Raising Azure Fire

Prologue

Everything changes. That is something every creature knows; young or old; instinct driven or philosophically minded; beast or human. It is equally known that it is pointless to fight said change, yet that stops nothing, even now as a young dragon aerially circles her nest enclosing two distinct eggs. This dragon, long and sleek with coal black scales and eyes greener than the forest she nested in, could not bring herself to accept the fate handed to her and her young family. It was painful enough to lose her mate in his prime, but now to lose her children, too, and all because of a tradition she never accepted in the first place? She had begged, pleaded, and threatened all in her way and had gained nothing for it.

"It is the way things have always been." They would say, "Your mate was raised the same way."

"But I was not," she would always protest, with tears in her eyes, "And we were going to hatch our eggs ourselves, like my family did with me."

Yet no matter how many times she had this conversation, it always fell on deaf ears. It is simply how the modern world worked. Dragons were at one point nearly extinct because of all the effort that was put in to raising one hatchling. Young dragons were more productive finding mates rather than actually raising their children, which demanded a magical contract bond to be formed. So somewhere along the line a human was allowed to make said contract with an egg. To the surprise of many, the egg hatched, as it would with a dragon mentor, and that is how it all began. The hatchlings were being taken care off while the adult dragons were free, and what of the humans? After some time the contract bond became entirely new, granting the human raiser access to the hatchling's magic as compensation. Now, with both sides appeased, all eggs were raised by humans; it was unheard of for dragon parents to ever see their children until they were independent and it made her sick.

Although it was considered backward and completely detrimental to the species, some dragons did resist the change. Her family had been one of them. Because of it, though, her family was alienated and isolated. It became criticized as being savage and feral, no better than the ancient beast ancestors. Soon both sides hated each other and grew farther apart in ideology, as well as biology, in time. That should have been the end of the story, but another young dragon would never allow that: her mate. He was from the modern dragon royal bloodline, raised by humans just like the others. However, when he met a "savage," he did not treat her as such. In fact, he listened. He listened to everything she said, with open ears, eyes, and heart. That was why she fell in love with him, and he said once that he fell in love with her because she was strong enough to be whoever she wanted. That was why he had agreed to raising their hatchlings together, just like in ancient times, though he had never been particularly partial to human raisers. But now he was gone—just like her children soon would be.

Finally, she landed on the edge of the dirt nest and peered into it. There sat two eggs, one a beautiful blue and the other a soft violet. If she had only laid one she would not be in the same position, for only one hatchling could be raised at a time by anybody. Raising two was physically impossible because only one contract could be made at a time. Sure, there were rumors of talented human raisers or expert dragon mentors, but they were nothing more than rumors. So that left her with a dilemma: she could raise one egg, but had to give up the other. Which to choose? No! She could not bear to part from either, and having to choose between children was like choosing between parents. But what could she do? If she could not choose, she would lose them both. Humans would take them from her the moment she left the nest; the same would happen to the other egg she did not make a pact with. Although this egg would sleep until it had been contracted, it would be taken from her before she could raise the other hatchling to independence. All of this, a mother's broken heart, because it was seen as backward.

By now the tears were streaming down her face as she gazed at the two eggs longingly and lovingly. If her mate were still here the both of them could have been raised together by parents that loved them. She snorted at this. Humans did the same thing she wanted to, how ironic? Hypocritical, even, if anyone asked her. But no one did, and no one ever would because the one person that actually listened was dead. Sure she had family, she had family right in the nest in front of her, but nothing would ever be right again. She knew she would never take on another mate—so forget any new children. She would spend the rest of her long, long life wondering and worrying about the two before her because she could not choose between them, and she knew it. So, in the end, she had no choice. She left. She left both her beautiful eggs in their forest nest all alone; leaving what was left of her heart behind with them. Only if they could be happier than she, could she ever truly rest peacefully. But she would never know if they were, would she?