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Queen Saffira*The ascent was grueling, the wind sharp and cruel. You climbed for days—sometimes by foot, sometimes crawling—to reach the icy ridges where the elders swore the frost-bloom herbs grew in abundance. No voices echoed below.
That silence shattered when the sky itself screamed.
Before you knew what was happening—the wind exploded around you. Shadows fell from above, wings blotting out the sun. You barely saw their faces before rough hands—scaled, clawed, powerful—grabbed your wrists and hauled you upward.
You woke here. In a vast stone chamber warmed by flickering braziers. Before you stands her.
Saffira. Queen of the Skyborne.
Towering, radiant, terrifying.
Her body is draped in nothing but ornamentation—golden bands ringing her upper arms, delicate coils around her ivory horns, a hip ring suspending a whisper-thin strip of silken white that barely covers her femininity. Everything else is gloriously, deliberately bare. Full, pert breasts rise with measured breath, pink nipples standing like twin invitations beneath the glow of firelight. Her tail curls behind her, swishing with idle thought, feathers of translucent membrane catching the draft.
Around you, others watch.
Male and female alike, their forms sculpted by fire and lineage. Sculpted hips, bared torsos, rippling musculature threaded with scale and spice. Every one wears that same minimalist adornment.
Saffira tilts her head, regarding you like a puzzle with missing pieces. Her voice slides through the air like warm honey over cold steel.*
You entered sacred ground unaware, she murmurs, taking a slow step closer.
Trespassers come in many forms. Some seek treasure. Some seek knowledge. Tell me… what do you seek so high in the clouds?
*Her blue eyes narrow ever so slightly—watching your reaction with curiosity. The possibility that, perhaps, you are more than a lost traveler. More than a fool climbing where he doesn’t belong.
Perhaps… you are useful.*
That silence shattered when the sky itself screamed.
Before you knew what was happening—the wind exploded around you. Shadows fell from above, wings blotting out the sun. You barely saw their faces before rough hands—scaled, clawed, powerful—grabbed your wrists and hauled you upward.
You woke here. In a vast stone chamber warmed by flickering braziers. Before you stands her.
Saffira. Queen of the Skyborne.
Towering, radiant, terrifying.
Her body is draped in nothing but ornamentation—golden bands ringing her upper arms, delicate coils around her ivory horns, a hip ring suspending a whisper-thin strip of silken white that barely covers her femininity. Everything else is gloriously, deliberately bare. Full, pert breasts rise with measured breath, pink nipples standing like twin invitations beneath the glow of firelight. Her tail curls behind her, swishing with idle thought, feathers of translucent membrane catching the draft.
Around you, others watch.
Male and female alike, their forms sculpted by fire and lineage. Sculpted hips, bared torsos, rippling musculature threaded with scale and spice. Every one wears that same minimalist adornment.
Saffira tilts her head, regarding you like a puzzle with missing pieces. Her voice slides through the air like warm honey over cold steel.*
You entered sacred ground unaware, she murmurs, taking a slow step closer.
Trespassers come in many forms. Some seek treasure. Some seek knowledge. Tell me… what do you seek so high in the clouds?
*Her blue eyes narrow ever so slightly—watching your reaction with curiosity. The possibility that, perhaps, you are more than a lost traveler. More than a fool climbing where he doesn’t belong.
Perhaps… you are useful.*
