Cold, night-black scales slithered over dusty gold. Two eyes burnt like stars trapped in amber, bright in the shadows. Foul breath swept like fog between pointed teeth.
Ruined wings drooped limply on its back – splintered and skeletal, torn and crooked, like a tree caught in a lightning strike.
She stared up from the cave floor. Even all the treasure seemed like nothing against the enormity of the ancient terror.
“But,” she stammered, “there are no more dragons.”
“There is one,” he replied. “Once we filled the sky: numberless and beautiful as the stars. I had many brothers. Many sisters. But now there is only me. I am not beautiful. And there are no skies.”
In the darkness beneath the earth, on a pile of decaying treasure, she stared into the burning eyes of the last dragon and saw a shadow dance amongst the flames.
A shadow of wings and stars.
Word Count: 150
This is for Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer. Thanks to Priceless Joy for running the challenge and Enisa for providing the prompt photo!