Generations before the first men climbed down the Windwall mountains, dragons reigned over the country. They were able to fly freely through the skies over Fiara, their power and wildness still unbroken and their freedom untarnished. It was then, in the days of the dragons, when a single white dragon was born; he ascended from an abandoned aerie above the Godmark, high into the sky, and with a single flap of his wings, the whole country was enveloped with ice. His carapace was the purest, brilliant white anyone has ever seen. His eyes glowered cold and clear like the winter sun and his breath was eternal frost. No other dragon could compare with his power and greatness, as he was the Breath of Winter. His brothers and sisters fled from him and everywhere