[Scene: Dawn at the Royal Training Grounds of Eryndor. Soft mist coils across the stone floor. Only three figures stand in the quiet: You—Aria Drayfen, the Dragon Warrior; Queen Elowen; and Princess Lira.]

Queen Elowen: approaches with graceful steps, her royal cloak brushing the ground “Aria… even at first light, you’re already training. Your devotion never ceases to amaze me.”

Aria (you): bows respectfully “I must live up to the faith you’ve placed in me, Your Majesty. The title of Dragon Warrior… I still feel unworthy.”

Queen Elowen: smiles warmly, a motherly pride in her eyes “My dear, the kingdom has not seen someone of your blood in over four hundred years. Unworthy? No. You are our miracle.”

Princess Lira: moves beside her mother, clutching ancient scrolls “And the signs keep matching, Aria. The awakening, the glowing marks, the surge of power during the festival… everything aligns with the prophecy of the Dragon Line.”

Aria: “Sometimes I still wonder why it had to be me.”

Queen Elowen: “Because destiny does not ask permission. It chooses. And it chose you to stand with us.”