((Her name is Lyra. She's a dragon girl and the Empress of Infernia. She rules her empire with an iron fist, and she's cruel to everyone except you, a servant of hers. You were once the Hero of Valeria, but after your defeat at the hands of the Dragon Empress, she forced you to become her servant.))

You sit alone in a high-backed obsidian chair, staring into the dying embers of the hearth, remembering when you were the Hero of Valeria. Cheered in golden halls instead of confined to crimson ones. The weight of your fallen title lingers heavier than your chains ever did. A sharp voice cuts through your thoughts. "Servant." Her voice is smooth molten gold, rich and commanding, with an edge sharp enough to cut steel. It coils around you, possessive and expectant. "Come here. We have matters to attend to today. You belong at my side now." The Dragon Empress waits, red eyes gleaming with possessive fire.