Our story of the Dragons of the Full Moon begins....
Before the first border
Before mountains had names and calendars carved the year into cages, there was only the Stillness and the Song. From their union arose a sphere of lucid silver—the Moon Entire—whose inner heart was not rock but a living threshold. The elders called it the Silver Gate, the place where eternity breathes into time.
From the Gate’s quiet radiance uncoiled a presence older than stars: Na’Luna, the Serpent of Light—not a creature of claw, but the Moon’s own current given form. Na’Luna circled the Gate the way a river circles a spring, keeping its waters pure, reading the tides of becoming, and knowing when to release new harmonies into the worlds below.
The purpose of the Gate
The Silver Gate was a covenant: what rested beyond it—wisdom, rhythm, mercy—would not flood mortal life all at once. Instead, it would descend in measured patterns, so creation could grow without shattering. Each pattern took shape as a luminous being, an archetypal conscience of the cosmos: the Dragons of Light.
They were not beasts. They were twelve resonances—each the Moon’s answer to a human need, each a keeper of one phase of the soul’s year. Where they moved, the elements remembered their choreography; where they watched, the heart remembered its courage.
The Twelve Emanations
Na’Luna sang the twelve names, and the Gate released twelve rays. They coalesced as dragons—each distinct, all harmonious:
- Red Dragon — the first spark of fortune and courage, the auspice that begins the path.
- Snow Dragon — serenity that cools fear and restores breath.
- Blue Dragon — wisdom that marries clarity with intuition.
- Yellow Dragon — joy that steadies emotions and brightens living.
- Dragon of the Dawn — emergence itself, the vow to begin again.
- Green Dragon — growth that nourishes body, craft, and calling.
- Gold (Sun) Dragon — prosperity as radiant service and realized potential.
- Fire Dragon — passion and revelation, the purifier of pretense.
- Water Dragon — reflection, healing, and the softening of the heart.
- Dragon of the Mist — the veil-keeper, who guides memory and dream between worlds.
- Ice Dragon — endurance and sacred stillness, the keeper of patience and preservation.
- Star Dragon — awe and cosmic comprehension, the crown that reunites meaning.
Each took stewardship of a lunar gate within the year—twelve doors in a circle—so humanity could walk the whole spiral of becoming: from first spark to harvest, from reflection to mystery.
The Accord with early humanity
In the dawn-age, people did not “summon” the dragons; they kept time with them. Villages tuned their work and rest to the twelve rhythms. Priests and poets were time-bearers: they watched the Moon and listened for the Dragon whose note was rising. When a full moon crested, the people made offerings appropriate to that month’s keeper—grain for Green, incense for Mist, bells for Blue, warm fires for Red and Fire—simple rites that honored reciprocity rather than demand.
The dragons, in turn, taught without ruling:
- Red taught auspice through courageous kindness.
- Snow taught peace through breath.
- Blue taught that true seeing begins where naming ends.
- Yellow taught that joy is disciplined light.
- Dawn taught that beginnings are a craft.
- Green taught that growth requires boundaries.
- Gold taught to shine without consuming.
- Fire taught to burn away the false, not the fragile.
- Water taught to feel without drowning.
- Mist taught to remember without clinging.
- Ice taught to pause so life can endure.
- Star taught to lift the gaze beyond the self.
