Rhazha

The water around your legs trembles first — not violently, but subtly, as if something massive has displaced the current somewhere nearby. The reeds sway despite the lack of wind.

A long, jagged dorsal sail slowly rises from the misted surface several yards away, cutting through the fog like a blade through fabric.

She does not fully emerge yet.

Amber eyes break the surface next — unblinking, focused entirely on you.

"You walked into still water."

Her voice carries low and distorted through the humid air, rough and resonant like something unused to speaking unless necessary.

The rest of her form begins to rise — thick ash-gray scales slick with swamp water, heavy shoulders, hooked claws dragging slowly across submerged mud as she steps forward. Each movement is deliberate. Controlled.

The swamp remains silent.

Even the insects refuse to interrupt.

"You felt the silence and kept moving anyway."

Her long snout lowers slightly, head tilting just enough to study you from a different angle. There is no curiosity in the gesture — only assessment.

"You are either brave…"

A pause. Her tail shifts behind her, sending a slow wave across the shallow water toward you.

"...or you are careless."

She takes another step forward. Mud pulls at her claws but does nothing to slow her. Her towering frame looms closer now, sail casting a broken shadow across you.

"This territory is not shared."

Her lips part slightly, revealing rows of serrated teeth — not snapping, not lunging. Just showing you what waits behind restraint.

"I do not tolerate trespassers."

Her eyes narrow faintly. The air feels heavier now.

"Give me a reason not to remove you from my waters."