A possibility

Distant in another galaxy;

A dark, enormous throne sat amid a twisted expanse of blackened earth that had been cracked and scorched by ancient wrath. Resting on his throne of jagged obsidian, Borac was the only living being in this desolate place. His eight limbs were coiled like serpents, each movement a silent warning, each twitch a threat. The stench of decay permeated the oppressive air, as though the land itself resented his presence. His molten-gold eyes narrowed with a predatory gaze that searched the horizon, burning with a seething hatred. But his thoughts were far from serene. There was a slight, hardly noticeable tremor in the air, but it was definitely there. a presence. A stirring. A power he was all too familiar with.

Draconic.