When I was 1 year old my parents discovered I could talk to dragons that are still in their eggs… so unhatched dragons. I would sit for hours going from one dragon egg to another that were in our fairy nursery talking gibberish. Soon that gibberish became words and some eggs I would not go to. When asked why I explained that they weren’t old enough to talk yet and definitely not ready to be paired with anyone. After I turned 3 my parents noticed that I always ended up talking to a certain egg and whenever I would talk the egg would glow pink inside of the shell. So it was decided by my father that it was time to ask me if this was the one for me. So as my mother held me, my father picked up the egg and walked to us. I strained to reach out to the egg and laughed with joy. “Mine Mine” I said and we all celebrated. My mother made me a soft fur bag so I could carry my egg and told me that I needed to carry this egg until it was the time to hatch. “But remember this will take some time… your dragon needs to grow with you.” My mother reminded me. About 3 full moons later I met Urglish the Trollmom carrying a small child around the age of 5 years old. They went into a special room for a conference with my parents. After a while they came out and introduced Aliva @Misty to me. We became fast friends and for a few years they stayed around our home while Urglish visited the troll clan that was down the way by our home. Then sadly they had to leave again. During the next 30 years we would meet a few more times and we were still close friends. Between visits we would send messages back and forth. Since Im a fairy I don’t age very much so I still look much younger than I am and my parents are worried about that my dragon still hasn’t hatched so that I would be protected and not be alone. So they asked me to travel to see Aliva @Misty and maybe it would help because they had heard She lived close to a Hatching dragon village. And maybe the presence of other dragons hatching would help motivate my egg to hatch as well. So I packed my bag and made sure I had my cloak and started out.

We have left Mother and departed from the safety of Home to journey into the unknown. She is curious. Curious about the things and wonders She sees below. She wonders how they came to be, and when … and why. Are they a blight? An infection? .......... Or are they something more? But Mother cannot descend to investigate for Herself. Her glory would end theirs, and She does not wish that. So we go in Her stead. We are Her child. Her light to the unknown. Her doorway to the wonders about us. We are Stormfire. From our high perch we drift downward, marveling at the beauty around us. How dust and stone have melded and merged into so many countless and wonderous shapes. Huge, ponderous chunks flow slowly by, intent on .... nothing it would seem. Little lost ones zip about gleefully, dancing and sparkling in the wind. Ah, the symmetry of it all … spheres of wonder circling in joy, bathed in Mother’s glory. We marvel at how light scatters across the emptiness, painting rock and stone in shifting hues. Such a delight to behold. Mother will love this. We see movement below and pause, uncertain of their intent. Many different things… some faintly like us, others vastly different. Fragile shapes, as though they might topple and shatter in the slightest breeze. Yet they cluster, they separate, they cluster again — a ballet that makes no sense, and yet somehow seems to. How do they move upon such fragile appendages? Surely they must injure themselves. But no — some dart quickly, while others wobble and teeter, leaning upon dead things. It is a wonder, how they live among so many dead things. We will learn, for Mother. She will be pleased with Her daughter. For now, we sit and watch. We listen to the odd chirping noises they make. When the time is right, we will make our presence known.

The climb had been treacherous, the path little more than crumbling stone clinging to the cliff’s edge, but curiosity pulled me higher. By the time I reached the mouth of the cave, the air was thin and laced with the scent of old rain and dust. Inside, I found remnants of carved pillars and worn glyphs—ruins, hidden where no one should have built. At the chamber’s heart, amid shattered relics and bones turned to powder, rested an egg the size of my pack. Its surface shimmered like molten bronze, faintly humming, as if it recognized me. The sound resonated in my chest—ancient, alive—and I knew I hadn’t just found a ruin. I’d awakened it.

The sea was quieter than usual that morning. I remember the hush of the waves — as if the ocean itself were holding its breath. I had wandered farther than planned, barefoot along a stretch of shoreline I hadn’t seen before, somewhere between waking and dreaming, my harp still humming from the night’s performance aboard the ship. That’s when I saw it. At first, I thought it was a boulder — smooth, glistening in shades of silver-green. But as the tide pulled back, light shimmered across it like moonlight caught beneath water. Scales. Perfect, overlapping scales. I knelt down, brushing the sand from its surface, and felt warmth beneath my fingers — steady, rhythmic, alive. A faint glow pulsed from within, as if the sea itself had a heartbeat. The air around it thrummed softly, and I could almost hear music — distant, fluid, and impossibly ancient. There was a whisper in the waves then, a voice that wasn’t quite sound: > “Dreams birthed the tides, and tides birth the guardians.” I didn’t know what it meant, but somehow, I knew this was no ordinary egg. Legends from coastal villages spoke of the Dreamtide Sentinel, a dragon born from forgotten dreams to protect the waters of the world. I had thought it only a tale told by sailors at dusk. Yet here it was — the egg, resting at my feet, wrapped in the hush of the sea. I built a small shelter of driftwood and seashells around it, unsure whether to guard it or simply bear witness. Each night since, I’ve heard that same soft song echo through my dreams — a melody of waves, wind, and stars. Maybe one day, when the time is right, it will hatch. And when it does, I’ll be ready — the girl who found the egg of Dreamtide. — Lydia Bandy The Traveling Harpist

My name is Aliva Opaline Nanvuda. Roughly translates to : Aliva in old english is “Noble Gift” Opaline is a lyrical acrostic poem ,and Nanvuda is troll for little sister. Oh by the way Im a little small human that has been adopted by the trolls. Saved by Urglish (The One and only Urglish the Ugly but wise adopted mother of the guardian trolls) when I was just a baby. Each year I was taken in by a new troll group so I could learn and be a speaker for all the trolls if the need should ever arise. I am a friend to all that others ignore or stay away from. I was sent on a treasure hunt to find ingredients to make a very special bashday gift for the youngest of the Trolls… His name is Grimgor (which means Guardian of hidden caves, and he has a thing for pearls and moss )so I have been asked by his mother to craft a gift for her son on his “bashing day “. Trolls are a funny lot most think they are mean and nasty and not very hygienic. But after a long day of Trolling around they like to soak in the water at the bottom of a waterfall and let the little fish clean between their toes, and sing .. well not to quietly funny lyrics to songs they have put together from listening to pieces of songs they hear while under the bridge. And quote very bad poems to see who can come up with the worst. I have gotten most of the ingredients and Im looking for the last to make a special pearl to imbed into his club handle. Bashing day is when they get to pick out their very own club and each of his siblings Ive made their gems that is special for each of them. Ive traveled far and wide for each of their gems but this one is by far the hardest to acquire. Because it is in a place where I have to sneak past all the soaking trolls and Grimgor and go to a cave that is located behind the waterfall. It is a very guarded place due to the creature that lives inside it. No one has seen it for many years but the trolls are too stubborn (and I think a little scared) to go see if the creature is still there. Im running out of time to make the Pearl because it must be formed under the full moon light that shines thru the waterfall. Then and only then can the pearl be formed beautiful but strong and soft but hard. Which is tonight. So I can present it in 3 days time.