Epilogue:

Rena, Mother of Dragons. Hailed by mankind for a time as a merciful and human-loving dragon; she was also remembered by humanity as the "Dragon that was made", by none other than the goddess Aina herself.

Born from harvesting the eight core elements found in that strange lonely star, she was given dragonhood, sentience, and the name "Rena" by that one lonely goddess.

Ages ago, on a plain, beyond the northern mountainous part of the world, stood a mountain, atop which dwelled a titanic dragon, and at the base of which lived the very first humans.

In her desire to protect humanity, the Mother of Dragons would come down from her mountain and dispel storms or call rain, only to return to her mountain once her task was completed, and only to reappear when her assistance was required.

From time to time in her exile, after the Goddess's departure, she would once in a while descend from the mountain where she slumbered, hopeful, in wait of the Goddess's return to dispel storms and calamities perturbing her long-uncaring slumber.

For hundreds of years, the weak, finite, and frail humanity had seen or heard of their forefathers' legend of the mighty dragon descending from its mountain, an event which, once given humanity the opportunity to witness, all they could do was marvel at its splendid and mighty grandeur.

For the passing centuries, her legends would go forgotten, but each time she would descend from her mountain, forgotten legends would sparkle from ashes and shine again, only to fade and shine again, again and again.

One day, tired of its fear of monsters, humanity sought to seek help from the mother of dragons, but to do so, it had to first reach the mountain summit where the dragon dwelt.

Failure after failure, generation after generation, humanity tried to climb the mountain to its peak, finally, on one rainy night, reaching the top of the mountain and finally obtaining an audience with the colossal dragon, forwarding her humanity's beloved request for her to not live atop her mountain anymore but instead among them.

Rena has seen their endless attempts for millennia, but she, who does not notice the sun rise and set, saw their efforts as the humans were, fleeting and short-lived.

Because of how small humans were in comparison to her, she could not hear their words. As such, she assumed the human form most accurate of herself, which was that of a golden-haired and blue-eyed little girl.

The dragon acknowledged their efforts. Having witnessed their struggles, Rena answered their wish.

She finally heard their pleas, and though she did not grant their wish of immortality, she agreed to descend from her mountain and live among them.

They built a large temple for her at the base of the mountain, where she would, for several centuries, her legend no longer be forgotten, dwell and live among the people, protecting them one generation after another.

Humans, fearing that one day would come when their worshiped deity would leave, offered their youngest daughters to keep company with the little girl that Rena looked to be.

But as a dog could not find kinship with an ant, their attempt did not quench the loneliness Rena felt.

Yet for hundreds of years, she kept up the pretense, aware of their concerns, and remained among them, diligently living up to the duty she had been assigned.

Under her protection, humanity soared into prosperity unparalleled and unrivaled.

All stories, however, must come to an end.

Rena's, the benevolent dragon's, path met her end when she came across the An's, the Gods' beloved little one.

Until one day, the madness began.

With Rena gone, from her, from the feelings, vices, and virtues that were once a part of her, the dragons of repentance, the dragons of anger, the dragon of egotism, the dragon of kindness, the dragon of diligence, the dragon of avarice, the dragon of apathy, the dragon of kindness, and the dragon of Solitude were born, which were, in the end, nothing more than shattered fragments of a little girl who couldn't find company.

As for what dragons Rene and I will be, only the future can tell. I am impatient to see what it has in store for us. Aren't you, little sister?