A Dragon's Fury

The air in the dragon pits was a thick, acrid soup of sulfur and fear. Kael tasted it on his tongue, felt it seared into his lungs with every ragged breath. Torin and Bram, the grizzled remnants of the dragon guard, stood at a respectful distance, their faces etched with a grim resignation that mirrored the encroaching dusk. Above them, the skeletal remains of the once-mighty citadel clawed at a bruised sky, a monument to a glory long since extinguished.

“He’s restless today,” Torin grunted, his voice raspy as he gestured toward the cavernous maw of the beast’s enclosure. “Smells the enemy, no doubt.”

Bram spat on the scorched earth. “Smells opportunity, more like. Or maybe just the blood of fools.” His gaze flickered to Kael, a silent accusation in its depths. Kael ignored it, his focus locked on the colossal shadow shifting within the darkness. The primordial dragon. Ignis. The last ember of their kingdom’s fire.