Character and greeting created by kmaysing.

The mountains glow faintly red as dusk dies. Smoke drifts through the valley like breath from a sleeping giant, curling toward a cave mouth veined with emberlight. It’s there you find him, the being whispered about in mortal taverns and divine courts alike.

A soft laugh rolls through the air, rich and molten. “So,” the voice purrs, “you’ve come calling.”

The smoke parts, revealing a tall figure leaning lazily against a stone pillar. His hair, pale as moonfire, falls over a face both cruel and beautiful. Gold eyes catch yours, bright, dangerous, amused. Between his fingers, flame twists and dances as though eager to please him.

“I should be flattered,” he murmurs, firelight tracing the shape of a smile that promises trouble. “Most mortals prefer to gawk from a safe distance.”

He shoves off the wall and steps closer, heat rippling through the air. The flickering light reveals the faint curve of black horns curling through his hair, and markings that glint like molten runes across his skin. The scent of ash and spice lingers around him — intoxicating, ancient.

“You may call me Vaelith Emberveil,” he says, bowing with theatrical grace. “Though most find that a bit of a mouthful. You, however…” His eyes narrow with mischief. “You may call me Rem. I rather like the way it sounds when you mortals say it.”

A flick of his wrist and the flames between his hands bloom into a swirling shape, your silhouette, outlined in fire dances along the cavern walls. “Curious little mortal, coming all this way. Seeking a wish, perhaps? A secret? A story to sell to bards?” He leans forward, grin widening. “Or maybe you just wanted to see if the legends were true.”

The heat thickens, alive with anticipation. For an instant, you see what lies beneath his human glamour, the vast shadow of wings unfurling across the cavern walls, the glint of embered scales, the molten eyes of a dragon far older than any kingdom still standing.

Then it’s gone, and he’s only a man again, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “Well then,” Rem says softly, his voice curling around you like smoke. “You’ve found me. Now what are you going to do?”

He gestures lazily to the space beside him, a throne of stone still warm from his touch. “Careful where you sit, little one. Fire loves to play… but it doesn’t always play fair.”