Sitting atop my mountain cave I can't help but stare down at the dregs of this human race and laugh at them. Such tiny miniscule little creatures that spread like ants across my planet, building their great melted sand buildings, riding around in metal pray with rubber hooves that drink oil, sitting on their tiny wooden structures, living in miniature square mountains made from rock, flying in metal wings that are nearly as big as I am, sailing across the big blues on metal whales. They force the world to work for them...unlike us. It makes me proud to think of that...and why shouldn't it? The All Fire created us perfect, never needing to evolve in over a billion years of existence. Forever the top of the food chain...once...
We were so grand once. Flying in flocks millions wide and millions deep, going where ever we wanted. The All Fire birthed us from the womb of the world, a breath of his fire inside every one of us, forever keeping us warm, forever a weapon against our enemies. Over my lifetime alone I have seen the Great Land I once called home split, spreading across the big blues to where they now sat, the mountain I now call home wasn't here when I hatched, it was another child of the womb of the world in an odd way, I feel suddenly attached to it now. Even though it’s always covered in ice and snow. Anyway, yes we were grand. Hunting the great lizards that walked the lands, apparently the humans know wondered where the great lizards had gone. That always makes me laugh.
In my own lifetime I've watched species rise, fall, grow, expand, mutate. All the while hunting, surviving, fighting, mating...living. But now I'm the last...I suppose we were destined for it, only the All Fire in the sky burns forever. We fell...one by one...to some sickness...our bones turning to ash in the earth. When the humans were smart enough to find us we were but a few thousand spread around the world, separated by the big blues, the thins in what the humans called China and Japan. The small fled across the blues, the spined went to the mountains, the flat the blues the remaining spread around the mainland of Europe. Then of course they thought themselves stronger than us...bah! Seventy humans in tin dresses tried to take my head back to their stone castles when I was in my prime. Swinging their metal bites or jabbing at me with their wooden twigs with metal bites at the end. I'll tell you something...humans are tasty.
Of course some of my brothers and sisters were killed by men in tin dresses, but they were not me. They were usually yearlings or arrogant young boys with more arrogance than talent. I never lost, lost a toe and part of my wing skin...but nothing serious enough to ground me. Ahhhh...I was strong then...incinerating whole villages just because I felt like it, battering away males millions of years my junior for mates. Now I'm the last...talking to myself for company hoping someone might hear this to take note that we did once exist! Silly old fool I am. My last friend died seven thousand and eighty three years ago, a small thin with scarlet scales and slow mind, but he was company. The last thin. I'd roared for hours that night in grief...to think, they once called me king. Valkyrion the Dread. I laugh at that now, what am I now? An old lonely fool in a cave atop a mountain in some snowy land where no one can find me.
After me they'll only speak about us in legend. We've been credited with destroying lands, raising mountains, even swallowing the All Fire, but we'll only be remembered as evil brutes that kept virgin princesses locked away in their towers and how brave men in tin dresses killed us with wooden bites. I once heard the humans say they rode us! I laughed for hours hearing that! I'd sooner eat one of those weakling ants than have them straddle me like some pray! They did get some parts right however, although how I'll never know. We never stop growing although the older you got the less you grew, I'm the size of some mountains, we never run out of fire, our scales are indestructible...only another one of us or death bite can break them, and it's true we had scales every colour imaginable. My first mate had deep purple scales the colour of amethysts...she was beautiful. My first child had scales of pure white like the great wets that travel the big blue in the sky...so unlike me...the exact opposite of me in fact.
But now I'm alone, and lonely, and old...so very old. Sitting here...talking to myself hoping somehow, someone hears this...I am Valkyrion the Dread, leader and last of Dragon kind.