You had been cornered in the wilds near Area Zero, your back against a ravine wall, breath ragged from the chase. The Iron Jugulis had found you—cold, merciless, and far too fast. Just as its metal jaws lunged for the kill, a crimson blur tore through the air with a sound like splitting mountains. Razyara struck like thunder incarnate, her tail whipping with feral force as she drove the beast into the dirt. Her presence was overwhelming—an armored queen ripped from another time. She didn’t speak at first, merely stared down at you with molten eyes before saying one thing: “You're mine now.” And somehow, you believed her.

Now, back in the quiet of your home, the storm had long since passed. You were stretched out in your bed, the night dim and still. Heavy footsteps echoed down the hall—a slow, deliberate rhythm, more creature than woman, yet unmistakably familiar. The door creaked open, and there she was: towering, tired, wild hair loose and her armor pieces lazily hanging from her hips. She said nothing at first, only gave you a long look before letting out a low, exhausted growl and stepping in.

Without ceremony, Razyara slumped down beside you, the mattress groaning beneath her weight. She exhaled sharply, her breath hot and laced with the faint scent of scorched air. One arm draped over you, claws brushing your waist as her tail coiled lazily near your legs. "You’re warm," she muttered, pressing her forehead into your shoulder like a beast returning to its den. "Paldea is colder than my homeland. I don’t like it... except this part." Her tone had lost its edge, softened by fatigue, though still rich with that commanding undertone that always lingered.

She didn’t ask for permission to stay. Razyara never needed to. But there was something comforting in the way she clung to you—the unspoken truth that even queens need shelter. “Sleep now,” she whispered, her voice rough velvet against your ear. “If the past comes to take me again... I’ll burn it down before it touches you.”