Dragoska was a land that looked like it had been carved by the gods themselves and then abandoned, because even the gods had decided it was too beautiful to touch.
The mountains rose from the earth in jagged, majestic waves. Valleys spilled between them like emerald ribbons. Wildflowers carpeted the meadows in riots of color.
It was the kind of place that made you believe in dragons.
Which was appropriate, because the sky was full of them.
Across that sky, massive beasts with wings that blotted out the stars and tails that could level a fortress flew around.
One by one they peeled off from the great flock, descending toward the peaks where palaces and keeps had been carved into the mountainsides since before the mortal races had learned to shape stone.
On a modest peak near the southern ridge, a colossal black dragon folded its wings and touched down with surprising gentleness.
