InkWizTober Day Twelve: Dragon + Forgotten
Welcome to day twelve of inktober!! I was excited to continue one of my older headcanons about dragons! (almost two years old! here it is!) Warnings for death mention, injury/scar mention, and dog mention.
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One dragon per school is right. But no one ever said there were just seven schools worth of dragons.
People only want to think that. Even the concept of creatures and magic they can’t easily control or counter is terrifying. No one will hear these rumors in Ravenwood.
There are still beings out there, both wizard and dragon, one in the same. There just happen to be four more than most think.
Those of sun, burning hotter than a fire dragon ever could, powers bigger and all consuming. They are the largest possible dragon, twice the size of the dragon-wizards of the typical seven schools. Glowing, vibrant scales in yellows and oranges, the occasional red decorate their sky blue body in wide spiraling flares. Their claws are bright, perfect gold, and the malleability of them is their sole weakness. Their face is squashed, snout short like a malformed dog, a pug. They have large fans of skin that spread when threatened, like the myth spell, Basilisk. They breathe solar flares, they could level entire worlds with it, if it weren’t so difficult with their deformed face. They nest on barren, long forgotten worlds, collecting enchanted items and too many shiny treasure cards. They’re mentored in leadership, in protecting others and learning how to fly beyond worlds, in the vast emptiness of space. In human form, they have gold nails and collect many friends in their orbit.
Star dragons are actually the smallest of any of the normal dragon-wizards, slight and mysterious. They are shiny and luminous, a bright, perfect gem, iridescent eyes disorienting as they glitter in any light. The only dull part of them is the velvety black outsides of their spiky jagged wings, in order to hide them when necessary. Their fire is blinding, colorful, and runs hot. They are quick and distant, never connecting with anyone truly before they’re gone. Hoards are full of glittery things, anything with rainbows or whites so bright it sears the human eye. They have to be mentored in stealth, because their mentor knows that a star dragon could be discovered if they’re challenged on how bright they shine. When in human form, their hair seems to have some strands of bright quicksilver hidden in it, and they can fall into their dragon form easier than any other wizard when distressed.
Dragons of the moon are broad, smaller than sun dragons but larger than the others. They breathe grey dust, and it makes beings sleepy and weightless, floating and easy prey. Hoards are full of rocks, making their cave homes easier to hide, even if they enjoy the occasional flashy geode. They seem plain for a dragon, light grey scales covering their wide frame, with darker grey patches over any injuries, and the majority of their underbelly, the inside of their wings. In human form their scars and scabs can take on an inhuman grey tinge as well. Their claws are huge crescents and pure white, almost unwieldy, and most mentors of lunar dragons have to teach them how to manage those deadly claws. The most striking thing about moon dragons are the eyes. Always following the phase of the moon from Earth’s perspective in time, always moving, their pupil-less eyes range from round voids of the new moon, or brilliant full moons. There’s nothing stranger than super moons, or blood moons, or eclipses.
Dragon-wizard beings of shadow are the smallest, the weakest of all the dragons. Their dragon form is barely the size of an average horse, almost pathetic in comparison to others. Scars litter their dragon form even if their human form has never been injured. Scattered burns, digits frostbitten, necrosis, electric burns, poisoned slashes and bites, large swathes of scales burned even worse than the others, bright scars almost mockingly colorful, and residue of sand and thick dust in between their wing scales. The shadow dragon cannot fly. It can barely fight. They have long forgotten how to breathe dangerously. Their hoards are quiet, small things, a trinket or two they cannot be parted with. All they can do is wait and hide in the darkness, in their shadows, trying to understand their magic and their dragon form. They never last long, so there’s no need for a mentor. They get what’s coming to them, and they get it young and brutal.
If you thought yourself brave enough to look for the other seven dragons, never even think of the astral dragons. Don’t even whisper drunkenly about them in an inn, don’t tell the story to your children. Powerful beings have a way of knowing.
As for the shadow dragon, well, it’s a wretched thing. If you ever learn about shadow magic, ever learn about a legend within and legend like a shadow dragon-wizard, don’t bother.
It's probably dead anyway.












