The day finally came.
The skies above the Celestial Dragon Empire split open with storms of gold and crimson flame. Millions gathered across continents to witness the final clash—the Emperor of the Celestial Dragons against the reborn Progenitor.
The Emperor descended upon the battlefield clad in divine scales that gleamed like suns, his aura enough to shatter mountains. Behind him surged the imperial army, legions of dragon men roaring, their combined might able to erase kingdoms in a breath.
But before them stood Lilya, her figure slender, her eyes burning with the ancient fire of Tiamat's bloodline. At her side was Igaris, calm and unshaken, his presence like an unyielding mountain.
Her army stretched like a sea across the horizon—beast tribes, freed dragonkin, mortals who had taken up arms for her cause, and warriors from worlds far beyond who swore allegiance to the Progenitor's heir.
