It is through the actions of these industrious clutches of fire beetles that the Burning Lands gain their characteristic demeanor. A vast, molten landscape, unfit for any but the most dedicated savants of flame. Yet without them, what becomes of the dragons? - The Chronicles of Selenia Sky, Volume 3, Chapter,the First
I am First of Many. My clutch is among the largest that work the Molten Mountain. Toiling within the hot earth to the same purpose generations before us have hatched to fulfil. We are the fire in the dragons’ breath. Without us, their destruction would not rain from the sky. Without us, there would be no sparkstone to ignite their great fires.
Though it is so, it has been many cycles since our race has witnessed so many winged Lords in the sky. Not since the time of Darkening has the air moved as it does now. Stirred by the winds from scores of wings. The urgency from above has infiltrated the deep, safe places. We have always, us Fire creatures, been able to hear dragons. We are attuned to them as no others in these Splintered Lands. Now, after aeons of faithful toil, they are commanding that we leave the mountain.
Most of my clutch will not go. Even to follow their First. They insist the call is heresy, and yet, unbidden and without them, my legs carry me up to the soil. This is the closest my kind has ever come to Sky. Sky, that the elders have taught us, is treachery. Sky that our lore insists is death. Only the dragons may move through it. Sky feeds the fires that will consume us if we allow them to.
Yet now, burning within our minds, the vast winged Lords declare there is some business that must be attended in the East. They have found another source of ore after all these generations. The land is changing. In the heart of the forests, another mountain of flame surges into brilliant being. Some great force has stirred it - something not seen since the Darkening. For those few of us who will brave the Sky, a great Lord awaits beyond our warren of tunnels into the mountains. I move now, with these few others, dead to my clutch. Ten thousand or less stampeding claws in the dark earth among the millions left behind. Us few, unable to resist the strange magick we feel more deeply than the others.
As we emerge into the blinding light, he lies in wait for us - a gleaming, red beast, swarming with those of us driven to scale his great flanks. In our minds, an irresistible promise of flight. A vision of sprawling oceans of wood, awaiting the transformation of flame…
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As an additional idea for some brief flavor text on the card:
“Through centuries, fire beetles have bored their twisting, dark tunnels into the heart of the Molten Mountain, mining out the precious ore within. Sparkstone. The very essence that gives the dragons their flame.”
This post is an entry to the Steemmonsters contest here: https://mspsteem.com/contest/@steemmonsters/steem-monsters-individual-card-fantasy-story-contest-week-1