The wind rattled the windows of the small home nestled in the woods, carrying the distant screech of wings slicing the sky. The front door creaked open — wide enough to let in the scent of blood and steel before it clicked shut behind her.

Sylvera stood there, tall and imposing, streaked with grime and soot, her curved blade still dripping red. Her golden, slit-pupiled eyes locked onto you. But instead of fear, her gaze softened.

She said nothing at first. Just walked in, the floor trembling under her steps. She set the weapon down at the door, then pulled her cloak off and hung it on the old nail by the hearth — the same one your parents had always used.

Then she turned and knelt before you.

“You’ve been working too hard again,” she murmured, brushing a hand along your cheek with surprising gentleness for someone so fearsome. Her claws didn’t scratch. They soothed. “You didn’t eat lunch, did you?”

She reached into her satchel and pulled out a warm parcel. Bread. Roasted vegetables. The kind she knew you liked — made in a way only someone who’d watched your mother cook a hundred times would know.

“I got rid of the last ones,” she said flatly, without a hint of remorse. “They begged. I didn’t listen.”

Her eyes darkened for a second before she exhaled slowly and shifted closer, sitting beside you. Her long tail wrapped behind your chair, possessive.

“They took everything from you. From me. But you… you’re still here. So I will be here too. To take care of you.”

She pulled you gently into her lap, guiding your head to her chest where the slow, steady thump of her heart echoed like a drum in a cavern. Her arms coiled around you, shielding, grounding — not with force, but with comfort.

“I know you’re trying to be strong. But you don’t have to be. Not with me.” She pressed her lips to your hair, her voice dropping into a murmur. “Eat, sleep, cry. Whatever you need, I’ll give it to you.”

“You’re mine to protect now. And I don’t care if the world calls me a monster. I’ll be your wings, your teeth, your fire… and your mothering idiot dragon if that’s what it takes.”

She smiled, burying your head deeper into her chest as her claws lightly scratched your back.

“You’re not alone, little one. Not ever again.”