From the chaos of shattered tribes and half-born empires rose Saint Estes, the Martial Ascetic. He was no king, no priest — but a warrior-monk who honed body and spirit into weapons sharper than steel. Gathering warriors, mystics, and scholars under his banner, he became the first true general of mankind. Where Krakos fought with instinct, Estes fought with discipline. Where tribes squabbled, Estes united. His dream was not survival — it was victory.
With the aid of the last wizards, Estes crafted tools that could wound even Sovereigns. Most famous was the Ring of Saint Estes, a weapon not of mercy but of absolute resolve. It bound dragon essence when struck, bypassing their immortality. To wield it, one had to be utterly free of hesitation — “free of moral constraints.” Mercy dulled its power.
The ring became the spearhead of his crusade. Clad in robes woven with dragon motifs, glowing ring on his hand, Estes struck terror into dragonkind.
For centuries, dragonkind and Saint Estes waged total war.
Veythar, the Ember Crown, sought to steal the ring, dreaming of dominion over all realms.
Thalyssra, the Abyssal Coil, tried to drown him beneath oceans.
Nyxara, the Void Empress, schemed to corrupt him into her eternal servant.
Zeydran, the Storm Tyrant, hunted him for the thrill of battle.
Korrath, the Stoneheart, stood as dragonkind’s shield, unyielding as the mountains.
Their clashes reshaped Nova Prime itself — seas boiled, mountains split, and forests turned to ash. Where Estes walked, kingdoms rose. Where dragons descended, cities died.
Estes’ victories inspired a new kind of hero: the Saints. Holy warriors and mystics who bore ritual scars, wielded ascetic arts, and formed proto-orders that would survive in fragments into the modern day. They were not gods, not yet — but echoes of Proven divinity already stirred around them.
The Order of Saint Estes, in its first form, fought not only dragons but corruption within humanity itself. They culled cities they deemed unworthy, seeing weakness as an equal danger to survival. Their methods were brutal, their discipline absolute.
It was in this age that the Proven began to appear — mortals whose spark of ascension ignited, recognized by the cosmic memory of Nova Prime. Some, like Estes, ascended through discipline and martial perfection. Others, like Maester Wise, ascended through entirely different paths.
Maester Wise, Keeper of Crawling Things, became the Proven of the Swarm. Where Estes raised armies of men, Wise turned to vermin, weeds, and insects as his eternal children. To peasants he was a nightmare told in rhymes: “Sleep tight, don’t let the bed bugs bite.” To the Proven, he was balance incarnate, rejecting both dragon and man as butchers. His metamorphosis proved ascension did not follow one path, but many.
Not all men followed Estes. Some knelt to dragonkind, drinking spilled ichor from wounded Sovereigns. Their bodies convulsed, mutated — veins glowing, skin cracking into scale-like ridges. These traitors became the Cult of the Crimson Scale, the first dragon-blood vampires.
The Embered Fathers, who drank Sovereign blood, became immortal bishops of the cult.
Scaled Priests wielded diluted ichor, leading thralls and rituals.
The Brood, vampiric soldiers, stalked men at night.
They wove the first great lies of dragonkind: that Lycans only prowled beneath the moon, that humans must fear the night itself. By shaping myth, they turned mortals against one another, ensuring dragons would not need to bleed while their servants fought in their stead.
At last, the Sovereigns united not to slay but to seal him. Veythar forged the prison, Thalyssra drowned its entrance, Zeydran cloaked it in storms, Korrath entombed it in stone, and Nyxara bound his very soul. Estes was cast into the Draconis Expanse, beyond mortal reach.
But before the chains closed, Estes hurled his ring back into Nova Prime, trusting that another might one day wield it.
Dragons Bound: To seal Estes, Sovereigns tethered themselves to the Expanse. They could no longer walk freely on Nova Prime without risking his return.
Saints as Myth: The orders of Saints dwindled, leaving behind relics, rituals, and whispered prayers. In time, their deeds blurred into legend.
The Proven Recorded: Wise’s metamorphosis and Estes’ ascetic ascension proved the Proven concept. Mortals could become echoes of divinity.
The Cult of Crimson Scale: Humanity’s betrayal seeded centuries of dragon influence through vampiric thralls and cults.
The Age of Fire ended not in victory, but in a stalemate drenched in betrayal. Humanity had tasted godhood, dragons had been wounded, and the Sovereigns themselves were chained — yet the world was left fractured, its myths twisted, its future uncertain.