Adair

When he was found by the clan, Adair was not. His corpse had washed ashore, fallen from the sky, almost invisible amongst the blue waves of the Sea of Thousands Currents. The nocturne was dead, alone, and decision was made to bring him under the surface for a proper burial.

The sunken Ruin's scouts we're almost home, carrying the body, when a young dragon burst in, swimming frantically - he wasn't from the clan, not anymore, but they recognized him as the exalted son of [tba], born and raised among them.

"If I come here, it is because the Tidelord sent me." At the mention of their god's name, the party bowed their heads respectfully. "Bring this dragon to your lair as you intended, but do not mourn his death. From his body shall he rise again." The dragons stared in disbelief. "These are the words I have to send, now go, fly to your home, and save him." And the messenger dissapeared once more in the blue abyss.

The clan's entire group of scholars and mages gathered around the fallen and the enigma he had brought. "Truly, he is dead. His soul is gone." Said a large pearlcather. "What does the Tidelord want from us? Even those from Plague do not meddle much with necromancy!"
"If our God said he's to come back, he will. Prophecies are made to come true. Maybe he isn't dead, after all?" replied a coatl, glaring at the pearlcather with a snark in her eye.
"I think we have to think out of your boundaries." From the darkness came forth a spiral, invisible amongst the seaweed, his body slithering in blue and green, punctuated with fluorescent cyan pods. The clan knew him well, for he was one of a kind - a scholar, they said, meddling in the arts of magic and alchemy, but who's work had never been seen.
He swam around the corpse, breaking the circle of dragons respectfully sitted around it, lifting his eyelid with a single claw to reveal a shining white eye.
"He is beautiful, isn't it? His scales look like the waters of the Trench, but the way they shine seems to distort reality. No wonders the Tidelord loves him", he chuckled. "And those eyes! Ice! Quite rare in these waters."
A murmur spread through the crowd. The scouts shrugged in confusion - he definitely wasn't from the ice territories. Nobody had dared to check.

The spiral gestured to a dragon in the crowd, sitted in the circle of scholars, arms crossed. He spoke in a deep voice.
"What will you do?"
"Anhurr, tell me - you thought he was Light, didn't you?"
The emperor uncoiled his body, in a clatter of the many alchemical instruments on his back, rising slowly to swim towards the body. If he wasn't as discreet at his fellow clan member, he was known for being as off as him, and few but the spiral approached him, fearing his eccentricity and pride. But he was a scholar, and a respected one, who's wisdom shaped the clan's decisions.
"Everyone thought he was Light. You too, didn't you?"
"I heard the prophecy in the bubble you caught. It would have been logical. Even if logic is more of your thing."
"From his body he shall rise again. These are the Tidelord's words. He is like a hatchling with no egg, and has yet to live. He shall rise again, but in the water, as one of the Tidelord's children. Hessiss!" The imperial barked. "Fetch me a spellscroll."
Hessiss, the clan's messenger, a small fae, perched on his claw inquiringly.
"Do we even have one?"
"We do, if you ever searched. Bring it here quickly."
The fae immediately left, to come back a few minutes later, a scroll held in his tiny claws.
"Are you sure it will work?"
"Do you trust in our diety ?"
The fae lowered his eyes and left.

Circling around the dead nocturne, muttering spells, the spiral didn't even raise his eyes to the imperial opening the scroll. The crowd surrounding them, led by the scholars, has slowly started backing off. The light emanating from the spiral's body was echoing around the space formed by the rocks and ruins around them, reflecting in multiple colors from the dancing scales of the nocturne's corpse. They rose and fell, forming a dissolving cloud around them, shaped like bones and sinew, spreading through the waters like ink. Fumes of ink in the shape of a dragon. The imperial Anhurr had begun incantating his spell.

Slowly, from the smoke rose a claw, then two. Spikes shaping a spine pierced the water above them. Then long, slick boney fingers, as the remains of the nocturne's wings gathered above. Between them, and under the spikes where a ridge had grown, the form of a back was being drawn by the smoke and covered in the same glimmering scales. Membrane spawned from the fumes, weaving itself in between the thing's rising wings. Two horns pierced the fog, as the bowed head of a guardian rose from the smoking oblivion around it, lit by the glow of two blank, piercing white eyes.

The creature lowered his wings in a mighty reach, ripping the smoke surrounding his body, revealing the great ridges on his tail and chest. Waves of light followed his crystal-like scales, almost blurring the dragon's body against the waters around him. He drifted back to the sea's bottom, suddenly surrounded by the many amazed dragons of the clan. He folded his wings, inspecting the fading light of the sky over the surface, and the many eyes glued on him. Bowing silently, a voice came from the depths of his chest.

"I am Adaïr."