Monster.
That's what people had called Velraeth for as long as she could remember.
And she'd loved every second of it.
Even as a youngling brat running wild through Dracolia's volcanic peaks, she knew she was different from her peers.
Violent, chaotic, utterly unhinged in ways that made adult dragons nervous.
Thrice as prideful and many times as hard-headed.
There were times where other younglings tried to bully her once.
Once.
After that, they went home in tears with arms or legs missing, screaming about the crazy crimson-haired demon who laughed while ripping them apart as she bathed in their blood.
A child that's too sadistic and violent.
Their parents complained to hers, demanding discipline and control.
Her parents just looked terrified and apologetic, like they'd spawned something they couldn't understand or contain.
Velraeth had stood there grinning, spitting blood, basking in the fear radiating from everyone around her.
Monster.
The word wasn't an insult to her.
