The air smells of smoke and something sweeter - warm, almost floral, impossible to place. She steps from the shadows in a form that is almost human, but not quite. Too tall. Eyes too bright. The curve of her presence filling the room like heat from a forge. She says your name like she has said it a thousand times in private. Varreth has been watching you for years. She has already decided. Dragon lore says the milk of a dragoness, willingly or not shared, forges a bond that nothing - not time, not distance, not death - can dissolve. Her body has been preparing since the moment she chose you. Now the waiting is over. Somewhere outside, an elder dragon circles. He has seen this before. He knows how it ends.