“He yearned to spread his wings and fly, but they were bound so tightly it was physically painful.”
(Writing prompts are from Figment Daily Themes)
He yearned to spread his wings and fly, but they were bound so tightly it was physically painful. The cost of a luxury such as flight was too high, it was a risk he could not afford to take. And so he remained flightless, like a human bound to the mortal realm.
His great membranous wings appearing as little more than an intricately designed tattoo to any who gazed upon them. Admiring the details of the finely inked scales.
He rolled his shoulders and felt the magical bonds that kept his wings locked tightly away. A streak of searing pain shooting down his back. His own doing. When he came of age he had been alone and without knowledge of who or what he was. A roiling power had surged through him and huge golden wings had burst from his back and soon he had learned the truth of what he was.
He was the last of the Dragon Lords.
Immortal. Powerful. Alone. Hunted.
And so with his new found powers, he had bound his wings and himself to the mortal coil in which he was raised. Hidden. Bound. And so he would remain until his people roamed the realms once more.
By Errin Krystal