Runeshine

In the dark heart of Sornieth, a dragon with scales that glowed did not belong. Runeshine knew this as acutely as anyone. And one night, when she was foraging near Thorndark Altar, she decided to do something about it.

She always found herself drawn near there, even if just to get a peek at the tar-like pool of shadows. The well of darkness seemed to call to her, the most misfit dragon in their shadow clan.

Maybe that was why. Maybe the Shadowbinder was a god who was accepting of misfits like her.

Tonight, Runeshine slinked her way down to the altar, where the void's tentacles were testing the ground nearby. The dark pool rippled in slow motion. She was pretty tempted to touch it, in fact. And she'd never been the type to resist temptations.

She swooped down, her long body dodging around the tentacles, until her claw could dip into the pool and she could retreat with her exciting story.

But the substance clung to her talon, and Runeshine found herself landing several tail-lengths away from the pool with a glob of pure shadow clutched between her claws. And the thing that really struck her, when she tried to wipe it off, was that wherever it covered, her talons weren't glowing anymore.

Runeshine smiled and got to work.

When she was done, she could blend into the deep purple darkness as well as anyone. The rune-shaped scales were completely painted over with magical void goo.