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Before the Godsdeath we had power. Dragons commanded the arcane and the divine equally. We could have raised our stillborn eggs to life. Such things were not unusual for our kind, especially not those who had magic and motivation. I had both.
Ophiliana was the better fighter. I was the better spellcaster. We were, however, both dragons; magic and muscle in one package, wings that could block out the sun, flame that could burn a horse to the bone, eyes as sharp as eagle’s.
And yet, for all our strength and power, Ophiliana and I could not conceive.
We kept trying, of course. Dead egg after dead egg. We waited.
The humans were not so patient. They pleaded with the gods to return. They threatened. They screamed to the heavens.
And then, all other avenues exhausted, they sacrificed.