Her island floats high above the clouds, a semi-tropical paradise that has all a dragon could ever desire.
The waterfall takes a certain amount of her magic and gives it back again, flowing even when the rains do not come for many weeks. Its sparkling waters give her the pale blue scales that allow her to move through the water unseen, stalking the fish that are her natural prey and the larger portion of her food supply. She may nibble on the fruits of the waving palm trees, but these are mere treats that will not sate the appetite of a dragon for long.
She never lacks for any of her wants, leaving her free to fully devote herself to her own pleasures. She never gets tired of the warmth of the sun when she sits of Pointy Tooth Rock and takes in its rays beneath her scales. A gentle hum rises from her chest, making all the nearby flowers burst into bloom. On cloudy days she can be found exploring the network of caves that serve as her sleeping place. She likes to dig free the shiny crystals that grow in the depths, fashioning them into baubles that make sparkles on the ceiling of her sleeping cave. The whole roof is a rainbow of sparkling points of light, better than the tarnished hoards of many of her cousins down on earth.
When the gentle rains fall, she delights in dancing between the drops, catching a cool drink on her tongue and flinging drops in all directions with a flick of her scales. She never faces the discomfort of chill, for very cold air is kept at bay by a cylinder of warm air anchored by that same magic that keeps the water always flowing.
Though she is the only one of her kind, she is never lonely. On the day when she cracked the hard shell of her egg, there were two little ice mice perched on the ledge above, silently encouraging her to enter the world. She was born knowing that these are called Arctic and Frost as surely as she knows her own name. They follow her around the island, nibbling on the rinds she leaves behind and sheltering beneath her wings when the wind is fierce. They like exploring but this is not what they love.
Their greatest love is flying.
When Arctic and Frost make their slow journey up her mane to perch in her crest, it is a signal to Iona that the time has come again. She rises above the clouds to greet the full moon, trilling a wordless tune to express her joy at the feel of wind in her scales. Every night that the moon wanes, she loses a little more height, until the new moon grounds her. With each passing year, she grows a little bolder as her inner store of magic also grows. Perhaps one day she will find the courage to sink beneath the atmosphere that is of her own making but for now she is content in her paradise among the clouds.