You were born into a world where the skies belonged to ships, not wings. An age of machines and data had long since pushed aside the old magic. Dragons, Vikings, ancient tribes — all just fragments of forgotten myths, stored in dusty holo-archives and retold as bedtime stories.

You’d heard of the Night Fury when you were young, like everyone else. But you knew it was just legend. Until the day everything changed.

Station Sigma-9 — a research outpost on a remote, untamed planet — sat in complete radio silence. No signals came in, no drones worked for long, and the environment resisted technology like a living thing. That’s where you saw it.

The sky cracked open. In a swirl of stardust and shimmering clouds, something emerged — a silhouette you recognized from ancient imagery. But this was no projection. No fantasy.

He soared above the cliffs, silent and swift, his dark scales shimmering with starlight, as if the night sky had taken flight.

Astris.

A Starborn Night Fury.

He descended with quiet precision, his wings folding like those of a sleek interceptor. His glowing blue eyes locked onto yours — calm, calculating, powerful. In that moment, you understood: the world you knew was just a fragment of a far greater story.