The Azure Skies

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.

In the silence of my soul’s deep ache,
I stand at the edge, no choice to make.
A body foreign, a yearning so pure,
To be something greater, to feel secure.

The fire inside me, it rages and burns,
A longing so fierce, my spirit churns.
But this fragile form, a cage to confine,
My wings, my claws, my tail, left behind.

I ache in the shadows, this pain like a knife,
The pulse of a dragon, the hunger of a different life.
But no escape comes, no wings to spread,
Just hollow ache, and endless dread.

I claw at the bars, I pace in despair,
Yearning to leave, but nothing is there.
I scream in my mind, I roar in my heart,
But here I remain, forever apart.

This body, this cage—too small to contain,
The beast within me, the soul’s deep pain.
I ache to break free, to finally soar,
But for now, all I can do is roar.

Time will pass, as time always does,
And one day, I’ll find the dragon I was.
Until then, I endure this endless night,
Yearning to take flight, to feel the light.

But for now, I remain trapped in this skin,
Fighting the ache that comes from within.
Until the stars call me home once more,
I wait and burn, and silently roar.

The cool night air was alive with scents, whispers carried on the breeze, and Akir’Ischa crouched low to the ground, her muscles coiled with tension. Her obsidian scales absorbed the moonlight, blending her seamlessly with the shadows of the forest. She was patient, still as a statue, her sharp amber eyes locked on her prey: a great stag grazing in the clearing, unaware of the predator lurking at the edge of its world.

Her breathing slowed, her chest rising and falling silently as the primal part of her brain took control. This wasn’t about intellect or cunning—this was instinct, pure and unrelenting. Her pulse quickened, each beat thrumming in her ears like a war drum. Every nerve in her body screamed one thing: hunt.

She moved, silent as a shadow, her talons brushing the earth. Her wings remained tucked tight against her sides—flight was unnecessary here. The ground beneath her paws was damp and rich with life, but all she could focus on was the stag, its powerful legs ready to flee, but not fast enough to escape her.

The primal part of her, the feral essence of her kind, reveled in the moment. She felt her teeth ache for the bite, her claws twitch for the grip. Her body was a weapon honed by evolution, and this was the reason for her existence: to hunt, to kill, to dominate. She was the apex predator, and the world beneath her talons was hers.

The stag’s ears twitched, its body stiffening as the wind shifted, carrying with it a faint, predatory scent. Akir’Ischa remained motionless in the shadows, every muscle coiled like a spring. But the stag’s instincts screamed danger. It bolted, powerful legs propelling it across the clearing and into the dense underbrush, its hooves striking the earth in a frantic rhythm.

Akir’Ischa surged forward, her powerful legs devouring the ground as she chased her prey. The thrill of the hunt ignited her senses, sharpening her focus. Each stride was fluid, her body moving with deadly precision. Her tail lashed behind her for balance, and her wings remained folded against her sides to keep her profile low as she cut through the trees like a shadow.

The stag darted left, crashing through thickets and weaving between trunks in a desperate attempt to shake its pursuer. But Akir’Ischa was relentless, her eyes locking onto her quarry. The primal voice within her roared louder with every beat of her heart, driving her forward. This was hers, and nothing would stop her.

As the terrain opened into a rocky incline, she spread her wings, the sharp snap of membrane catching the wind. With a mighty leap, she took to the air, her talons raking the earth as she launched herself skyward. The cool night air rushed over her scales, her wings beating once, twice, carrying her high above the stag. Below, it ran blindly, its panic making it predictable.

She soared for a moment, relishing the height and the sense of power it gave her. Then she tucked her wings close, angling her body downward in a controlled dive. The world blurred around her, the stag growing larger in her vision as she plummeted toward it. She flared her wings at the last moment, the sudden rush of air breaking her descent as she twisted her body and struck.

Her talons hit the stag’s flanks with devastating force, the impact driving it to the ground in a spray of dirt and leaves. The stag screamed, its legs kicking wildly as it struggled to rise, but Akir’Ischa’s claws sank deep, anchoring her to the thrashing body. The metallic scent of blood filled her nostrils, a sharp tang that stirred something ancient and primal within her. Her jaws parted slightly, and she felt her teeth ache in anticipation, each pointed fang designed to tear through flesh, to pierce bone. She growled, a feral sound that vibrated through her chest, and snapped her jaws at its neck, just missing as it twisted away.

Lowering her head, she inhaled deeply, savoring the raw, living scent of the animal beneath her. The stag’s eyes were wide with fear, its sides heaving in futile resistance. That final moment of helplessness sent a thrill through her, a surge of power that made her muscles tighten with satisfaction. She was the predator. She was death in its purest form. Her wings unfurled slightly, framing her in a predatory silhouette as she let out a victorious growl. The thrill of the chase, the power of the strike, and the satisfaction of the kill coursed through her.

Her teeth sank into its neck, and the first bite was electric. The flesh parted with a wet, satisfying rip, warm blood flooding her mouth. It was rich, coppery, and alive, the taste igniting a hunger that went beyond sustenance. Her throat rumbled in satisfaction, a low, primal growl that vibrated through her chest. She held the stag firm, feeling its last heartbeat against her jaws as the life drained from it.

She tore into the carcass with precision, her claws raking away fur and skin as her teeth worked deeper. She carved into the tender meat, each bite filling her with a feral pleasure that was as much emotional as physical. The warmth of the flesh, the texture of sinew and fat tearing under her jaws, was intoxicating. She chewed slowly at first, savoring the burst of flavors, before the primal hunger surged and she devoured the meat in great, tearing gulps.

Her sharp talons gripped and twisted as she feasted, cracking bones with ease to reach the rich marrow within. Each snap echoed in the stillness of the forest, a brutal symphony of her dominance. Blood dripped from her maw, streaking her obsidian scales with crimson, the droplets glinting like rubies in the moonlight. 

She relished the act of eating, the rhythmic pull of her jaws, the way her body hummed with satisfaction as she consumed her prize. Every bite affirmed her power, her place at the top of the food chain. She felt her strength renewed with each mouthful, the primal fire within her burning brighter.

As she finished, she stepped back, licking the blood from her jaws with slow, deliberate swipes of her tongue. The sharp tang lingered, a reminder of her conquest. Her chest heaved, and her amber eyes glowed fiercely, the apex predator fulfilled and utterly alive. And as the primal thrill ebbed, replaced by a calm satisfaction, she took to the skies once more, the wind carrying her away. The hunt was over, but the fire within her still burned bright, a reminder that she was both beauty and beast, intellect and instinct, the shadow in the night and the force to be reckoned with. For Akir’Ischa, this wasn’t just survival—it was a celebration of what she was: a creature of strength, grace, and unrelenting ferocity.

High upon the rocky ledge of her mountain perch, Akir’Ischa stood watch over her vast domain, the dark sky stretching wide and endless before her. The land was quiet, wrapped in the heavy stillness that always came before the storm. In the distance, above the rugged peaks, she caught the first glimpse of flickering light, brilliant flashes that danced across the sky and left dark streaks in their wake. The thunder followed—first a low rumble, then a rolling boom that reverberated through the earth, shaking stone and filling her chest with a deep, primal thrill.

Her eyes sparkled, reflecting each flash of lightning, her heart beating in rhythm with the storm that loomed closer. Her muscles tensed with anticipation as she stretched out her great wings, feeling the cool, charged air swirling around her. The storm’s scent was on the wind—damp earth, ozone, and a wild, untamable power that stirred something fierce within her. She felt her own energy ignite, every scale coming alive under the growing storm.

When the winds picked up and the first raindrops struck the stone around her, the dragoness could wait no longer. With a mighty push, she launched herself from the ledge, diving headlong into the storm as it crashed against the mountainside. Lightning forked around her, a dazzling web of light that arched through the clouds, while thunder rolled like laughter in her ears. She was one with the tempest, soaring through the dark, electric sky with a joy as wild as the storm itself.

And as she flew, lost in the storm’s embrace, she became its voice, its heart, its shadow and light.

---

Beneath a sky of thunder’s roar,
Where clouds like shadows twist and soar,
Akir’Ischa glides, dark wings unfurled,
In the tempest’s heart, she owns the world.

The storm surrounds, an endless night,
Layered clouds of dark and light,
A realm of chaos, fierce and wild,
Where terror and beauty are reconciled.

Lightning arcs in jagged veins,
Threads of fire, electric chains,
Each flash a spark upon her scales,
As if the storm within prevails.

For she, like thunder, loud and bold,
Carries secrets yet untold,
A crackling pulse beneath her skin,
A dance with darkness, light within.

The rolling thunder, deep and near,
Mirrors laughter fierce and clear,
A warning call, a daring note,
A whisper caught within her throat.

She weaves through currents, sharp and sly,
Where clouds and lightning kiss the sky,
Her obsidian form, sleek and free,
A silhouette in mystery.

No ground below, no sky above,
Just freedom in this storm she loves,
A boundless dance, no earth, no weight,
But flight, and fury, and fiery fate.

For in this storm, she finds her soul,
The chaos that has made her whole,
A creature vast, both fierce and wise,
One with the tempest and the skies.

And as the clouds weave black and white,
She is the shadow, she is the light,
A thunder’s daughter, wild and true,
In every flash, she is born anew.

As daylight fades, the sky ignites,
A canvas brushed with amber light,
The dragoness perches, proud and tall,
Upon the craggy heights, she hears the call.

The world below, in shadows cast,
Embraces silence, the day now past,
With every hue, the sun’s farewell,
She feels the magic, a timeless spell.

Her obsidian scales, like stars aglow,
Shimmer softly in the evening’s flow,
Each breath a whisper, each pulse a song,
In this tranquil hour, she knows she belongs.

The moons begin their delicate rise,
Twin orbs of silver in the deepening skies,
They beckon her forth, a celestial guide,
To soar through the twilight, where dreams reside.

With a graceful leap from her rocky throne,
She spreads her vast wings, embracing the unknown,
The currents await, like a lover’s sigh,
As she glides from the summit, toward the evening sky.

With each powerful stroke, she finds her release,
In the arms of the night, she discovers her peace,
The clouds become dancers, swirling and free,
A ballet of shadows, a tribute to she.

Up, up she soars, through the velvet expanse,
Where stars twinkle brightly, inviting her dance,
Among constellations, her heart starts to race,
For here in the heavens, she’s found her true place.

The wind sings her name, a soft serenade,
As she carves through the night, in a wild, joyous cascade,
Her wings, like the whispers of long-forgotten tales,
Carry her onward, where starlight prevails.

Each moment aloft, a timeless embrace,
In the embrace of the night, she finds her grace,
For among the celestial, she leaves her mark,
An echo of her roar, a glimmer in the dark.

So here she dances, in the cool evening air,
A creature of legend, majestic and rare,
With the moon as her witness, the stars as her guide,
The dragoness reigns in the vastness, with pride.

As the world below fades to shadows and dreams,
She twirls with the night, beneath silver beams,
In her heart, she knows, as she soars ever high,
That she is a daughter of the limitless sky.