The air in the Sanctuary of Scales was thick with anticipation. The grand chamber, with its towering dragon statues and ancient murals, seemed to hold its breath in expectation of what was to come. James stood at the heart of the sanctuary, his gaze fixed on the Dragon Altar before him. The altar glowed faintly, its intricate carvings alive with a fiery energy that pulsed in rhythm with his own heartbeat. This was it, the moment he had been preparing for ever since he learned of his Dragonborn heritage. The Rite of the Flame awaited.
Around him, his companions moved with a mixture of caution and concern. Pippy stood to his left, her usual playful demeanor tinged with unease. She fidgeted with her daggers, her eyes darting between James and the glowing altar.
