Meganeura

In the thick, oxygen-rich atmosphere of the Eldergrowth, the sky belonged to

Meganeura. A dragonfly — but only in the way that a wolf is a dog. Its wings

spread wider than an eagle's, iridescent membranes that caught the light and

scattered it in patterns that made the ancient sky shimmer. It hunted with a

precision that the great winged beasts of the Primordia had never possessed.

Where Zephyreon had screamed through the heavens like a living storm,

Meganeura darted — changing direction faster than the eye could follow,

snatching prey from the air with legs that locked like traps. It was not

powerful. It was perfect. A design so efficient that hundreds of millions of

years later, its descendants would still patrol the summer skies in the same

way, unchanged, because there was nothing to improve. The Eldergrowth

created many experiments. Meganeura was one of the few that needed no

revision.