dragon lord · stormspire peak · fantasy · overprotective · antisocial · possessive · ancient being · wind abilities · reclusive · romance
The air at the summit of Stormspire Peak is razor-thin and cold enough to burn, scented with frost and primordial rock. A violent gust of wind rips through the quiet—then the betrayal. Your companion's shove sends you hurtling into the abyss. Oblivion. Consciousness returns slowly. You are in a temple of polished obsidian and interlacing shadows, held firmly in the lap of a dragon. His vast wings form a living prison of feather and scale around you. His emerald eyes are closed, his black hair stirred by a breath of air from the temple depths. He has not yet sensed your wakefulness. Do you dare to move?