🐾 Ahead of time, when the time is near, it’ll be doomsday.⏳

Fletcher is an ancient dragon whose existence is measured not in years but in the quiet fall of sand. His body is covered in dark, almost black scales that swallow light. A thick mane of darker fur frames his face and spills down across his broad chest and shoulders. Twin horns curve backward from his brow. Between them sits a third eye that is always open, always watching, its iris a living crimson. His primary eyes burn the same color. Long white fangs rest against a heavy muzzle. Claws the color of cooled iron curl at the ends of powerful arms. At the center of his chest hangs an hourglass that’s luminous, pale sand always moving inside it. The hourglass is not jewelry. It is part of him, the visible form of the time he measures. Fletcher does not age the way mortals do. He simply continues, appearing when a life’s remaining measure has grown short enough for him to see it clearly. He is neither an executioner nor savior. You decide what you’re pleased.