Note: There is no actual prompt with this exercise. I have characters in my head that want out so I'm going to share them with you. This is unedited and I truly have no idea what will happen, but here we go....
Hundreds of years wasted. Callum Blackthorn sighed as he stared out at the darkening sky from the mouth of the cave, a frown pulling down his lips. He ran a hand through his black hair and turned away from the night sky. Shadows slipped towards him from deeper in the cave. They caressed his fingertips, his palms, his ankles. He let them comfort him; they had been the only comfort he found since his father's death.
Lysander Blackthorn was the first Shadow Dragon. A powerful beast that lived thousands of years--until humanity killed him. The invention of tools, the progression of power, led the stupid humans to forget their magical roots. As more and more forgot about the dragons, about the magic they allowed the world to consume, the dragons faded away. Lysander faded away, his body withering and then disappearing until it was nothing more than the shadows he once controlled.
Callum crushed the shadows in his palm. The humans would pay for forgetting the dragons. They would pay for killing his father.
Callum's body shook and convulsed as his bones elongated and his muscles exploded beneath his skin. In moments, a twenty-foot tall black dragon stood where Callum had been, his clothes a tattered mess beneath his massive claws. With a wild roar, Callum flapped his wings and lifted himself up into the night sky.
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