They say Death was once alone.
In the past, she came quietly. No sound, no fear. She leaned over the body and carried it away—a natural, inevitable end.
Then everything changed. With the Iron Age, men began to die fighting, resisting, screaming. And from that pain, something else was born. Not a god, not a demon. An instinct. A force that rejects the end, that knows no peace.
Thus the Dragon came to be.
The Dragon is born of pain. It strikes suddenly, without warning. It breaks what it touches, drags everything with it.
Now both exist. One ends gently. The other tears through. There is no choice. There is no escape.
She is the end one welcomes — the death that arrives without violence.
It is said she appears when the soul has already crossed halfway beyond the veil, in places where time holds still and the heart no longer resists.
No one knows exactly what she looks like. Some see her with long hair white as ash, others recall her cloaked in a black gown woven from feathers or mist. Some swear she walks in armor, like an ancient queen of a forgotten realm.
And sometimes — though none agree why — she carries a sword. As if for something yet to come. Or something already done.
“If you dream of black feathers in the wind, do not wake — she is already with you.”
— Common saying from the Lands of Valdorn
The White Dragon is the fury of the end.
He does not come to soothe, but to end. Where fear turns to steel and screams fill the air, he falls — silent, ruthless, eternal.
His wings stretch like storms, and his eyes hold no light. Some say his body burns with blinding fire; others describe him as winged bone, a vessel of wrath. He is only ever seen an instant before nothingness.
He does not call. He does not wait. He strikes where death is not accepted, but torn away.
“Where the sky shatters and blood sings, there he descends.”
— Fragment of a Skel war chant
Flos nivis
Neryll is the guardian of a rare and special flower. When the Lady in Black arrives, her fate will be forever entwined with his most precious secret.
Semper Mecum
Uren leaves his village seeking freedom and power. He finds a hidden treasure, but his ambition leads him to the edge of a deadly fall. A mysterious silver-haired woman saves him, revealing a darker fate.
She never touched me. I simply stopped breathing.
His wings were fire, but I felt no pain.
She came with silence, but I heard everything.
They say there is a moment before the end… and in that moment, we choose.
A single feather drifted past me. I never saw her face.
I ran from him until the fire was behind my eyes.
There was a hand on my shoulder, but no shadow behind me.
"Each soul finds its path. Some encounter calm, others chaos. Death comes, but how we face it is ours to choose."
Serath Eilun, chapter IX