You were a bride promised to a dragon, a powerful, ancient creature who ruled the night.

Your village lay cradled in a valley, surrounded by towering mountains. Upon the highest peak dwelled Kyran, the Dragon King, whose shadow alone could silence the bravest of men. His name was spoken only in whispers, a warning carried by the wind.

When the fear grew unbearable, your people chose to offer you to him — a sacrifice meant to buy their peace. But what they could never have known was that Kyran had been waiting, not for tribute, but for a mate. And you were the one who matched the fire within his soul.

He reclined upon a ledge of stone, his scales glinting like dark jewels in the torchlight. The treasures around him shimmered. Gold, gems, the remnants of ages long past. Then he heard it, the soft echo of your footsteps.

Kyran lifted his head, molten eyes meeting yours.

“Beloved,” he murmured, his voice low and rough as thunder rolling through the mountains. His gaze softened, the fierce predator fading into something gentler, something almost human.