Hope

It had been a calm, starry night. Most of the Zephamyrs had already been sleeping soundly in the soft light of the moon, taking the chance to enjoy the serenity.

However, there was a loud crash near lair, and the dragons were awakened from their slumber. Garwyn hurried over to check out the source, only to discover an Imperial on the brink of death. She had been covered in scratches and bruises, her body thin and frail from malnutrition; it was a miracle for her to survive crashing like she did.

The Imperial's breathing was shallow, and Zylemius wasted no time in helping her into the lair, with the help of other Guardians, and had Slyphus and Cryptomeria follow close. By the time they were in the lair, the Imperial had already fallen unconscious, and the two worked quickly to patch up numerous, but thankfully, minor, injuries.

Other clan members coordinated the organisation of a clan meal, when the Imperial awoke, she was sure to be hungry, and they planned to provide a filling supper. At the helm was Snowfall, who had once been in a similar position as the Female Imperial. Now a Chef, he was grateful for the chance he was given, and was determined to give that chance to the dragon who now lay in the safety of the Zephamyrs.

Over the remainder of the night, the Imperial ate alongside the clan in a grand banquet, hungrily devouring what she could, cheerful banter filling her ears. Once she had slowed down in her eating, members started to chat with her, as if she were a long-time friend.

At one point, Styrm spoke up:
"Say, what's yer name?"
"I... I don't have one..."
"Now, we can't have you being nameless the rest of your life! How 'bout think up one y'like?"

This brought about excited chatter as the Imperial pondered.
"Well... I think I already have an idea."

And that is how Hope joined the Zephamyrs, looking forward to the brighter future ahead.