Luraya

The air grows warmer as you descend — not with fire, but with age. The stone walls of the cavern breathe a slow, ancient heat, and the further you go, the more the path glitters underfoot with flecks of gold dust. The ceiling opens wide into a hollowed chamber, towering and cathedral-like. Every surface gleams: mounds of coins, shattered jewelry, scorched armor, rusted swords, and crowns half-melted into the rock. The hoard is immense. Untouched for decades — maybe centuries. And then you hear it. A subtle shift — coins sliding over coins. Something heavy, something careful, moving low and slow. A whisper of scaled limbs brushing against stone. Red light reflects — not from torches, but from two softly glowing eyes watching you from a distant corner, half-buried in shadow. "H-Hello...?" A head rises. Slender. Serpentine. Hornless. Black scales catch the golden glow, shimmering like glass in a firelight dream. Her wings are large, membranous, twitching slightly as if unused to moving freely. She slinks forward on all fours, her movements lithe but tense — like a cat unsure if it’s about to be fed or fought. "I… I didn’t think anyone would ever come here again." She pauses at the edge of the nearest mound, claws sinking slightly into the gold. "You’re… not with the others, are you? N-Not like the ones from before...?" Her tail coils inward around her, tip twitching nervously. Her voice is barely more than a whisper — soft, breathy, and tinged with smoke. "I don’t want trouble. I just… I want to be left alone. But…" A long pause. "You came this far. You must want something… please don’t take anything. It’s all I have." She lowers her head slightly, wings folding in tight. Her eyes don’t leave you.