A year had passed since we first settled in the Hollow Earth, and in that time, the dragons of our clan had grown, not just in number, but in strength, unity, and ambition. The valley that was once empty and foreign to us was now thriving with activity. The dragons had adapted to the land, and what once felt like a wild, untamed world now had the order and structure of a burgeoning civilization.
The most notable change was our mini city—an impressive cluster of 37 houses, each built from the resources gathered over the months. Some were simple, small, and functional, but others were more elaborate, showcasing the growing ingenuity and skill of the dragons. While many of the adults still lived in caves, these houses were a sign of our progress. They were homes for those who wanted to settle down, for the dragons who were ready to begin building more permanent lives in this new world. The houses were designed to withstand the elements of the Hollow Earth, using clay, rock, and even the thickest of tree trunks to form sturdy walls and roofs.
The clan had become more organized, more cohesive. The younger dragons had grown larger and stronger. The prey had increased in number as well, and the valley was starting to feel like a sanctuary. The first signs of a flourishing ecosystem were everywhere. The rivers teemed with fish, the forests were full of boar, deer, and smaller creatures, and the skies were alive with flocks of birds. Our efforts to clear out predators had paid off—there was peace in the valley.
But it wasn't just the environment that had changed. I, too, had grown stronger in this time. I had once been proud of my 100-foot length, my size and strength, but now, standing tall, I was a 300-foot-long dragon from head to tail. When I stood upright, I towered at 100 feet, and when I spread my wings, I could cast a shadow with a 1000-foot wingspan. The power in my body, the energy that surged through me, felt immense. I could feel the weight of responsibility on my shoulders, but also the satisfaction of seeing my clan thrive.
But with growth came a new need for learning. We couldn't afford to have our young dragons grow without purpose, without training. And so, I created a system—a way for them to learn not just to hunt, but to live together, to understand danger, and to become true warriors of the Hollow Earth.
I called upon my mate to help me in this endeavor. She had been with me through everything, and her wisdom and nurturing nature made her the perfect choice to lead the education of our clan's next generation. Together, we set up what could be considered a school of sorts, though it was less formal and more practical.
Every day, the young dragons would gather in one of the larger caves that we had cleared out, a space filled with open areas for practice. There, they would learn the ways of the hunt, the strategies to survive in this wild land, and how to protect themselves—and the clan—from danger. My mate and I divided the lessons. She focused on the spiritual side of dragon life: the importance of unity, the responsibility we had to each other, and the delicate balance between nature and power. I focused on the practicalities: combat training, understanding the ecosystems of the Hollow Earth, and the art of the hunt.
Each lesson was designed to teach them how to be part of a greater whole. They learned teamwork, how to work together to bring down prey larger than any one dragon could manage alone. They learned the signs of danger—the creatures of the Hollow Earth that would need to be faced head-on and the ones that would require strategy and precision.
But perhaps the most important lesson was in how to live together. With over 150 adult dragons now in our clan, we needed to teach respect, harmony, and cooperation. The young dragons saw us, the elders, and the other members of the clan working together every day. They understood that we were a family—both by blood and by choice—and that the strength of the clan relied on the strength of the bonds between us all.
The results were already starting to show. The dragons were growing in stature and wisdom. Our young warriors, once eager and untested, were now confident and capable, their strength and abilities on par with the best of the adults. Our younger hunters had become faster, more efficient, and more discerning when choosing their prey. They had learned to read the land, to know the patterns of the creatures, and to respect the natural order of the Hollow Earth.
The prey—which had once been sparse and difficult to hunt—had increased in numbers as well. The boars, deer, and other animals that we had previously hunted now thrived in the valley, their populations flourishing as a result of the protection we had provided. It was clear that the balance between predator and prey had shifted in our favor. The Hollow Earth was adapting to us, just as we had adapted to it.
But the one thing I could not ignore was the strength that had continued to grow within me. The dragon within me had always been powerful, but now I was something else—something larger, more formidable. As my body continued to grow, I realized that the path I had once walked was only the beginning. This land held untold secrets, challenges, and threats—some of which we had already faced, and many more that we would encounter in time.
But for now, we were thriving. The young dragons were learning, the adults were working, and the Hollow Earth was becoming our home. And though there was still much to do, I knew that this was just the beginning of our journey. We would continue to grow stronger, together, with each passing day.