Ophyuchius

Name: OPHYUCHIUS

Breed: PEARLCATCHER

Element: SHADOW

Familiar: SHATTERED SERPENT

Clan Role: GUARDIAN

Relationship(s): MERCURY (closest friend), VYRANDA (assistant)

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Ophyuchius, despite all appearances, is centuries old--some say he is even older than the Arcanist, although this has been disproven by both Ophyuchius and Ynbei, the clan's resident historian and researcher. However, he is much older than most of the other dragons in the clan. When he was young, he wandered far from his home and family, into the Viridian Labyrinth. As he entered, he felt a sense of foreboding, and turned to leave. But the labyrinth's entrance had been sealed by a powerful magic. He tried clambering up the leafy walls, but his claws, inexplicably, could not grip the hedges. Out of options, he began to enter further into the maze--enveloped in shadow, he was quickly swallowed by the gaping maw of the labyrinth.

For days, he wandered the twisting paths. Starving, dehydrated, and exhausted, he knew he would soon die. He could not sleep, for the bright lights of the fireflies in his eyes prevented it. He could not eat, for the fruits hanging from nearby trees were not quite close enough to reach. He could not drink, for the rain that often fell was not nearly enough to quench his thirst. He knew the inevitable would soon be upon him. He found a darkened dead-end, far from the entrance of the labyrinth, and collapsed.

"Awaken, young one," a voice echoed in his head. "It is not yet your time."

Ophyuchius opened his eyes and was startled to see a shadowed figure before him. The figure spoke, although its mouth did not move.

"Do not be afraid, my child. I am here to help you." The shadow said.

Although he knew he should be frightened of the strange, ghostly figure in front of him, something about its motherly demeanor and soothing voice calmed him.

"Wh...who are you? What are you?" He asked weakly, his mouth and throat dry and prickling from lack of water.

"That is not your concern. Consider me a friend." The figure replied.

It moved closer to Ophyuchius, but he did not step back. The figure placed a small hand on his face, and patted him softly.

"You are dying." It said.

Ophyuchius said nothing.

"I am well-versed in dark magic. I cannot heal you, but I can certainly prevent your death. All I require in return is your solemn promise to give me your mortal soul."

As it spoke, the figure began to morph and undulate. Its voice changed from loving and concerned to something much more concerning. Ophyuchius pondered the figure's words for a brief moment. He did not want to die, but was he willing to give up his soul? The answer was...

"Yes. Please, I do not want to die." He finally said.

"Very well."

A flash of light blinded Ophyuchius. He felt his body lift into the air for a split second, before he collapsed onto the ground again. He blinked a few times, and looked back up to the figure, but it was gone. He lifted himself from the ground, and looked at his hands. Instead of scales, there was a thick layer of stone. He pressed his hand to his chest, where his heart should have been, but there was no heartbeat. He tried to move his wings, but they were trapped in marble and thick foliage. As a deterrent to Death, he had been turned into a living statue.