Act 1

"Revenge is barren of itself; its delight is murder, and its end is despair." -Friedrich Schiller

"Anger ventilated often hurries towards forgiveness. Anger concealed often hardens into revenge." -Edward G. Bulwer-Lytton

Twilight was descending over the land, wrapping its blanket of shining stars over all under it, but nobody could tell. Every last creature was holed up underground and the only light came from the flickering torches that some moles carried.

The earth suddenly began to shake. Long spasms came, one and then another, until it was ceaseless and everybody struggled to hold their footing. But then, a purple light washed over them. Nobody knew what it was because as soon as it was there it was gone, but they all felt somehow safe. And then, just like that, the quaking stopped. It was over.

The crowd, apprehensive, was still. Complete silence enveloped them as they waited for something to happen. Then, one dragon took a step forward and they were all rushing, pushing to get outside and see what had happened.

And thrust upon was not lava and ash and destruction as one certain member of the crowd suspected it would be. Far from it, in fact. What they saw was a dawn of a new era (to the certain member of the crowd's dismay) and not the rebirth of the world in fire, but in light. And, as night fell ever faster, they could make out something in the stars—a constellation. The bright lights depicted a dragon, wings spread, flying amongst the heavens.

Now, the certain member of the crowd, who was disappointed in what had happened, was named Cottonmouth—like the snake. Cottonmouth was a very dark green colour that was almost black. She had a cream-coloured underbelly that had the same tinge of black in it, but the colour continued on up to her chin. Her eyes, a dull rust red, were narrow with an almost indiscernible yellow colour to them. A bright green, glowing, veins shot up both of her forelegs and turned up onto either side of her mouth, cutting off there. It could be seen clearly, especially when it was dark.

Cottonmouth stared up into the sky, dumbfounded, but not for the same reasons as the others. They were dumbfounded because they were alive—she was dumbfounded because they weren't dead.

Cottonmouth, upon recovering from her shock, now experienced an overwhelming sense of fear. Just a moment ago, she had been smirking, sure that he had been successful, that rebirth would finally happen. But now... now she feared the purple dragon, and was shocked at what he might have accomplished. What if he was... no, she couldn't think that way! Surely, surely there was just a minor complication... an accident... something!

In a panic, Cottonmouth fled the crowd and swooped not-so-gracefully into the air. She turned herself towards the Floating Islands and sped off.