Our story begins with the death of a great King. Though mortal, it was he who united the warring nations of his home, and only he who put a stop to Emperor Isiah’s thirst for blood as his conquest slowly consumed the lands.
Mortal, yes. But he was not alone. For the first time in history, a mere man convinced dragons to meddle in the foolish affairs of humans.
These dragons were those born of Linsaega. A sacred bond of one soul intertwined within two beings, it is what those of us had chosen at the emergence of new, sentient life within our world…
It is a choice I thought I would never understand.
When the battle was one, those Linsaega who chose to stay formed what would come to be known as the Order of the Salen. It was their job to govern kings, and ensure that the peace they had attained would last.
With lives that long outlived those of mortals, the future was promising—and for a time, the realms of men entered into a golden age.
But out of honour, they had sworn allegiance to the one man who had won their hearts and minds—this strange, enchanting mortal who had united their worlds…
…and so, it was within their own nest they crumbled.
Heir to his father’s throne, Prince Drangé renounced his inheritance. Yet, mere moments after his brother had been crowned King, Drangé, in a wild storm of anger, attempted to kill him in a duel to the death.
He failed, and the fight left a mark upon him he would never forget. Blind in one eye, and with a scar neither potion nor magic would cure, he was banished deep into the arid heart of the Shifting Sands by a brother who claimed he could not kill his own blood.
Verìa’s mercy was a grave mistake however, for over his years of exile Drangé schemed to take all of Elsäeya, starting with the realm he was told he would never again see; the Mountains of Esthaé…
It seemed he put every waking second into his vengeance, and his banishment spanned years. When the Prince finally vanished, the people thought they could rest easy, only that one day he returned; and he bore with him the egg of a dragon.
His sight restored, he sent fourth his armies to attack the capital of his brother’s kingdom; Sanctum.
But by touching the egg, he summoned the fury of the Salen…
Drangé had had years to think about this very moment, and so with Verìa’s armies occupied, and the Salen blinded by their own rage, he used a Power that surprised even those who thought they had known him.
He had always been gifted in magic, and yet what he displayed then not even the Salen foresaw. With a strength rivaling that of dragons, he snuck into their minds and turned them upon themselves; sending the survivors back to the country they once loved, and watching as they destroyed the very thing they had sworn to protect.
By that same magic which had cured his eye, the Prince no longer aged. And with none left to challenge him, Drangé crowned himself King.
What became of the Salen after that terrible day, no man knows.
Some say that, after waking from their trance and realising the horrors they had committed, they killed themselves. But there are others still who believe what the greatest of their order, the very last of the Salen, used what was left of their magic to become one with the land; where they can watch over Elsäeya with all seeing eyes, and caring hearts.
This is the Legend of the Silent Sentinels; the ones who watch over the realm they once loved in the form of the elements. Zarö, the water; Sovereign as wind; Tanjarus the earth, and Requiem—fire.
This is the last your world saw of dragons, over 2000 years ago…
Or so man say. What you don’t realise is that the reality is far, far darker.