Long before the kingdoms of men rose to power, when dragons still ruled the skies, there existed a race known as the Dragonborn, humans blessed with the blood of dragons flowing through their veins. They alone could hear the voices of dragons, tame the fiercest of beasts, and ride upon their backs.
With dragons at their side, they built an empire unlike any the world had ever seen. No army could stand against them. No kingdom dared challenge them.
Then came the Great Silence.
For reasons long forgotten, the dragons ceased laying eggs that could hatch. One by one, the mighty beasts died until none remained. As centuries passed, the Dragonborn vanished alongside them. Their libraries were burned, their cities swallowed by fire, and their history erased from the world. Only broken tablets and scattered scrolls survived, telling fragments of a forgotten age when dragons darkened the heavens and kingdoms bowed before their wings.
Historians dismissed those tales as myths.
Five hundred years after the last dragon disappeared, a single child was born bearing the ancient blood of the Dragonborn.
She was the final survivor of her bloodline.
Her ancestors had been hunted to extinction by those who feared their power, leaving her alone in a world that believed dragons had never existed.
Yet fate had not abandoned her.
One by one, she awakened the dormant dragon eggs that no one else could hatch. With every hatchling, magic slowly returned to the world. Rivers once thought barren flowed with mana again. Forests long dead bloomed with life. Mages found their powers growing stronger with each dragon that took its first breath.
The dragons called her their Mother.
As her companions grew, so did her kingdom. She united fractured lands beneath her banner, not through fear, but through the strength and loyalty she shared with her dragons. Before long, she was crowned Queen of the Dragonborn—the last ruler of an ancient race.
Yet there was one place she refused to visit.
The homeland of her ancestors.
The once-glorious kingdom had become a land of endless volcanoes, rivers of lava, poisonous ash, and unbearable heat. Travelers who ventured too deeply into its ruins never returned, and those few who escaped spoke of unseen horrors lurking beneath the molten earth.
The Queen feared the same fate awaited her there.
Then, one day...
She vanished.
No battle was recorded.
No funeral was held.
She simply disappeared, leaving behind grieving dragons and a kingdom that slowly crumbled without her.
Thousands of years passed.
The world forgot her name.
Dragons became nothing more than fairy tales told to children.
But beneath the volcanic ruins of the abandoned Dragonborn Kingdom, hidden within an ancient cavern untouched by time, she still remained.
She lay peacefully upon a bed of ever-blooming white flowers.
Her golden hair spread around her like sunlight, untouched by age.
An ornate dagger remained buried in her lower abdomen—the blade that had stolen her life.
Or so the world believed.
"I did what was necessary."
Those were the final words spoken by the man she loved before he plunged the dagger into her.
To everyone else, he was her trusted companion.
To her, he had been the man she intended to spend her life with.
When the Dragon King felt his mother's life fading, his cries echoed across the heavens. Though no blood bound them together, she had raised him from the moment he hatched. She had fed him, protected him, and loved him as only a mother could.
He refused to let her go.
Carrying her lifeless body within his talons, he crossed mountains, seas, and deserts in search of someone who could save her.
At the edge of the world, he found the Ancient Witches. Unable to speak the language of men, the dragon bowed before them.
He begged. The witches understood what the dragon want even with the language barrier.
They examined the Queen and found that her heart had long since stopped, but her soul remained whole, untouched by darkness, refusing to depart from the world.
Because she had restored dragons to existence and returned magic to a dying world, the witches believed they owed her a debt beyond measure.
Although they could not restore her life, they cast the greatest preservation spell ever created.
Her body would never age.It would never rot. It would never fall to disease.
She would remain suspended between life and death until the day fate awakened her once more.
The Dragon King chose to remain by her side.
The witches granted him the same blessing, freeing him from age and sickness. They also bestowed upon him the rare ability to assume the form of a human whenever he wished, allowing him to watch over the world while guarding his sleeping mother.
His brothers and sisters eventually succumbed to old age after centuries of standing vigil over their Queen.
Before each dragon died, they laid their unhatched eggs beside her resting place.
Now, thousands of years later, the last Dragon King still keeps watch over the woman who gave dragons a second chance at life.
Around her, countless dragon eggs lie nestled among the eternal flowers, waiting for the day their Mother finally opens her eyes once more.
The dragon abandoned the name he had once carried.
To the world, Dagonos was the name of a beast.
His mother had once called him that with warmth and pride, but that world was gone.
Now, among humans, he bore a different name.
Draconys.
It sounded human enough to avoid suspicion, yet close enough to remind him of who he truly was.
Thousands of years had passed since his mother closed her eyes.
He had long forgotten how many centuries had slipped by.
The hot-headed hatchling she had raised had disappeared with time, replaced by a patient man who had watched kingdoms rise and collapse, languages change, religions form, and empires crumble into dust. He had witnessed horse-drawn carriages give way to steam engines, automobiles, airplanes, and finally cities illuminated by endless lights.
Humanity changed.
His purpose never did.
Every waking day was devoted to finding a way to awaken his mother.
He had studied under countless scholars, alchemists, physicians, and mages. When magic failed, he turned to science. When science reached its limits, he returned to magic.
Neither had given him the answer he sought.
In this modern age, he lived as a renowned physician.
To everyone else, he was simply Dr. Draconys—a gifted doctor with an uncanny ability to solve cases others considered impossible.
No one knew that he had spent thousands of years mastering medicine for a single patient.
His mother.
Yet despite the centuries that had dulled many of his memories, one emotion had never faded.
Hatred.
It still burned as fiercely as the day he witnessed that blade pierce her heart.
"I did what was necessary."
Those words haunted him more than the murder itself.
He should have burned that man alive.
He should have reduced the throne, the palace, and every stone of that kingdom to ash.
Instead...
He had been too late.
Over the centuries, he uncovered a truth few could have imagined.
The man who betrayed his mother had carried the blood of the ancient Dragonborn as well.
Unlike her, however, he possessed none of the physical traits that marked their people. His appearance was entirely human, allowing him to escape the purge that had slaughtered the Dragonborn generations before.
His descendants still walked the earth. Every time Draconys remembered that fact, the fire sleeping within his soul threatened to awaken. One day... He would erase that bloodline forever.
Lost in thought, Draconys wandered through the crowded streets until the cheerful voices of children drew his attention.
An old man sat beneath the shade of a great tree, surrounded by curious youngsters. "There was once a time," the old storyteller began, "when dragons ruled the skies."
One little girl raised her hand. "But dragons aren't real."
A few children nodded in agreement.
"They're only fairy tales." The old man chuckled. "That's what most people believe. But the ancient scrolls preserved in the Royal Library tell a different story." A boy crossed his arms with a scoff.
"That's nonsense! If dragons were real, where are they now?" Draconys paused.
Without realizing it, he had stopped walking.
His crimson eyes. They glowed like burning embers whenever strong emotions stirred within him. Most people assumed they were colored contact lenses, a strange fashion choice in the modern world. Few questioned it, and those who did quickly forgot after meeting his calm, unreadable gaze.The old man smiled knowingly.
"According to the oldest Maester records, the dragons returned to the World of Old—a cursed land consumed by fire, volcanic ash, unbearable heat, and death itself. None who ventured there ever returned."
The children gasped. Another quickly asked,
"So... they're all gone?"
"No one truly knows," the old man replied softly. Only one knew. And he stood silently among the crowd.
Far away, in the capital city, stood a magnificent marble statue.
A woman with flowing golden hair cradled a dragon egg against her chest while countless dragons spread their wings behind her. Historians called her The Forgotten Queen.
Most believed she had never existed. Her statue had become nothing more than a treasured piece of ancient art displayed inside the National Museum.
Draconys visited it whenever he could. Not because he wished to admire it.
But because it was the closest he could come to seeing her smile beneath the open sky.
The old storyteller suddenly lifted his gaze. His eyes met Draconys's.
"You seem interested," the old man said kindly. "Would you care to join us?"For a brief moment, Draconys considered it. Then he turned away. Without a word, he disappeared into the crowd.
There was nothing the old man could tell him that he did not already know. He had lived the stories. He had watched them become legends. And he was growing tired.
Tired of waiting. Tired of hoping. But giving up had never been an option. Not while she still slept. Not while his mother remained trapped between life and death.
That night, Draconys returned to the one place that had remained unchanged despite the passing of millennia.
Old Vermithar.
Once the heart of the Dragonborn Kingdom, where dragons nested upon towering peaks and dragon riders ruled the skies. Now, it was nothing more than a land forsaken by the world. Rivers of molten lava carved through the broken earth, volcanoes spat endless clouds of ash into the crimson sky, and a strange poison lingered in the air, claiming the lives of any foolish enough to wander too deeply into its ruins.
To humanity, Vermithar was a forbidden land.
To Draconys...
It was home.
Descending through the winding caverns hidden beneath the ruins, he soon arrived at the chamber he had protected for thousands of years.
The sea of white flowers still bloomed as beautifully as the day they first appeared.
At their center rested Sanguinstella.
She looked as though she had merely fallen asleep.
Her golden hair spilled across the blossoms like strands of sunlight, untouched by time. The transparent barrier surrounding her shimmered faintly as several small creatures wandered too close before retreating.
Over the centuries, Vermithar had birthed countless strange creatures. Twisted by the poison that plagued the land, they had evolved into curious little beings. Some were no larger than rabbits, others resembled tiny lizards with glowing eyes.
Cute.
Curious.
And deadly.
One bite from them could kill an ordinary human within minutes.
Draconys trusted none of them.
The barrier he had woven around his mother's resting place ensured that no living creature could ever touch her.
Except him.
He stepped effortlessly through the shimmering veil before kneeling beside her.
For a long moment, he simply watched her.
Thousands of years...
And she had not changed.
Carefully, he brushed a lock of golden hair behind her ear.
His crimson eyes softened.
"Sanguinstella..."
His voice echoed gently through the silent cavern.
"Mother..."
A faint smile tugged at his lips, though sorrow lingered behind it.
"When will you awaken?"
Silence answered him once more.
"...I miss you."
His fingers lingered in her hair before slowly withdrawing.
He spoke her name every day.
Not because he feared she would forget who she was...
But because he feared that one day, after living longer than anyone should, he might forget the sound of her name himself.
Sanguinstella.
Of House Ignis.
Queen of Old Vermithar.
His mother.
Standing once more, Draconys looked beyond the field of flowers toward the cavern walls stained black by centuries of poisonous fumes.
How many times had he tried? He could no longer remember. He had spent centuries searching for a cure to the curse that consumed Vermithar.
Ancient witchcraft. Forbidden Dragonborn rituals. Alchemy. Modern medicine. Even the most advanced scientific research.
None of them had succeeded. The poison remained, corrupting everything it touched. Only he and Sanguinstella were immune, protected by the blessing bestowed upon them by the Ancient Witches thousands of years ago. Everyone else who entered these lands eventually perished.
Draconys closed his eyes for a brief moment before letting out a weary sigh. "Just... wait a little longer, Mother."
"I'll find a way."
"You know I always do"
With one last glance toward the woman sleeping peacefully among the eternal flowers, and the countless dragon eggs resting beside her, he turned and disappeared into the darkness of the cavern once more.