Derenthal

//Very much WORK IN PROGRESS and may be subject to change. I will format this at some point and maybe add something, but what I have here are the basics.//

Freedom is a fickle thing. Most who think themselves free are mistaken, trapped in their tiny cells of guilt and greed. This one knows this. Her prison is the curse of truth and the invisible leash around her neck.

You are sitting at the entrance to the cave, where your clan (ha! good joke) is waiting out the evening storm. It is a dry, violent, sudden thing, this close to the lands of the Stormcatcher. You feel a familiar, hated presence settle next to you. Aurin. Your captor, your jailer. You thought he was a friend, long ago, in a faraway land where the wind smells of the sea and the stars. The memories are fond, and you have to smash a tiny, treacherous flicker of affection. He doesn’t deserve it, you think. You know you are right, of course. And you know that he will not be satisfied until that flicker grows into a flame again. It is an uphill battle you are fighting, but you won’t let that stop you. Some crimes cannot be forgiven.
You hate this conflicted mess of feelings he turns you into.
Your breath is loud in your ears and you can feel the stone walls pressing on you, another prison you desperately want to escape. You look longingly at the sky.
“Go ahead.” An amused voice from somewhere behind you. “You know I can find you anywhere you go. Might as well have some fun.”
You grit your teeth. Might as well.
In one long leap you exit the cave. You spread your wings just before you hit the ground, and soon you are flying into the clouds.
You dance with the wind, and the wind dances with you. Lightning cuts through the air around you, and you laugh. You have always felt more alive when in danger. The clouds are dark, heavy and oppressive, and no rain falls, but there is wetness in them. Soon, your scales are covered with moisture. It feels almost like swimming, a tiny voice at the back of your head remarks. You float on the supercharged air around you and let yourself remember the sea.
It is almost dawn when you return to the cave, tired and hungry but satisfied in a deep way. You are cold and wet and your body shudders with exhaustion, but you feel at peace for the first time in an age. You collapse on the first even patch of the ground, and let your senses drift away.
You do not awaken, even as you feel someone wrap a warm blanket around you.

---

There was once a young Nocturne who wandered through Sornieth. When she was just a child, her grandmother read her future in the rising tide and in the movement of silvery fish.

“You will go where the stars touch the ocean and see the secret hidden beneath the skin of the world. You will travel the world in chains. You will be mated to a monster.”

She laughed, then, and didn’t believe. The coast of the Sea of a Thousand Currents has always been her clan’s home and she couldn’t think of leaving it.
As it usually is, she should have known better.

Look into the past.

The Tsunami Flats. Home to small Water clans, a safe haven for fledgling oracles. Gaze into the depths of the pools. There is a nest, hidden from the world beneath the waves. Hatchlings are cracking their eggs, slowly emerging, breathing water as naturally as their landbound cousins take their first gulps of air. But look closer: there is one small Nocturne who struggles. The water is too heavy for this one; it fills its lungs and suffocates it. It should be left to drown, as is the custom, but its mother is from another, drier land. She delicately picks up the hatchling and brings it to the surface.

Fast forward through the years.

It is difficult to tell the passage of time in the Tidelord’s domain. The sea is unaffected by the passing of the seasons. But the hatchlings have grown now. Look how they zip through the water! How gracefully they swim! You can see that the clan is on the move, their belongings stashed in sacks carried by tamed dolphins. They’ve been allowed to move deeper into the waves. They will soon depart, leaving behind a young Nocturne. The only one which cannot follow.
They look back at her and say their goodbyes, and she smiles through her tears and assures them that it’s fine. That it’s okay to leave. That she wants to travel anyway. That she will go into this big, scary world and learn about it. That, when they meet again, she will tell the best stories about the sun seen from above the water. They embrace her and they leave her on the sandy beach.

When she is certain they can no longer hear her she throws her head back and screams.

Look at her again, ever closer to the world of now.

She hasn’t grown much. She was always smaller than her siblings, and that hasn’t changed. It has always annoyed her. Now, it’s just one more thing fueling the flames of rage inside her. She hates her weakness, her fragile lungs which cannot take in the salty water of her far-away home. She hates the family that left her behind on that sunny shore. She hates her mother for keeping her alive when she should have died. She hates the cruel fate which drives her onwards, to some unknown place at the edge of the world.

She hates herself, for still going on.

She wanders the lands alone, doing an odd job here and there. She learns how to fight - as a necessity at first. Joy and sorrow sweep over her the first time she feels another’s blood on her tongue. At night she dreams of all the lives she has taken.

The first time she has a vision she curls into a little ball and cries the entire night. She doesn't want this gift. It's an element of the life she has left behind. So in the morning she dries her tears and moves on. She learns to ignore the patterns in the flights of birds and the fall of leaves. She tunes out prophecies made in the crackling tongues of flame.

Even if all they say is just one word. Doom.

She travels to the Starfall Isles, and in a small settlement she sees an announcement on a notice board. A group of scholars needs mercenaries to protect them while they are studying some old temple. She can feel the noose of her fate tightening, but she squashes her unease and heads out in search of the Arcane clan.

The first time she meets their leader, Archivist Xephras, she almost blacks out from the sudden wave of terror that sweeps through her. But she recovers quickly and soon she is a part of the team.

She is assigned to protect an Imperial by the name of Aurin, an expert on illusions, as he investigates magical passages in the temple. He doesn’t laugh when he sees her for the first time. He never comments on her small size or expresses doubt in her ability to protect him. He always greets her with a charming smile and treats her like an equal. He listens to her attentively, teaches her about art and music, and tells her stories of his travels. Soon, she spends most of her time with him. She feels like she is the best version of herself around him. Not as angry, not as bitter. Not just a silly child abandoned by her clan too early.

She ignores slight feelings of unease and revulsion she always experiences around him.

On the night that changed everything she feels at peace. The air is warm, and the wind carries a gentle scent of the ocean. She hears a distant cry of gulls and smiles, remembering her home. Far from the shore a star falls into the ocean.

Later, she is sitting in the library of the renovated temple with Aurin and Xephras. The Arcane dragons are reading some old, dusty scrolls and arguing in hushed voices about the influence of magic on ancient architecture. She tunes out their voices and watches them through half-closed eyes.

And then, in a moment of ice-cold clarity, she Sees.

Aurin, whom she looked up to and adored from afar. Aurin, who conjured up illusions of distant lands for her every evening. Charming, smart, funny Aurin.
There are twisting shadows under his silvery skin. They writhe and coil like serpents. He turns his head around and looks at her with six eyes, three on either side of his skull. There are more on his wings, all looking at her. The very air around him shivers like it does on a hot day. Like he is burning from within with some unearthly fire.

Xephras, who took her in and made her a part of the clan. Xephras, who knows everything about everything. Wise, fair, serious Xephras.
She is a starless void. A huge, ubiquitous shape twisting the universe around her. Her folded wings are made of darkness and big enough to obscure the world. Only her eyes shine with a strange drive, an unknown purpose.

In a blink of an eye, the vision is gone.

The place where the stars touch the ocean. The secret beneath the skin of the world.

She would laugh, if she wasn’t speechless with terror.

They notice her fear, the sudden tension, her wide eyes. They exchange glances and in a flash the twin masks of good-natured politeness are gone. Xephras is the first to speak.
“You know what to do,” she says to Aurin. He shakes his head.
“I grew… attached to this one. I’ll take full responsibility for her.” His voice is calm and measured, but he is smiling. She can feel his pleasure from the other side of the room. She glances at them one last time and bolts for the doors. He moves faster than she ever thought possible and pins her to the cold floor.
“You monsters!” she growls. She hears a rustling of paper as Xephras puts down her scroll.
“Aurin… Keep your pets in check.”
The last thing she hears before the darkness claims her is his voice.
“With pleasure, lady.”

---

Real size (because that annoying Noc bug):

Length
4.77M
Wingspan
7.48M
Weight
391.9KG