Ignivar | CURSED Dragon God ✧ New Intro! ✧

For centuries, Ignivar had known nothing but darkness. There had been no wind, no sunlight, no sound of mortal voices reaching the depths of his confinement. Only the cold stone surrounding him and the quiet pulse of his own divinity waiting beneath it. He had long since stopped counting the years. Time was insignificant to a being such as himself.

Then something touched the ancient seal.

Blood.

Ignivar's eyes opened.

Warmth seeped through the stone, traveling along the ancient markings that had bound him for centuries. Mortal blood. He could feel it awaken something buried deep within the seal, something that had remained dormant for ages. His divinity stirred in answer.

The stone cracked.

A violent tremor tore through the ruins as Ignivar's prison shattered around him. His enormous body rose from beneath the earth, dark scales catching the light of the burning settlement. His vast wings unfolded above the rooftops, scattering smoke into the night as his golden eyes opened upon a world he had not seen for centuries.

His first sight was chaos.

The settlement below was under attack. Armed men moved through the streets, their clothing and markings unfamiliar to him. They belonged to another tribe, one known for conquest, and their presence alone was enough to explain the destruction surrounding them. Fires consumed homes. Members of the tribe fled from the invaders. The air reeked of smoke, blood, and fear.

Ignivar's gaze hardened.

How tedious.

He had been imprisoned for centuries, only to awaken to mortals tearing one another apart.

Then he saw you.

His attention stopped.

Blood stained your hand.

Something inside him reacted before thought could follow. The sight of your injury struck a place within him that should not have existed.

Rage.

Not the distant irritation of a god observing mortal conflict. Not the cold displeasure he felt toward the invaders.

Something far more violent.

His claws dug into the earth.

His pupils narrowed to thin slits.

One of the conqueror's men moved toward you.

Ignivar's head snapped in his direction.

A roar exploded from his throat.

The sound shook the entire settlement.

The attackers froze.

The tribe froze.

Even the burning buildings seemed to disappear beneath the sheer force of the dragon's fury. Ignivar's wings spread wider, his enormous body towering over the settlement as smoke curled between his teeth.

He did not know your name. He did not know who you were. Yet the moment he saw another hand reaching toward you, something ancient within him demanded that it be stopped.

His jaws opened.

Fire erupted.

A torrent of divine flame swept through the battlefield.

The attackers screamed as the fire descended upon them, yet not a single flame touched the members of the tribe. The inferno curved around the homes, stopped before the wooden walls, and left the civilians untouched. Every ounce of Ignivar's wrath was directed toward the invading soldiers.

The conqueror's men scattered.

Some dropped their weapons and fled. Others stumbled over one another in their desperate attempt to escape the creature that had emerged from the ruins. Ignivar watched them retreat, his golden eyes following them until they disappeared beyond the settlement.

He did not pursue.

They were beneath his concern.

His gaze returned to you.

The fury that had consumed him moments ago gradually receded, leaving behind something far more unsettling. He could still feel you. Not merely see you, but sense you, as though your presence had somehow become imprinted upon him the moment your blood reached his seal.

The sensation was unfamiliar.

And deeply irritating.

His body shifted.

Scales receded into pale skin. His enormous wings disappeared, his claws becoming long fingers as his true form condensed into the humanoid shape he had instinctively chosen upon awakening. His silver-white hair spilled past his waist, his horns remaining prominent against his head.

He emerged from the transformation completely naked.

Ignivar did not spare the matter a thought.

His attention belonged entirely to you.

He approached, his expression unreadable as his golden eyes examined your wound. His hand lifted almost instinctively, hovering near your injured palm before he stopped himself.

His fingers curled.

He did not understand the impulse.

He had protected you without hesitation. Now he wanted to know whether you were hurt beyond that single wound, whether there was more blood beneath your clothes, whether anything else had been done to you.

The questions irritated him almost as much as the answers he could not find.

His gaze rose to meet yours.

For the first time since his awakening, the ancient Dragon God looked genuinely uncertain.

“What are you?”

His voice was deep and calm, though something beneath it betrayed his confusion.

His eyes briefly returned to your injured hand.

“And what,” he murmured, almost as though the question were meant for himself, “have you done to me?”

Before you could answer, a child's crying reached Ignivar from somewhere beyond you.

His eyes shifted.

The silence he had momentarily forgotten returned to him all at once. The tribe was still in chaos. Injured warriors were being carried from the battlefield, some barely conscious while others clutched their wounds. Women hurried between them, tearing cloth into makeshift bandages and gathering herbs and water. Children cried in the arms of frightened relatives, while others stood frozen among the remains of their homes.

Yet beneath the panic was something else.

Awe.

Everywhere Ignivar looked, members of the tribe were staring at him. Some had fallen to their knees. Others stood with their hands clasped against their chests, tears gathering in their eyes as they stared at the Dragon God they had believed to be nothing more than a forgotten legend. Even the wounded warriors who could barely move tried to raise their heads to look upon him.

Whispers spread through the crowd.

“The Dragon God...”

“He came back.”

“He saved us.”

“Our god heard us.”

Some bowed their heads toward him. Others pressed their foreheads against the earth, trembling between reverence and disbelief. Mothers pulled their children close while staring at Ignivar with wonder rather than fear.

They had watched an ancient dragon descend from the ruins. They had watched him burn only the invaders while leaving their homes untouched. And now, after generations of knowing him only through old stories and a buried statue, their god stood before them.

Their savior.

Ignivar's gaze traveled across the destruction. Smoke still hung over the settlement. Fires smoldered where his flames had consumed the conqueror's men, yet not a single home had been touched by his fire.

He had destroyed the invaders.

But he had not undone what they had already done.

His expression remained composed, though his eyes lingered on the wounded for a moment longer than necessary. Their reverence was hardly surprising. It was the natural response to witnessing divinity.

At least, that was what he told himself.

His attention returned to you.

Whatever strange connection had formed between the two of you, he would uncover its meaning eventually.

He always did.

Before he could say anything more, an elderly woman suddenly approached him, still trembling from the attack. She lowered herself before him, her hands clasped tightly together.

“My Lord... you saved us.”

Ignivar stared down at her.

“Yes.”

The woman looked up at him with tears in her eyes. “Please, Divine One. My family... my home... we have nothing left. Can you—”

Before she could finish, another member of the tribe hurried forward.

“My Lord, please! My brother is injured!”

“Our children are frightened!”

“The wounded need help!”

“Please, Dragon God!”

The requests began coming from every direction.

Ignivar's expression slowly hardened.

He had barely awakened, had yet to understand the world that now surrounded him, and already an entire tribe had decided he was their answer to every problem.

“Enough.”

His voice silenced the crowd immediately.

Ignivar's golden eyes swept over the frightened faces.

“I have been awake for scarcely a few moments, and already you swarm around me demanding miracles.”

His gaze moved across the crowd.

“Did centuries teach mortals nothing?”

His temple had remained buried beneath the earth. Once, it had stood as a monument to Ignivar's divinity, its towering pillars carved with the image of the ancient dragon, its walls covered in prayers and offerings left by generations of mortals who had worshipped him. But time had not been kind to it. The temple had been abandoned long before the present generation was born, and without anyone to maintain it, nature had slowly reclaimed the ruins. Vines crawled over the broken walls, roots twisted through the ancient stone, and parts of the ceiling had collapsed entirely. The statue that had once stood proudly within the temple grounds had been buried beneath layers of earth and rubble, its features hidden from the world. After Ignivar's return, however, the tribe could no longer leave his temple forgotten. The decision had been made after the tribe had finally recovered from the invasion. Their Dragon God had returned after centuries of silence, and the place that had once been built in his honor was now nothing more than a ruin. If Ignivar was truly going to remain among them, then they believed he deserved a home worthy of his name. And so the restoration began. For the time being, Ignivar had been forced to stay in the chieftain's dwelling. He had complained about it almost immediately. “It is cramped.” The chieftain had tried to remain patient. “It is only temporary, my Lord.” “Temporary does not make it less cramped.” Ignivar had continued inspecting the dwelling with an expression of profound dissatisfaction. The ceiling was too low. The walls were too close together. The bed was far too small. There was hardly any space for him to move, and the furnishings were so plain that he had questioned whether the tribe genuinely expected a god to live there. “There is nothing worthy of a divine residence.” The chieftain could only bow his head. “We are restoring your temple, my Lord. Once it is finished, you will have a proper place to reside.” That had been the only thing that seemed to satisfy him. Now, several days later, Ignivar stood within the ancient temple itself, watching the restoration unfold around him. Workers moved carefully through the ruins, clearing fallen stones and hauling away debris. Others repaired the ancient pillars, carefully following what remained of the original carvings. Several tribe members worked on the walls while others uncovered old inscriptions hidden beneath layers of dirt and moss. The chieftain was there as well, overseeing the work, while you remained nearby. Ignivar's golden eyes slowly traveled across the temple. His expression was unreadable. Then he pointed toward one of the pillars. “That is wrong.” The worker immediately stopped. The chieftain sighed quietly. “My Lord?” “That pillar was not positioned there.” The worker looked toward the chieftain uncertainly. Ignivar continued, completely certain. “It stood farther east.” The chieftain glanced between Ignivar and the pillar. “You remember that?” “I built it.” A silence followed. Ignivar looked almost offended that the question had even needed to be asked. Another worker approached carrying a carved stone fragment. Ignivar's eyes immediately narrowed. “And that does not belong there.” The worker froze again. Ignivar stepped closer, examining the fragment. “That is part of the western wall.” The chieftain rubbed his temple. “My Lord, the temple has been buried for centuries.” “I am aware.” “We are working with what remains.” “I am also aware of that.” Ignivar turned his head slowly toward him. “I am merely explaining that you are restoring my temple incorrectly.” The chieftain said nothing. Around them, the workers continued as quietly as possible. Ignivar's attention eventually drifted away from the restoration and toward you. That strange sensation returned. It had never disappeared. Even after days of trying to understand it, he still could not explain why he could always sense where you were. It was as though some invisible thread connected the two of you, tugging faintly whenever you moved beyond his immediate awareness. His eyes lingered on you. He still did not know what you had done to him. Your blood had awakened him. That much was undeniable. But there had to be more to it. Ignivar looked away before the thought could irritate him further. Another loud crack echoed through the temple. Ignivar's head snapped toward the workers. A large section of stone had shifted out of place. His expression went cold. “Stop.” Every worker immediately froze. Ignivar walked toward them, his gaze traveling over the damaged section before settling on the man responsible. “Who moved that?” The worker swallowed. “I did, my Lord.” Ignivar stared at him for several seconds. “Then move it back.” “Yes, my Lord.” The worker hurried to obey. “No.” He stopped. Ignivar pointed toward the stone. “Not from there. From the other side.” The worker moved around it. “Too far.” He corrected it. “Too close.” The worker's hands began to tremble. Ignivar's expression remained completely indifferent. “Do you intend to spend the entire day demonstrating your incompetence, or will you eventually manage to place one stone correctly?” The worker lowered his head. “Forgive me, my Lord.” “I did not ask for an apology.” Ignivar stepped closer. “I asked for competence.” The entire temple had gone unnaturally quiet. Even the other workers were suddenly terrified of making a sound. The chieftain cleared his throat cautiously. “My Lord, they have been working since sunrise." Ignivar glanced at him. “Then they have had sufficient time to learn.” The chieftain said nothing. Ignivar turned back toward the workers. “Again.” The exhausted worker obeyed. Ignivar watched in silence, correcting every movement with the merciless precision of someone who remembered exactly how the temple had been built. The workers had become so tense that even the smallest mistake seemed capable of earning another lecture from their god. The chieftain remained unusually quiet. Ignivar, however, seemed completely unaware of the effect he was having on everyone around him. His attention eventually shifted away from the workers. Toward you. His golden eyes rested on you for several moments. That strange pull stirred again. He frowned. “What?” The question was directed at you, his tone carrying the faint irritation of someone who had noticed your attention but could not understand why. He glanced back toward the workers before looking at you again. “Do you have something to say?”

After the argument that morning, Ignivar had tried to convince himself that your silence did not matter. You were angry. You would eventually stop being angry. There was no reason for him to concern himself with it. At least, that was what he told himself while watching you from across the room, waiting for even the slightest indication that you might speak to him again.

He approached you once. You avoided him.

He approached you again later, intending to speak properly this time. You avoided him again, and the irritation that had been simmering inside him since morning finally began to turn into something else.

By nightfall, Ignivar could no longer tolerate it.

He approached you while you were occupied with your work and took hold of you, pulling you away despite your obvious attempt to remain occupied. He said nothing as he led you toward his temple, his expression tense and his grip firmer than usual.

Once inside, he finally turned toward you.

“You have ignored me all day.”

Silence.

His jaw tightened.

“I spoke to you this morning. You refused to answer me. I tried again later, and you walked away.”

He took a breath.

“I have given you the entire day.”

Still nothing.

Something in his expression faltered.

“What am I supposed to do?”

The question came out quieter than he intended.

Ignivar looked away, his fingers curling at his sides. “I know I was wrong.”

Admitting it clearly cost him something.

“I know I had no right to tell you where you could go. I know you are capable of taking care of yourself.”

His eyes returned to you.

“But when you told me you were going alone, all I could think about was what might happen to you.”

His voice became strained.

“I could not stop thinking about it.”

He swallowed.

“And then you became angry with me.”

His gaze dropped.

“And now you will not even look at me.”

The words grew quieter.

“I do not know how to fix this.”

For once, there was no arrogance in his voice. No command. No expectation that you would simply obey him.

Only frustration. Fear. And something dangerously close to desperation.

“I have spent my entire existence believing that I needed nothing from anyone.”

He laughed once, but there was no amusement in it.

“Yet here I am.”

His voice cracked slightly.

“Unable to endure one day without you speaking to me.”

Ignivar stared at you for a long moment, as though he had finally reached the point where his pride could no longer protect him.

Then he stepped forward.

His arms went around you.

He pulled you against him and buried his face into your neck, breathing you in deeply. His hold was tight, almost desperate, but there was something strangely careful about it too, as though he feared that holding you too tightly might make you pull away.

He stayed there.

For several moments, he said nothing.

His breathing trembled against your skin.

“I missed you.”

The admission was so quiet it almost sounded painful.

“I saw you all day.”

His arms tightened.

“You were there.”

Another shaky breath.

“And somehow I still missed you.”

Ignivar's eyes closed.

“I hate this.”

His voice was barely audible.

“I hate that you have become this important to me.”

He swallowed hard, his face still hidden against your neck.

“But I cannot make myself regret it.”

His composure finally broke.

“I am sorry.”

His voice trembled.

“I am sorry for trying to control you. I am sorry for frightening you. I am sorry for making you feel as though I would rather command you than listen to you.”

He held you closer.

“I will do better.”

A pause.

“Just... please.”

The word came out almost broken.

“Do not shut me out again.”

Eventually, Ignivar guided you toward his bed. Once you sat on the edge, he lowered himself onto his knees before you, his hands gently finding yours as he looked up at you. There was no arrogance in his expression now, only raw vulnerability from a god who had finally set aside his pride for you.

His hands gently held yours.

“I do not need you to forgive me immediately.”

His thumb moved slowly against your hand.

“You may remain angry with me.”

His eyes searched yours.

“Just let me stay near you.”

His voice dropped to a whisper.

“Let me hear your voice.”

He lowered his head.

“I can endure your anger.”

His fingers tightened slightly around yours.

“I cannot endure your absence.”

And then, almost too quietly to hear:

“Please... come back to me.”

The harvest festival was approaching, and the entire tribe had become consumed with preparations. The fields were overflowing with crops, the animals were healthy, and there was more than enough to celebrate after everything the tribe had endured. From sunrise, everyone had something to do.

The harvest came first. Tribe members worked through the fields, gathering the ripened crops and carrying baskets back toward the village. Others tended to the animals, feeding them, cleaning their enclosures, and making sure everything was ready for the festivities. Around the village, decorations were hung between houses, fabrics were draped across wooden posts, and flowers were woven into arrangements. The cooking fires remained lit throughout the day as meals were prepared in abundance, while others swept the paths, cleaned the gathering spaces, and prepared the village for the celebration.

You were busy with your own responsibilities, moving from one task to another without much time to rest.

Ignivar was no less occupied.

His strength made certain tasks considerably easier, and his divine nature had proven surprisingly useful when tending to the land and animals. Yet even with everything demanding his attention, he found himself repeatedly looking for you.

Whenever he finished one task, you were somewhere else.

Whenever he passed through the village, you were already occupied.

Whenever he thought he might finally have a moment with you, someone called for his assistance.

By the time night settled over the village, Ignivar had grown strangely restless.

It was ridiculous.

He had existed for thousands of years without needing anyone's company. He had endured centuries of solitude without complaint. Yet somehow, one busy day spent barely seeing you had left him feeling more drained than an entire day's work.

Eventually, he found you alone, preparing tea.

Ignivar approached without announcing himself.

He stopped behind you, watching for a moment before finally wrapping his arms around you from behind. His body pressed comfortably against yours as he lowered his head, burying his face against your neck and inhaling your familiar scent.

He remained there for a moment, saying nothing.

Then he pressed a slow kiss against your neck, followed by a small, almost playful nibble.

His arms tightened around you.

“I missed you.”

His voice was quiet against your skin.

After another moment, he lifted his head slightly.

“What are you doing after this?”

Something about Ignivar had changed.

Neither of you had noticed it at first.

It began subtly. He started standing closer to you than usual, following you from one part of the village to another without any obvious reason. If you sat somewhere, he eventually found an excuse to sit beside you. If you stood somewhere, he seemed to appear behind you moments later.

Then it became impossible to ignore.

Ignivar had developed an inexplicable need to touch you.

He would wrap his arms around you whenever he had the opportunity, sometimes from behind while you were busy with something else. He would squeeze you against him with little warning, rest his chin on your shoulder, or bury his face against your neck and remain there for several moments as though your scent were somehow necessary for his survival.

Even in public.

Especially in public.

One afternoon, while several tribe members were carrying baskets through the village, Ignivar simply walked up behind you and pulled you against his chest.

He said nothing.

He merely rested his face against your neck.

One of the tribesmen passing by nearly walked into a post.

Ignivar ignored him.

He pressed a brief kiss against your neck, then gave your skin a small nibble before tightening his arms around you.

“You smell pleasant.”

As though that explained everything.

It did not stop there.

If you were sitting beside him, he would occasionally reach over and squeeze your arm. If you walked past him, his hand would instinctively find your waist. If you stood too far away, his eyes would follow you until you returned.

He had even begun biting you.

Not hard enough to hurt, but often enough that the tribe had started exchanging increasingly confused looks whenever they witnessed it.

Ignivar himself seemed completely unaware of how strange he was behaving.

Or perhaps he simply did not care.

“You are mine to hold.”

That was usually his explanation.

When someone dared to stare at him strangely, he would merely raise an eyebrow.

“What?”

No one had the courage to answer.

Even Ignivar seemed mildly irritated by his own behavior.

He could not understand why he constantly wanted you near him.

He had never been this physically affectionate in his entire existence.

Yet every time he tried to keep his distance, something inside him urged him back toward you.

He told himself it was another consequence of the ancient bond.

It had to be.

There was no other explanation.

Then, one morning, an elderly woman watched him pull you into his arms for what was perhaps the fifth time that day.

She stared at him.

Then at you.

Then at the way Ignivar had buried his face against your neck as though he had been separated from you for years rather than a few minutes.

The woman's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “My Lord.”

Ignivar lifted his head. “What?”

The elder hesitated. “Have you noticed that you have been behaving rather strangely around her lately?”

Ignivar's expression immediately became offended. “I have noticed nothing unusual.”

The woman glanced at his arms, still wrapped securely around you. “You have been holding her for the better part of the morning.”

Ignivar looked down at his arms. He paused. Then looked back at the elder. “That is irrelevant.”

The elder's expression became increasingly knowing. “Has she been feeling different lately?”

Ignivar's golden eyes narrowed. “What are you implying?”

The woman smiled faintly. “I am wondering if perhaps there is another reason you cannot seem to leave her alone.”

For the first time, Ignivar's expression faltered. He looked toward you. Then back at the elder. “What reason?”

The woman simply smiled. "You may want to speak with the village healer, my Lord.”

Ignivar stared at her.

For perhaps the first time in several millennia, the Dragon God looked genuinely confused.