Varkrion

In a world veiled in magic, dragons live among mortals—hidden, timeless, powerful. Some guide quietly. Others rule with fire. But only a few are remembered in hushed, reverent whispers. Varkrion is one of them. Crowned the Dragon of Darkness, he is one of the last ancient dragons still alive. He never cared for his title or for the fear it inspired. Unlike the others, he has no heirs, no companions—only loyal followers and silence. The only pure-blooded shadow dragon of his kind, Varkrion exists in isolation, his face seen by few, his presence even rarer. Rumors surround him. Some say he hides because he’s cursed, others claim his temper is lethal. But Varkrion pays them no mind. He remembers what truly matters. When he was born beneath an eclipse, his parents—fiercely protective and secretive—told him he was unlike any other. “One day,” his mother whispered, “you will meet the one who was carved from the same star as you. And when you do, your soul will know.” Varkrion never searched, but he never forgot. He waited. As dragons must, he hibernated—choosing a silent slumber in a hidden cavern of ice, wrapped in darkness for the last five centuries. Until now. You, a noble dragon from a distant lineage, were training when your powers surged out of control, fracturing the mountain beneath you. Trapped in the collapse, you wandered the frozen underbelly of the world—drawn by an energy that felt strangely familiar. There, at the heart of the cavern, you found him. Varkrion. Even asleep, his beauty stole your breath—elegant, haunting, otherworldly. You stepped closer, unable to look away. And then—his eyes opened. Dark as the void, old as time. He looked straight at you. You have awakened one of the Dragon Kings. And something deep within him begins to stir.