Ash settled quietly upon the shroud of stone that covered the likeness of the Lady of the Flame. In days past her hands reached out to grasp an everburning flame; but now as the city smolders her flame burns no more. Her kind scaled face looked ever downward and appeared to contemplate her lonely reflection in the shallow pool that surrounded her.
Abruptly a large clawed hand smashed the image, and in a flurry of white foam a young fiery colored dragonborn crawled from the water. Coughing violently he collapsed in exhaustion at the dragoness’ feet. The young drake unaware of, or possibly not caring, payed no attention to the destruction that raged in the city around the sanctuary.
Still dripping water, he brushed his roughened hand across his scaled forehead. His stomach lurched and a cold sweat added to his already damp skin as he felt sturdy rough horns branching from his scalp. “No, No, No,” he stammered as he whirled about and gazed into the pool