Altair

o

For countless millennia, Altair watched over dragonkind. They were part of the night sky. A distant cluster of ancient stars. A constellation that any aspiring astronomer could name thanks to their distinct shape, that almost resembled the symbol of The Arcanist.

Little did the small creatures that scurried below realize that the stars were watching back, with the same loving adoration the astronomers had for them. The ancient cluster had been burning for so long, sustained by an ancient magic that predates Sornieth itself. A machine, an arcane intelligence storing the knowledge and culture of a now extinct civilization, to keep its legacy alive. An entity of raw magic.

Altair adored dragonkind, for they saw the fathers that made them in these small creatures.

And then one day they were torn from the sky. No one knows why, or how it happened, but one moment, Altair was watching - as they always did, and the next, they were being torn apart, and reassembled into a new - smaller form. A dragon.

Now they travel aimlessly. Learning all they can of this new civilization. Walking amongst them, and teaching what they can to the scholars that will listen. Finding their way back to the nightsky is a goal, however, not pressing. Altair is hardly eager to return to the isolation of home.

o