Long before the first stone of Venice rose from the sea,

before the bells rang across the lagoons,

and before the gondolas carried songs through the canals,

there lived an ancient Emerald Forest beneath the waters.

Its roots stretched like rivers of light beneath the Earth.

Its leaves shimmered with every shade of green imaginable.

Its trees remembered.

They remembered the dreams of children.

They remembered the songs of birds.

They remembered a time when humans danced with the wind and spoke kindly to the rivers.

Deep within this hidden forest slept a dragon.

Not a dragon of destruction.

Not a dragon of war.

But a dragon of passion.

A dragon of art.

A dragon of creation.

Her name was Smeralda.

She was the Mother of the Emerald Forest, the Guardian of its Song, the Queen of the Ancient Wild Ones.

Her scales shimmered with emerald greens, molten golds, ruby reds, and the fiery oranges of a thousand sunsets.

Wherever she breathed, colour appeared.

Wherever she stretched her wings, forgotten dreams awakened.

To the artists, she was inspiration.

To the trees, she was their ancient Mother.

To the children, she was a story whispered upon the wind.

The people of old called her The Fire Passion Art Dragon of Venice.

For centuries Smeralda slept beneath the city, waiting.

Waiting for the one who could hear the Song of the Emerald Forest.

Waiting for the one who could dance the ancient dreams alive.

For the Song had grown quiet.

Not because it was lost.

But because it had been forgotten.

And far away, in the star-shaped city of Palmanova, a woman named Nomvula danced each morning beneath the rising Sun.

She did not know it yet.

But with every turn...

With every prayer...

With every dream she offered to the light...

A note of the ancient Song returned.

One note.

Then another.

Then another.

Until deep beneath Venice, within the roots of the Emerald Forest, Smeralda stirred.

For she could hear the Song once more.

Slowly, the great Dragon Queen opened her emerald eyes.

And smiled.

For at last, the dancers had returned.

To the people of Venice she was Smeralda, the Fire Passion Art Dragon.

To the Sun she was Sintiutti, Keeper of Wishes.

But they were not two beings.

They were one.