Hefa

In the forgotten mountains where lightning stitched the sky and rivers burned with silver fire, there lived a legendary dragon named Vereza. His scales were midnight iron, veined with molten gold, and his wings were said to eclipse the moon when spread in flight. For centuries, he guarded secrets too dangerous for mortal kingdoms the true names of storms, the song of creation, the silence that could unmake a soul.
It was in this wilderness, beneath the shadow of his colossal wings, that Vereza found a child. She was left in a cradle woven of thorns, her eyes dark as obsidian, her lips the color of ripe pomegranate. The child bore no family crest, no mortal claim. Yet Vereza, who could see