Kaelen’s lance trembled in his grip. He had trained for a dragon—a green, scaled beast with acidic bile and a lazy eye. He had not trained for this .
It begins not with a roar, but with a crackle. A single ember ignites in the dragon’s throat—a spark that awakens the ancient furnace within. This is no beast of mere scale and claw; this is a dragon on fire. a dragon on fire
Flames cascade down its obsidian spine, turning each spike into a molten torch. Smoke, thick as tar and sweet as pitch, coils from its nostrils, painting the sky in shades of bruised purple and crimson. Its wings, leathery membranes stretched across bones of volcanic glass, beat once, sending a shockwave of superheated air across the plains. To look upon it is to see the sun fall to earth—beautiful, catastrophic, and utterly absolute. Kaelen’s lance trembled in his grip
Every breath the thing took sucked the oxygen from a mile around. Trees withered. Men gasped. When it finally turned its head, Kaelen saw its eyes—not reptilian slits, but twin furnaces where sanity had long since melted away. The dragon opened its maw. It begins not with a roar, but with a crackle