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Thousands of years ago, large, four-legged dragons landed on the vast plains of Anaris and forged themselves a home. No one knew where these giant, flying beasts came from, and the local human populations stayed far away out of fear of the unknown.

After a few years of mutual apprehensiveness between humans and dragons, a tentative peace was formed. Many more years passed and the humans began to learn about the magic the dragons brought with them to Anaris. Mixed communities began forming, based on mutual benefit and sharing, and both species began to flourish. Some humans, refusing the magic and the dragons, fled across the sea and formed their own nation on the land of Kyliza.

One group of dragons, recognising the versatility and functionality of the bipedal human form, worked their magic in such a way as to force an evolutionary change on themselves and many of their brethren using a genetic imprint pulled from a tribe of humans. They evolved to walk upright on two legs, their forelegs formed into muscled arms with clawed hands, they became smaller as well, still taller than any human, but their overall body size was small when compared to the other unevolved dragons. They changed their internal chemistry as well; no longer would they lay one or two eggs per hundred years, now they would carry their young the same as any human female, able to give birth as often as they liked, to allow for a larger population. A side effect of this process was the addition of some human mental aspects, the dragons found themselves wanting power and control, and their arrogance grew to new heights. Very soon this ended with the now anthropomorphic dragons ruling over the humans occupying Anaris, and forming the Anaris Protectorate.

The other dragons, now referring to themselves as "pure bloods", wanted nothing to do with their "unclean" brethren and took flight to find a new land for themselves.

The humans that remained in Kyliza, having no access to the magic of the dragons, developed into a highly advanced technological society. There has been an uneasy peace between the Anaris Protectorate and the Kylizan Empire for many, many years now; however, tensions between the two powerful nations have begun to rise rapidly with the addition of a third, and currently unseen, power.

- History of Anaris, Book 1.

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Chapter 1: Saren.

Saren sat up, sighed, and looked around his small room. It was early morning and the first rays of light were slowly coming in through the open window. He slowly climbed up out of his bed and padded towards the window. He glanced in the mirror as he passed it, smiling sadly as he looked at his reflection. His eyes shone icy blue and his silver scales gleamed in the morning light. He also had a small line of ice blue scales that ran from the left side of his skull, down his back to the tip of his spiked tail. He was the only silver dragon that he knew existed. Most other dragons had the more common coloured scaling; sapphire blue, ruby red, emerald green. Some had slightly rarer colourings; onyx black, copper, white or citrine yellow. But none, other than him, were true silver. No other dragon also had a second colour on their body except for the lighter shade that covered their soft bellies. He was unique, and he hated it.

As he was reaching out to close the window, he paused, one clawed hand resting on the handle of the glazed glass. The view this morning was the same as any other summer's morning. The sun was peaking its head over the horizon, light reflecting off the massive ocean that lapped the shores of the mountain he was in. As with most dragon cities in the land, this one was build into the side of a large mountain. Most of the structures were deep inside the mountain, but the living quarters were, while divided by level and caste, on the face of the mountain as to allow natural light and fresh air into them.

He quickly closed the window, turned around and headed for the door. He grabbed his favourite crimson cloak that was hanging on a peg next to the door and tossed it over his shoulders, wriggling his wings through the holes in the back. Stepping outside and into the well lit corridor, he checked to see who was around before heading out to find some breakfast. Various humans stepped carefully around him as he walked along.

The humans that lived here in the city were there to help the dragons in any form; from grooming to cooking and anything else they needed. Here in the lower levels of the city, there were only a handful of humans who were there to help the dragons living here, the rest were always in the employ of the richer and more powerful families on the upper levels. If a human was gifted with the ability to touch and wield dragon magic, then he/she was immediately taken to the Academy for training to become a Mage. However using dragon magics had their effects on humans, causing them to change slowly and develop physical dragon traits until they looked more lizard than human, a mockery of their former selves. Usually it was only limited to mild scaling, nails becoming claws and limbs getting longer. But the more powerful the mage, the more advanced the transformations. Some mages in the past had developed small wings, useless as they were, and their faces had become elongated and more snake-like.

Saren stopped out the front of his favourite cafe and opened the door to walk inside. He was immediately greeted by a human waitress and taken to a free table to wait while his meal was brought out to him. Saren sat with his back to the door as he normally would, so he did not notice the white dragoness wearing a flowing blue robe that followed him in. She waved the waitress off with a flick of her hand and walked over to Saren.

"Morning, sunshine!" she said happily, brushing her left hand over his shoulder as she moved to sit opposite him.

Saren smiled. "Good morning Isseath. Hope you slept well?"

"You know I always do!" She laughed.

Saren sat there, watching her place her order, with a smile on his face. Isseath was his only true friend in the city. They had known each other for many years. She was the youngest daughter in her family. A powerful healer by nature, she had excelled quickly in her training and was now apprenticed to the best healer in the lower levels. Saren, on the other hand, had no living family and had no hope for a decent career in the city. He could barely control his dragon powers, let alone put them to use for a purpose. Dragon Magic was dependent on the amount of power a dragon could draw from inside themselves as well as skill. Saren constantly feared that the powers contained inside his body were miniscule by any standards because he had never been able to call forth enough to even perform the simplest of tasks, like telekinesis or creating fire.

He drifted slightly caught up in his own thoughts. Isseath had told him yesterday that her parents had tried again to betroth her to a drake from the upper levels earlier in the week until she had put her foot down and refused to marry until she was ready. Saren had long had deep feelings for Isseath, but he knew that to pursue them would be impossible. To the other dragons, it was bad enough Isseath spent time with him as his friend. She would never be allowed to court an outcast like Saren. But that never stopped him from loving everything about her, even if he couldn't share his feelings with her.

He was dragged back to reality suddenly when he realised Isseath was speaking to him.

"I'm sorry, what were you saying?" he quickly said.

She looked him strangely for a moment before repeating. "I was just saying, isn't it strange how rapidly things have been changing here? I mean, power has shifted away from the old families to the newer, more radical ones. And the humans here and in the other cities are getting edgy because of the tension between the Protectorate and the Empire."

"Yeah..." Saren replied half-heartedly.

It was true that the tension amongst the humans and dragons was rising rapidly. The humans living across the sea in the Kylizan Empire were more focused on technology and science and were distrustful and wary of having any contact with their magical brethren and the dragons. Saren had heard news that there was a power struggle and an uprising in some of the major cities of Kyliza, but no one knew how much of the news from there was fact or fiction. Shortly after the internal struggle, the Empire had closed off all ports and blockaded their shores with massive ships. Even though trade between the Anaris Protectorate and the Kylizan Empire had been sporadic and clandestine at best, the humans were still taking it as a bad omen.

Just as Isseath opened her mouth to say something else, a small green dragon walked over carrying two dishes of hot meat in one hand and a couple of large mugs in the other.

"Here you go, you two!" He grinned as he deposited the meals on the table. "Enjoy!"

Saren picked up his mug of tea as the dragon waddled off back to the kitchens. He sipped it thoughtfully before speaking. "How is your apprenticeship going?" He asked Isseath.

She took a bite out of her breakfast before replying. "It's going well enough. I think I've learned all I can from Master Vyloth, but he still finds things to criticise all the time." Her voice lowered to a more elderly and wizened tone and she swung her mug around in one hand in an impression of her instructor. "Isseath! This dressing has been sloppily bandaged! This water is too cold! You haven't sealed this wound enough! Use your magic sparingly and rely on more practical medicine!"

Saren laughed. "Oh, I'm sure he means well though!"

Isseath suddenly frowned as she looked at him. "Given any thought to what you are going to do with yourself? I'd hate to see you stuck here for the rest of your life."

Saren's muzzle twitched slightly in a half scowl. "Don't worry about that. I know that if I can't manage something soon I will either be sent 'below' or kicked out of the city to fend for myself."

Isseath looked disturbed at his words. Being sent below to the Depths was something all unemployed or beggared dragons feared. That was where the worst of the worst were forced to work and stumble around in the mines digging for coal or precious metals and gems. But being tossed out of the city was almost as bad. On one side of the mountain, you had the shore and the sea, and on the other was the vast jungle that stretched between Ethor, this dragon city, and the next closest one, Quexos.

Saren, however, was of a different mind. To him, leaving the city was starting to sound like a good idea. There would be plenty of game to hunt in the jungle, and the humans had built roads for moving between cities. Where there were roads, there were always taverns and inns for the weary traveller. He could make a fresh start elsewhere and maybe a name for himself as well. The way he saw it, he could always join a mercenary band if he needed money.

They each finished their meals in silence. The waitress brought over the bills and placed them gently on the table before taking a step back and waiting patiently for the payment.

Saren reached into the pocket of his cloak to find some coins for the human female, but stopped as Isseath hissed at him.

"Not this time, Saren. I have this." She said as she placed a gold coin on the table. The human took it and hurried away.

Saren was about to start arguing but was cut off before he could start. "I know you won't admit it, but I understand how hard things are slowly getting for you. The money left in your family's estate would be nearing the end now. I don't want to see you forced out yet." She said sadly.

Saren nodded, feeling annoyed and depressed. Both his parents had died, many years ago now, when a structure they were walking through had collapsed. Saren was told that it was an accident, but after all the years he still had his doubts. Even though they lived here in the lower levels, they had been a fairly wealthy family and had a few enemies. But now, as Saren had no way to earn his own income, the money was beginning to run out. He thought he had enough for another year at the most.

The waitress came back with Isseath's change and placed it in front of her before heading away. Isseath scooped it up, placed it in her pockets, and then stood up.

"Well, I have to go." She said. "See you again tonight?"

"Yes, usual place and time." Saren said, a forced smile appearing on his face.

Isseath clapped him on the shoulder and sauntered off out of the cafe.

Saren sat there for a minute, sighed, then forced himself to stand and quietly followed her out the door.

Heading back the way he came, Saren made his way back to his room, hurrying down corridors and dodging out the way of dragons and humans going about their daily businesses. He opened the door, stepped inside and walked over to the large cupboard on the far wall. He looked inside and flicked the hidden latch on the floor of the cupboard. There was a slight wooden rasp as a panel slid open. Saren reached in and grabbed out his small bag of money. It felt pitifully light as he poured the contents out into his other hand. There was quite a bit of gold left, but less than he had thought. He quickly revised his earlier estimate as he realised there was only enough for another half year, maybe less.

He replaced the bag and slid the panel closed. Then reached up to the top shelf and grabbed the long, thin, wrapped bundle sitting there.

Saren slowly unwrapped the bundle and drew out the fine blade that lay within. It was the sword left to him by his father. Long and slightly curved near the tip, with the symbols that were etched into the metal near the base glowing a faint blue. The hilt was plain, but designed so that you could grip it with either one or both hands depending on the situation. He gently ran his clawed hand over the blade, smiling at the feel of the metal on his scaled palm. He had always kept the blade hidden from sight, never using it, for fear that he might damage the blade in combat or it might catch the eye of a thief and be stolen. He rewrapped the blade and placed it back on its shelf, before closing the cupboard and going to sit in his favourite chair by the window, picking up a book on sword fighting from his table as he passed it.