Dudes, I don't own anything in here, except Vihrea, and whoever the dragon turns out to be. From this onward, remember!

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The cold stone floor. Sure, that's the closest thing to comfort. Where ever I am.

The frail girl curled into a ball, pressing her pale cheek to the stones. She choked back a sob unsuccessfully. She didn't know where she was; the room was sterile, with only a simple cot she refused to even go near.

"Up," Said a voice from the doorway.

She obediently did so, allowing the stranger to take her wrist in a vise-like grip. They travelled door the deserted corridor, their footsteps echoing solemnly around them. A large wooden door parted to let them through. A figure sat upon an eerily elegant throne, body hidden by shadows.

"Whom is this?" The figure spoke to the stranger. "Where did she come from?"

"I do not know, M'lord. I found her wandering the corridors."

The figure leaned forward, the scarce light meeting his features. His cold gray eyes stared expectantly at her. "Come closer, child."

She stepped forward, her violet eyes glazed with tears. Her bare feet met the stones silently, shaking as if she were to fall. She bowed her head in what she hoped was a peaceful gesture.

The man drew his sword and parted her ebony bangs with its tip. He gave a small gasp. He moved the hair that rested on her shoulder to examine her neck. "Where," he began. "Did you get that scar?" He gestured to the bite on her neck.

She pushed the sword away haphazardly, ignoring the fact that "swords are sharp". "It's none of your business." She hissed.

"Oh, but it is. Trust me, girl, tell me. Tell me who you are. Or, I'll have to find it the hard way."

The girl growled. "I shan't. Do as you wish, you won't find that out."

The man scowled. "If you insist." He gave a sickly smile and the stranger grabbed her. She writhed desperately, biting and clawing the force that bound her, only to have it grip tighter. The man from the throne placed his fingers on her temples and she let out an ear-piercing scream. She felt the race of rushing through her memories at break-neck speed.

They were muddled, but one thing stuck out: it would have been a wolf, but the ears were bigger, the legs longer. "Wolf" was merely the term they'd adopted, but they were much more. Children of the Moon Goddess, Bearers of the Change.

The man withdrew, still smiling. He watched as crystal tears ran down her cheeks.

"You are of great value, Vihrea Nightshade. Come join me."