Beneath the endless canopy of the dark forest, far below where sunlight could never reach, the kingdom of scales stirred with unrest. Torches hissed against the damp stone walls of the serpent halls, their flickering flames casting uneasy shadows across the carved obsidian pillars.
On her throne, Sylvara coiled in silence. Her crimson eyes burned with both fury and calculation. The attack from the ruthless king's army had left scars across her kingdom—not only in stone, but in the hearts of her people. Villages on the upper tunnels were reduced to ash, and hundreds of her kin were forced deeper underground.
Her generals knelt before her, armored in serpent-forged steel, awaiting her judgment.
"We fought bravely," one hissed, voice trembling, "but their weapons tear through our scales like parchment. Even our strongest coils cannot crush iron fast enough."
Sylvara's long nails tapped against the carved armrest of her throne. Her sharp smile appeared, though her eyes carried no mirth.
"Then we do not fight them with our bodies alone," she said. Her voice slithered through the chamber like venom. "If the king believes brute strength will crush us, then we shall answer with something sharper, something stronger."
The hall went silent. Only the faint hiss of torches remained.
Sylvara rose from her throne, her long tail gliding across the polished stone floor. "The dwarves," she declared. "Their forges birth weapons that even the heavens envy. If we are to reclaim what is ours, we need their craft."
Her army stirred uneasily. Dwarves were no allies of serpents; their kind rarely ventured beyond their mountain halls, and fewer still dealt with outsiders.
One general dared to speak. "My Queen, the dwarves will not give their secrets freely."
Sylvara's lips curved into a chilling smile, exposing the sharpness of her fangs.
"Then we shall make them an offer they cannot refuse… whether through gold, blood, or fear."
The soldiers bowed, their loyalty absolute, though unease lingered in their eyes.
Sylvara turned toward the ancient stone map etched into the far wall of her chamber, her jeweled hand brushing across the carvings of mountain ranges. Her gaze lingered on the runes marking the eastern peaks.
"The dwarves will forge our salvation," she whispered. "And with their weapons, we will make the king choke on his arrogance."
The chamber echoed with the hiss of her vow, and the army of the serpent queen bowed as one, ready to march toward fire and steel.