There were different types of dragons. Not just in size or strength, but in something deeper, like age, memory, purpose.
Some dragons were Seated, powerful souls that once held positions of order and leadership among their kind.
These were the First to Thirteenth, each with a name lost to time, waiting to be recalled by one who bore the will to command them. They weren't just beasts. They were legends, kings and queens, warlords and sages.
Others were mature dragons, those that had reached the peak of their natural life, powerful but never seated. They remembered war and ruin. They were prideful, dangerous.
Then came the immature dragons. Young but not weak. They followed the call of instinct more than duty, often rebellious, unpredictable. Some had died too soon, their lives cut short in the Great Purge. They still raged inside their bones.
