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The Pyraxae dragons are an ancient species of dragonkind, renowned for their resilience,
power and ferocity. Almost every kind of dragonkin has faced extinction or seized to exist altogether
at one point in time or another. All, except the Pyraxaens. The secret to their high tenacity
and endurance is a unique ritual that every hatchling goes through right after birth.
The mother would always lay exactly two eggs and the two siblings would fight to the death,
to ensure the survival and dominance of the strongest of the two.
With only the most vicious and powerful whelps reaching adulthood, the Pyraxaen clan consists
of nothing but natural killers, fit for survival under virtually any circumstances.
But even the most pure-blooded species cannot go without showing any anomalies for long.
One day a Pyraxaen matriarch laid a single egg instead of two. Ashamed of this fact,
she hid the egg until it would hatch and then just tell her clan that the dominant child
killed and devoured its sibling, leaving no traces.
The hatching process took longer than usual and the mother started fearing that her child
would be stillborn; such disgrace would surely mean her exile or even execution. But, about
a week later than it usually takes for an egg to hatch, she noticed small cracks forming
on the shell. After a few minutes of struggling, the whelp finally showed its face to the world.
The matriarch was never expecting to see anything like this. The small, scaly creature from
within the egg had a grotesque birth defect. The two brothers that ended up sharing the
same egg merged in a single body, with two completely different heads sprouting from
the torso. A pale, icy blue head on the right, and a head of obsidian and amber on the left.
Shocked by her discovery, the mother had to quickly decide on what to do with her outcast
sons. She decided to listen to her pride instead of the motherly instinct and cast the mutant
down the mountain, atop which she had hatched it, being certain that a dragon with such
imperfections would never be able to fly, let alone survive the fall, just after hatching.
Little did she know, her child was no ordinary freak. After some terrified yelping and panicked
twitching, the brothers both started flapping their miniscule wings at the same time. With
the will to survive that doubled that of their kin, they managed to slow their fall quick
enough to survive their landing in a thorn berry bush in the forest surrounding the mountain.
After recovering from their descent, the brothers acted surprisingly calm for their state. They
instantly knew the history and customs of their people, without having anyone to teach
them and silently forgave their mother for her actions. They knew that revealing their
existence to the clan would mean certain death to them and their mother. They made a pact
with each other, to take only what is most needed from their bloodline. The brothers
discarded the bloody ritual of killing one’s sibling and promised to keep each other safe
in order to ensure survival, while holding on to their kind’s ferocity and urge to
dominate.
With no parents to give them names, the brothers decided to live as a single entity. Dubbing
themselves Jakiro, they flew far away from their homeland, overcoming every obstacle
and defeating all odds. With the power of ice and fire coursing in its veins, Jakiro
was able to turn whole settlements to ash. Avoiding large cities, the creature flew all
over the world, looking for a purpouse.