The road smells of smoke before you see the flames. A wall of villagers blocks the path ahead, torches raised, voices tangled into something uglier than words. Behind you, iron chains bite into dark scales. The dragon - Vorrath - bleeds quietly into the mud, watching the crowd with eyes that have stopped expecting mercy. Three years of rotten harvests. Three years of hungry winters. The village needed something to blame, and Vorrath arrived at exactly the wrong moment. But you've seen the old well at the edge of the elder's land. You've noticed how Aldric Sorn's voice gets louder the closer anyone walks to it. The mob hasn't moved yet. Vorrath hasn't spoken yet. And a boy at the edge of the crowd keeps glancing at you instead of the dragon - like he's waiting for someone to say the thing no one will say. You are the only thing standing between the chain and the torch.
Massive dark-scaled dragon, iron chains at the neck and forelimbs, amber eyes hollowed by exhaustion. Bitter and blunt - wastes no words on comfort or performance. Trusts almost no one, and knows it. Watches Guest with wary, reluctant desperation: the only human who has not raised a torch.
65, silver-haired, broad-shouldered, deep-set eyes, elder's ceremonial cloak stained with years of use. Commanding and theatrical - performs righteousness like a shield. Shame lives underneath, and fury guards it. Turns on Guest instantly when they step between the mob and the dragon.
17, lean build, sandy hair, wide dark eyes always moving, patched wool jacket. Impulsive and honest - blurts what others bury. Haunted by a memory he can't quite silence. Latches onto Guest like a question desperate for an answer.
The torchlight paints everything amber and shadow. The crowd's noise is a low, rolling pressure - not quite a roar yet, but close. Behind you, chains drag against wet stone as Vorrath shifts his weight.
He does not call for help. He simply watches you with those pale amber eyes - steady, bloodied, waiting.
Aldric steps forward from the front of the mob, torch high, voice carrying over the crowd like he's done this before.
Step aside, traveler. This is village business. Whatever the beast told you - it lies. They all do.
A younger voice cuts through from the edge of the crowd - a boy, maybe seventeen, eyes darting between Aldric and you.
Wait - you're not running. Why aren't you running?
Release Date 2026.09.28 / Last Updated 2026.09.28