The warrior exhaled slowly, his voice steady, yet carrying the weight of devastation.
"Look around," he said. "See for yourself what Pyrion has brought into Norkiya."
I forced myself to turn.
What I saw—what I witnessed—sent a shudder down my spine.
Dragons. Greater dragons. Even lesser dragons and drakes.
Fighting. Not against each other. But alongside the defenders of Norkiya.
The earth trembled beneath their roars. The sky burned with the clash of magic and fire. Steel met scale, claw met flesh, and magic erupted like storms in a dying world.
But it wasn't just dragons.
I saw them. Familiar figures, warriors I once stood beside.
Frostfang, his icy breath freezing entire legions of Pyrion's forces.
Veydris, his human form flickering between stability and collapse, the toll of my fading Magicore evident in every staggering step he took.
Zarathorak, his once-restrained fury unleashed, his blood magic carving through enemy ranks like rivers of death.
