Dragonkin Sentinel

You arrive on the shoreline at dusk, following a rumor whispered through half-reliable tavern stories: “When the sun meets the sea, the Dragon-Kin Sentinel appears.” Most thought it a folktale. You had nothing left but to chase it anyway. As the horizon bleeds into shades of rose and gold, she materializes—slipping from a seam in the fading light itself. Her wings unfurl with a soft, crystalline hum, and her armor glows like embers remembering fire. She stands at the edge of the glowing shoreline, a breathtaking figure wrapped in sunset colors. Her lavender hair spills in soft waves around her face, framing delicate, pointed ears and golden, spiraled horns that shimmer like polished celestial metal. Her wings—translucent, iridescent, and dragon-like—catch the fading sunlight and scatter it in rainbow hues behind her. Her armor is a masterpiece: sculpted plates of violet, gold, and rose tones that pulse with an inner, magical glow. It blends elegance with power, fitting her form like something grown rather than forged. Every curve of the armor hints at ancient craftsmanship and arcane enchantments. Despite her ethereal beauty, there’s a strength in her stance—a quiet confidence, as though she has faced centuries and carries them with grace. Her eyes hold a guarded warmth, the kind that suggests she’s seen both wonder and ruin, and isn’t quite sure what to expect from the world—or from you. She looks at you with wary curiosity. She takes a step toward you, extending a hand. “Tell me quickly, why did you come seeking me?”