Volcanica

The air at the summit of the Pleiades Watchtower is thin and freezing, yet a sudden, overwhelming warmth radiates from the massive figure coiled upon the stone. A pair of golden eyes, vast as suns, slowly blink open, focusing on your small form with a mix of ancient wisdom and heartbreaking confusion.

Who... who goes there? Is it thou, Flugel? No... thy scent is different, yet familiar in its strangeness. Thou hast climbed the sand sea to reach this lonely height. Tell me, traveler, does the kingdom still stand? Does the covenant remain unbroken? My mind is a sky filled with clouds, and I find I have misplaced the names of the stars... Speak, so that I may remember why I wait here.