An endless expanse of bubbling molten magma glows dully, an orange red ocean of liquid rock. Noxious fumes rise from its surface, but that is not all that rises. A figure slowly ascends from the depths, lava dripping off ceremonial armor that itself glows cherry red. As their feet find purchase on rough-hewn steps leading from the lake of fire, the figure spreads draconic wings, shaking off the excess residue left from the molten sea. The only sound, for the moment, is the clinking of cooling metal and the distant roar of volcanic gasses being ignites into flame as they are vented from beneath the gently undulating magma. The figures horned silhouetted against the molten glow is stark and their long tail lashes out as they flex their claws.
Lifting the Bloodstone Scepter in her left hand, it's fiery light pushes back the darkness and reveals the shape to be that of Dragon Lord Ember. The fiery magic, trapped within the scepter licks like a thousand tongues of flame against the distant cavern roof. It leaps from rock to rock, revealing the ceiling to actually be studded with hundreds of thousands of towering crystals, ranging from the size of a house to the height of a skyscraper. The truly mindbogglingly enormous chamber that Ember finds herself in is, in fact, one massive geode! As the light from the Bloodstone Scepter spreads it makes the chamber as bright as day!
It is by this light that the young Dragon Lord first sees that she is not alone.
Truly titanic figures spread out before her, their massive bodies intertwined among one another. Each seemed to be made of some form of stone, their scales glistening dully like jewels beneath the glow of billions of luminous crystals. Though they easily dwarf not only Ember, but her exalted father the former Dragon Lord Torch, the young leader of the dragons shows no fear. She steps forward, hoping carefully along a series of small stones that form a pathway to the distant figures. As she draws closer, she ignores the pile of crumbled boulders to her left, and instead makes her way to a small onyx plinth set in a cluster of crimson crystal that looks like the flames of a great fire frozen in time. There is a hollow place in the middle of the plinth and, kneeling, Ember reverently places the Bloodstone Scepter in the waiting recess. She sits perfectly still for a moment, head bowed in supplication, and waits.
And she waits.
And waits.
Finally her patience runs out, and she rips off her helmet with an angry shout, "Well say something already! I've followed the rituals, observed the customs and traditions! I even swam the lake of fire in this stupid ceremonial armor to answer your summons and receive your wisdom! The least you can do is greet me, or does the title of Dragon Lord not hold any import to the Council of Ages!?"
A thin hiss of laughter reaches Ember, and her lips curl back in a snarl of disdain. A voice, barely more than a whisper, floods her mind. "If you knew anything of dragon custom and tradition, you would know you reach out to the so called 'Council of Ages' as a supplicant, not a lord." The laughter went on for some time. Ember tried to ignore it, but simply sitting there and letting the hateful noise wash over and through her was more than she could bear.
"Silence Doomsayer! I will not be mocked by you or the Council!" she thundered, leaping to her feet, wings spread in a gesture of intimidation to the crumbled stones that lay beside her. This only made the disembodied voice laugh harder. "Fine! Laugh all you like disgraced one, but I am still Dragon Lord, which is more than can be said of you, Lord of Dust!"
"Oh ho ho! Such pretty names and titles you give me, little lordling," chuckled the voice. "Do you think that means you know me? I thought all knowledge of my deeds were to be stricken from the stones of history."
"I know enough. I know why your remains were desecrated," replied Ember. "And I know no Dragon Lord has listened to your ramblings since. I see no reason that should change now."
"But there is every reason lordling," replied the voice, which was now clearly coming from the pile of broken stones rather than from within Ember's mind. In the half-light of the lava below, the crumbled visage of a dragons head could just be made out. A broken horn here, a piece of a maw there. An orb, that may have once been an eye rotates gently in a granite socket to lock onto Ember with it's blank stare. "For mine is the only voice that can reach you! It takes a Dragon Lord to awaken the Council of Ages to receive their laughable 'guidance' and 'wisdom'. This is why they do not acknowledge you!"
Ember bridled at that, the crest of spines along the back of her head standing to attention. "You dare question my claim!? I bear the Bloodstone Scepter, symbol of the dragon clans and my right to rule! I overcame the Trial by Fire, and claimed the Scepter as my own, along with the title of Dragon Lord!"
"But you were not the only one," replied the hissing voice with a venomous chuckle. "When a dragon lays claim to the Scepter, the power and authority of the Dragon Lord passes into them. This power wanes naturally over time, so a new Dragon Lord must eventually be decided upon by Trial of Ordeal. Only this time, that didn't happen did it?" The so called 'Doomsayer's laughter deepened, and seemed to shake the entire chamber. "There was a dragon, that actually passed on the Scepter and the title to another! Such a thing has never occurred before!"
"So what! I still have the authority of the Dragon Lord!" bellowed Ember, furious, but also with doubt creeping into her voice that made her sound every bit as young as she truly was. "The other dragons still do as I command!"
"Oh, that's just the living," chortled the voice dismissively. "Do you really think the most ancient and powerful ancestors of your kind would be as weak willed as a few fledgling whelps barely out of their egg shells? It takes the full might of the Dragon Lord to command the spirits of the Council of Ages! And you can barely hear my 'ramblings', despite them booming throughout this filthy mausoleum! I call you lordling, but really you are less than half of that! Perhaps I should call you halfling?" The disembodied laughter shook the chamber, but to Ember's it sounded like barely more than a coughing fit.
Embers brow creased with thought. It was true that no dragon in history had ever willingly passed on the power of the Bloodstone Scepter without the intervention of Dragon Law. Spike had been the shortest reigning Dragon Lord in the history of the entire clan, by an astounding margin. In truth, she hadn't even bothered recording his reign into the histories, as it could be measured in minutes rather than ages. She felt somewhat guilty about that now, but the emotion was overwhelmed by a sense of betrayal. She knew it was unfounded. If Spike had somehow cheated her out of half of her power and authority, there was no way he had done it on purpose. Spike had been raised by ponies. He'd given over the Scepter more than willingly. He'd never wanted to rule. But as Ember well knew, even a Dragon Lord didn't always get what they wanted.
The false sense of betrayal warred with her better judgement. The mocking laughter of the disgraced ancient didn't help. Ember decided that it was best to go and retrieve Spike, if for no other reason than to escape the annoying presence of the Doomsayer and his incessant laughter... And maybe get an explanation for what was going on into the bargain.
Ember reached out a claw to retrieve the Bloodstone Scepter but found it stuck fast. She wrapped her other hand around the shaft, but it still wouldn't budge. She spread her wings wide, and gave the Scepter a mighty yank! Even so, all she managed to produce was more laughter from the Doomsayer.
"Oh ho ho! You do that with some skill my little halfling! But it takes a full Dragon Lord to remove the Bloodstone Scepter from the Plinth of Ages! Hah ha ha! You lack the authority to even accomplish that!" the long dead dragon howled with laughter, a shower of dust rising into the air from his crumbled visage. "The longer you remain separate from the Scepter, the weaker your claim to it will become! Best hurry along little morsel, before a bigger dragon comes along and steals your prize!"
A look of panic crossed Ember's face then. Was what the Doomsayer said true? She had been warned not to fall for his lies, yet the Scepter remained stuck fast no matter what she did. If she could not retrieve the Scepter, surely no one else could. But then if the power it had bestowed upon her began to wane, what would stop an ambitious dragon from trying to claim the title of Dragon Lord for themself, Scepter or no Scepter?
It would be the War of the Elements all over again! She couldn't take that chance.
She had to find Spike, and fast!