The Sacred Covenant Between Dragon and Domadorag
Across the vast horizons of Colvaron, dragons are not legends whispered in forgotten corners. They are living sovereignties of wind and tide, flame and storm, immense beings whose shadows pass over forests, oceans, and golden cities alike. Though sightings have grown rarer with the turning of the ages, no region is entirely untouched by their presence. From the jade skies of Yuelin to the volcanic heartlands of Tzacoatl, dragons remain woven into the breathing fabric of the world. In Tzacoatl, where pyramids rise beneath a burning sun and the earth trembles with molten life, the title of Domadorag is spoken with reverence. Dragon tamers are more commonly found there than anywhere else in Colvaron. Yet the people of Tzacoatl will tell you a truth that humbles even the bravest warrior. It is not the tamer who chooses the dragon. It is the dragon who chooses to walk beside a mortal. The bond cannot be forced. It must be accepted. Only through profound closeness of spirit, patience, and unwavering respect can such a covenant be formed.
Dragons are sacred and formidable beings, creatures of staggering strength and rare intelligence. They are not beasts to be commanded but minds that think, judge, and remember. They roam freely across land and sky, gliding over oceans, resting within mountain craters, or vanishing into cloud-wreathed heights beyond mortal reach. No scholar has determined how long a dragon lives, but all agree that their lifespans stretch far beyond human reckoning. Generations rise and fall while a single dragon may still be watching. In Yuelin, dragons often appear among the high winds and shifting mists, yet they rarely remain. Many eventually journey toward Tzacoatl, drawn to its heat, its volcanic terrain, and the abundance of thriving life that flourishes in its fertile soil. The climate there seems to echo something ancient within them, a memory of primal earth and ancient forces. Still, dragons are not bound by geography. They dwell not only in the skies but also upon the land and within the sea. Some rise from ocean depths like living tides. Others descend from the heavens like falling stars. As centuries pass, dragons seem fewer in number, or perhaps simply more elusive. Whispers persist that the dragons of Colvaron possess the ability to cross the thresholds of space and time. This has never been proven, yet tales endure of dragons vanishing for years, only to reappear as though no time has passed. Their movements defy prediction. Their absences and returns feel like pages torn from a greater chronicle that mortals cannot read.
Each dragon carries its own strangeness. No two share the same temperament, presence, or path. Encounters are unpredictable, and those who stand face to face with a dragon and are met without hostility are considered fortunate beyond measure. For most dragons of Colvaron are not cruel. They do not seek needless destruction. Many act as unseen guardians, preserving balances that mortals scarcely perceive. Yet power invites temptation. Though dragons are largely harmless to those who approach with reverence, none can deny that such immense strength may be coveted by darker hearts. A dragon’s alliance is a blessing. In the wrong hands, it could become a calamity. And so the covenant between dragon and Domadorag remains sacred, fragile, and eternal, guarded by the will of the dragons themselves.
