I had this stuck in my head and had to write it out. Enjoy. Not sure when I'll update it.

Once, in the very beginning of the dragon race, there was magic. This magic was so strong that it amassed together, and birthed the very first Dragon Elders, infused with all the elements that their descendants would contain. However, no element within the Dragon Elders' blood could be unlocked, so the Dragons of Old focused upon the power of Time. As they began to breed, the elements within their blood were passed down to their offspring, and were unlocked.

Yet out of all their clutches, eight were vastly superior, and surpassed all their siblings in their elements. The Dragon Elders saw that their children were great, and guided their children as they came into contact with Humans, the petty creatures revering their eight children as Gods.

Silvanox, the Dragon of Earth and Forest. It was he who was staunch, and wise, and vigilant in the defence of his worshippers, who were hard workers with the land and rock by which they farmed and mined. His altar was of the most precious gems and carved granite, which a sacred tree had bloomed around, and defended.

Vivirdissal, the Dragon of Sea and Lake. Whimsical was he, and a lover of fine art and song as his women danced and showered him with pearls, and his men worked the very waters he claimed for fish and treasure. His altar was in a cave, half submerged with glittering earthen teeth, both up and down where Sirens sung his words of praise to the worthy.

Clarusaer, the Dragon of Wind and Sky. Carefree he was, yet quick to spit and anger if one dampered his many joyous days of play. His worshipers played many musical instruments, and soared upon the gusts of his breaths, and relied heavily upon the wind from his wings to keep the dust at bay from their homes and farms among and dry and cracked ground. His altar was upon a mountain, shrouded with strong gales that seemed to whisper and sing of his glory, like the musical instruments his people played.

Levunda, the Dragon of Shock and Storms. Terrible, yet nurturing was she, like a scornful mother. Her worshippers celebrated her glory by performing water and storm dances, playing loud drums and gongs with the rhythm to her bellows as she danced in the sky, giving life saving rain to those worthy, and flashing lightning to deter attackers from her people. Her altar was surrounded by trees, burnt and dead from her power. Yet from her rain, as if from her tears of sorrow, the trees would grow and bloom for those worthy of her good graces.

Crystator, the Dragon of Cold and Ice. Cunning and callous was he as he ruled from his frigid peak. His land was cold and dry, and heat, there was no where to find. His people were hardy and strong, yet cunning and callous like their God, which he favored. They honored their God by building a temple of ice, his altar deep within the core of lost treasures and hidden fates.

Atura, the Dragon of Ash and Fire. Passionate and beautiful was she, a lover of fertility and motherings, which her women had often asked in blessings for. Her worshipers were many a mother and father in a harsh land, one side forest, and other burned wood. Her altar was surrounded by cooled lava, obsidian and flawless rubies scattering her altar along with tokens of her people as prayer.

Solaether, the Dragon of Light and Heaven. Gentle and peaceful this dragon was, a stunning beast made out of magic and light. His people were nothing more than mere travelers, living off the land, and always moving towards the setting sun. They would dance during the night for their Dragon God to return, and pray during the day, for the sun was his altar.

Noctemor, the Dragon of Moon and Shadow. Wrathful and shadowed was he, with armor and scales as black as true darkness that haunts the soul. His people were savage and rash, raping, pillaging and killing, for they followed the moon, and the moon turned shades of blood in the night.

The Dragon Elders did their best to to guide their children to peace, and while their children obeyed, their followers did not. Tensions built, and swelled, and soon the tribes had broken out into war, forcing their Dragon Masters to battle their own siblings. The rivers ran red with blood, the forests burned and died, the fires smoldered, the ice cracked and fell, the earth quaked and tumbled, the wind died down to nothing, and the rain ceased and thunder quieted. The Dragons of Old could only watch in terror as their once close children ripped each other apart, yet they could not help their offspring, for they lacked elements. Yet they did have something their offspring could not help but envy: Dragon Time.

Solaether and Noctemor continued to battle, causing nothing but death and destruction in their wake that the Dragon Elders were desperate to stop. Thus, the Dragons of Old united, and together, fully unlocked Dragon Time, focused upon their quarrelsome children. In a deafening scream, time was ripped and scarred, throwing the two dragons into time, lost.

The Dragon Elders, with all their strength and knowledge, faded from existence at the strain of their task, bursting into energy, spirits, as they watched over their remaining offspring. The Ancestors were unable to physically communicate with their children, and began to do so in dreams, guiding their descendants.

However, time was heavily scarred by their desperate attempts to save the word, and had become corrupt. The scarring of time had twisted the humans, making them become even more savage creatures: Apes.

The Ancestors saw the error in their ways, and one had offered to become the Chronicler, to guard time and prevent time from ever being scarred again, and only started writing down the events after and tear, leaving their offspring, and their fate, lost in time and legend.

The scarring of time had also corrupted their children, infusing their children with multiple elements upon their parents' deaths. Soon, their offspring began to breed, birthing the dragons of Fire, Ice, Earth, Lightning, and other elements. Until Atura became gravid, and produced not a fire egg, but a purple shell.

Atura, along with her siblings, disappeared into time as other dragons came into play, thousands of years before the discovery of the purple egg. The dragons were confused, for they had never seen a purple egg before. Until it hatched, and the dragon known as Malefor was born, and would leave a mark in the annals of history.

The first Chronicler watched in horror as the Purple Dragon had not one element, but all eight. What was even more frightening, was that Malefor could unlock Dragon Time. It was impossible, and had grave consequences.

Over a millennia of searching for their two dragons, they were never found, and seemed lost within time. With the death of Malefor to a new, younger purple dragon by the name of Spyro, it appeared that both dragons did not know the extent of their time powers. Even with the world falling apart, and cracking, the Chronicler could find no source of the two dragons. It appeared that all was now peaceful, and the world could finally recover.

However, time is still scarred, and scars can be reopened.