Gloaming
(#31033000)
Level 3 Guardian
Shadow
Ethereal Trickster
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 50/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Light.
Male Guardian
This dragon is hibernating.
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
20.08 m
Wingspan
21.33 m
Weight
13036.39 kg
Genetics
Wisteria
Python
Python
Lead
Morph
Morph
Cerulean
Firefly
Firefly
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 3 Guardian
EXP: 503 / 1401
STR
7
AGI
6
DEF
8
QCK
5
INT
5
VIT
8
MND
6
Biography
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Gloaming
Nicknames: Glo, Wiz Light Representative, Chancellor ♥ an alliance swap from the Disillusionists 
╭━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━╮ = Lore = (written and coded by Disillusionist) ♫ Colbie Caillat - When the Darkness Comes ♫ ╰━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━╯ |
His parents were the leaders of the Disillusionists, and it had been decreed that one of their children would have a place in Clan Elysia, their oldest ally. That child, chosen by the Elysian leaders themselves, was Gloaming. The Elysians were delighted to have him, but Gloaming, suddenly surrounded by unfamiliar dragons, found their warmth almost smothering. Even at that age he understood that his new clan had great expectations for him. Many children would’ve been encouraged by that; he only felt pressured. It was not just the new surroundings, but also Gloaming himself — and the rumors about his mother.
There were whispers that she was Shade-touched. It was difficult to believe, since she was a bright, shining dragon — but looking at himself in the mirror, Gloaming could believe it. There were stories of Shade-touched dragons who’d passed that insidious influence on to their own offspring....He was afraid it’d happened to him, too. As dark as his mother was bright...It was no wonder some hatchlings taunted him, saying he was not a true dragon of Light. That wounded Gloaming deeply; he had been separated from his family and still didn’t feel like a part of Clan Elysia. That some dragons thought he didn’t have a place in his Flight as well...It was awful.
The Elysians themselves remained kind and supportive, however. Arinwade in particular had taken a shine to the tyke. “You OK, Wiz? You’ve been scudding around like a four-legged raincloud recently. Anything you want to unload onto ol’ Wade?”
It was Wade who’d given Gloaming that nickname: “Wiz”, short for “wisteria”, the color of his scales. Arinwade was a good-natured dragon, always willing to listen — but Gloaming didn’t really feel like talking right now. “I’m OK, sir.”
“You sure? Hey, I’m a tough old drake; I can take whatever you throw at me.”
Gloaming brushed him off again. He did it very politely, but Wade had children of his own; he knew when he was being brushed off. It was he who suggested taking Gloaming along to observe a trading transaction with a Hewn City clan.
The clan leaders agreed that Gloaming could use the change of scenery. Next week, he set out together with Wade and the clan merchants. They reached their destination without incident, and the meeting proceeded as expected — although Gloaming couldn’t concentrate; he was tired from traveling, and as he watched the adults discussing contracts his head began to ache.
He was permitted to take a walk, provided he didn’t leave the clan grounds. He hadn’t intended to; it just...happened. He’d wanted to walk until his head cleared, but it hadn’t by the time he reached the edge of the lair, so he just kept walking....
Ahead of him loomed the Tangled Wood, the domain of Shadow. He hesitated only briefly before continuing onwards, into the darkness.
One of Gloaming’s heaviest concerns was that he was being trained as a Light Representative. A Representative — him? He was already being mocked for his sinister looks and dubious parentage; how would anybody take him seriously later on?
“Neither your parentage nor your appearance affects your qualifications, Gloaming,” Elynsynos had said after he’d voiced his worries. She’d studied him with a grave, sympathetic look. “Much is made of light’s brilliance. But eyes must close sometime, if only to blink; light needs its shadows, too. There is no shame in darkness within, without — whether it’s the hue of your scales or the doubt clouding your mind.”
But the Matron’s words were far from his mind now. He was too preoccupied with his own worries. And so he was surprised when the ground suddenly caved in beneath him.
He fell onto hard-packed earth. After getting dazedly to his feet, he looked up. The hole through which he’d fallen yawned above him, showing a smudgy sky. It would’ve been easy to climb up the shaft and crawl back out...but then he glimpsed a furtive movement out of the corner of his eye. A deeper shadow moving through the dark...
“Hello? Is anyone there?” Even as Gloaming spoke, the shadow moved away. Perhaps it wasn’t hostile, then?
He lumbered after it, squeezing through the tunnels. Deeper into the shadows they went, till strangling roots scraped against his sides. Still he kept on, not really knowing why, eyes fixed on that fleeting shadow. Deeper and deeper...into the darkness...
With a loud rustle, the other dragon turned, confronting Gloaming with pale violet eyes in a spiky face. A Nocturne. “You’re not one of my children, boy. Why do you follow me?” she growled.
Despite the abrupt greeting, the Nocturne welcomed Gloaming into her subterranean den. She offered him some mushroom tea, which he gratefully drank. “So you fell, eh? It’s not unusual, child. It happens all the time....You had best return to your family, however.”
“I’m OK,” Gloaming answered — just a bit too quickly.
The Nocturne’s eyes narrowed. She advanced, looking searchingly into his face. “Really, now? My boy, are you running from something?”
“Just...my studies.” Gloaming averted his gaze. He expected a lecture, but instead, the Nocturne laughed. “Ah, yes, the bane of every child that has ever lived. What sort of studies terrify you, then?”
“I’m not ‘terrified’! It’s just...”
— the anxiety of being away from home, of living up to the expectations of dragons he barely knew even as others expressed doubt in his abilities. The Disillusionists had sent allies to the Elysians before and they had all performed well; Gloaming, as the progenitors’ son, was expected to surpass them. He truly wanted to achieve that, but he was afraid he would fall short and shame his parents and his clan.
The Nocturne listened quietly all throughout. When she spoke again, it was no idle comment: “Your parents — aren’t there rumors about them being Shade-touched?”
Gloaming broke off in mid-ramble. Had he said...too much? “They’re just rumors,” he scoffed. “They don’t mean anything.”
“You are correct,” the Nocturne agreed, watching as he struggled to rise.
The room rippled around him as if he were underwater. Colors jumped out of the darkness, startling in their vibrance....He saw the mug he’d drunk from, glowing bits floating in the tea. “The mushrooms...She must have—!”
“What did...you do to me?” he groaned as he sank down. The Nocturne leaned towards him, her eyes glowing softly. “Your mind is closed,” she crooned, sounding almost disappointed. “Unusually closed in one so young. I needed a little push to open it....”
“You’re going to...read...my mind?”
“I don’t need to read your mind, little one. I need you to read mine.”
Darkness surrounded Gloaming like a deep, vast sea.... “You doubt so much.” The Nocturne’s voice was suddenly cavernous. “So much darkness in your mind....I am impressed, though not necessarily glad.”
“Nobody is.” Gloaming shivered. The Nocturne flitted closer, like a fish in water, and he told her, “I’m from Light....Darkness is bad.”
“No, child. Darkness has its place in Sornieth, just as you do. You don’t have to like it, but neither should you malign it. Your deity will agree — grudgingly, but yes, she will agree.”
Gloaming’s eyes narrowed. “How would you know?”
And the darkness tore apart.
The images that appeared were strange, with oddly bright colors and rounded shapes. They lacked depth, looking almost like moving paintings — and Gloaming realized he was peering into the Nocturne’s thoughts.
“The memory is partly obscured — a perfect one, exactly as I remember it, would damage your mind.”
“Why?” Gloaming whispered. And then he saw.
Shapes, inky and writhing, so black they hurt his eyes. He closed them, but the shapes still danced upon his eyelids, twisting so violently he thought they might pierce his brain. “It hurts...It hurts to look! Make it stop!”
Light washed against his face like a fresh breeze. He opened his eyes to a tremendous sight—
The Shade. Caught in the Lightweaver’s shining claws, struggling to break free. Gloaming had seen pictures of the deity looking serene and wise, but here she fought vigorously, battling to drive the Shade from her home. The Shade stabbed her with its talons, and she screamed.
And then darkness descended: the Shadowbinder. As implacable as the night, tearing the Shade away from her sister with terrible slowness. The Shade writhed in agony, and the Lightweaver, free once again, pressed the attack home.
“Light and Shadow — perfectly balanced, and with balance comes order. Order against chaos.”
The Lightweaver swung her great head — and Gloaming gasped. She was looking straight at him. She could see him.
The Nocturne chuckled again. “Even through time, she sees you. She perceives your inner darkness...and she accepts it. So must you. The taunts of playground bullies, rumors about your ancestors...In no way do they diminish you. The Lightweaver herself accepts you. Her mark, placed upon your eyes, is proof that you belong.”
And the vision dissolved like powder.
Gloaming got to his feet. He looked around....The room was dissolving, too, cushions and furniture melding back with the darkness. “Why did you help me?” he whispered. The other dragon was behind him, but he didn’t dare turn around; he knew what he would see. Not a Nocturne — not anymore. Polished onyx scales, glowing violet eyes. Black liquid pooling upon the ground...
“Have you not been listening? You really must study harder.” And the Shadowbinder laughed, a cavernous chuckle that shook his bones. “It will come to you eventually, like the dawn.”
Gloaming was changed when he returned to the clan. Most apparently, his eyes were no longer merely yellow. They now shone, emitting light like stars...or suns.
It was his newfound attitude that Clan Elysia was most grateful for, however: He now studied earnestly, becoming devoted to learning the duties of a Light Representative. Initially some doubt remained: Why hadn’t the Lightweaver spoken to him instead? But then he realized it made sense; he had been on the Shadowbinder’s territory, after all.
And looking at himself in the mirror now, he didn’t doubt that the Lightweaver had accepted him. He looked at his shining golden eyes: mere fragments of her own, but shining nonetheless — and he had to smile.
Years passed. Gloaming settled into Clan Elysia, becoming comfortable with his clanmates, his duties, and himself. He was more sociable and easily made friends now. Although sometimes...
“Hi! I’m Aurelia!”
“Oh, hallo.” Gloaming smiled shyly. Arinwade was supposed to introduce him to this new clanmate, but she had approached him by herself and now seemed intent on chattering his ears off.
“I’m from the Sunbeam Ruins, too. It’s my first time in another clan; I’m really excited to be here. I’ve been told that we’re going to be classmates. You seem really nice! Your eyes are so bright!”
“Umm...” Gloaming shot Arinwade a “Help me!” look. The skald laughed and bustled over to mediate for them.
Marked by the Lightweaver and counseled by the Shadowbinder...Gloaming had some interesting times behind him already. They’d helped prepare him for what lay ahead. With his family and his new clan to support him, he didn’t doubt that he would make it — and that it would be an adventure every step of the way.
He was no longer afraid. He was ready.
~ The End
~ a gift from Disillusionist (254672)
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