Aragona

Some dragons that encounter Aragona's clan falsely claim that she is a shade-touched creature of darkness upon seeing her. In reality, she is close to the Arcanist himself and blessed with higher sight. She cannot forsee the future as some mages can, but her extra eyes are able to distinguish powerful magic in other dragons and allow her to view the magic that swirls around Sornieth, particularly in and around her home, the Starwood strand. Her adopted daughter Dilara has become something of a replacement for her lost family, and she diligently attempts to teach the younger guardian her ways of magic, despite the fact that Dilara's magic stems not from her deity, but from the Gladekeeper. Very few dragons are aware of the circumstances of Aragona's unnerving appearance, and she is fairly secretive with her personal matters. She is somewhat distrustful of outsiders, as her eyes allow her to percieve the flows of magic around a dragon. Her ability to perceive this provides her with some insight into their nature, making her very hard to lie to.





She has accepted other dragons and beings into her home and though the clan stays quite small, she does not limit the residents to those born under the stars of the Arcanist's domain. She does seem to find easier companionship with those that share His eyes and His magic, but her own adoptive daughter has opened her eyes to the virtues of other flights. She no longer misses her mate and children, for she now knows that it was their fate to lead lives separate from her, serving Him. She lives here in His wood, among His trees, with dragons that fate has brought here like it brought her, and she knows that it is right.

Caltain is the most beautiful thing she has ever seen. His aura is almost what she imagines that of their deity might look like, if she were allowed to gaze upon his majesty with her own god-given eyes, and the wonder she feels at the sight of him cuts her to her very core. She could stare at him forever, the intricate web of fate and magic that entwines his very soul and the fabric of the universe around him, the godly light and true power he emanates, visible only to one with higher sight. Aragona had never thought to love another again, after the father of her hatchlings departed to serve Him, but her soul burns with something unknowable when she sees Caltain.

Sometimes, when he looks particularly radiant (he always does) and the glowing light that surrounds him flares, Aragona even thinks perhaps he could be some higher power, incarnated in the flawless body that he adorns, for surely such a being cannot be of this world. Surely, someone like this should be out of reach, even for one as devoted as her. Still, in spite of these thoughts Aragona cannot help but welcome his presence, some selfish dark thing inside of her cannot help but covet him. She would take anything he would give, even though he is willing to give everything. She knew as soon as she laid eyes on him that her contentment, the way she had never felt the pull to begin the Search in earnest even when faced with the awakening of her faith, was because of him. Somewhere deep down, something in her had always known he would come to her. For some unknown reason, Aragona has never thanked the Arcanist for Caltain, or his presence in her life. For so long she had attributed everything to Him, had devoted every waking and sleeping moment to Him, but the moment Caltain appeared she knew in her heart that this was not the doing of any deity, that he was here through himself and no outer power, for his own power was too great for her to imagine another steering him. Caltain was no gift, but he is hers all the same.

Aragona is completely enchanted by him, his very existence serving not to weaken her faith, but to allow her after so long to have something, someone, for herself. It is only fair, she thinks to herself in the small hours, staring into the night that is never dark, that I have this. Him. That I should, for myself, find something again. She has never compared him in her mind to Baduhennan, for although her old mate is far from forgotten Caltain seems to awaken something in her, a latent flame that longs to burn for something other than just deity worship. And if, perhaps, he makes her think of starry skies and endless power and glowing incomprehensible runes it does not matter, because what he is is surely worthy of any thoughts like this. For her, if he stays in this place, deeming it a home, it is enough. He has become everything, somehow. He is her charge.