Ophiliana was the better fighter. I was the better spellcaster. We were, however, both dragons; magic and muscle in one package, wings that could block out the sun, flame that could burn a horse to the bone, eyes as sharp as eagle’s.
And yet, for all our strength and power, Ophiliana and I could not conceive.
We kept trying, of course. Dead egg after dead egg. We waited.
The humans were not so patient. They pleaded with the gods to return. They threatened. They screamed to the heavens.
And then, all other avenues exhausted, they sacrificed.
I've always been thinking of stories for as long as I've been alive. I have way, way, way too many to tell and far too little time to tell them.
It was only in 2011 that I actually started shaping and weaving those random, jumbling, chaotic masses of thoughts into coherent narratives and began self-publishing.
I write a little science fiction, a little fantasy, a little humour and comedy, and a few other things all over the place.