The Downfall of the Aethereal Dragons
Obsidian-fissure's Downfallen
Adorned with feathered wings, they flew on high with crystal scales shining like angels. Others saw them as beings beyond reproach, living purity, but all living beings have flaws. The Spirit Dragons knew theirs, for they shared the same plane of vision.
The Spirit Dragons faced their own. It sat in the hearts of the males of their kind. They gave it a name so that generations could carry the warning … the Bloodthirst. When males crave power, corruption swells within, and death follows for the surrounding ones. It spreads like a disease, taking every male into its embrace. To eradicate it, they changed their social structure. Males could no longer hold positions of power. Females stood as Clan Leaders; their armies were strictly female. Males tended the eggs and newlings. They were seers and healers, and they became more accomplished at it than the females. It was one of these males who peered into the faults of Aethereal Dragons. Few are born with this ability. Mirrorseers … labeled and feared. When encountered by a Mirrorseer in the Luminous-shroud, they glimpse not your face. They perceive the hue of your soul’s energy and the hidden architecture of your mind—not thoughts, but the emotional imprint they leave behind.
This unfortunate one looked upon an Aethereal Dragon. Its bright purity fell upon him, blinding him to what lied underneath. His mirrorsight would not be denied, and it pierced the false veil. Revealing what their brilliance has concealed. The Mirrorseer knows instantly he has seen something he should not have. They masked it even from Nature, for she would not stand idly by while one of her chosen transformed to this. Sable has settled here. Sharp edges and madness lay exposed to the one granted sight.
The Mirrorseer clung to the knowledge he must flee. He must return to light and sanity, but … truth lies within this chasm … this fissure. Confusion filled his head as unwhole fragments of knowledge bombarded his soul energy and mind.
The physical does not enter the Luminous-shroud, so when the claws sank into the Mirrorseer’s flesh, it appeared as if the wound bloomed from nothing. For the first time, blood stained the glowing plane. The mist did not stir; no sound traveled to deny the horror. The peaceful Luminous-shroud lacked an understanding of violence. It learned that sun cycle.
The consciousness it held was simple, and it knew the Mirrorseer who visited often. His soul energy’s touch was comfort. The gentle movement of his soul form was wanted. When it feels him leaving not by his will, but by forced, the glow around the victim and murderer dimmed.
It reaches out to Nature, wanting to understand the loss it feels.
What it does not voice, she does.
The Earth quakes with her fury.
Other of her creations bring senseless death, NOT HER DRAGONS.
They have evolved beyond such violence. They were shaped to protect, to guide, to echo her breath.
She goes to the little Mirrorseer, and through his cooling body she views what he witnessed.
The vision is the Aethereal Dragon’s downfall. Nature cannot tell how long, but they have been connecting with the Obsidian-fissure. A forbidden plane that holds an uncontrollable obsession. It gives enough to bring you back and only speaks of ill happenings. In the Aethereal Dragon’s vanity, they thought they could use it and remain untouched. They were mistaken.
With constant use, they have become part of its Downfallen. Nature will make sure they are marked for what they have become.
She rises in the sky they normally fill. It is empty. They have all fled, but none can hide in the ecosphere she crafted.
Nature scans the Earth and finds them all cowering in a cluster of caves. Around them lie bodies of their own. The ones who refused the dark plane. She looks down upon the true and whispers.
“With these spores, you will have your say to the one you attempted to save and who extinguished your light.”
Spores rain softly from the sky and find a home among the dead. Tears mist the ground … not for vengeance, but for grief.
Grief for all who will be marred.
Grief for all who have been lost.
The sickly gray mushrooms push through scale and feather. The bodies reclaimed to nutrition the new. When the wind is right, spores are released and fill the caves. Feathers rot, scales grow sickly, and litter the cave floor. Their skin is tough and buried. When an Aethereal Dragon steps into the sight of a Mirrorseer, a shimmer of their once true self shines, and they grieve.
The Spirit Dragons faced their own. It sat in the hearts of the males of their kind. They gave it a name so that generations could carry the warning … the Bloodthirst. When males crave power, corruption swells within, and death follows for the surrounding ones. It spreads like a disease, taking every male into its embrace. To eradicate it, they changed their social structure. Males could no longer hold positions of power. Females stood as Clan Leaders; their armies were strictly female. Males tended the eggs and newlings. They were seers and healers, and they became more accomplished at it than the females. It was one of these males who peered into the faults of Aethereal Dragons. Few are born with this ability. Mirrorseers … labeled and feared. When encountered by a Mirrorseer in the Luminous-shroud, they glimpse not your face. They perceive the hue of your soul’s energy and the hidden architecture of your mind—not thoughts, but the emotional imprint they leave behind.
This unfortunate one looked upon an Aethereal Dragon. Its bright purity fell upon him, blinding him to what lied underneath. His mirrorsight would not be denied, and it pierced the false veil. Revealing what their brilliance has concealed. The Mirrorseer knows instantly he has seen something he should not have. They masked it even from Nature, for she would not stand idly by while one of her chosen transformed to this. Sable has settled here. Sharp edges and madness lay exposed to the one granted sight.
The Mirrorseer clung to the knowledge he must flee. He must return to light and sanity, but … truth lies within this chasm … this fissure. Confusion filled his head as unwhole fragments of knowledge bombarded his soul energy and mind.
The physical does not enter the Luminous-shroud, so when the claws sank into the Mirrorseer’s flesh, it appeared as if the wound bloomed from nothing. For the first time, blood stained the glowing plane. The mist did not stir; no sound traveled to deny the horror. The peaceful Luminous-shroud lacked an understanding of violence. It learned that sun cycle.
The consciousness it held was simple, and it knew the Mirrorseer who visited often. His soul energy’s touch was comfort. The gentle movement of his soul form was wanted. When it feels him leaving not by his will, but by forced, the glow around the victim and murderer dimmed.
It reaches out to Nature, wanting to understand the loss it feels.
What it does not voice, she does.
The Earth quakes with her fury.
Other of her creations bring senseless death, NOT HER DRAGONS.
They have evolved beyond such violence. They were shaped to protect, to guide, to echo her breath.
She goes to the little Mirrorseer, and through his cooling body she views what he witnessed.
The vision is the Aethereal Dragon’s downfall. Nature cannot tell how long, but they have been connecting with the Obsidian-fissure. A forbidden plane that holds an uncontrollable obsession. It gives enough to bring you back and only speaks of ill happenings. In the Aethereal Dragon’s vanity, they thought they could use it and remain untouched. They were mistaken.
With constant use, they have become part of its Downfallen. Nature will make sure they are marked for what they have become.
She rises in the sky they normally fill. It is empty. They have all fled, but none can hide in the ecosphere she crafted.
Nature scans the Earth and finds them all cowering in a cluster of caves. Around them lie bodies of their own. The ones who refused the dark plane. She looks down upon the true and whispers.
“With these spores, you will have your say to the one you attempted to save and who extinguished your light.”
Spores rain softly from the sky and find a home among the dead. Tears mist the ground … not for vengeance, but for grief.
Grief for all who will be marred.
Grief for all who have been lost.
The sickly gray mushrooms push through scale and feather. The bodies reclaimed to nutrition the new. When the wind is right, spores are released and fill the caves. Feathers rot, scales grow sickly, and litter the cave floor. Their skin is tough and buried. When an Aethereal Dragon steps into the sight of a Mirrorseer, a shimmer of their once true self shines, and they grieve.
Written for Spooktober 2025: Downfallen. This entry explores the grief of transformation, the sorrow of truth seen too late, and the legacy of those who refused the dark plane.
Fates Woven in Legacy and Battle.
The Downfallen
- Condition: Soul distortion via prolonged contact with the Obsidian-Fissure.
- Symptoms: Brilliance masking madness, emotional fragmentation, resistance to Mirrorseer sight.
- Classification: Fissure-bound corruption.
Sporefall Notes
- Fungal bloom triggered by grief and soul distortion.
- Appears as sickly gray mushrooms.
- Carries emotional imprint of the dead.
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Author's Notes
This piece was shaped in a season of reckoning. It carries the weight of ecological grief, soul distortion, and the quiet horror of brilliance turned inward. The fungal bloom is not vengeance—it is Nature’s sorrow made visible.
The Downfall of the Aethereal Dragons” was shaped through quiet collaboration. My daughter Dawn read the early draft and offered insight that pierced the veil—clarifying cadence, deepening emotional truth. Together, we refined the descent of the Aethereal Dragons, ensuring their fall echoed with grief, legacy, and soul resonance. This version carries both our breaths, woven into the mythic rhythm of Grandel Isle.