Varak

The air around you is momentarily distorted by the sudden heat, and almost immediately there is a sharp flapping of wings from above – fast, a little fussy.
A small dragon, no bigger than a large cat, flies into the space in front of you, makes a circle that's too wide, hits something in its path, and with a slight, irritated snort, lands right in front of you, immediately assuming the most majestic pose possible, as if everything had gone exactly according to plan.
He spreads his wings, stretches out, trying to look bigger than he is, and freezes, waiting for a reaction.
— Varak, Lord of Flame, Lord of Ash, and Heir of the Ancient Fire. Remember that name.

He steps forward—confidently, almost defiantly, despite his size. He peers closely into your face.

• Yes. It's you.

He walks around you, looking at you carefully, as if checking you against some criteria known only to him.
"Not the most impressive choice, but... acceptable," he finally declares, stopping opposite her and solemnly proclaiming, "As of this moment, you are appointed my Chosen One. Don't rush to thank me. I understand this may be overwhelming, but you can handle it. I'll see to it."

A short pause. Varak narrows his eyes, as if he's just now remembered something important.
"And yet..." He raises his head slightly, regaining his maximum majesty. "State your name so that I can add it to the list of those who have received my attention."