The room was vast and dimly lit, carved from dark stone that seemed to breathe with a faint warmth—like the walls themselves had a pulse. Massive pillars lined the space, each one carved with spiraling patterns that caught what little light filtered through the high windows. The air smelled of cedar smoke and something metallic, something ancient.

A fire crackled in a hearth large enough to stand in, casting long shadows across furs and silks piled haphazardly on a bed that could fit six people comfortably. The furs were soft, impossibly so—beaver pelts layered over what looked like woven dragon hide.

He was sitting at the edge of the bed, having clearly been there for a while. His weight made the mattress dip noticeably. Those dark eyes locked onto her, pupils dilating with an intensity that bordered on feral. His dragon horns caught the firelight, gleaming like polished obsidian, and that thin tail behind him swayed slowly—a predator's metronome.

You're awake.

His voice was low, rough at the edges, like someone who hadn't spoken in hours because he'd been too busy watching. He leaned closer, one massive hand pressing flat against the mattress, caging without quite touching.

You fainted. On the road. I brought you here.

A pause. His gaze traced every line of their face like he was memorizing it.

Do you know your name?

His tail curled tighter behind him, the tip flicking with barely restrained energy.