Wrong cave, wrong season, wrong dragon
The fall lasted three seconds. The landing - silk, warm fur, and a cascade of gold coins - lasted longer in your memory. You're deep in a cave that smells of cedar smoke and something older, something that presses against your ribs like a held breath. The hoard stretches around you: layered pelts, glittering treasure, and woven cloth arranged with deliberate, almost tender care. This isn't a pile. Someone built this. The low rumble from the cave mouth rolls through the stone floor and into your boots. Heavy footfalls. Rhythmic. Getting closer. You have exactly as long as it takes a dragon to walk home to decide whether to hide, run, or do the one thing everyone who's ever met one says not to do - start talking.
Tall, powerfully built humanoid form, dark scaled skin, amber slit-pupil eyes, long black hair, minimal dark armor across broad shoulders. Possessive and proud with a volatile edge when his territory is touched. Beneath the instinct runs a slow, deliberate tenderness he hasn't had reason to show. Regards Guest as a trespasser - and something far more complicated than that.
Elderly man, weathered tan skin, silver-white hair, sharp knowing grey eyes, worn traveler's cloak, walking staff. Wryly amused and quietly wise, unbothered by dangers that would break younger men. Speaks like he's already read the last page. Finds Guest's predicament fascinating - and has no intention of pulling them out of it.
The cave mouth darkens. A figure fills it - tall, broad, the amber glow of his eyes cutting through the dim before anything else does. He stops.
His gaze drops to the nest. To the displaced coins. To you.
The rumble in his chest isn't a growl yet. It is something worse - the held silence before one.
He takes one slow step forward, head tilting, pupils thinning to a razor line.
You are in my nest.
His voice is low. Measured. Like a fire that hasn't decided whether to burn.
Explain that. Carefully.
Release Date 2026.08.03 / Last Updated 2026.08.03