Racing against time, not long now!

The islands are pure fire, volcanic hell ever furious. They surround, in scattered formation, a bigger land mass, just as volcanic just as harsh but older by millennia.

You can see the ridge of mountains along its spine and at its centre the tall fire mountain of the fiercest and ancient of the Grey Dragons. Here within the mountains heart is his lair. There he remains upon his hoard of stones and metals that glisten and glitter.

His eyes look and spy the light visible in the bright light of day, visible beyond the smoke and fume of the mountains , of the islands. It grows ever brighter as day turns to night.

He watches.

He waits.

The light is brilliant and it burns his soul with a demanding desire. All he wants is the light. 

Nothing else.

So he watches the sky and waits.

The more he waits the more his anger and impatients grows. And soon all the other of his kind feel the moods shifting for they too see the light and they too cannot help their nature.

It came in the night!

Tracing fire across the heavens.

They took to flight; following, rising, immediately falling into fighting. The night rent with screams of fury and anger, of pain and bitterness, the beating of huge wings and curses of fire spat in rivalry.

But he was clever. Age had taught him much and he had no rival. And yet out of the many that soared up to chase the fire star he and two others now remained.

Still the star cut across the but then a dazzling spectacle that gave them pause in their pursuit.

A brilliant light that sent a roar through the night and a wind that pushed them back almost causing them to fall from the sky.

His keen eyes caught the glowing shards, marked where they were descending. He flew on. Heading for the largest ember whilst behind him his rivals also noted where embers fell and were thankful that more violence could be averted. 

The glowing rocks had fallen onto the flat ice sheets that lay far to the north of the fire islands. 

All three now realised just how far they had come and took heed that they were not the only ones to be interested in what had occurred. 

For the ice dragons, white ghosts of these cold and frigid lands of snow and ice were on the move for they too sought what ever bounty had come from the sky.

The old beast found his prizes, gathered them quickly one large chunk then smaller pieces until he heard the whites approaching. He was no fool, he too to his wings and turned for home whilst the others clawed, found and sought more treasure. Captured by their own greed they did not notice the whites until it was too late.

His flight was swift. No white could stand the heat of the islands. Atop his hoard; he greedily eyed his prizes. Still glowing but cooling rapidly, they glistened and shone through surfaces black and smoothing places but rough and beautifully shiny in others.

He growled contendly and reaching over pulled the largest piece into his claw. He rested his head upon his fist with its precious star stone and for the first time since he had set eyes on the glow in the sky.

He slept.