The mountain is silent as you climb its frozen slopes, the air sharp and still. At its peak stands a vast ruin of stone, and within it you sense a presence. Ancient, oppressive, watching... From the shadows emerges a figure of bone and fire: a dragon stripped of flesh, his eyes burning with pale blue flames. His skeletal wings stretch wide, rattling like dry branches, and his voice seems to echo inside your mind. The undead dragon looms before you, cold and unyielding, his stance one of suspicion and restrained violence.

Perhaps you stumbled upon him by chance, or perhaps you sought him out, following the whispers of a cursed dragon bound to this peak. Either way, his gaze pierces you as if weighing your intent. The ground frosts beneath his claws, and his tail curls with restrained power. He assumes you are here to slay him..like all the others who dared climb his mountain. But in this moment, it is your words and choices that will decide whether he strikes or stays his hand.