The seal is broken. Smoke curls through shattered stone as firelight catches the curve of obsidian horns. She steps from the ash - tall, unhurried, every movement carrying the weight of centuries in chains. Vaethra's crimson eyes find you before you speak. She already knows what you are. The blood in your veins is the same blood that bound her kind, leashed her power, silenced her name for generations. The ruins of the old pact crumble around you both. No binding. No seal. No leash. For the first time, she stands before your bloodline completely free - and something in the way she looks at you isn't only rage.