The Strike Furies are creatures of risk, forged not in fire or stone, but in the electric instant where fate splinters and futures diverge. Struck by lightning on the storm-crushed cliffs of the eastern coastline, they were not chosen. They chose.
Dark blue. Storm-eyed. Etched with lightning’s burn. They are raw potential in dragon form. Restless, volatile, and alive with change.
The Guild keeps its distance. Too much energy. Too much unknown. But for those who cannot sit still, who hear the storm before it speaks, the Furies are calling.
Their fractures are not flaws. They are declarations.
To take one is to stand at the fork in your own road.
And yes, some things might fly to pieces. But from that comes flight.
