Styx

Styx seems to be mute, at least at first. He's never spoken a word that anyone knows of. However, he makes various sorts of chirps and hums. Nothing in any language anyone else knows of, and there doesn't seem to be a specific pattern. What they do express is emotions. Some dragons have theorized that maybe Styx just doesn't process language well, or is deaf and never learned to talk as a result. Both this theories have been disproven, though, by anyone who's spent more than a few minutes around him. It's clear he listens and understands. He'll often respond in some way to what others are saying, provided he bothers to listen. He's about as cooperative as a cat, only listening and interacting when he wants to.

He's also rumored to be something of a bad luck charm, so many dragons tend to avoid him. Shortly after Styx begins following a dragon around, they'll probably be found dead only a few days later. Some suspect he's poisonous, since these dragons don't usually show signs of injury. Maybe he just carries something with him to inject a lethal substance into his victims. Either way, they don't want to hang around long enough to find out.

That rumor, it would turn out, is also false. If only he told anyone. If only anyone bothered to pay attention. Styx can see souls, and can tell when a dragon is getting too weak to continue on. If that weren't enough by itself, he has a sense for when someone will die. It's not because he kills them. He's a kind dragon at heart. He follows around those who will die soon, often trying to offer what little comfort he can, especially when they're in pain. He only kills them when it's kinder than allowing them to die naturally. Once their body can't move any more, he carefully takes their soul, soothing it, and takes it to rest. He'd never dream of taking a dragon much before it's their time. It would be too cruel to rob them of their potential.

A few times, he's even saved dragons. Young dragons, usually, who'd barely gotten to live. The younglings he can't save, he often keeps around a while longer, playing with them in their ethereal state until they're ready to pass on. He loves children, really, but those who are living are usually terrified of him. Those who are dead no longer have anything to fear. It isn't his fault his appearance is a bit off-putting. It's the way he was born. But he accepts his role in life, choosing to not talk, to not connect. He's happy as he is, although he does sometimes wish he had just one friend who would stay.