Volitans dwell where land and water blur into one another. Where water stagnates long enough, where rot settles and refuses to leave, where fish float belly-up and the air carries a metallic sting... something begins to form beneath the surface. Not immediately. Not quickly. But inevitably. Unlike other dragons, Volitans do not chase prey across great distances. They choose a territory... and become part of it. The water settles around them. The soil softens. The air itself carries a weight that lingers in the lungs. Intruders often mistake this for decay. It is not decay. It is pressure. Volitans do not rely on speed alone to dominate their domain. Instead, they reshape the battlefield. Toxic spines erupt not as wild attacks, but as warnings... lines drawn in space. Their breath hangs in the air and clings to the ground, forcing movement, limiting escape. Despite their overwhelming presence, Volitans are not needlessly destructive. They do not scorch, nor do they ravage endlessly. Once intruders are driven out, the waters calm, the air clears, and the land returns to stillness.