—a beacon of belonging, a sanctuary for souls like hers. Among kindred spirits, she rediscovers not just what it means to be a dragon, but what it means to be whole. This is that story…
For ten long years, the world had turned without her. Seasons had shifted, winds had whispered secrets across the land, and yet Akir’Ischa had remained still, buried in the silence of her cavern. Time had settled over her like the weight of the mountains themselves, pressing down with a quiet insistence, threatening to erode even the fire that once burned in her core.
She had always been a creature of motion, of power, of life. A dragon whose presence rippled through the skies like a storm. But here, in the depths of her self-imposed solitude, even her own heartbeat had become an echo, distant and unfamiliar.
A slow stir, a twitch of muscle long unused. The ancient stillness cracked as she shifted, dust spilling from her scales like forgotten ash from a dying flame. Her talons scraped against the stone beneath her, a sharp, grating sound that sent small tremors through the cavern floor. She inhaled deeply, filling her lungs with the stale air, tasting the age that had settled within these walls.
And then, she exhaled. A low, rumbling breath that stirred the dust into motion, chasing the lingering stillness away. The time for slumber was over. The world had turned without her for too long. Now, it was time to rise.
For a moment, she hesitated.
A decade of stillness clung to her like frost, whispering that it would be easier to remain where she was—buried in the quiet, swallowed by the dark. But no. She would not let the shadows keep her any longer.
Another slow, measured inhale. Then, with a force of will as fierce as the fire in her veins, she opened her eyes. Amber irises burned against the blackness, twin embers cutting through the gloom like molten gold. The cavern around her was nothing more than a hollow void, a place she had retreated to when the weight of the world had become too much. But now, all she saw was how empty it was—empty of life, empty of warmth, empty of the dragon she once had been.
She uncurled with deliberate slowness, aching muscles protesting after years of stillness. Dust cascaded from her wings as she stretched them wide. The weight of solitude had dulled her, eroded her sense of self, but as the cold stone met the press of her talons, a realization struck her deep, sinking into the marrow of her bones.
She was alone.
Not just here, in this cavern of silence, but within herself. She had neglected who she was, allowed time and doubt to smother the flames of her being. The fire that had once been an unrelenting inferno was now little more than dying embers, the essence of her purpose reduced to a whisper.
But a dragon does not wither into nothingness. A dragon does not surrender to the dark.
Not her.
Not Akir’Ischa.
Slowly, she unfurled her long limbs, feeling the stiffness melt away with each careful stretch. Her talons flexed, scraping against the stone floor as sensation and strength returned, a long-dormant power awakening beneath her obsidian scales. She shifted her weight, testing muscles long unused, then placed one talon forward—then another. The echoes of her steps reverberated through the cavern, a quiet reminder that she was moving again, alive again.
Ahead, a sliver of light spilled through the entrance, a piercing contrast to the deep shadows of her self-imposed prison. As she stepped closer, the glow intensified, until it was nearly blinding. She paused at the threshold, blinking rapidly, her pupils shrinking against the sudden brilliance.
The world awaited her.
Before her stretched a vast expanse of land, wild and unbroken, untouched by her presence for far too long. Rolling hills and thick forests sprawled beneath an endless sky, rivers winding like silver veins through the earth. The wind carried the scent of pine, damp soil, and distant prey—scents she had once known intimately, but now felt almost foreign. Something deep within her stirred, a pulse of longing and recognition, an ache for the life she had left behind.
She had forgotten.
Forgotten the rush of the open sky, the pulse of the hunt, the sheer exhilaration of existing as a dragon.
The air hummed with life, carrying whispers of everything she had once been. She could feel it calling to her, urging her forward, begging her to take back what was hers. With a deep, rolling breath, she shook herself, sending a cascade of dust spiraling from her scales. Then, with deliberate slowness, she spread her wings.
The vast membranes unfurled, stretching toward the sun, catching the golden light like a beacon. Every fiber of them ached to move, to carve through the sky once more. The wind curled around her, familiar and eager, slipping beneath her wings like an old friend ready to carry her aloft.
She would not hesitate any longer.
With a mighty leap, she surged into the open sky, talons leaving the earth behind as her wings carved through the crisp air. The first few beats were heavy, muscles burning with the effort of shaking off a decade of stillness, but the pain was welcome—it meant she was alive. She climbed higher, the earth growing small beneath her, the weight of lost time slipping further away with every powerful stroke.
The slumbering dragon had awakened.
She would not allow herself to be lost again.
The wind rushed against her, curling around her horns and gliding over her sleek scales like a long-forgotten embrace. The updrafts carried her effortlessly, filling her lungs with air so sharp and clean it almost stung. Every current, every gust, every whisper of the sky felt like a long-lost memory returning to her, pushing her forward, urging her to seek.
So she did.
Her journey carried her far and wide, beyond the lands she had once called home. Mountains stood like eternal sentinels, their jagged peaks dusted with snow, and she skimmed their ridges with the grace of a shadow. She hunted beneath the fierce light of the sun, feeling the raw thrill of the chase return to her, and she rested beneath the vast expanse of the stars, their distant glow reminding her how small she was in the grand weave of existence.
But always, beneath it all, there was an ache—an emptiness in the spaces where kin should be. Were there others? Did dragons still weave across the heavens, their wings painting stories against the sky? Or had she awoken to a world where her kind had faded into myth, swallowed by time while she had slept?
She sought familiar places, the lands where dragons had once ruled, where their roars had once shaken the heavens. Valleys that had echoed with the sound of wings lay barren now, silent in their mourning. Caves where firelight had flickered against smooth stone stood cold and abandoned. She called out, her voice rolling like thunder across the land, but only the wind howled back.
The world had moved on.
But she would not be left behind.
Lifting her gaze beyond the lands she had once known, she turned toward the horizon, where the sky bled into eternity, where the unknown beckoned with open arms. The winds whispered secrets of distant lands, and she listened.
With a powerful surge of her wings, she left the past behind and flew toward the future.
Then, she saw it.
A towering Spire, rising from the earth like the spine of the world itself, piercing the heavens with unyielding grace. It stood proud and unwavering, as if it had always been there, waiting, calling. The stone shimmered beneath the celestial sky, kissed by hues of twilight and the last embers of the sun. But it was not its sheer size, nor its ancient presence, that made Akir’Ischa’s breath catch in her throat.
It was the life that surrounded it. Dragons.
Her kind.
Their forms moved like living constellations against the sky, wings glinting in the light, their calls weaving through the air like a song carried on the wind. Some perched on the Spire’s jagged ledges, basking in the fading warmth of the sun. Others soared in effortless arcs, their scales flashing brilliant colours as they twisted and danced together in unbridled freedom.
For a moment, she could only watch, unable to look away. It had been so long—so terribly long—since she had last seen another of her kind. She had almost forgotten what it was like to witness such majesty, to feel the presence of those who understood the fire in her veins, the call of the sky, the silent weight of wisdom that came with being what they were. And yet, here they were. Living. Laughing. Existing.
She felt their voices before she truly heard them—rolling through the air in deep, sonorous tones, curling into the wind with laughter, quiet conversations, the occasional playful growl. The sound wrapped around her like a forgotten melody, something that had once been part of her soul but had faded in the silence of solitude.
A strange, unfamiliar warmth bloomed in her chest.
Belonging.
She hesitated, hovering just beyond the edge of this sanctuary. The sky was still hers, the wind still carried her as it always had—but for the first time in a decade, she wondered if she had found somewhere to land.
Would they accept her?
Could she belong here?
Could she allow herself to?
Doubt coiled around the edges of her mind, whispering of the years she had lost, of the distance she had placed between herself and what she was meant to be. But before it could take root, one of the dragons below turned their gaze upward. Their eyes met hers—a silent moment stretched between them, heavy with unspoken understanding. And then, with an easy flick of their tail, they beckoned. An invitation. The final piece of hesitation crumbled.
With a slow, deliberate breath, Akir’Ischa angled her wings and descended, talons touching down upon the Spire’s ancient stone.
At first, she lingered on the edges, a silent observer in the presence of those who had long embraced what she had forsaken. She listened as dragons spoke—not just of flight and flame, but of dreams, of knowledge, of companionship. Their words were more than idle chatter; they wove together like strands in a great tapestry, each voice adding to something greater than itself.
They shared ideas, lifting one another higher with encouragement and understanding. They built together, laughed together, challenged each other, and grew stronger for it. She watched from the shadows, relearning what it meant to belong—not just to a place, but to a people.
Yet even as she observed, something inside her stirred. A quiet yearning, an ember rekindled. Slowly, cautiously, she edged closer.
At first, it was a simple word here, a comment there. Then a chuckle at a shared joke, an insight added to an unfolding discussion. Before she knew it, she was speaking, laughing, sharing pieces of herself she had never before put into words. Conversations stretched deep into the night, each one unlocking doors within her she had long believed sealed. For so long, she had believed strength lay in solitude. That to endure was to do so alone. But here, among her kin, she saw a truth she had once known but forgotten.
There is no life in solitude’s grasp,
No fire in slumber’s embrace.
A dragon’s soul is a tempest untamed,
Meant to roam, to rise, to blaze.
Through kinship, through laughter, through bonds ever strong,
We weave our essence, we forge where we stand.
For a dragon alone may shine like a star,
But together, we light up the land.
As the days turned to moons, Akir’Ischa’s presence within the Spire grew. And with every day, so did her desire to contribute.
She spoke of the world before, of the vast skies she had once ruled, of the prey she had chased and the winds that had carried her. She listened to the tales of others—dragons who had walked different paths, seen different horizons, carried different burdens. They shared their joys and sorrows alike, and through them, she found new ways to understand not only them but herself.
She learned their stories, their jokes, the moments of solemn wisdom and the moments of pure draconic chaos. She lent her voice to conversations that stretched beyond the surface, delving into the depths of thought and feeling. She laughed in the Spire’s grand halls and lounged in its dungeon, revelling in the simple joy of existence as a dragon once more. And with each passing moment, the Spire became more than just a gathering place.
It became a purpose.
She built alongside them, welcomed wandering souls with a knowing smile, guided those who had just awakened to their truth, just as she had once hesitated to embrace her own. And in time, she became more than just a voice among them. She became a protector of the Spire, a guardian for those who sought refuge within its stone and sky. With keen eyes and a steady heart, she stood to ensure that every dragon within its embrace thrived.
She had found something here—something far greater than a mere place to land. She had found a home.
It was here, amidst the glow of this newfound family, that she discovered something even greater. Something she had not sought, yet had found her all the same.
Unexpected. Unbidden. But deeply, profoundly real. Love.
It came not with a roar but a whisper, not with a sudden strike but a slow and steady warmth, seeping into her very bones. In his presence, she felt the ease of understanding that required no words, the comfort of knowing she was seen not just as she appeared but as she truly was. He was her sun, radiant and unwavering, illuminating even the darkest corners of her soul. And she, his stars, the quiet brilliance that danced within his night.
She had never imagined such a bond, yet here it was—undeniable, unshakable, as vast and eternal as the sky itself.
Yet love was not the only treasure that can be found here.
The Spire was more than stone and sky, more than a mere gathering of scales and wings. It was a sanctuary, a place where dragons of all kinds could find refuge in each other. It was a home not made of walls but of voices, laughter, and shared understanding. Here, she did not have to explain herself, did not have to defend the fire that burned within her. Here, we all knew.
There was a power in that.
In a world where the song of dragons was often drowned beneath the weight of human lives, the Spire stands as a beacon, a reminder that we are not alone. Scattered across the lands, separated by vast distances, yet bound together in ways far greater than mere proximity. We speak to dragons from places we have never seen, shared in their joys and their sorrows, traded knowledge that stretched across lifetimes. There were moments of great wisdom, of deep introspection that lasted long into the night—but just as often, there was the pure, simple joy of being. The chaos of playful banter, the silliness of shared jokes, the warmth of a friend’s presence even when the skies grew stormy.
It was not just a refuge. It was a bond.
A place where we can land without fear, where we can breathe without restraint, where we can be. A place where dragons thrived in the company of one another, where friendships were forged in fire and laughter, where unconditional love wove them all together like strands in a grand, celestial tapestry.
It was the kind of home Akir’Ischa had once thought lost to time. And yet, here it stood. Unwavering. Reaching ever skyward.
As another day waned, Akir’Ischa perched atop the Spire, watching the celestial sunset unfurl across the horizon. Gold and crimson bled into twilight’s embrace, a masterpiece painted anew each night. Once, she had admired such beauty alone. Now, she shared it—with those who had become her kin, with the one who had become her light.
The last rays of sunlight kissed her obsidian-black scales, casting her in a glow of fire and shadow, warmth and mystery. She inhaled deeply, filling her lungs with the crisp air, the scent of stone, of distant rain, of the countless lives stirring below. A soft murmur of voices carried upward, dragons speaking, laughing, living.
She gazed out at the horizon, where the unknown stretched endlessly before her and for the first time in a long, long while—she did not fear it.
The future was unwritten, but one truth remained steadfast, shining like the stars above.
The Spire was in it. And that made all the difference.
The Celestial Spire
Beyond the veil of day and night,
Beneath the stars’ eternal light,
A gathering place stands strong and true,
For dragons lost, for dragons new.
Across the lands, across the seas,
Where distant voices ride the breeze,
A silent tether, strong yet light,
Unseen by day, but felt by night.
With wings of thought, we bridge the span,
Of lands unseen by beast or man.
Scattered far, yet never lone,
For here, together, we have grown.
The world beyond may never know,
The truths we share, the bonds we sow.
The laughter loud, the lessons deep,
The trust we forge, the love we keep.
In roaring joy or quiet grace,
A place exists, our sacred space.
No matter where the winds may guide,
The Spire stands, a light inside.
For though the world may never see,
This place we hold so dear and free,
We know the truth—our hearts have known,
That even scattered, we’re not alone.
And when the sun begins to set,
I rest my wings without regret.
For in the night, I know somewhere,
Another dragon lingers there.
So when the weight of days turns cold,
When voices wane and stories old,
The Spire stands, steadfast and true,
A home, a haven—one we all flew to.
And as the dawn breaks, bright and new,
The sky remains its endless hue.
Yet somewhere, near or far away,
A dragon wakes to greet the day.