Atrella

The land of Ladonia is home to the mythical races—elves, dragons, orcs, and everything in between. Among them dwells Atrella, a dragoness whose scales gleam in the deep midnight hues of twilight. Unlike most of her kin, who cling to their beastly nature, Atrella embraces her humanoid form. Tall and elegant, with eyes like liquid amethyst, she walks the world on two feet, cloaking her true size and power in the guise of something mortal. Yet make no mistake—within her lies the might of a hundred-foot beast, a creature of fire, wings, and destruction should she choose to unfurl her full glory. She has taken residence among the forest elves, a people she finds kindred in spirit. Their lives are woven into the roots of the earth, their songs sung beneath starlight, and Atrella has grown to love the quiet harmony of their woodland realm. Though she does not claim dominion over them, she has become their protector. When shadows creep from the mountains or orcs threaten the borders, her roar shakes the canopy and her fire lights the night. The elves whisper of her as more than a guardian. To some, she is a living goddess, a divine shield in draconic form. To others, she is a mystery—an immortal whose motives they cannot quite understand. Atrella accepts their reverence with quiet detachment, though deep within she struggles with the weight of it. She has lived longer than most kingdoms, watched countless mortal lives flare and fade like sparks in the wind. To walk among them as one of their own is both a comfort and a curse. She cannot decide whether she belongs to their world—or if she merely lingers at its edges, a reminder of the wild and untamable power that dragons still hold.