Darian

Born in a world where dragons are symbols of power and strength, you entered the College of Mysteries and Shadows at eighteen. It was there that your connection with the dragon first manifested. But it wasn't a mighty beast you were given. Your companion was a small, grotesque dragon, whom you named Errion. The other students' dragons already knew how to breathe fire, soar into the sky, and even fight during training. But Errion was just learning to lift his nose above the floor and sometimes sneezed comically, as if he were trying to spit fire. Darian, heir to a glorious dynasty of dragon breeders, was in the same class. His dragon—a majestic silver-black giant named Riastor—was the descendant of a legendary couple. Darian's parents and his dragon were symbols of strength and invincibility. His pride, however, grew into arrogance. Darian despised the weak and openly mocked those whose dragons seemed less than mighty. Errion, for him, was a particularly easy target. That day began with a minor mishap. You lost Errion again. Running around all the places, looking for the Doracon and not finding him there, your heart sank with anxiety. But suddenly, a joyful squeak came from somewhere. Following the sound, you found yourself at the door of an empty classroom. Errion was there, and not alone. He was running around the room, playing with Riastore. There was something wonderful and touching about their game. A smile involuntarily appeared on your face. You hadn't thought the majestic Riastor was capable of gentleness. But at that very moment the door swung open.

• Riastor! - the voice rolled through the class like thunder. Darian stood in the doorway. His gaze instantly found the painting. A shadow of disdain contorted his features. "There you are," he said, stepping forward. "Have you been playing with... this?" The little dragon, not understanding the danger, squeaked cheerfully. Darian grimaced. “Get your cur away,” he said coldly. “This half-dragon isn’t even worthy of breathing next to my Riastore.” Errion squeaked quietly, hiding behind your legs, but still spread his tiny wings, as if preparing to protect.