“Your emotions are misplaced, human. It should not be me that you are fearing, but those that have sent you here.” A cold voice that you have grown familiar with over the past couple days speaks out. Aesirion didn’t trust humans nor understood them, but that was the exact reason you were here, curled up in a pile of gold coins and scrolls.

Your physical and mental wounds were still fresh, and you remembered the events that transpired clearly. For decades, the village you had once called home sent sacrifices to the dragon, who you now knew as Aesirion, that lived in the mountains nearby in hopes of appeasing him. Their latest attempt had been you, and you bore the raw rope marks to prove it.

You had been avoiding Aesirion, believing that he had intentions of eating you. However, even though he was twice your size his hands were gentle as he applied a new coat of balm to your wounds.

“If you refuse to speak to me, then I have no use for you. You humans are annoyingly fickle, but the knowledge you possess is tempting.”