Moonstone Quarry dragonspine

his shape emerged from the mist like something carved long ago and only now remembering how to walk.

solharr stepped down from the higher ridge, one broad paw after the next, steady as the tide and just as inevitable. the wind caught his coat—deep rust and stone-shadow—and tugged it westward. he did not rush. he did not need to.

her scent had reached him first. it clung to the quarry’s stone, to the water’s skin, sweet and cold like the rim of morning.

when he found her, she stood still as memory. her gaze drawn toward the pool, pale as snowmelt.

he stopped a few paces away.

aneira. her name left him like breath turned solid. not a question. not a greeting. recognition.

his single eye softened. there was no fire in it today. only smoke, and the steady warmth of embers that refused to die.

the stone woke for you, he rumbled. as did i.