The dragon’s final wish

High above the world, where the sky met the mountains, an ancient dragon lay curled upon a bed of shattered gold and forgotten relics. His scales, once gleaming emerald, had dulled to a weathered gray, and his once-mighty wings now bore the tattered marks of time. He was the last of his kind—Vorlith the Eternal, keeper of the ancient fire.

For centuries, men had sought his treasure, daring warriors with gleaming swords and hearts full of greed. But the dragon cared little for them. His hoard had not been gathered for wealth but for memory. Each coin, each artifact, was a story—a fragment of a world that had long since faded.

Yet now, as the mountain winds whispered through the cavern, Vorlith felt the end approaching. His fire had dimmed, and his heart, once burning with the power of a thousand storms, now beat slow and weary. He had but one final wish before he would let the winds carry him to the stars.

From the depths of his hoard, he uncovered a relic he had not touched in centuries—a small, carved figurine of a young girl. The memory returned like a wave.

Long ago, a child had wandered into his cave. She had been lost, her tiny hands trembling, her face streaked with tears. But she had not screamed in terror as others had. Instead, she had looked upon the mighty dragon and asked, in a voice clear and unafraid, “Are you lonely?”

The question had startled him more than any sword or spear ever had. No one had ever spoken to him with such innocence.

For days, the girl had stayed, and the dragon, for the first time in centuries, had not been alone. She had told him stories of the villages below, of the festivals and the laughter of humans. She had sung songs, her voice a melody of warmth that had soothed the ancient beast’s heart.

But then, as all things did, it ended. One morning, men had come searching for her, and she had left, promising she would return.

She never did.

Vorlith had waited, year after year, century after century. But humans were fleeting, and he, eternal.

Now, with his final breath drawing near, the dragon wished for just one thing: to know if she had lived well, if she had found happiness beyond his cave.

Summoning the last of his strength, he called upon the old magic, the whispering spells that only the ancients knew. The wind stirred, and the golden coins shimmered as the cave grew silent, waiting. Then, like a dream, the image formed before him—a vision of time itself unraveling.

He saw the girl, now grown, her dark hair streaked with silver. She had lived a long life, filled with love and joy. She had raised children, sung the same songs she once sang for him, and told them stories of a kind-hearted dragon who had watched over her when she was young.

Vorlith exhaled slowly, his ancient heart at peace. He had not been forgotten.

With a final, contented sigh, the dragon closed his eyes, his body turning to dust that the wind carried into the sky. .

And somewhere, in the hearts of those who still told his story, Vorlith the Eternal lived on.Now, with his final breath drawing near, the dragon wished for just one thing: to know if she had lived well, if she had found happiness beyond his cave.

Summoning the last of his strength, he called upon the old magic, the whispering spells that only the ancients knew. The wind stirred, and the golden coins shimmered as the cave grew silent, waiting. Then, like a dream, the image formed before him—a vision of time itself unraveling.

He saw the girl, now grown, her dark hair streaked with silver. She had lived a long life, filled with love and joy. She had raised children, sung the same songs she once sang for him, and told them stories of a kind-hearted dragon who had watched over her when she was young.