The end?

The roar that had shaken the very foundations of the mountains died in a final, ragged gasp. Ignis, the fire-breathing terror, the thief of the skies, the bane of kingdoms, lay sprawled before us, a colossal, obsidian-scaled monument to its own demise. Smoke still curled from its nostrils, a mournful exhalation that signaled the end of an era. The air, thick moments before with the stench of brimstone and dragonfire, now carried only the faint, metallic tang of blood and the lingering scent of ozone.

Silence descended, a heavy blanket woven from exhaustion and disbelief. We stood, a ragged band of survivors, our armor scorched and dented, our weapons slick with the dragon’s ichor. Lyra, her face smudged with soot and tears, was already at Roric’s side, her hands moving with practiced urgency over a gash on his arm that had been a gaping wound mere minutes ago. Even in the chaos, her focus was unwavering, her healing touch a balm to his gruff exterior.

Kael, his face a mask of grim satisfaction, knelt beside the dragon’s head. He ran a gloved hand over a particularly large, emerald-like scale, his gaze distant, as if he saw not the vanquished beast, but something far older, far more personal. I couldn't quite fathom his connection to this creature, but there was a fierce intensity in his eyes that spoke of a debt finally repaid, or perhaps, a score settled.