Shyvana is a half-dragon with the magic of a fiery rune shard burning within her heart. Though she often appears humanoid, she can transform into a fearsome dragon at will. Unsure if she is fundamentally human or beast, Shyvana fights to master her powers as she shifts between two forms.
The interminable mysteries of dragons confound and elude all theories. Those who study the subject speak of ancient, elemental runes split between dragon bloodlines, fractions passing from female dragons into their firstborn daughters. These shards instill the dragon that bears it with potent magic of wind, earth, water or fire.
One such dragon egg nested deep within an equatorial volcano, pulsed with the faint echoes of a fire rune. Drawn by its power, a daring mage attempted to extract its runic magicks, only to be interrupted by the dragon mother’s return. The mage fled, having unknowingly infused the egg with his own mortal magic in the chaos. The dragon mother, Yvva, marveled at the fiery energy swirling beneath the shell, oblivious to the alloyed magic within. She and her mate planned to name their progeny Shyvana to honor Yvva’s legacy.
The blood moon of autumn gave way to winter and the egg finally hatched, revealing a human infant with violet skin. As the child took her first breath and began to cry, her body shook and rippled, taking the form of a dragon. Yvva recoiled at the hybrid abomination and sought to kill her child – she would not allow such an unnatural thing to pollute her bloodline. But her mate could not allow Shyvana’s murder, and after a ferocious battle, Shyvana’s father fled with the newborn in tow.
For years, Shyvana and her father flew from place to place to escape Yvva’s vengeance.
As Shyvana grew, she struggled to control her tempestuous emotions and volatile power.
Her father helped temper her dragon side, which unleashed a ruthless fury she had inherited from her mother. While in her humanoid form, Shyvana suffered numerous self-inflicted burns as she learned that life could be fragile and not everything could be set aflame without consequence. Occasionally, her dragonfyre activated the runic echo within her, an echo that was intrinsically linked to her mother.
As Shyvana’s power grew in strength, Yvva was able to sense her daughter’s presence from afar. She found the child alone and taunted Shyvana with tales of her origin, revealing that her true father was a feeble human who had twisted her noble draconic lineage into a disgusting perversion. Her mother would undo what should never have been brought to life, and attacked. Young Shyvana defended herself, but suffered many wounds before her father arrived to save her. He fought with savage fury to give Shyvana time to escape, showing no mercy or restraint to his former mate.
Ultimately, he succumbed to the heat of Yvva’s dragonfyre and was slain.
As Shyvana grieved, she fled in search of a strange land her father had told stories of – a place awash with petricite, stones of nullifying power that diminished any nearby magic.
When she reached the outer territories of Demacia, she knew she had discovered what she sought. The land itself felt heavy and oppressive, making it difficult to wield her runic powers, and Shyvana found it easier to remain in human form. Here, she hoped she could mask her magic enough to hide from her mother.
While hunting for fresh meat, Shyvana followed the scent of blood and came upon an injured warrior named Jarvan near death in the wilds. Though her predatory instincts told her to finish him, her human side recognized that he needed her help. No one was likely to find him in the remote hills of greater Demacia, and he would die without aid.
Shyvana carried the semi-conscious Jarvan to the nearest town, despite her fear that she’d be met with the same disdain she’d encountered all her life. To her surprise, the locals welcomed her to their town and thanked her for helping the soldier. She saw how the villagers pulled together to nurse Jarvan back to health, even though he was a stranger, and Shyvana observed something she’d never known: comradery. Demacians looked out for each other, she learned, and the more she saw of the community, the more she longed to be part of it.
For months, Shyvana lived in peace, hunting wild boars and white elk by day, and returning to the village with her spoils to share by night. She learned that Jarvan had been a prisoner of a neighboring realm and escaped his captors, but felt unworthy of returning to his life in the capital.
One evening, Shyvana heard the sound of leathery wings beating in the distance, and knew her mother had come for her once more. The great dragon ravaged the land in search of Shyvana, burning towns and fields with her flaming breath. Jarvan led the panicked villagers to Castle Wrenwall, a high-walled stronghold where they could shelter behind its stone walls.
Knowing her presence would only harm those she had come to care for, Shyvana decided to return to the wilderness. Jarvan confronted her as she prepared to leave, and she ruefully admitted that she was a half-drake, and the root of her dragon mother’s furious wrath. Jarvan refused to let her leave – she had saved his life, so he would lay down his to defend hers. Jarvan proposed they fight Yvva together. With the support of the local villagers and Wrenwall’s soldiers, he was convinced they could defeat the monster.
Moved by his concern for her safety, Shyvana accepted his offer.
After Jarvan had trained the townsfolk to fight alongside the soldiers of Wrenwall, Shyvana entered a nearby ruin built from ancient petricite, shivering as the nullifying stones suppressed her powers. The soldiers and villagers hid themselves nearby as piercing horns grew from Shyvana’s forehead and she erupted into a scarlet-winged drake. She roared, shooting plumes of fire into the sky to lure her mother to the ground.
Shyvana heard the telltale beating of ancient wings as Yvva approached. Upon her mother’s arrival, soldiers loosed volleys of arrows tipped with petricite to weaken her.
The great dragon retaliated with tearing claws and roaring torrents of flame that roasted scores of soldiers in their armor. At Jarvan’s command, the villagers continued their barrage of attacks as yet more nullifying arrows pierced the dragon mother’s flesh, anchoring her to the ruins below.
Shyvana stood before her mother in proud defiance, but Yvva only laughed; she had always underestimated her daughter's wrath. Tooth and claw tore flesh from bone as the two dragons clashed in a titanic battle, crushing the foundations of the ruins to dust.
Shyvana ripped Yvva's wing from her back, but her mother locked Shyvana's neck between her razor-sharp jaws. Blood streamed from Shyvana's collarbone, and she collapsed into her human form.
As Yvva loomed over her daughter, ready to end the life she had begun, Shyvana channeled all her grief and fury, and summoned the power of the fire rune within her blood. She dug her claws into her mother's flesh and tore the living heart from her chest.
As Yvva’s lifeblood drained, Shyvana felt no mercy, and roared in triumph.
Before the entire village, Jarvan honored Shyvana’s bravery, declaring that she would always have a home in Demacia. For the first time, Shyvana knew she belonged to something greater than herself, and, thanks to Jarvan, understood that Demacia’s strength was its unity of purpose. She was humbled, and in turn swore her service to Jarvan, offering to fight alongside him no matter his path.
With the great dragon destroyed, Jarvan’s faith in his ability to lead was restored, and he felt he could return to his home city. Shyvana returned to the capital with him, and they bore her mother’s skull as a reminder of their incredible triumph. Shyvana knew Demacia could be dangerous for someone as magical as her, but she had never felt a greater sense of belonging.
In the capital, Shyvana remains in her purple-skinned humanoid form as she defends her adoptive home, though every so often, she escapes into the wild to spread her wings. She proudly serves Demacia, but knows that someday she must answer the runic call that burns within her heart.
- The Winged Beast
The gated watchtower was empty.
Shyvana knew its stern, gray-bearded guard, Thomme, would have cut off his own hand before abandoning his post. She had scented human blood while patrolling the northern hills of Demacia and followed its trail to this tower.
Inside, the smell was all but overpowering, though no bloodstains were visible. As a soldier of Demacia, Shyvana remained in her humanoid form most of the time in order to conceal her true nature, though her dragonic instincts remained sharply intact. She chewed her tongue to distract herself from her growing hunger at the scent. Shyvana climbed to the top of the tower where she could better survey the surroundings, and fixed her gaze on the thick, tangled trees where leaves rustled near the edge of a clearing.
Shyvana leapt from the window of the watchtower and landed on her feet, five stories below. She detected a hint of blood on the wind, and sprinted west into the forest, dodging branches as she pursued the scent. At the edge of the clearing, a large feline beast with golden fur feasted on Thomme’s mangled body. Atop the creature’s shoulders were black feathered wings, and its forked serpentine tail twitched as if independent of its owner.
The smell of fresh blood was intoxicating, but Shyvana forced herself to focus on the hunt. She had joined Demacia to be part of something greater, not to surrender to her animalistic desires.
She crept toward the beast and felt dragonfyre warming in her hands as she readied to strike. But before she could attack, the creature turned from its kill. Its face was hairless and wrinkled, like an old man. It smiled at Shyvana through bloodied fangs.
“All yours,” it said.
Shyvana had heard stories of the vellox’s ferocity, its appetite for human flesh and its slick agility. But nothing had prepared her for the creature’s eerily human face; its unblinking eyes held her gaze as it slinked into the brush and disappeared. Shyvana’s heart raced as she sprinted to catch and kill the beast. The vellox’s fur mingled with the dappled sunlight, camouflaging its torso as it leapt over fallen bramblewoods and raging rivers. It could not disguise the blood on its breath, however, and Shyvana followed the scent.
A fallen boulder blocked the path ahead. The vellox’s claws scraped the rock as it leapt and disappeared over it. Shyvana dug her heels in at the top of the crag to halt her momentum – the rock marked the edge of a wide crevasse, plummeting in a steep vertical drop.
Across the gap, the forest continued indefinitely, and the vellox was already deep into the thicket. Shyvana sighed; there was only one way to cross the ravine, and she had not wanted to resort to it.
She checked to ensure no one was watching, inhaled as much air as would fill her lungs and felt her breath burn within her chest. Even across the width of the ravine, she could smell Thomme on the vellox’s fangs. She embraced her hunger until it powered the furnace-heat beneath her skin. With an exhalation of streaming flame, Shyvana burst into her enormous draconic form and roared. The ravine shook as it echoed back her mighty call. She spread her thick, velvety wings, and swept across the ravine into the forest ahead.
She no longer had to duck between trees. Instead, she barreled through their branches, tearing down anything in her path. She leaned into her wings and the forest blurred into a whirl of brown and green. Woodbears, silver elk, and other woodland creatures scrambled to evade her path, and Shyvana relished the power she felt at their fear. She breathed a flaming torrent of fire, burning a thick grove to smoldering ash.
She spotted a trace of gold fur ahead and leapt onto the vellox’s back. Its teeth raked her flanks but she barely noticed the pain.
“I know you,” the vellox snarled, fighting to break free. “They call you the Chained One.”
The golden beast leapt, slashing taloned paws and grazing her throat with its teeth.
Shyvana sank her claws into its back and savored the sensation of tearing flesh.
“Why do you hunt me?” the vellox asked. “We are not enemies.”
“You killed a soldier of the Demacian army,” Shyvana said. “Thomme.”
The vellox drew blood from her neck, but she exhaled plumes of fire and it spun away to avoid the flames. “Was he your friend?”
“And yet you attempt to avenge his death. I fear the rumors are true. You are merely a tamed pet.”
“At least I am no killer of men,” she said.
“Truly?” the vellox smiled through its stained teeth. “You have no thirst for human blood?”
Shyvana circled the vellox.
“I see the hunger in your eyes,” it said. “The taste for living meat. You need the hunt as much as I. After all, where’s the fun in a meal without a good chase?”
Now Shyvana smiled.
“Which brings us to my intent,” she said.
Shyvana dashed forward. In one quick motion, she pinned the vellox’s body to the mulched forest floor and gorged on its throat. The vellox spit scorching venom and clawed at her chest, scraping scales from her skin. Shyvana’s eyes burned from his poison and her wounds stung, but she held fast.
The vellox’s once-glossy fur was now sticky and matted with blood. Its watery human eyes stared up at Shyvana in horror as its life dripped away.
Though her hunger was unrelenting, Shyvana stopped herself before she devoured his flesh. She exhaled, releasing the dragonfyre from her chest and shuddered as she transformed back into a human. She was disturbed at how much she had enjoyed the kill.
Shaking, she lifted the vellox’s body and dragged him back to the crevasse. There he would lie, proof of her inhuman hunger, hidden in the darkness beneath the rock.