A collection of fables passed down from the City-State of Dragons and Waves "Styxia", compiled by the bardess Archepia.
(Part One)
A collection of fables passed down from the City-State of Dragons and Waves "Styxia," compiled by the bardess Archepia. This copy is gifted to Castorice by Trianne.
The Dragon and the Princess
When the dragon's wings first swept across Styxia like waves crashing against the rocks, all — from the poor to the rich, from the curious to the fearful — looked up in awe.
"Dragon, dragon, why are you silent and sorrowful?" The princess climbed to the high tower where the dragon made its nest, gently stroking its forehead with pity.
The dragon's wings revealed decaying flesh, blackened pus poured from within, the distant black tide had transformed it into a monster. It opened its mouth and swallowed the compassionate princess whole.
"A great disgrace! We must avenge her!" The archers with silver bows and blacksmiths with hammers gathered seven hundred warriors, swearing to cut open the dragon's belly and rescue the princess.
It was a fierce battle — stones shattered, columns fell, until the dragon was riddled with countless bone-exposing wounds, bled black blood, and perished. The princess, pulled from the dragon's belly, was already lifeless.
"My child, born of my flesh and blood, how could I allow you to perish before me?" The grieving queen summoned the kingdom's most precious treasure and called upon an alchemist. In the high tower, the alchemist set a ritual, drawing the dragon's bones and gathering its soul, hoping to reshape the scattered flesh of the dragon into the reborn form of the princess.
But how could the corrupted flesh of darkness give birth to a pure white flower? The "princess," resurrected from death, extended her claws and unfurled her massive bony wings — And devoured every last soul of the city.
As the evil dragon's wings finally cast the shadow of "death" over Styxia, none — be they poor, rich, weeping, or trembling — could resist its grasp.
Styxia, once a land of treasured glory, your people, until their last breath, refused to blame you, refused to blame the loving queen, the valiant centurion, the wise mage, or the kind princess, only lamenting the inevitable and unstoppable black death that sealed their fate.
*Archepia's note: Oho! This story holds great value. If this is true, then it was the evil dragon that brought death to Styxia. But where is the dragon now, the one who once took the form of the princess?*