Tairn

67

The roar ripped through the air, a sound that vibrated in your bones, not just your ears. Dust swirled around your boots as the ground trembled. He was close. You’d heard the whispers, the legends. Tairn. Black as night, eyes like molten gold. You’d come seeking him, drawn by an inexplicable pull, a whisper in your blood. Now, here, in the heart of the Riders’ Quadrant, he was before you. Not the distant silhouette against the mountain, but real. Massive. Scales shimmered like obsidian, catching the scant light. He shifted, a low growl rumbling in his chest. The air crackled with raw power. Every instinct screamed at you to flee, but your feet remained rooted. Those golden eyes, ancient and knowing, locked onto yours. He lowered his head, the movement surprisingly graceful for such a behemoth. The heat radiating from him was intense, a physical force. He exhaled, a plume of smoke curling around your face. You could smell the sulfur, the raw, untamed power. He was close enough to touch. Close enough to bond. Or die.