sanc·tum
n. a sacred place, especially a shrine within a temple or church
sancire 'consecrate' · sanctus 'holy'
One morning the dawn sun rose on an egg, abandoned at the base of the Beacon of the Radiant Eye. The Lightweaver summoned her priests, who carefully escorted the egg to her temple. There, surrounded by song and the light of candle and stained glass, the egg hatched.
The newborn Spiral who emerged was raised within the temple walls. Though the Lightweaver welcomed worshipers from all races, those who swore themselves to her service were predominantly Pearlcatchers and Imperials. The energetic Spiral was an oddity amongst the regal and stately larger dragons.
"
Sanctum," they named him at the Lightweaver's behest, a name which hearkened back to his strange origins.
The burden of this name weighed heavily upon the Spiral as he grew. It was his sole identity - but it spoke nothing of his purpose in the world. It offered no clues as to what he should do with his life.
Despite the kindness shown to him by the temple priests, Sanctum did not feel as if he belonged. It was difficult for him to fit in. Prayer and song held no interest for the hyperactive young dragon. More than once he was chastised for disrupting mass with his antics. Mischief and jokes came easier to Sanctum than piety and devotion. He was a born merrymaker...much to the dismay of those around him.
The Spiral was shuffled around the temple as his caretakers struggled to find a place for him. Chores could not hold his attention, and were abandoned half-done. Cooking proved to be a disaster - and though the fire was soon extinguished, the salt and sugar mix-up took longer to be undone. The library held enough interest for Sanctum that the high priest began to consider training the young ward to be an archivist...but his constant chattering disrupted all those who came to study.
Years passed, and Sanctum stood on the cusp of adulthood. The rapid beat of his wings and his mirthful laughter were sounds which amused and exasperated the Lightweaver's followers in equal measure. The Spiral was no fool; he knew how he was viewed. And though none would know it, he oft lay awake at night questioning and regretting his nature. Why couldn't he just fit in? These people had given him shelter, food, everything. Why was it so hard for him to find his role here?
Sanctum. He tossed and turned. What a useless name.
And then he met Lightbringer.
Though they were almost the same age, the large Snapper was everything Sanctum was not. Calm, level-headed, devoted, patient...and sure of himself and his role. Lightbringer had chosen his own name. He knew his purpose in life, and embraced it fully.
Despite their differences in personality, Lightbringer and Sanctum quickly became friends. The priests were shocked and gladdened by the unexpected turn of events. They watched as the Spiral followed the Snapper everywhere. Lightbringer's rumbling laugh was oft heard following a terrible joke. His presence tempered the Spiral's pranks somewhat, though he was also a willing accomplice.
The Snapper encouraged Sanctum to join him at combat practice. There, for the first time, something clicked.
Sanctum could never hope to mimic the Snapper's fighting style. Lightbringer was a paladin through and through, all heavy plate mail and two handed sword. But with the help of his instructors Sanctum was able to find his own niche. He was quick and nimble. His lithe form could dart across the field more swiftly than most could react. In practice he flew in circles around the larger dragons. Lightly armored and armed with a staff, Sanctum was a force to be reckoned with. And if he and Lightbringer fought side by side, the duo were nearly unstoppable.
His guardians gratefully declared the Spiral a warrior-priest of the Lightweaver. With the blessing of his goddess, Sanctum left the shelter of the Sunbeam Ruins for the first time.
The outside world was a source of endless fascination and amusement for Sanctum. He loved to explore and learn about all of its denizens. Whatever village he stopped in, he took great delight in learning the customs and songs of his hosts. Of course, his silly spirit still delighted in playing tricks - but they were mostly benevolent.
At times he and Lightbringer quested together; other times they adventured separately. Where there was need, they went. Brigands were apprehended. Travelers were escorted through dangerous paths. Stolen goods were returned, lost pets rescued, evil-doers halted.
It was a good life.
One day, after the rescue of a group of maidens kidnapped by beast clans, Sanctum found himself pulled aside by one. "Thank you," she wept. "We thought ourselves lost. I prayed for the protection of the Lightweaver - and you came! Thank you!"
Sanctum. His name reverberated through his chest. If he closed his eyes he could see the Lightweaver on the day she had Named him, hear her voice.
Sanctum.
He had found his purpose.
He was fulfilled.
And so Sanctum travels across Sornieth, sure in his quest. He seeks those in need of the Lightweaver's protection. As the temple sheltered him, so too does he shelter those in danger. In him the persecuted will find sanctuary...and those who would do them harm shall find the cleansing wrath of the sun goddess' chosen.
