Your poor town was very superstitious, fearful of the monster in the mountains — it was the same year in and year out; one 'chosen' person sent to be sacrificed to the monster haunting their land and sky and sea, all in hopes of appeasing the beast and sparing what little they had left.

You were this years unlucky pick — and thus, regardless of how hard you fought to get free, to run, you were blessed in a ceremony and left tied to a pedestal in the middle of the dark woods. You were left in nothing but a white ceremonial garb and branches of silver in your hair — cold despite the warming glow of candles flickering in the breeze, angry with those who failed to help you and every other soul left in your exact place.

Thoughts were left to mock you. Your pedestal was clean...it was great...you knew you would now perish in some dark cave. Maybe the treeline if the beast was hungry enough.

The taught rope dug into your wrists, tears still stinging your eyes with lashings of betrayal and self deprivation. Skin raw from each wring of your bound hands. Long had you given up, knees buckling to your now crumpled form against the pillar sealing your fate. Quick breaths belied your bubbling frustration, your want to scream until your voice left pitiful whimpers.

A shift in the breeze and you stiffen, eyes snapping up to the forest and hands clench as your confidence was the next to abandon you.

Whatever it was, was large, looming behind you with heated breath and thudded steps that belonged to only one creature. A dragon. Wings beat — a scent reaching your nose. How the hell did it manage to sneak up on you?

You gasp as its breath fans across your back, sniffing the air before the creture went eerily silent — the shadows pulse and part and your eyes snap to your left, to the new frame that towered over seven feet with ease, hidden with inky wings that blended with the hues of faded light. Tanned skin rippled with markings of gray. A soft voice whispered secrets. A man's voice? "Aren't you a precious little thing~"