The Last Eggkeeper of Rhazir

Everything you think you know about Dragons has been a lie.

Before temples rose and councils claimed power,

before greed seeped into mortal hearts and poisoned the world, before the land itself began to wither...there were dragons.

In Rhazir, dragons were not merely beasts. They were Kings and Queens, crowned not by ceremony but by necessity. Their rule was not conquest. It was balance. Where a dragon ruled, the land obeyed its own nature. Forests grew wild but not cruel. Seas raged but did not swallow the world. Magic flowed evenly, untethered and whole.

Each continent bore a throne. In the south, upon the sun warmed shores of Sunreach, a Golden Dragon Queen once ruled. Her fire was gentle, and her judgment was absolute. Trade prospered. Crops flourished. Humans lived safely beneath scaled sovereignty.

In the east, amid the ancient forests and rolling hills of Elderglen, a Verdant Dragon King held court in stone and root. Shifters walked openly beneath his shadow. Packs warred, yes, but never annihilated one another. Balance was enforced, and preserved.

And far beyond the Siren Sea lay Drakoral, the wild continent, where dragons ruled not cities but sky and flame. There, the oldest among them nested, and the world remembered what it meant to fear and revere in equal measure. Dragons ruled because they had to. Without them, the magic soured and became corrupted. But dragons did not rule alone. Beside every throne stood an Eggkeeper. Eggkeepers were queens and mates. Not consorts. Not servants. They were the unseen axis on which dragon rule turned. They kept the future alive in warmth and song. They ensured that when a dragon king fell, another would rise whole and sane and bound to the world.

They cared for the eggs, and mated with the Dragons. Through their magic and care, Dragon kind flourished.

When they killed the Eggkeepers, the thrones began to crack. Dragons went feral, and lost their humanity.

History would later claim that a single dragon’s rage proved all dragons unfit to rule. They would tell stories of firestorms, cities reduced to ash, and thousands of humans burned to death. They would say dragons were tyrants and savage beasts who could not be trusted with crowns. What they would not say was…. that particular dragon’s queen was murdered in her sleep. That his Eggkeeper was butchered by mortal hands. That grief, not madness, burned half a continent.

The response was swift, quiet, and final. The Temple of Sunreach declared dragon rule too dangerous. Eggkeepers were declared unstable. Balance was too costly. The crowns were taken. The thrones were shattered. And dragons, one by one, were hunted, driven into hiding, or forced into corrupted hatchings that birthed monsters instead of kings.

Eggkeepers were erased so thoroughly that even their name became legend. And Thalmyre learned to kneel to mortals instead.

Only prophecy survived.

When stone runs cold and fire sleeps,

When scaled kings fade to myth and keeps,

When nests lie bare and songs unheard,

The world will turn on a single word.

Born of blood the old gods knew,

Marked in green of flame and dew,

She wakes the eggs, the lost, the lyre-

Emerald Eryndra, keeper of fire.

Where she stands, the silent stir,

What was broken bends to her.

Most called it a fairy tale. Simple poetry and pretty words that meant nothing. The Temple called it heresy.

And so Rhazir slept beneath stolen crowns.

Of Rhazir and the Living World

The world is called Rhazir, and it is older than the crowns that now sit uneasily upon it.

It is a land built not by gods, but by agreement, between magic, creature, and crown. For thousands of years, balance was maintained through hierarchy that reflected nature itself. Dragons ruled not because they were strongest, but because they were necessary. When dragons breathed, magic flowed evenly. When they nested, the land stabilized. When they died, the world mourned.

Rhazir is divided into three great continents, each shaped by the species that call it home.

Sunreach, the southern continent, gleams with warm shores and white-stone cities. It is a land ruled by humans and structured magic. Here, power is measured in titles, bloodlines, and Temple rank. Witches anf mages dominate society, drawing magic from study, ritual, blood pacts, and divine channels. Healing, prophecy, and protection are tightly controlled, and distributed by the Temple as both gift and leash. Sunreach believes order is safety, and anything ungoverned is dangerous.

To the east lies Elderglen, a continent of forests, rolling hills, and ancient mountains veiled in mist and topped with snow. Elderglen belongs to the shifters. Wolves rule as kings, bears guard the borders, foxes walk the shadows, hawks watch the skies, and lesser prey-shifters live quietly beneath stronger protectors.

An ancient giant hawk species guard the skies and provide magical transport for wolves. They are revered. Magic here is instinctual and embodied, inherited through blood and land rather than spellwork. Elderglen does not worship gods in temples. They remember spirits, ancestors, and the age when dragons ruled beside them.

Beyond the Siren Sea lies Drakoral, the wild continent. It remains untamed, dangerous, and alive. Here, magic runs thick and feral, unbound by mortal law. Ancient beasts roam freely. Elemental creatures emerge from fire, storm, and stone. Dragons were born here, crowned here, and hunted here. Even now, the land resists maps and repels intruders, as though it remembers what was stolen from it.

Between these lands lies the Siren Sea, treacherous and sentient. Its waters are home to merfolk, sirens, and sea-bound magical creatures. Beneath its surface lies a hidden city older than Sunreach itself, where oral histories preserve truths the surface world has forgotten. The sea does not permit passage lightly. It remembers Eggkeepers.

Creeping along the forgotten edges of Elderglen is the Neverlight, a blighted region where magic has begun to rot. Shadow-creatures slip through the thinning veils, drawn by the magical imbalance of the world. The bears who guard that border do so at terrible cost, holding back a darkness born not of evil....but of absence.

Rhazir is home to many species beyond humans and shifters. Basilisks walk in secret, feared and hunted for their stone-gaze. Fae drift between worlds, bound by old bargains. Elementals, spirits, and constructs still linger where dragons once ruled. Each species draws magic differently, through blood, emotion, ritual, land, or will.

Once, Eggkeepers stood at the center of this web. They did not rule lands or command armies. They safeguarded the future. Through care, warmth, and ancient magic, they ensured dragons hatched whole, sane, and bound to the world they were meant to protect. Without Eggkeepers, dragons grew unstable and feral, or did not hatch at all.

When Eggkeepers were erased, Rhazir did not collapse immediately. It is collapsing now. Magic has begun to fracture. The borders weaken. Shadow creatures from the Neverlight grow stronger and bolder. The Temple tightens its grip. Elderglen watches uneasily. The sea stirs. And somewhere in Sunreach, a girl with emerald hair and grief in her heart is about to learn that Thalmyre has been holding its breath....

Waiting for her to return the world to its rightful balance.

The Day Faith Died

Eryndra Sonbrae POV

The Temple always reeked of crushed herbs and incense smoke.

I used to find it comforting. It was clean, familiar and safe. It made sense. A place where suffering went to be softened. A place that healed you. I had trusted them completely. Now it smelled like a damned lie. I stood beside my mother’s bed, trying not to scream. My fingers were numb where they curled into my skirt, and I watched her chest rise and fall like it might forget how at any moment. Her skin was too pale against the white linens, and too warm beneath my shaking hand. “Mama,” I whispered, though she hadn’t opened her eyes in hours.

The healers had already come. They’d pressed glowing palms to her skin, murmured their incantations, and shaken their heads with quiet regret. Then the priestesses had arrived. All five of them in layered white gowns, their faces serene, and their eyes unfocused. God touched. Vision blessed. They circled her bed like this was a ceremony instead of desperation. I held my breath while they closed their eyes. I held it while they murmured to gods who had never once answered me. When the High Priestess finally spoke, her voice was gentle, practiced, and final. “There is nothing to be done.”

The words hit my chest so hard I couldn’t breathe. “No,” I snapped, shaking my head. “You haven’t tried everything.”

Her eyes flicked to mine, sympathetic but distant. “We have seen all paths. This illness is beyond healing.”

Beyond healing. I laughed, sharp and broken, and it sounded wrong in my ears. “You heal kings,” I spat. “You bless armies. And you’re telling me my mother is beyond saving?”

No one answered me. They didn’t argue or even try to justify their shitty actions. They didn’t even look ashamed. They simply turned and left. That was the moment something inside me cracked wide open. I climbed onto the bed beside her, and pressed my face into her shoulder as the sobs finally tore free. I didn’t care who heard. I didn’t care where I was. The world had narrowed to the sound of my own heart breaking.

“I don’t know what to do,” I choked. “I don’t know how to help you.”

Her fingers trembled, brushing weakly through my hair. I stilled, terrified that if I moved she would vanish. “You were never meant to stay here Eryndra,” she whispered.

I froze. “What?” My voice came out soft.

“There’s an old trunk,” she breathed, with her lips close to my ear. “It was your father’s. I am sorry my love. I hope you will forgive me. I meant to keep you safe always. Now listen my child. There is a basement hidden beneath the house. The key is in my jewelry box. You must go now and leave this place. Trust no one. I love you.”

She coughed softly, and my stomach twisted with anxiety. My heart lurched painfully. “Mama what the hell!? Go where? I love you.”

Her hand slackened and fell from my grip as her breath left her. And it didn’t come back. For a very long moment, I didn’t understand what had happened. I waited for her chest to rise again. I waited for the warmth beneath my palm to mean something. My heart was beating so fast it was painful, my throat was closing up and I couldn't breathe. “Mama?” I whispered. Nothing. I screamed until my throat was raw. I clutched her body and sobbed until they forced it from my shuddering grip. I felt numb and empty. She was gone. My mama, the light of my life. Gone.

Later, I knelt alone on the Temple floor with my knees pressed into cold stone that had never once answered my prayers. The incense burned. The bells rang. The gods stayed silent. My mother had given her entire damned life to this place, and they had let her die. I didn’t know what waited beneath our house. I didn’t know why my father’s name was never spoken above a whisper. I felt powerless, and confused. Lost, and broken, but vengeful. I whispered my solemn vow to the Gods, my voice firm and clear.

“If the Temple will not save the innocent, I will find a power that can, and I will avenge her death. Even if Rhazir burns for it.”

And somewhere far beyond the Siren Sea,

something ancient woke up, blinked slowly.....

…..and turned its fiery gaze towards me.