When late one night you gaze up at stars, do you ever wonder if perhaps they are looking back? This isn’t exactly the question a young male imperial named Zyadun was pondering when he took up the title as the School of Magic’s resident astronomer, but it’s one he found answered one evening when a single glittering gem fell to Sorienth in view of his grand telescope. It crashed into the waves aside the Crystalpine Reaches with a deafening sound like thunder as he hurried from his post out to the shore, hoping to salvage it before it sank too far into the water’s depths. A fallen star! What a find! He couldn’t wait to share what he thought would be a broken stone with his students, but it wasn’t a rock he found tumbling in with the tide. It was a girl, small and still glowing brightly as if she still hung in the inky darkness overhead. This is the first time he met Nanael, and the first time he learned of the worlds beyond the planet most dragonkind called home. It occurred to him then that the deities of Sorienth may not be the first of their kind, and that there were others out there, many others, scattered in the darkness overhead.

More dedicated than ever to his trade, he’s an excellent teacher, though he does tend to be rather scatterbrained at times when he’s caught up in the excitement of his research. Nanael has been a great help in his discoveries, and though their relationship was bordering on awkward at first, it has developed into something a great deal more than just idle curiosity; love, and it’s a subject that baffles them both. Where Nanael is from, children are born as specs of light and raised communally amidst the other constellations, drifting from point to point on a rite of passage that teaches them the history of the stars and the worlds they overlook; worlds like Sorienth, and so as a mother, she takes somewhat of an offhand approach. Hers and Zydun’s hatchlings exhibit the unique qualities of their fallen mother, often with glowing markings and eyes that make keeping track of the little ones much easier in dark places. They never touch the ground, even as eggs, floating about as if within zero gravity, gliding effortlessly without the use of their wings and as such, they never grow tired during flight, making them excellent messengers and guides. They’re raised by the school itself, but instead of drifting between stars, they explore different academics, from Furic’s alchemy all the way to Theus’s arcana, and all the varied flights and species teach them much about the cultures and histories they’re usually eager to explore.

role: astronomer
pronouns: she / hers
core traits: distractible, argumentative, intuitive