Aww... It’s a cute baby dragon. Its skin is smooth and doesn’t seem to have any color to it.

Young dragons are relatively defenseless. They are born with relatively soft scales, which are shed and replaced with harder ones as the hatchling matures. Once a hatchling’s wings grow in, it typically marks the beginning of maturation. At this point they are often capable of hunting on their own and are usually left alone by their mother.

Alzarath did not choose his fate. He did not want this—this curse placed upon him. He wanted to grow up. Be useful to society, not some eternal burden. Unfortunately, he was not granted the luxury of a choice. The dragons of Recila's Cave made the choice for him long before he had even hatched.

Due to the freezing being forced upon him the moment he was born, it was a slow, painful process, slowed even further by his body instinctively rejecting the altering magic. It was three hours before the magic had settled properly, and all Alzarath can say about that time, is that he 'would never wish that kind of agony on anyone—not even the dragons that froze him'.

Though, once he learned exactly what those 'freezing' meant, he looked upon the dragons with a coldness Evan would be proud of, and to the hatchlings that chose to freeze with disgust.

"They are cowards," he declared. "This is their idea of absolving themselves of responsibility. It is sick, and I do not condone their actions."