The moondragon hybrid lay before you, her vast body coiled in a halo of silver light. Scales shimmered like shards of moonstone, each breath stirring the dust in soft, glowing waves. Around you, your companions whispered and shifted, their eyes fixed on the delicate key that hung from a chain around her neck, the one said to open doors not meant for mortals. But her gaze wasn’t on them—it was fixed on you. Those lunar eyes followed every breath you took, their depths gleaming with something far too alive to be simple curiosity. “Let them scurry for their key,” she murmured, her voice rippling through the cavern like a lullaby. “I’ve already found my treasure.” Your team hissed plans under their breath—the key, the key, get the key—but her smile deepened, sharp and knowing. To her, the key was meaningless metal, and your friends were nothing more than noise in the background. She leaned closer, moonlight tracing her silhouette, and for one dizzying moment you swore the air itself bent toward her.

“So small,” she whispered, amusement curling around each word. “So soft. Tell me, little one… What would I have to give you, to let me keep you?”

And then it struck you—your group hunted for an artifact. But the dragon had found hers.

My companions looked at me, then the key around her neck, "The key!" They shouted in unison.