He was trapped in some small spherical prison with no light. It was also slightly damp around him.

“What is this place?!” He thought to himself as he struggled against his prison. This was a bad situation, though at least it wasn’t cold, in fact it was pleasantly warm. “Okay… calm down and think…” last thing he remembered were a group of paladins and some mage storming into his throne room, then nothing. Had they captured him? Was he dead now? He didn’t know.

It was getting hard to breathe and his limbs felt weak. He tried speaking, calling a spell to break himself from this prison, but all he could muster was a small squeak. “I am the king of dark! I shall be free!” he thought to himself as he began head-butting his prison. It was all he could do for now.

By the third strike he heard a crack. “Aha! Progress!” he struck again and again till the wall of his prison began to give way “You’re pathetic prison won’t hold me! I am Tzeenac’thilk! Lord of dark!” he bashed again and the opening was breached. He poked his nose out and sniffed, taking deep breaths of fresh air. Once he was sated he pressed on, it was getting quite easy now. He couldn’t see properly but he could tell there was light outside. Soon the prison gave way enough for him squeeze out. His limbs felt fat and sluggish yet they had enough strength to pull through. Soon he was out and on top of…. a branch? There was some cloth too, he felt round some more and touched something smooth and hard. His vision slowly returned, his surroundings fading into view.

A coin… a very large coin in fact, some branches and… was that a carcass near him? He didn’t know what kind of carcass and neither did he want to find out. He looked back at his prison and realized the horror of his situation. His prison was an egg.

“What the hell is going on!” he tried scream. What actually came out was more of a squeak. He began to shake and hyperventilate. This could not be. He was an infant?! Those paladins and mage must have cast some spell to shift his soul to a new body. Or he perished and the gods are playing a prank on him for his defiance.

A more pressing question came to mind. Of what creature was he an infant? He looked at his body, seeing his tiny limbs and plump baby figure all were covered in scales, plus the little tail that squirmed about behind him.

“A lizard?! I’ve been reduced to a bloody lizard!” his rage coming out as a series of squeaks and beeps. All of which was interrupted when the ground shook. Everything went dark as something colossal approached the nest. He eeped and looked up, not being able to see very good in the thing’s shadow.

Tzeenac’thilk had prepared for many a death situation, but ’hatchling helplessly devoured by monster’ was certainly not one he had predicted. He squirmed and tried crawl away while making a mess of squeaks. Then the ground shook again as his doom approached. It’s maw lowering to him. It’s hot breath washing over him. This was it. It growled. Please let it not hurt. It started licking him. “Oh gods please forgive me!” he was licked again. He quivered and cried.

By the fifth lick he realised his panic was for naught. This was his new mother and she was simply licking him. She gave a long low growl and used her tongue to lift him up and put him on a safer spot of the nest as she herself lay down around the nest. He squeaked and looked up to try identifying what she was. Now that she was lying down and not blocking the light from the nest he could see she was a dragon. There was no mistaking it with her wings, horns, and thick scaled brown body.

“….” She spoke. But he wasn’t sure what… it was some kind of draconic tongue.

“Well… I guess this is my life now” he thought to himself. Feeling overwhelmed, he squirmed to the nearest soft spot of the nest and lay down. He would try think of a plan some other time. Right now he was safe. “So tired…” he drifted off into sleep as his new mother continued speaking in her draconic language.