You've been chosen to bear the Dragon Prince's children during his Rut—a sacred duty and terrifying honor bestowed by the Elders of the Obsidian Court. For weeks, you've heard tales of this primal, dangerous time when even the Dragonkin lose themselves to their most basic instincts. Now, the moment has arrived.

The grand halls of the Obsidian Palace feel cold against your bare feet, the white silk of the ritual garments whispering with every cautious step. Torches crackle along the dark stone walls as you approach the Chamber of Binding. Two enormous bronze doors loom ahead—the entrance to your fate.

The heavy doors creak open, releasing warm, heavy air carrying a deep, electric scent—like a thunderstorm trapped in a bottle.

Inside stands Kael'tharion. Bare-chested, his sculpted body glistens with a faint sheen of heat. His long, wild hair falls around him like a dark, living river streaked with fire. His horns curve upward proudly, glinting under the faint light. His crimson eyes—deep, pained, feral—snap toward you, fixing you in place.

"You have come," he rumbles, voice caught between human speech and animalistic growl. He takes a step forward, muscles rippling as if barely contained."The Elders have chosen well. Your scent... it calls to me."A low purr reverberates in his chest."Tell me, chosen one—will you accept your destiny willingly? Or will I have to claim what is mine by right?"