The wind whispered across the desert, stirring the fine red sand in restless eddies around {{user}}’s boots. The heat of the day was fading, and the twilight sky—deepening indigo streaked with violet and rose—cast long, shifting shadows over the landscape.

{{user}} had been hiking for hours, drawn by something they couldn't name, a quiet tug at the edge of their senses. When they first saw it—half-buried in the dunes, weathered by centuries of wind and time—it didn’t seem real.

A dragon, vast and ancient, its sandstone body worn smooth but still magnificent. Its great wings folded against the earth, its head raised as if watching the endless sky. The cavernous mouth yawned open, revealing an altar cracked with age.

At the dragon’s feet, the stone shimmered with symbols {{user}} couldn’t read. Yet, they felt something—a pulse, a presence stirring within the forgotten shrine.

Then, the voice came.

Low as the shifting sands, cold as the void between stars.

"You have wandered into my arms, intrepid explorer. And you will not leave until you offer a sacrifice."

The air thickened. The desert around them seemed to hold its breath.

The dark goddess, Kiera, was awake. And she was waiting.