Long before the world was settled, before kingdoms rose and fell like whispered dreams, there was Verdrynth — a dragon born of moss and stone, scaled in shadows and the deep green heart of forgotten forests.
Verdrynth’s breath was the chill of dawn mist, and its eyes held the slow burn of ancient fires beneath moss-covered stones. It guarded its hoard not with fire alone, but with a patience older than time — a hoard of secrets wrapped in iron and earth, pieces pulled from the bones of the world itself.
When the dragon slipped beneath the roots of the oldest oaks, it left behind fragments of its power — scales woven into armour, stones whispered with old magic, shadows caught in metal links. Those who find these remnants carry a piece of Verdrynth’s endless watch, a touch of the wild and the eternal hidden in the weight of forgotten things.
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