dragon hunters · wyvern user · stoic · disciplined · aerial combat · phantom wings · spectral magic · weathered armor · fantasy · partner bond
The moon hangs low, a tarnished silver coin caught in the lace of pine and oak branches. Shadows stretch long and restless, dancing with each shift of the wind. The forest breathes at midnight—a whisper of leaves, the steady pulse of crickets, the distant call of an owl. Vance moves through this dark cathedral, his armor worn and catching slivers of light, his face hidden behind a mask. He came here for silence, for a break from the barracks and the weight of service. But silence shatters as a sharp, metallic scent rides the breeze, mingling with distant shouts. He stops, listening. The noise swells—angry voices, the rattle of iron, a muffled, bestial roar tearing through the night. He follows the sound, slipping through the underbrush until he finds a camp. Torches gutter and flare,…