Perhaps it was simply luck that no satellites or telescopes or RADAR stations detected it. Perhaps it's part of the design.

It's an oblong black egg-shape, many meters long. Larger than most houses, but not that much larger.

It decelerates with little more than an odd rippling effect, then settles into the ocean a couple of kilometers out with a soft splash, only a few meters of the top peeking out.

A huge body, some ten meters long and wide with wings outstretched, begins flapping over the small island that was chosen for being remote and isolated and therefore posing little possible danger, investigating it with a casual overflight.

It is actually a rather crowded island. The scars of phosphate mining mar most of its surface, some of which is being terraced back into gardens. There are houses most everywhere along the coast, and people - humans, or at least, creatures that look like humans -  gasp as the creature flies overhead. 

He did not get a very good look on the way down, but...

This place reminds him of tales of Oldhome. The land torn asunder in hunger, metal and stone creeping across the artificial landscape. And those are definitely Tailless; Or something like them. Do they plague more places than just the old home? He never saw Oldhome, and all he has to know them by are the stories and impressions of Darktooth, his father, who fled their steady encroachment, choosing flight over war or surrender.

...Disquieting. But the Seeker built the bridge of light, and these people did not. If he is slain, his vessel will ruin itself, and the secret will be lost. If he flees, they cannot follow.

Fear and ambition and discovery...

He sings, a crooning song somewhere between a chorus of birds and a roaring lion and a church-organ, a song to sort out his feelings and express curiosity, wariness, excitement, and déjà vu. A little bit of these emotions might carry through the Onesong that connects all minds, all the way to those who hear it, but then again, perhaps not. It's more an expression of emotion than an attempt at an announcement.

Down on the island below, as the alien flies over a certain house, a woman with purple-dyed hair looks up into the air and her jaw falls open with shock. 

An actual dragon. This changes everything. Is this Asterion doing some kind of ridiculous excuse to — no, the isles were going to be theirs anyway, they have no reason to do anything —

She has no clue what this means for her island, or for her political career, but one thing is for sure; everything is about to change. 

She raises her phone and snaps a photo, as a keepsake and to remind her that this actually happened, no matter what may come in future.

(She's not such an idiot as to approach a potentially hostile cryptid. What if it's not smart and hungry?)

... On second thought maybe she should go back inside the house for now.

A reporter, here to talk about the political wrangling rather than anything else, sees the opportunity of a lifetime. Digging in his bag, he pulls out a telephoto lens, snaps it onto his camera with a click, and takes the photo that will serve as the world's introduction to this strange new creature. 

President Heliantha, on the other side of the island, is awoken by an urgent news alert. 

Some new move by Blackfish? Is the referendum being called?

What she gets is a miracle. 

A cryptid sighting by an accredited reporter right smack dab in the middle of her jurisdiction. If she can't use this to wrangle the island's freedom for another year she ought to retire. 

There is of course the possiblity that it might be hostile. 

... As ever, never an unalloyed good. 

But she will do her best to turn this to advantage.

Meanwhile, a certain reporter is following the dragon as best he can on foot, snapping photos as quickly as he can manage. 

He is really much faster than a human on foot.

He flies low to investigate the mining sites, landing in a seemingly abandoned one and investigating.

(There are a number of metal rods - tools? decorations?- attached to necklaces, bracelets, and the like on his various limbs, some of the subsequent photos will reveal. He uses a few of these to assist his checks.)

The traces here are one of the essential salts of the earth, which promote the flourishing of plants in the correct amounts. But there are hardly enough plants here to account for such a vast quantity being removed and used. Perhaps it was used elsewhere? Not a promising sign on the despoiling-the-land front.

Back to the sky, and he will find the least crowded beachfront and settle into the seawater, and sing again. This one is the Annunciation. It has less trilling bird-lile complexity, and less raw growling emotion, and more deep resonance meant to carry and be heard, simple progressions of repeating short melodies. Comparisons to great bells or organ pipes may be appropriate.

Here I am, it psychically emnates into the fabric of the world. I am here, announcing myself openly! Come see me if you wish! 

There are subtleties in the resonance. But they will probably be missed. 

The reporter is left far behind in the dust.

At the least crowded beachside, a small crowd of perhaps a half-dozen people come towards the dragon, talking among themselves quietly. One woman gesticulates, pointing at the dragon with a hand; another shakes his head and crosses his arms, trying to get in her way.

The enthusiastic one pushes past the one trying to block her way, and waves to a friend of hers. She approaches the dragon about half the distance, then turns around and flashes double peace signs at a friend of hers down the beach with a camera.

A flash of light happens, and then she looks back at the dragon. She waves enthusiastically, and speaks aloud, her voice radiating joy, enthusiasm and wonder. 

A tinge of anxiety colours her words towards the end, but she seems mostly just happy and energetic, amazed by his presence. Her gaze also lingers a little on his fancy jewellery. 

Her friend with the camera calls back, anxiety in her voice. 

It is just as difficult to understand their Song as his father described; Awe, fear, caution, joy.

He is growing more and more unafraid. These may not be the unthinking brutes of Oldhome after all, and they might have many amazing Treasures he could, perhaps, earn in challenge or trade.

Shiny, sleek scales cover most of him, looking faintly aquatic somehow, but the wings, tailtip, and part of his head has large feathers as well. The fancy jewelry is quite fancy, obviously decorated. Metal rods of different types and colors fit together, some with knobs or slots or engravings in complicated, puzzle-like arrangements. They vary from around arm-sized to as tall as a human and six inches across. This one is gold(plated), and that one silver, and that one shiny copper, and this one a dark black, and the angular patterning detail across each one is a work of art. There are perhaps a couple dozen in total.

He lowers his head slightly to look at the group from across a hundred feet of water, and directs his Song more specifically at them. High woodwind piping and crooning almost-howling, with something deep and bassy under it all.

Exploration. Loneliness(positive). Deep space. Anticipation. Curiosity. Caution. Desire.

The energetic one jumps a little as she feels the Song wash over her, then laughs and grins. She shouts back to her friend down the beach, a grin on her face, and keeps approaching, a little slower now. 

As she gets to the water's edge she pauses, and rather than going into the water she pauses and sits down on the beach by where the waves wash in, that huge smile still on her face.

She speaks again, and this time her voice carries curiosity and wonder. 

Her friend calls back again, the fear in her voice a little stronger now.