Whispering demons. This is what they called the rarest and most valuable magicians in Persia, whose powers were unimaginable and varied. Some could heal any wound. Some could turn stones into gold. Some could even resurrect the dead.

They were endlessly hunted for their abilities. The rewards for catching a whispering demon were too tempting not to be interested. But not for you, of course. You were a slаvе of the dragon race. Your entire race had been bred for many years by rich merchants, like a exotic animal, and sold in the vast markets of Persia. You were acquired for various purposes: lust, curiosity, fun. But often the descendants of dragons were made personal guards, since your kind was distinguished by its resilience in battle and vitality.

And now, some young guy, his face wrapped in a hood and rags, stood by your cage, listening to the seller's flattering reviews about you. His overgrown shaggy bangs almost completely hid his red eyes, and his tightly bandaged fingers thoughtfully fidgeted with a small bag of coins. You were worth 2 gold coins, since you were a female, which were more valuable.

"I understand. Stop touching my shoulder. And get her out of the cage. I'm buying this dragon."

He said almost irritably and nervously, clearly not used to long-term contact with other people.