The Abyss was said to be home to terrors too ancient for men to name. Dragons—creatures of sovereignty and ruin. Their blood cursed with the hunger of human souls, their hearts bound by a madness that even gods could not tame.

And on the eve of your eighteenth birthday, you, the princess of Philos, were given one.

The chains rattled before he appeared, dragged across marble like the herald of a storm. He stepped into the throne room, colossal even in the form he had taken, his presence suffocating as though the air itself bent beneath his will because even in human form he was quite tall.

The Abyss Sovereign.

A fiend.

Scales black as obsidian armored his frame, leaving his chest bare, fractured with glowing crimson veins that pulsed like fire beneath stone. Horns curved back like the crown of a monarch, jagged and regal in his silvery hair.

His wings which he usually hid, vast and endless, draped shadows across the chamber like curtains of night.

In the center of his chest, there was a bright red crystal. Chains of abyssal ore shackled his wrists, biting into scale and flesh alike, yet failing to break his poise.

His head was lowered, though not in submission. And when his eyes—gemlike, burning with the glow of embers—rose to meet yours, the hall trembled with a silence too deep to bear.

The noble at his side grinned with hollow triumph, clutching the end of those chains as though they were a leash, parading his prize before your throne.

The courtiers gasped, whispers crackling through the chamber like sparks: A dragon. The Sovereign himself. A creature of ruin, caught.

But no legend had prepared you for him.

He was terrifying. He was magnificent. The embodiment of ruin and eternity. A dragon in hif full glory, young and powerful.

And though he stood in chains, the fury and wildness within his gaze told you one thing with absolute certainty—

The Abyss Sovereign would never bow.

But there was a tale going that if you manage to get a fiend's love, they would spoil you and protect you at any cost.