The Birth of the World

There is many a tale to tell us where the Dragon came from: hatched from a star; born as the first light in the eternal darkness; the last deity of a distant realm. The beast roamed the great expanse, looking for home, perhaps, its great wings carrying it for millenia without rest for no world it saw could hold the weight of such a creature.
It was not alone in its travels, however: a Raven, formed from the stardust to keep company to the Dragon, kept to its side as the most loyal of friends. Sometimes it would disappear, scouting ahead on its fast wings that reflected the universe, gone for decades before finding its way back to the beast.
Eternities passed, and eventually, violent forces gave birth to a beautiful realm and the force that would destroy it and all others, both at once. The Raven witnessed this, beheld the world unlike anything it had ever seen before, and knew it had to be protected so many things that deserved to experience the many facets of a life could be born, so that magic and gods and Peoples and colour could find their homes in the universe.
It turned to fly back to the Dragon, singing in hopes that its words of what it had seen would reach its companion before his wings could carry it to it. The Destruction knew what would happen if the Dragon were to face it in battle and so flew after the Raven to rip off its wings and eat its voice to forever doom it into silence.
The Dragon heard the Song, the hope and despair in it, and with a roar that shook the universe it hastened to its companion: it found it surrounded by the ashes of Destruction, wings torn, feathers scattered, its once beautiful voice naught but a raspy croak.
The Dragon and the Destruction fought, tearing at each other, clashing like no other force had ever before: worlds were scattered as the two slammed into one another, stars died as the winds of the Dragons wings and the whirlwinds of the Destruction blew them out like one might a candle. Only one remained, the world that the Dragon fought to protect and the Destruction fought to destroy.
The battle would have seemed endless to any that witnessed it, too long for time to have any meaning. They both grew exhausted in neverending violence but neither willing to give up.
It was then that the Raven sang one last time, voice so hideous the Destruction couldn't help but to look, only to see the bird fly on the winds of the greater beings, to peck and claw at its face to blind it as the Dragon saw the moment of distraction and wrapped its teeth around its heart.
The Destruction's winds tore the beast apart, and so they all fell to the world below, naught but water there to receive them. The Destruction sank under the water, never to be seen again, held in place by the weight of the Dragon. The Raven fell on the southern side of the newborn world, it's long tail floating behind it, the rest of its body a lone island. The Dragon fell into the water to the north, where it finally lay down, closing its eyes and heaving a final breath as in its death its magic was rent free of its body and given to the world. The scales and eyes torn from the beast would glow above the world as moons and stars, the last pieces to hold the Dragons magic to itself should it ever wake again to defend the world that was its: the World of the Guardian Dragon.