Far away, in the deepest caverns of the world, where the light of the sun never touched, there existed a forgotten realm of shadow and stone, ruled by the Drow. Their society, woven in darkness and secrecy, had long been guided by one immutable principle: power, and the pursuit of it. It was in the midst of this secretive race that the myth of Dusk began - one that would intertwine the fate of the Drow with an ancient dragon's egg, its mysteries, and the destruction it would bring.
Dusk, born under the waning crescent moon, was a figure of whispered legend among her people. Her name was given by the High Matron, a title that echoed with the promise of dusk - the time of day when the boundaries between the known and the unknown blurred. It was said that Dusk had no true lineage, no father or mother, but rather was shaped from the shadows themselves, a being of cold and cunning. She had no need for the warmth of familial bonds, for she was destined to seek power in ways that no one had dared before.

In the stillness of the dark, Dusk lights a fire, bringing warmth and light to the cold stone surroundings, her focus intense.
In those ancient days, the Drow had lived beneath the towering peaks of the Frostfang Mountains, where dragons once ruled the skies and carved their nests in caverns deep within the earth. But as time wore on, dragons became scarce, their numbers dwindling as they were hunted by forces both mortal and divine. Still, one egg remained - an egg untouched by time, hidden in the most secretive of places.
The egg was known as the Wyrmheart. Some believed it was the last of its kind, the offspring of an ancient dragon whose name had been forgotten by even the gods. It was said that whoever possessed the Wyrmheart would wield the power to command dragons, to summon firestorms that could scorch the earth, and to shape the world as they saw fit. The egg was sealed within a chamber, protected by ancient wards and arcane spells, and only those with the keenest minds and the bravest hearts could hope to uncover its location.
But the Drow were no strangers to danger, nor were they unfamiliar with secrets buried beneath layers of magic. Dusk, having learned of the egg's existence from the whispers of old texts in the libraries of House Xal'athar, made it her life's mission to unravel the mystery. She knew that such power, once obtained, would elevate her to a status beyond the High Matron herself.
For years, Dusk studied the ancient tomes, seeking the forgotten paths and rituals that would lead her to the Wyrmheart. She found a single clue: a map that detailed the labyrinthine passages beneath the ruins of Xynthar, an ancient city lost to time. This city, it was said, had once been the stronghold of the last great dragonlord, a being of unimaginable power who had long since fallen into myth.
It was within the heart of Xynthar that Dusk believed the egg was hidden, locked away within a cavern that pulsed with the blood of the earth. But she was not alone in this pursuit. The Underworld was rife with ambitious souls, each of whom sought to claim the Wyrmheart for their own gain. Rivals and enemies alike - houses and factions of Drow, as well as creatures of the dark - knew of the egg's power and were determined to seize it.
The first to challenge Dusk were the sons of House Mal'zanthar, a family notorious for their treacherous politics and ruthless ambitions. They believed that with the Wyrmheart, they could bend even the most ancient creatures to their will, raising a new dynasty of Drow dragon-riders. Led by the cunning and powerful Vokar Mal'zanthar, they tracked Dusk through the twisting passages of Xynthar.

With chains at her waist and a fierce gaze, Dusk commands the rocky landscape around her, embodying both power and endurance.
But Dusk, ever the strategist, was not unprepared. She had already allied herself with the enigmatic drow sorceress, Ilvara, a woman known for her mastery of shadow magic. Together, they set traps, using the darkness itself as a weapon. When Vokar's forces stumbled into one of Dusk's webs of illusion, they were torn apart by the very shadows they had hoped to command. But Vokar, ever determined, escaped, vowing that this was not the last they had seen of him.
Dusk pressed on, now more certain than ever that the egg was close. Yet there was a deeper magic at play, one far older than any of the Drow. As she descended into the heart of Xynthar, she felt the presence of the dragon's power stirring beneath the earth, a deep, primal force that seemed to breathe through the stones. The air grew thick with anticipation.
In the deepest chamber, amidst the ancient ruins of the dragonlord's once-mighty palace, she found the Wyrmheart. The egg lay upon an altar of obsidian, its surface shimmering with an otherworldly light. It was surrounded by an aura of magic so potent that Dusk could almost feel it speaking to her, calling her name.
But as her fingers brushed the egg, a great tremor shook the ground. The egg cracked, and from it emerged not a dragon, but a being of pure flame and shadow - an entity birthed from the primal forces of the world. It was the Wyrmheart's true form, the manifestation of the dragonlord's ancient power.
In that moment, Dusk understood. The egg was not merely a vessel for a dragon - it was the key to unlocking the primal chaos that had once ruled the world. The dragon had been nothing more than a servant to this force, bound to serve it in exchange for power.
The entity, recognizing Dusk's ambition, whispered a single word: "Bow."
But Dusk, ever defiant, did not bow. Instead, she seized the power of the Wyrmheart for herself, binding it to her soul. The entity roared in fury, but it was too late. Dusk had become the true master of the Wyrmheart, and with it, the power to unravel the world itself.
From that day forward, Dusk's name became synonymous with both dread and awe. She disappeared from the records of the Drow, her fate unknown to those who still whispered her legend. Some say she still walks among the shadows, wielding the dark power of the Wyrmheart, ever searching for ways to reshape the world to her will. Others say that she was consumed by the very darkness she sought to control, her ambition too great to be contained.
But one thing is certain: the myth of Dusk and the Wyrmheart lives on. Her name is a warning - a reminder that power, once sought, can consume even the mightiest of souls.