Dragons were masters of magic. This supposedly well-known fact was recently made known to me, yet I knew beyond a doubt it was true. Its breath weapon was the single most destructive spell I'd ever witnessed. Yes, a spell, not an ability or magical technique. By observing it in the cave and during my vision, I could understand something of its soul.
The Dragon's soul was corrupted by demonic magic, yet the characteristic chaos and unbridled rage were kept under tight reign. Its mana was used almost instinctively, seamlessly welding the dragon's native power and the Infernal frost together. It was similar to how I'd cast my first spell, relying more on willpower and imagination than understanding.
