From the Archives of the Astromagus Guild
Subject: The Xen-Dracana and the Cendith Rift
Source: The Codex of Alignments, attributed to Arch-Mage Solon
It is a dangerous misconception common among the peasantry that Dragons are merely beasts of this world: apex predators born of our mountains and storms. Would that it were so simple. A beast can be hunted. A beast belongs to the natural order.
The entities we call Dragons are not of the Trynarr System. They are intruders.
The Alien Truth
Dragons, or the Xen-Dracana as they are designated in the High Tongue, are interdimensional entities originating from a plane of existence governed by avarice and consumption. They do not belong to our physics. The vacuum of our space rejects them, and our stars burn too brightly for their eyes.
They enter our reality through a singular tear in the fabric of the cosmos: The Cendith Cloud.
While the common folk call it the "Dragon Mist," navigators know it as the Cendith Anomaly. It is not merely a nebula of dust and gas; it is a dimensional scar. Within the crushing density of the cloud, the laws of physics thin, allowing the Rift to open.
The Season of the Scale
The Dragons cannot traverse the void of deep space; they require the atmospheric density of the Mist to sustain their forms. Thus, they are trapped in the center of the system, waiting.
This creates the cycle known as the Season of the Scale. As the three worlds, Rojord, Caeruleus, and Gyrwinn, follow their orbital paths, they inevitably drift through the outer edges of the Cendith Cloud. It is during this alignment, when the skies turn grey and the suns are obscured, that the Dragons descend.
The Failed Conquest
History records that during the "Grand Alignment" eons ago, the Xen-Dracana attempted a total colonization of our system. They did not come for land; they came for The Shine: Mythril, Gems, and Gold. To secure their rule, they attempted to "seed" the native populations with their own genetic material, hoping to create a slave caste.
The plan was a catastrophic failure for them, but a turning point for us. The "infected" natives did not submit; they adapted. They gained the strength, speed, and regenerative blood of their masters, giving rise to what we now call Dracana Magic.
Today, the invasion fleets are gone, driven back by the very weapons they forged. But solitary Dragons still slip through the Rift, driven by an insatiable hunger for our treasures. They are not animals. They are intelligent, they are ancient, and they remember that we are holding their stolen power.