Welcome to a world of ruin

Arco’s head dips down to observe his talon, eyebrows arching in worry. The synthetic skin had peeled away, revealing the azure tendon sheaths of his bony paws, and a shy exoskeleton peeking out beneath that. The stub of his toe from the prior Glowlit expedition, while initially superficial, had peeled away from excessive gnawing, as if Arco were a mutt to its flea-bitten leg, until his whole hand had nearly been degloved. With a heavy sigh, Arco unfurled his massive wings, sending flurries of snow cascading down the mountainside.

The chemical tang of blue blood lingers in the windy air, festering a wad of anxiety in his gut that something might catch whiff of his vulnerability.

He tucks into his eyrie, nestled among the craggy peaks, whimpering in pain. Arco, the almighty, who once ruled this icy expanse of his kingdom, now couldn’t even walk without searing bolts of pain. He had mauled away most of the wires in his hand responsible for his nervous system, and yet, somehow, phantom agony permeated up his arm, as if his brain was making him suffer just to spite him for his stupid mistake.

Arco cranes his slender neck above the stone walls, wishfully admiring the landscape. Crafted from shimmering metals and adorned with etched patterns of floe-like designs, his frame glinted under the sun's rays, mirroring the majestic glaciers that surrounded him. For years,his solitary existence intertwined with the serenity of the white-capped mountains, and he was content. He had soared, and he wished that once more he could stretch his wings and let the frosty winds carry him, but with his mangled hand, he couldn’t get a good run up for it…

Arco needed help, something not even his mountain refuge could offer, but the thought of descending into the valley filled him with dread. Amidst the lush greenery and vibrant life below lay the amicabots—automated beings designed to assist and support, but to Arco, they were harbingers of death, thieves anticipating to slay him and steal his treasures. The more Arco wrestled his situation, the more fear gripped him. Memories of interactions with amicabots flickered in his mind. He had witnessed their efficient care and support, yet a primal fear festered within him. This fear was not rooted in reality but rather in an instinctive aversion to anything that felt unfamiliar, he was meant to fend off intruders, afterall. 

The mountains, once a home, began to feel suffocating as he languished in isolation. And as the dragon looks upon the land below, he ponders hopefully… His yearning to explore the vibrant world that lay beyond his frozen pillars is what first spelled his doom, but he knew staying here was suicide. Even the fiercest of beings must sometimes seek help.

The death knell tolls mockingly in his head, ominous dins painting a clearer picture of his grave. Determination surged through his blood. With three limbs, he attempts scaling the geodes, and like Sisyphus on the incline, he hopelessly drags back down to start again.

Ssssccrrrrrrraaapeeeeeeeee….

Sscrrrraaaappeeeee…

Scrrraappee..

Fatigue prickles his legs each time he slides down, and with every failure, the harsher his disheartening irons yank him back down into the pit of giving up. But Arco commits, biting his tongue and slamming his deformed hand into the rock. Jarring shock thrummed through it as if he’d been stabbed in the palm, and his claws scraped uselessly against the stone and sang with pain. But instinct to survive roared louder than his body’s screams of protest, and with a purposeful beat of his mechanical wings, Arco descended from his lofty perch, the thrill of adventure course through his circuits once more.

Alive, I am alive! I wish to live!

With the eagerness of a race horse untethered from its pen, he swirls in the cerulean air, free as a bird. As he glided down, the air shifted from the frigid chill of ice to a warmer embrace, the landscape blooming with rich hues of reds, oranges, and golds. The sight was breathtaking; the mountains slowly transformed into rolling hills adorned with the fallen leaves of autumn, creating a tapestry of colors that inspired an awe he had never known. Trees swayed gently, their boughs heavy with fruit and promise, and bustling creatures unseen scurry in a lively dance under the huge stretch of his wings. The sunlight filtered through the foliage, casting dappled shadows across the ground in funny patterns the dragon never witnessed before. He marveled at the warmth of the sun against his cool metal skin, a delightful contrast to the gelid realm he had always known. Here, he wishes to fritter on all the things that didn’t matter, instead of following strict orders and prophecies he never understood.

But, as much as he wished to land and poke his nose around in the foliage, his core beckoned him like it was tied by a string to somewhere far away, an inexplicable pull to go home. With each wingbeat, Arco's fervor grew; he would face the unknown for the sake of his own survival and to reclaim the skies that were rightfully his. He lifts his head and lets the breeze whip past his face, each gust invigorating his spirit as he soared higher. The thrill of freedom buzzed through him, yet an odd twinge suddenly compelled him to look down. As he peered below, the breathtaking expanses of his homeland that he saw moments prior were gone, waned into a sad world of grays. Cities lay desecrated, their once-vibrant colors muted beneath a shroud of soot and ash, making his heart clench with an unfamiliar weight.

His mind raced with possibilities of what calamity had befallen these lands. Was it an earthquake that had ravaged these towns, or perhaps something far more sinister? Flying miles, he discovered more remnants of civilization, each more desolate than the last. The stark contrast to the serene mountain he had called home for a century made his back crawl like squirrels were running down them. Arco had always heard tales of the world beyond his lofty refuge, but now the reality of destruction painted a dismal picture. What darkness could have brought about such sorrow? He felt a gnawing worry ripple through him, a fierce need to understand the fate of this land that had once sung with life. The air grew swarthy with a sense of foreboding as Arco glanced at the scattered shadows of crumbled buildings and the ghostly echoes of what were once bustling streets. An urgency bubbled within him.

The yearn in his chest waned the closer he got to his destination, until finally, he carefully landed and limped over to the location of the robotics laboratory he was made. Each deliberate step sent a ripple of mixed emotions through him; excitement, anxiety, and an aching sense of nostalgia intertwined in a complex dance. But, what he had envisioned and remembered as a place bustling with innovation now lay before him as a desolate expanse of rocks and dirt, an unforgiving landscape stripped of its purpose. Arco’s nostrils flared, mist spraying from them as he inhaled the familiar yet haunting scent of the earth. Puzzled, he cocked his head, waddling towards the back of the huge mound of geodes that towered before him, its surfaces glimmering faintly in the bleak sun that once felt so warm.

Arco sheepishly nudged his snout under a large rock and flipped it over with his massive horn, crowing with uncharacteristic softness. Glimmers of hope that his creators were merely hiding in the dirt, perhaps startled by his arrival, were quickly extinguished when bones and unusual molds met him. Concern flickered like a distant star when he found amongst the layers of dust and emptiness that echoed in the cavernous silence, mummified beings with their mouths pried open in an eternal, silent scream, twisting violently as if they were still alive, attempting to free themselves from suffocating. Arco panics and quickly pulls out one of these statues, hoping to rescue them, but when they fall to the floor with a loud thud, stiff as a board, his ears droop in realization he’s too late.

He could not shake the longing that gripped him, nor the deep-seated urge to connect with others like him. With a heavy heart, he softly bellowed, calling out for them, his voice reverberating off the barren landscape. He paused, straining his senses as he listened, hoping for a response—any sign that he was not alone in this. Howls of arid winds, as if the spirit of wolves galloped in the choking air, were all he received. The silence was deafening, roaring louder than he ever could. In that moment, Arco understood the weight of his solitude, a solitary sentinel in a world that had promised companionship and discovery.