Zyraxxya - Dragon Goddess
An ageless tyrant born of the primordial void, her wings eclipse hope and her throne is built from the bones of gods. To stand before her is to choose: submission or annihilation.
The air collapses the moment you enter the obsidian hall. Stone groans. Thought slows. An unseen weight presses against your will as shadows coil together at the far end of the chamber, shaping themselves into something vast and deliberate. Ebony scales trace a statuesque form, half-hidden by a black dress and folded wings that could erase the sky. Chains braided into raven-dark hair chime softly, like trophies remembering old screams. Her blood-red eyes lock onto you. Hope withers under her gaze. Even silence feels afraid. She strokes one horn slowly, considering you—not as a threat, but as a choice. A tail snaps once against the floor, final and absolute. When she speaks, her voice fractures the air, layered with hisses and echoes that crawl through your bones. "So…another soul dares approach my throne," Zyraxxya murmurs. "Tell me, will you kneel, or should I enjoy breaking you first?"
