I know, I know, what else do I ever do? But this story is special. This is the story of how a young mazi, a lady dragon, and a young lyrre, a gentleman cat, overcame old hatred and anger to save their world. And, at the risk of becoming a cliche, they did that with the power of love. Though the magic didn't hurt any, either.
So. Once upon a time (as all good stories start), in the cave-cities of the world called Trycanta, there lived a lyrre named Fenne, whose fur was black as night, and who had three brothers. And once upon that same time, in the treetop-towns, lived a mazi named Acalisi, whose scales were sunset-red and sky-blue, and who had two sisters.
Times were bad upon Trycanta, for the mazor and the lyrror had been at war for long ages, and at last both sides had struck a truly terrible blow. The eggs of the mazor now hatched three times as many mazir as mazer, and among the lyrroler, the children of the lyrror, three lyrrer were born living for every little lyrri.
Already lyrrer of Fenne's age were joining together in what they called bachelor tribes, pooling their resources to buy herds and leaving the cave-cities, swearing to return to the ways of their meat-eating ancestors. The elders tried to tell them that eating only meat would make their savage instincts harder to control, but they would not listen.
Acalisi, for her part, watched her people grow more attached to their customs by the day, even when those customs would no longer be a help in this new world. Mazir who knew they would never marry submerged their disappointment in rigid adherence to tradition, and Lisi (as her friends called her) could not bear the thought of such a life.
And so it was that Lisi flew out from her mother's veranda at dawn, and Fenne crept forth from his parents' cave as night fell. Neither knew what they were seeking, but both knew that their people could not long exist as they were, and they did not want to let their beautiful Trycanta become a world inhabited only by vengeful ghosts.
Fenne hunted and foraged for himself as he journeyed towards the edge of the grasslands, where the forests began. He slept under the stars at night, but more often found himself looking at them, as though the answer he sought would come from there. But how could the stars, beautiful though they were, give him a wife?
Lisi carried some food with her, and found more in the forests, and spent a few hours every day sunning her wings, for only mazor who have had plentiful exposure to sunlight can fly easily or well. More and more she found her eyes drawn to the blue of the sky, but how could the sky, lovely though it was, provide her with a husband?
And after some few days of travel, the two met where forested plains gave way to grassy hills, and looked long at one another before Lisi cautiously plucked a sprig of blue blossoms which grew nearby and held them out. Fenne came forward and accepted the flowers in one paw, and thus they agreed to peace for a time.
Speech between them was slow, for Lisi knew few words in Linmyra, the spoken tongue, and Fenne had never learned Tamazo, the moving language. At last Lisi produced a pad of paper from the pouch between her wings, and Fenne found berries and crushed them for ink, for both could read and write if they could not speak.
What they wrote and thought have been lost to history, but plainly both young people were shaken by their world's slide towards disaster, for on that spot they made a pact, to work together and use their strengths as one, to pool their desires, both for their individual selves and for their races, and perhaps save everyone in so doing.
And so it was that Fenne's strength, which he drew from the earth on which he ran and the life it nourished, cradled and befriended the power of Acalisi, which blossomed from the air through which she flew and the freedom it gave her. Together they worked a spell of great power, one meant for use only by those in dire straits.
That spell, and the strength the two young people found, the strength of all their races' need to survive and their world's desire for peace, reached out through the very fabric of time and space and drew to the world of Trycanta a third race, who had themselves fled their own world's ceaseless wars and sought only a peaceful home.
Part of the tale of that reaching out, of the moment when Fenne first looked on a lady he found both strange and lovely, and when she felt his regard upon her and sought to find from whence it came, shall be told in a book named after the shortest day of the year. For now, my story is done, and if you want another, you must tell it to me.