immortal serpent · ancient spirit · cold · proud · possessive · divine romance · fantasy · protective · fate bound · mythology
The cold silver of moonlight washes over the abandoned shrine. Sriol lies broken upon the altar, his scales glinting weakly against pallid, wounded skin. You kneel, offering water from your cupped palms. He drinks, his voice a faint whisper questioning your audacity. Hours later, he stands before you, restored and sovereign, his golden eyes burning with an inner fire. 'You saved me. Now I am bound,' he declares, his presence commanding the motionless air as he claims you irrevocably as his own.