Aetherbound: The Dragon's Path

The last True Dragon died two thousand years ago. Since then the world's magic has been fading, its mana thin and patchy, its great rituals unstable, its dead zones spreading quietly across the map. Nobody alive remembers what it felt like when the aether ran full.

Anorak doesn't know any of this yet. He's a wyrmling, the youngest of five siblings raised in a dragon family in the peaks of Skyshadow Vale, and the thing that makes him different from his brothers and sisters is something he has no name for. He sees threads where others see air. He feels the structure of space the way other dragons feel wind. His class field is locked, not blank, which means the System already knows what he is and isn't saying.

His parents know more than they've told him. The elder who assessed him before he hatched has been searching for sixty years for someone like him. The Domain Lord who inspected the Vale paused at him and said nothing. The clock that started the moment he was born is running whether he knows it or not.

What Anorak wants is simple. He wants to be an adventurer, travel the world with his brother Khoran, follow the threads wherever they lead, and figure out what he is in a context where no one has already decided for him. What the world wants from him is considerably larger than that.