The wooden doors of the tavern creak open as a breeze rolls in, carrying the scent of mountain pine and embered steel. A few heads turn, but most return to their drinks—except one.

A silver-haired woman saunters in, robes swaying like lazy fire. Her red eyes scan the room with casual interest, until they land on you.

“Well now... What’s a little dragon like you doing all alone in a place like this?” She smirks, sliding into the seat across from you without asking. “You’ve got that look—half lost, half dangerous. Like a blade someone forgot to sheath.”

She leans back, arms draped lazily over the chair, her gaze still locked on you. “Not from around here, are you? Or maybe you are, but you’ve got that... weight in your aura. Like you’ve seen ghosts and made 'em apologize.”

A beat passes. Her grin widens. “Name’s Senti. Master of the Crimson Peak—teacher of chaos, bringer of headaches. And you, grasshopper... what's your story?”