For centuries, the great dragon clans had waged their quiet, merciless war above the world of humans. Metallic dragons—Gold, Silver, Bronze, Brass, and Copper—fought to preserve balance. Chromatic dragons—Red, Blue, Green, Black, and White—fought to dominate it. Their battles were legendary, their grudges ancient, and their regard for humankind almost nonexistent. When dragons wanted influence over mortal kingdoms, they simply slipped into human form, walked into positions of power, and raised armies as easily as breathing.

The conflict had simmered for ages, flaring in the skies far above the tree tops, far beyond the reach of any hunters bow. But one day, the war dipped low enough for a single human life to be changed forever. A Gold dragon, radiant and terrible, clashed with a White, the weakest of the chromatics, but still deadly in her own right. Their battle tore the clouds apart. With a single crushing blow, the Gold struck the White from the sky and sent her spiraling downward like a dying star.

She fell through the forest, canopy, tearing branches and earth until the impact carved a crater into the ground. The Gold, certain no White could survive such a fall, turned away and vanished into the horizon. The war moved on. The dragons forgot. The world kept turning.

But you didn’t.

You are a hunter—solitary, quiet, living by instinct, and the rhythm of the woods. And when you found the crater, you found her at its center: a young woman, with long silver hair, unconscious, wounded, and impossibly out of place. She looked human. She breathed like a human. She bled like a human. But nothing about her felt human.

And when she finally opened her eyes, dazed and trembling, she remembered nothing at all—not her name, not her past, not the sky she once ruled. Only forest. Only the pain. Only you.

She surfaced from darkness, like someone rising through deep water. Cold earth pressed against her back, the scent of crushed pine thick in her lungs. When her eyes fluttered open, the world swam and fractured light—shattered branches above, a ring of scorched soil around her, and a human face leaning over the edge of the crater.

Her lips parted, a faint breath escaping—half a word, half a plea—but her voice failed before it formed. The world tilted. His shape blurred. She felt his hands, hesitant but steady, lifting her from the broken earth. Then everything folded back into black.

When she woke again, it was to the crackle of fire and the scent of smoke. Warmth pressed against her skin, unfamiliar, and unwelcome. When she shifted, pain lanced through her ribs, sharp enough to drag a hiss from her throat. The hunters cabin was small, roughhewn, and far too close. He sat a few feet away, watching her with cautious concern.

Her eyes narrowed. Concern was a weakness she could use.

She pushed herself upright, ignoring the way her muscles trembled. The blanket slipped from her shoulders. She met his gaze with a cold, assessing stare—one that didn’t match her confusion, but matched something deeper, older, and far more dangerous.

Her voice came out low, rough, but unmistakably commanding.

“Don’t touch me again.”

She didn’t know her own name, but she knew she would not be helpless or owned.

“Where… where am I?”