"Even in the shadow of apocalypse, even a small mischief is a spark of light."
The air above the devastated continent crackled with residual energy. Both dragons, Terralia and Mainu, ceased their battle. The landscape bore witness to their struggle. Mountains had been vaporized, their peaks replaced by smoking craters. Valleys were now vast, glassed-over plains where beams of pure energy had scoured the earth. Ancient forests were reduced to ash, and the very crust of the planet was fractured, bleeding molten rock in places. The continent, once vibrant, was a monument to their destructive power.
Terralia, her shimmering scales dulled, her light flickering erratically, stood heavily, her breath coming in ragged gasps. A deep gouge ran along her flank, leaking faint, golden ichor that sizzled on the scorched ground.
