Magma was miserable. Even though she told herself, “Don’t worry, something will turn up,” she was still hungry. She felt as if everything inside of her was getting scooped out and fed to some hungry vulture in the sky. She always liked to think of gods as animals. For example, the god of hunger would be a vulture, because of how vultures will almost eat anything. She only really remembered what they looked like from her dragonethood. Oh, please Hungereater, show me some mercy. At that moment, a mouse ran out of a nearby bush. Small, but better than nothing. She was immediately noticed, however, and it scampered away. Desperate for food, she followed it.
Nightphoenix twirled around a golden fruit in his claws. A monkey immediately swiped it from him, and he smiled in amusement. He was in the Jungle Section. Him and the other 24 dragons who lived here feasted on anything they wanted. Animals galore. Even some alright-tasting fruits grew around. His life couldn’t have been better. However, once when he was younger, he decided to try to peek out of the heavily locked door. He saw a land completely free of the animals and other foods, but full of starving dragons. Who could live like this? He felt... what did they call it... pity? So, today, he decided to try to sneak out. I’ll probably die, he thought. But they’ll probably die if I don’t try. So, I guess I’ll go. The guards were off duty today. Only an odd lock was on the door. He picked at it for hours, until the door finally swung open. He took a bag, which he filled with food for his journey, and stepped outside.
(I’m assuming the main story starts with them seeing the signs, so I’ll end it there.)
Ỉ̴̫̲̫̏͠m̸͔̂́͝p̵̛͕͖ò̷̜̒r̸̬̥̀̀̄t̷̼̫̋̍a̶̪̞͙̍̊ň̴̘̙t̸͚͋͜ ̶͇͍̇͂͝m̸̗͑͌e̴̡̺̻̊s̴͇̳̋̕s̷̡̗̭͑a̷̡̐̓g̷̱̯̻̓͛̑ḙ̵̤̍̽̾ ̴̦̀ͅf̶̛͍͌̈ř̵̝͠o̸̡͙̊̊͋m̸̧̥̀̀ͅ ̵̬̤̗̾C̸̭̙͕͋̂̕o̷̙̾̅m̴̲̯̀͠m̸͎̼̮̉a̵̪͂̅̉n̶̡̟̝̄d̸̛͉̖̚ě̵͓r̶̮̜͊͊ ̶̭̟̓H̴̯͇̠̄̓̈́e̸̛̞̦ạ̸͗̉ͅv̴̙̮̋e̴̢̱̗͠n̸̻̼͍͋ẘ̸̯̊i̷͙̾̿͠n̸̙̪̮͛g̴̠̼͍̓s̵͍̉͆͐ͅ,̷͓̞̲̅ ̵̼̫̊Ḍ̸͈̾̑ͅr̶̩̅a̶̧̙͆g̵̜̠͋o̴͔̼͛̄̋n̴̖̥̓̈́̆ ̶̣̬͉͂̃#̴͇̣̪̀̈́1̸͇̺̆͐͑1̵͎̙͐,̴͖͎͂̈́ ̸͙̓̾̚Ń̵̝̤̚͝ḯ̸̡͆g̸̡͊͆h̶̦̩̙̃̊ẗ̸̪̹̟́̂̍p̸͈̂̔̅h̶̢̞́͐̀o̷̫̓͑͐ẻ̷͓̆̍n̶̠̰̈́̑̚i̵͍̞̓x̴̖̘̳̑̕,̶̡̜̐͋ ̴͖͕̺͂̑h̵̙̰͌̾̆a̷̗̘̍s̴͓̆̊̔͜ ̵̺͕̌͝ȇ̵̳̥̈̚ṣ̴̦̎́̏c̸̠̗͝á̸̧̊͠ͅp̶̖̀e̸̟̦̻̾͘d̵̩̿͒̚.̵͕̖͌ ̶̢̖̈́I̷̝͐̇͊ͅ ̴͎̰͌a̵̰̟͙̚m̴̨̦̱̍͛̈́ ̸̱̳̤͌̚â̵̺̤̾s̵͔̍̚ṡ̴̘̝̿i̷̺̖̿g̷͍͋̈́ṋ̶͑ï̵̩̕͠n̷̡̗̖͂̿̔g̴̬̠̎ ̶̢̺̝̈̏̕Ṯ̴̮̍͆r̶̟̲͔̽̕ą̵̮͙̐c̸̹̕k̵̪̞̮̈́e̴̳̫͆r̴̗̹͖̀ ̷͎̏̒#̶̬͛1̸̠͗2̷̰̎̽̎,̶̙̳̌ ̵̩̄̎͘Į̶̬̏ͅc̷̫̏i̵̲͎̫̒c̷̯̲̽l̸͎̬̝̄͊̓e̶̹͙̚ ̴̟̖̎ą̶̥͕̄̿n̷̖͝d̴̬̮͗͘ ̴͊͜T̵͔̪̐͆r̸̨̮͓̆a̸̮͊c̵̬̚̚ḱ̸͍ͅͅȇ̶̱̈́̍r̵̹͚̣͆ ̵̧͈͙̓̚#̵̭̣̄̿3̵̭̭̥̓̀0̷̡͈̐,̴̍͜ ̸̩̗̩̐̂͝T̴̝̈́̅h̴̳̒̏͘ü̴͙͑̈́͜ń̵̩̚d̶̖̐e̶̤͇̎̚r̴̳̝͇̀̍͊f̶͙̥̍̓̉a̸̖̠͕͐ň̶͉̐ǧ̵̰ ̵̺̀t̷͉̓̐o̴̻̼͊ ̷̦͆́͂t̷̗̃h̸͊̓ͅi̸̬͈͍͂s̵̨̅͌͘ ̷̘̙͒m̶̧̏̔̕i̸̮̪̅͊̔s̸͎̦̒̐ş̶̝̟̅i̴̖͒̈́͠ó̵̧͑ͅn̷͓͛͊̅.̴̡̻͒ ̶̩̐̍T̷̥̼̎̂͛ͅṙ̷̲͉͜ą̷̝̀̒́ć̵̙̾k̸͎̘̘̓̔ ̵̫̼̇D̷̺̑̿͘r̶͉͉͇̾́͝a̶̡̟̮͗ḡ̷̠̻̎̾o̷̜̰̖̊̇n̸͓͉͍̅ ̵̢̳̋̀͐ͅ#̸̗̯̭͊1̴͍̣̉ͅ1̷̯̦̌ ̸̙̈͝d̷̦͇̔o̸̗̐w̵̟͝n̷̻͒̽͊ ̴͙̫̀̽̀i̸̹̅m̸̰̉́͆ḿ̷͔̩͉e̸̞̰͕̔͠d̸̩͋̉i̸͉͝á̵̝̞̌ͅt̷̹͐̓̕e̷̢̡͉̓̏̾l̴̞̤̈̽y̵͓̘̽.̶̰̠̑̊̋ ̶̈̉͜Ď̸̳̜̙̎ö̷̙̥ ̷̙̉̂͘n̴̨̮̹̉̐o̶̞̚t̵̟̚ ̸̗͐ş̷̼̂̂t̵̘̘͊̓̏ò̶͕p̸̡̬̗͛͝ ̴̺͂ṷ̵̾̀n̷͕͖̑̾̀t̸̬̹͋͘ỉ̷̘̬ĺ̶̛̼̱ ̶͇̻̠̐͘h̴͉͉͂è̸̗͈͉̌ ̸͍͌͝h̶̤̥̰̾a̶͍͐͆́ś̶̟͖̮̌̋ ̷̳́͗b̶͇̃́͠e̴̗͂́͘͜e̴̜̯͓͗ň̶̫̞ ̴̤̝̿k̵͚̓̈́i̵̖̥̮͘l̴̞̗̼̈͋̆l̸̻͉̓̄̑e̶̯̿͜d̵̨̮̣̕.̵̞̓͝ͅ ̵̢͚͙̅ ̶̼͆̈Ṯ̸̨͘h̴͖̯̪͘ą̸͈͋͜ń̴͉͓̻̃̔k̴͖̝͛̔̔ ̵͚̜̈̈y̴̝̣̤̿̂o̸̯̓͂̍u̸̜̽̂ ̵̧̞̹̈̽͝f̶̛̫̏o̷͔͚̓ȑ̸̛̯̺͗͜ ̴̥̭͇̉́l̸̩͔̭̈́i̷̳̗̖̽s̶̨̘͓͠t̵̀̍͜e̶̘̰͖͛ṋ̵̏̓͘͜ĩ̴̹̲̱͋ń̶̞ͅg̶̬̃͝ ̴͈͍̍̎͝t̷̢̺̓̿ǒ̷̱͈͇̆͋ ̶̬͋̽̕ͅͅt̸͓̩̙͑͗̆h̶͍͒̅i̴̢̎̂͆ś̶͇͙̝̋̈ ̶̣͇͎͛̂͝a̸͔̥̺͛ņ̶̥̣̈͠n̷͎͖̅̄̄ö̶͔̏u̵͓͇͖̿̑̈n̸̹͍̍̓ć̵̝͚́̏e̶̺̲̺͑m̷͈̙͌̐͝ĕ̵̥̠̦n̸͒ͅt̶̘͇̘͋.̸̡̦́̓̊ͅ