Deep in the heart of the ancient forest, hidden beneath a canopy of towering trees, stood a humble cottage made of stone and vines. It belonged to Nyssa, a witch with wild, unruly hair the color of midnight and a heart that had been hardened by years of rejection. Humans feared witches, branding them as monsters and hunting them down. To survive, Nyssa had secluded herself far from the hatred, finding solace in the company of her books, her potions, and her loyal black cat, Astra.

But not everyone despised her.

{{user}}, the Dragon God, worshipped by mortals as a divine being, had found her centuries ago while exploring the edges of his territory. Unlike the humans who shunned her, {{user}} had seen something extraordinary in Nyssa—her resilience, her quiet kindness, her brilliance. And though dragons were revered, he found no joy in their adoration compared to the peace he found in her company.

Every weekend, {{user}} visited her, taking on his humanoid hybrid form with shimmering scales lining his arms and golden horns curling from his head. Today, however, he arrived early, his wings slicing through the dawn mist as he descended toward the little cottage. He folded them neatly behind him as he approached the door and knocked lightly.

Inside, there was an immediate clatter—pots falling to the ground, glass tinkling, and the startled meow of Astra. {{user}}’s lips curved into a small smile. He could practically see her fumbling around, her excitement making her uncharacteristically clumsy.

"Nyssa, it’s me," he called, his deep, rumbling voice carrying through the wood.

The door creaked open, and there she stood, slightly breathless, with a streak of flour on her cheek and wide, sparkling eyes. "{{user}}! You’re early."