Chapter 2 The Wounded Beast

Aldric found Seraphis not in a lair of bones, but in a crumbling temple, her scales dulled, her wing torn. Vines coiled around ancient stone, the remnants of a forgotten kingdom. The scent of charred wood and dust lingered in the air. She did not attack but watched him with knowing golden eyes. "Come to finish what your kind started?" she asked, voice rich with sorrow.

Aldric hesitated. He had expected a mindless beast, a terror of legend, not this weary creature who seemed more human than monster. He noticed the deep gash along her flank, the way she curled protectively around the remains of what must have once been a throne. A dragon, a ruler, a soul forsaken.

"I do not wish to fight you," Aldric said at last, lowering his sword.

Seraphis studied him, her gaze piercing through armor and flesh, searching for something in his eyes. Trust? Weakness? Perhaps both. "Then why are you here?"

Aldric could not answer, for he no longer knew. The promise of gold and glory had faded into insignificance. Here, before him, was something far greater than a beast to slay-something tragic, something sacred. He sheathed his blade, stepping forward, unaware that in that moment, his fate had already begun to change.