Chronormu stirred with the first glimmer of the rising sun. He yawned and stretched and smiled upon the wonders of the waking world.
A frigid breeze blew a dusting of snowflakes into his roost through the open arch that framed its entrance.
Here, nestled high upon the mountainside, the cold was welcoming, familiar. Chronormu walked sleepily to the ledge and looked out upon the endless fields of snow and ice that stretched all the way to Wyrmrest Temple, the grand spire rising far in the distance. As if to greet him on this new day, the glowering clouds parted, and rays of sunlight shone down to warm his bronze scales.
It is a good day to be a dragon! he told himself, as he did every morning. And yet, something in his otherwise happy heart squirmed, a nagging bit of discontent that left him feeling rather out of place.
A shimmer in the heavens caught his eye, small at first, growing larger as another bronze dragon approached his roost. Chronormu smiled when he recognized his dearest friend.
“Zidormi, good morning! Have you brought breakfast? Please say yes.” Just the thought of food caused a rumble in Chronormu’s empty tummy.
The elegant bronze landed with a graceful flourish upon the ledge and grinned, offering a playful toss of her head. “No, silly. I came to hear your decision. Tell me what form you will be choosing!”
All at once the rumble turned to knots. Chronormu’s brow furrowed into an embarrassed frown.
Zidormi’s jaw fell agape. “Chronormu! It is less than a fortnight until your Visage Day! You mean you still have not decided on a mortal form?”
It had been such a cool, bright, beautiful morning that the thought had simply not entered Chronormu’s mind. Well, of course it had, but he paid it no attention in the hopes that it would flitter away and leave him in peace. And for a few precious minutes, it had obliged. But no longer.
Chronormu slumped, his long neck craning downward as his head came to rest upon folded claws. “Oh, Zidormi, I can’t make up my mind! There are so many possibilities, and just when I think I’ve made a decision, a different choice pops into my head. And what if I make the wrong choice? Please, tell me what you would do.”
Zidormi sighed and allowed the corners of her mouth to curl into a comforting smile. “We both know that I cannot choose for you. My own Visage Day is still several seasons away.”
Chronormu chuffed, a plume of pale smoke rising from his nostrils. “I bet you already know what mortal form you’re picking, don’t you?”
“I did not fly all the way to your roost to talk about my choice, Chronormu.”
“But I’m right, aren’t I?”
Zidormi stopped herself from protesting again, aside from a brief huff of surrender. “Well, yes, but—”
“I knew it!” wailed Chronormu as he craned his neck from side to side in frustration. “Decisions come so easily for you. I bet you even know what duties you’ll request, where you’ll go, who you’ll bond with, when you’ll—”
“Stop!” she cried. But when Zidormi saw the tears falling from her friend’s wide green eyes, she sighed and leaned her face in close to nuzzle him. “There, there, my dearest Chronormu, no more fretting.”
The young dragon sobbed. “I just don’t know how I’m supposed to choose how others see me, when I’m not even sure how I see myself.”
Zidormi spoke with a quiet calm. “When our master, the Timeless One, faces a difficult decision, how do you suppose he settles it?”
The thought succeeded in distracting him. “He probably asks for advice from his fellow Aspects.”
“And our master is very wise, is he not?”
Chronormu gave a solemn nod. “The wisest.”
Zidormi smiled. “So I suggest you seek his counsel. Nozdormu has helped countless of our dragonflight prepare for their Visage Days—I’m certain he will do the same for you.”
Chronormu’s heart swelled with relief and joy. It felt good to have some direction. He folded his wings around his wonderful friend and gave Zidormi the biggest hug he could muster.
“I will, I promise. But will you have breakfast with me first? This is far too important a discussion to have on an empty stomach!”
