A man walking hastily along a well decorated hallway. At the end of the hallway was a double door and two guards with swords on their waists and armors, stood guard on each side. The man stopped in front of them. The guards without making eye contact clenched their fists and nervously opened the doors. It opened to a great hall with tall ceilings, where the left and right sides of the halls were full of people dressed in formal attires and at the end of the doors were a long table and 4 seats which were filled by elders.
"Behold, the Hero of Corampus." shouted one of the elders, Celdric, as soon as the man walked in past the doors. He seemed dissatisfied with the greetings. "He slain the Corrupted Wizard in the west, he slain the three-headed Ogre in the east and in the south, the mighty Tiamat was cut into pieces by him!" continued Elder Celdric and followed by loud and cheerful cheers from the senates besides him. He frowned. "We welcomed you O'great One, Hero of Corampus, Defender of the Front. Hero Dorian Stormbane." introduced the elder as he clapped to increase the cheers from the senators. "Fucking hell." hummed Dorian as he gave them waves and a fake smile.
"Alright. Calm yourselves." Said Elder Aldric, the one seated beside Celdric, raising his hand to calm the other senates. Once they were seated and silent, he continued, "Today, we, on behalf of the King Valerian, invited the Hero Dorian, Hero of Corampius, to be in this hearing. Any objections?" explained Aldric and the other senates stayed silent. "Alright then.".
The hearing went on for hours, there were debates, agreements and dissatisfaction. "So, you want ME to go to his domain and kill him?" asked the hero to the 4 elders. They nodded in unison. The hero just laughed it off like it was another day's work. "Alright, I'll do it. When I return, just give me tons of gold and women!" he demanded and the elders didn't deny it. "We have a deal." Said elder Aldric, as he reached his hand out to shake hands with the Hero Dorian as a sign of trust. Days of preparation went by and the soldiers were busy with theirs as well. On the street, rumors and news of the Hero going to invade 'The Beast, Voryx' was bustling uncontrollably.
"If it wasn't for my condition, I would've gone with you, Dorian." Said King Valerian weakly on his bed in his royal chambers. There was the Hero Dorian and elder Celdric on his side. "Worry not my king. I assure you, the invasion would be a success. I have gathered my best men to go with me." said Dorian with his head bowed down slightly. The king smiled at him, glimpsing another hope for his beloved kingdom, Corampus. "Rest well, My King. I shall begin my final preparation before my departure." Said Dorian as he bowed down fully and left the king alone, elder Celdric followed Dorian from behind. The maids walked in as they exited and tended to the sick King. Valerian was badly wounded from his first encounter with Voryx. He coincidently landed on his kingdom, at the front gates of his castle to be precise. It wasn't just a mere coincidence but a calculated trajectory by Voryx as a gesture of his goodwill. He lost his right hand and most of his lower body's movement capabilities. "My King, please drink." The maid handed him a potion-like water.
Dorian mounted his horse, his men then followed. The kingdom door's spread opened for him and many citizens from the kingdom gathered to see him off. Waves and prayers filled the kingdom's entrance. Dorian set off to the mountains seeking Voryx's domain. The king told him it was in the north, so there he set off. He rode bravely with his men along with his banner standing tall, arms and armors well equipped and soldiers too many to count. "Sir, is there really this, Voryx, the Primordial?" Asked his right hand man, General Albert. No wonder he asked, as Voryx was known in the kingdom as their God's nemesis and only heard about it in churches and tales. Dorian gave him a loud hum as he himself was unsure if what the King said was true or not. As he, an adventurer, a man who travelled for a living would've seen or heard one, that is so strong to rival a god's powers.
They rode for days in a constant direction to the north. Mountains they passed, hills they climbed, forests they pushed through and rivers they swam and crossed. But each time went by, no signs of Voryx's domain, even worse they don't even know what his domain looks like nor what it would look like. "My Lord, it has been days since we left. Are you sure what the King said was real?" doubted one of his men but Dorian took it as an insult to the king and directly gave him a hard slap. "If the King said so then there is, if not, I'll deal with it." Dorian told his man who was stunned after the slap. "Over there!" Suddenly, one of his men shouted. Dorian and everyone looked in the distance and saw a tall structure over the tree lines.
"Is that it?"
"So, it's real?"
"Does this mean we're invading a god's territory?"
"Magnificent."
Different reactions among the men from just seeing a single tower. They marched on and as they got closer, it revealed a magnificent castle, more like a fortress to be precise.
The fortress rose from the jagged cliffs like a crown of thorns. A structure not built, but clawed from stone and shadow. Its towers stood crooked against a bruised sky, their peaks lost in coils of mist that seemed to breathe, every wall was a scar, every window a blinded eye. This was not a place of kings. It was a lair. The men walked in awe as they approached the castle in the distance. They rode on a path stretching forth, leading to the so-called castle. The closer they go the more uneasiness they feel among themselves. Between them are trees so dense that you can't see more than four horses aligned in front of another. Little did they know, something else can see them clearly deep from the forest.
Dorian looked at his surroundings, they were close enough to see the main gates to the castle, yet he found it odd. A castle that big must be filled with people or living things, yet he found no such thing. By the gate, he ordered his men to stop. Then he mounted off his horse, his generals who rode beside him followed. They looked around and found the castle was really quiet, no birds, rats nor insects were seen anywhere. "Something is not right." Said one of his generals, Godfrey. Indeed, thought Dorian himself. When he came close to the fortress, oddly there were no trees surrounding it which is odd for a dense forest to naturally dissipate as they closed into the fortress, leaving only barren lands surrounding it.
Suddenly, the massive iron-banded gates groaned inward on unseen mechanisms, slow and resonant like the opening of a tomb. No hand cranked the winch. No guard called for a challenge from the battlements. When the way lay fully open, the invaders stared into the yawning courtyard. No archers lined the walls. No steel glinted in the gloom. Only the wind moved through, whispering over cracked stones and dust. A silence deeper than any battlefield settled over the men. Swords were lowered, not in victory, but in doubt. This was not a city taken, it was a city offered. And nothing strikes colder fear into a soldier's heart than a door opened without a fight.
They advanced in a tight formation, boots echoing too loud in the cavernous silence of the inner bailey. Every man's hand was white on his weapon, eyes scanning the empty arrow loops and deserted towers above. Nothing stirred. No birds, no guards, not even a stray dog. The air itself felt still and watchful. It was only when the last soldier crossed the threshold that the ground trembled.
A deep subterranean shudder that rattled stones in the mortar. Then, from the shadow of the great keep, a shape uncoiled. Scale after scale, vast and ancient, blotted out the sun. Hot breath misted the cold air like a forge. And then a dragon spoke, not a roar, but a voice like grinding stone and embers. "I've been waiting." Dorian and his men stood guard in their formation. Sweat dripped down from their cheeks not because of heat but because of nervousness in front of the beast of myths.
It was not a beast of scales and sinew alone, it was a monument of a living nightmare. Its body, longer than a warship, was sheathed in scales blackened like ancient armor kissed by fire, each one edged in volcanic glass. Where light dared to touch, they gleamed with the deep, bloody crimson of a dying sun.
Wings, vast as storm clouds and veined like torn silk, lay folded against its back, though now they began to stretch, casting a shadow that swallowed the courtyard whole. The head rose slowly, horned and crowned with spines of jagged obsidian. Its eyes were not eyes, but pools of molten gold. Pupils slit like daggers, holding an intelligence ancient, cold, and utterly merciless. As it exhaled, smoke coiled from nostrils large enough to fit a man's head, carrying the stench of sulfur and charred bone. And when it spoke, the voice did not boon, it slithered into their minds, smooth as venom, heavy as doom: "He is waiting."
"Archers!" shouted Godfrey, and without pause, soldiers from the rear formation got in line next to each other. Bows lifted and arrows fitted on to the lines and hands stretched backwards pulling the string. Like in an instant, they were ready. The dragon saw their hostility and did not hesitate to retaliate. It stood tall and mighty, wings began to span, shadow covered the courtyard. Its head raised and mouth opened. Slowly it began to inhale air. Dorian saw this and knew what was coming, "Disperse!" he shouted as loud as he could. Then the dragon exhaled, not air, but fire. Fire so pure, so intense it spit not only flames but lava like fires as well. Dorian and his generals jumped out of the way in time but most of his men were too stunned from the dragon's mere presence and couldn't move a muscle and were instantly set ablaze and melted.
Dorian saw his men turning into molten liquid, his generals gritted their teeth in disbelief of its power. Archers from behind broke formation out of fear for their lives. Many abandoned their posts and some left the fortress immediately to avoid being liquified by the dragon's breath. "Stand strong men!" Shouted Dorian and his generals repeated it in hope to strengthen their men's morale. Sure they stand, but strong was out of the fortress. With their legs trembling in fear they forced themselves to draw their swords. The dragon just stood still, as if it was analysing the situation.
"Attack!" Shouted Dorian as he ran onwards to the dragon and his men saw him and followed. The dragon watched as he approached and when he was closing on to his leg, the dragon stood idly. Dorian swung the sword. The sound of another metal hitting another metal rang loudly. Dorian opened his eyes and saw his sword barely made any cut onto its skin, he looked back and saw his men and generals trembling in fear, he wondered why as before they were brave and ran with him. But now they trembled in fear. "Albert! Godfrey!" He called for them but they did not respond, his men behind the generals dropped their swords and ran out of the fortress in great fear. Screams and cries heard loudly as they left. Suddenly, a shadow fell over them.
Deep and sudden, like the closing of a celestial eye. The sun vanished. The area was cooled. And all eyes lifted to the sky. There, hanging with impossible grace upon the still air, was another dragon. Its scales were the colour of tarnished silver and weathered marble, gleaming with the pale, cold light of a hidden moon. Waiting vast enough to eclipse the sun beat only once, a sound like a thunderclap swallowed by silence. Then held perfectly still, as if the creature defied the very laws of earth and sky.
It did not swoop. It did not roar. It simply hovered, suspended in majesty and might, its long serpentine tail coiling slowly, almost lazily, in the air. And its eyes, great sapphire orbs, bright and unblinking, gazed down upon the invaders. Not with rage, not with hunger, but with detached curiosity, as a god might regard ants scuttling across a stone. This was no mindless beast. This was a watcher. A judge. And in the terrible quiet of its presence, every soldier below felt a fear far greater than that of being eaten: the fear of being seen, and deemed insignificant.
"That's enough, Ignis. Lord Voryx awaits." Said the dragon in the sky in a solemn voice. To Ignis, it was indeed a solemn voice, however, to the humans it was as loud as thunder rummaging in the sky. "They struck first, Caelum." she did not reply yet she answered with a sharp glare towards Ignis, which made Ignis yield. He scoffed and moved away from Dorian. Slowly Caelum descended on to the courtyard. The sky above the castle did not darken, it changed. The sunlight softened, bending around a form of impossible grace and scale, and where once was blue now hung a vision of living myth.
She descended without a sound, a leviathan wrapped in elegance. Her scales were not merely silver, but moon-kissed and opalescent, shimmering with the faint echoes of far-off nebulae and twilight hues. Each movement sent ripples of liquid pearl and pale amethyst cascading down her flanks, and her underbelly glowed with the soft luminescence of winter moon.
Her wings spanned the heavens, vast, semi-transparent membranes veined with threads of silver and ethereal blue, like the aurora given form. They did not beat; they breathed, holding her aloft with effortless, timeless power. But it was her face that held them captive, a visage of ancient wisdom and terrifying beauty. Her eyes were twin pools of quicksilver and starlight, deep and knowing, fringed by subtle ridges that swept back like a crown. There was no malice in her gaze, only a calm, formidable authority. When she spoke, her voice was the echo of glaciers moving, of constellations being born, a resonant, melodic hum that vibrated in the chests of all who heard. "You stand where you are welcomed… and yet, you strike.". She was Caelum, watcher, weaver of skies, and keeper of forgotten truths. And in her shadow, even kings felt small.
"Please, we weren't aware of mythical creatures like yourselves to reside here." begged Dorian on his knees to Caelum, he signaled his generals and his remaining men to follow as well. "He won't like it." Said Ignis from behind the scenes, as he folds his wings back. Caelum then approached the terrified man on his knees. Dorian trembled as he felt the dragon's breath and heat from her mouth. "Come, he is waiting for you." She moved away and walked towards the main door of the castle. There, she and Ignis waited for the men to stand and walk with them. However, Dorian froze, bewildered by what the dragon had said. "He is waiting? Voryx?" Dorian asked bluntly, and it triggered Ignis' emotion. "Voryx?" He shouted loudly and began stomping his way towards Dorian, "The Lord of the Mountains and the Primordial, Lord Voryx? Yet you called him by his name!?" Dorian staggered back in fear and some of his men even ran away in instinct for survival. Ignis saw his men running and he expanded his wings then flung into the air. "Ignis!" shouted Caelum in hope it would calm him down, but it was to no avail. Ignis landed in front of the running men and in an instant he chomped them down.
The air cracked with the sound of splintering plates and bones as Ignis's jaws snapped shut, swallowing the screams of three men in one wet, brutal bite. Blood and embers dripped from his maw, sizzling on the cobblestone like cursed rain. For a heartbeat, there was only the echo of the slaughter. Then Dorian's face, once set with the stern command of a hero, paled to ash. His eyes, wide and unblinking, reflected the dragon's fiery gullet. His lips parted as if to shout an order, but no sound came, only a faint, trapped breath. For the first time in a dozen battles, his hands trembled.
Beside him, General Albert did not move. His veteran's composure shattered like glass. A muscle twitched violently beneath his eye, and his mouth hung agape in raw, disbelieving horror. He looked not like a commander, but a boy witnessing a nightmare made flesh. And Godfrey, the boldest of them all, took an involuntary step back. His bravado evaporated like mist under dragon-fire. His knuckles were white where he clutched his war axe, not in readiness to strike, but as if clinging to the last familiar thing in a world turned monstrous. They had come for glory. For conquest. Now they stood frozen, humbled not by strategy or force, but by primal, devouring rage.
A voice, cool and vast as winter sky, slid into the minds of all present, Caelum's voice, calm yet heavy with command. "Enough, Ignis. Their blood will not stop your anger. Stand down." For a moment, the great fire dragon paused, a faint tremor running through his scaled limbs. His molten eyes flicked toward the sky where Caelum hovered, serene and imposing. Smoke curled from his nostrils like a final threat. But the rage in him was too deep, too ancient. With a guttural growl that shook the very stones, he lowered his head again, eyes burning once more with intent to burn and break. Caelums's warning had been heard… and defied.
It was then the air changed.
A silence deeper than before fell, not the quiet of awe, but the stillness of dread. The shadow throughout the courtyard seemed to stretch, twist and gather into a single form near the broken gate. From the coalescing darkness stepped Voryx.
He did not emerge like a soldier or a king. He manifested, a figure clad in gloom and subtle grandeur, his presence both immense and unnervingly calm. His eyes, like chips of obsidian lit from within, sweep over the scene: Ignis poised to strike, Dorian and his generals frozen in terror, Caelum watching silently from above. No one moved. No one breathed. Even Ignis stilled, the fire in his throat dying to embers as he instinctively recoiled not in fear, but in recognition. This was the primordial. The one even the dragons answered to. The one who is considered to bring up mountains. Voryx's voice, when it came, was soft, yet it carried to every soul present, a whisper that felt like a blade held gently against the throat, "This… has gone far enough." and in that moment, every sword, every fear, every flicker of fury, paused.
The silence that followed Voryx's arrival was not mere quiet, it was absolute. The very air grew dense, resistant, as if the world itself feared to draw breath. Voryx's gaze swept slowly across the courtyard, lingering for a moment on the blood staining Ignis's jaws, then moving to Dorian and his generals. His eyes were not cruel, but ancient, impossibly deep, as though entire eras had passed in their darkness.
Voryx spoke again, his voice remained soft, yet it seemed to peel back the very layers of fear and ambition in the courtyard. His dark eyes settled on Dorian. "So… the loyal knight and Hero of Corampus," Voryx said, each word measured. "Sent by your king… Valerian. Was it vengeance you sought? Or merely obedience?" He took one slow step forward. The ground did not shake. The air did not stir. Yet every soul felt it. "You stand in a realm where crowns and commands mean nothing," Voryx continued, his tone chillingly conversational. "Your king sent you to subdue me. To bring a primordial to his knees." A faint, cold smile touched his lips. "And yet… you cannot even subdue my gatekeeper." Ignis growled low, a sound like grinding stone and embers, but even he did not interrupt. "Tell me, Dorian," Voryx murmured, his voice slipping into the minds of all like shadow. "Did Valerian tell you what he truly fears? Why did he really send you here?" Dorian stood his ground, sword still in hand, face pale but defiant. "I don't serve your riddles, creature. I serve my king."
"You serve a man who sends heroes to die in places even dragons fear to tread," Voryx replied, not unkindly. "You are brave. But bravery is not wisdom." Then his gaze shifted slightly toward the battlements where Queen Aeloria stood watching, silent and sorrowful. "She sold her lifespan… not for power. Not for glory. But to save what your king would gladly burn to the ground." He turned back to Dorian, and for the first time, his eyes glowed faintly, like distant stars swallowed by a black sea. "You came for vengeance. But you walked into a tragedy… and it is not mine." He looked at Ignis and Caelum at the sky, hovering. He turned around and began to walk back to his castle where Queen Aeloria was watching with full sorrow and pity. "Ignis. Continue, and Caelum go to Corampus." An order by their master, soft, precise yet sharp to the ears of the dragons. Ignis smiled and soon his mouth began to leak smoke. Caelum nodded at her master and flew off to wards Corampus.
Queen Aeloria, saw the bright flames Ignis produced behind Voryx. She covered her mouth in disbelief at the powers of the dragons and the cruelty of their master. "They made the first strike." told Voryx to Aeloria as he went past her. "Come." Aeloria looked again before entering the castle. She saw bodies erupted in sprays of blood and shattered armor, their cries cut short before they even left their lips.
General Godfrey raised his axe, bellowing a challenge. Ignis's head snapped toward him. Jaws lined with teeth like daggers opened, and a torrent of liquid flame engulfed the general. It was not fire as men knew it, it was annihilation. Godfrey did not even have time to scream. His armor glowed red, then white, then melted into his flesh. Within seconds, he was a pillar of ash, crumbling silently to the stones.
Dorian shouted, "Shield wall! Archers! Now!" but his commands were devoured by the dragon's wrath. Ignis turned toward the ranks of soldiers. His wings beat once, not to lift him but to scatter. Men were thrown like leaves in a gale, breaking against walls and one another. Then he stomped, and the ground ruptured. Soldiers fell into fissures of fire that glowed from below, a glimpse into the very forge of the world.
Albert tried to rally what was left of the left flank, spear in hand. Ignis's claw, each talon longer than a broadsword, closed around him. There was a wet, crunching pop. When the dragon opened his claw, what remained was unrecognizable. Dorian stood alone now, sword raised, face smeared with ash and the blood of his men. His eyes were wide, not with fear, but with horrifying, hollow understanding. This was a battle. It was a slaughter.
Ignis lowered his head until one molten-gold eye was level with Dorian. Smoke curled between them. For a heartbeat, there was silence. Then the dragon bit down. Not to consume. To break. The hero of Corampus died not with a cry of glory, but with the sound of splintered steel and bone. When Ignis lifted his head, Dorian's broken body fell limply to the blood-soaked stones, a discarded puppet in a play of gods and monsters. The dragon raised his bloodied maw to the sky and roared, a sound of victory, rage, and ancient, pitiless dominion. And then… silence. "Aeloria." Called Voryx, breaking her trance from bloodbath and gore.
The sky above the capital city of Corampus had been blue all morning, a cheerful, untroubled blue that spoke of market days and peace. Then, without sound, without warning, the sun vanished.
Not behind clouds, not by storm. It was blotted out by something vast, silent, and impossibly graceful. Caelum hung in the air high above the palace, her opalescent scales casting shifting hues of silver, lilac and deepest blue over the streets below. Her presence did not shake the earth or shatter windows. It imposed a silence, a profound, reverent, bone-deep stillness.
People in the streets froze. Guards on the battlements lowered their spear, not in defense, but in awe. This was no attack. This was an announcement. Caelum descended slowly, until her great shadow draped the royal palace whole. One silver eye, larger than a chariot wheel, fixed upon the highest tower, the king's solar. Where King Valerian lay wounded, tended by doctors and maids in fury and grief.
She did not roar. She did not threaten. When she spoke, her voice did not boom across the city. It spoke only in the mind of the king, and his alone, clear as crystal, calm as deep water, and cold as winter stars. "Your hero is dead. Your army… unmade. You sent men to break what cannot be broken. You sought vengeance against a power you do not comprehend." she paused, allowing the weight of her words to press upon his wounded spirit. "Thi conflict ends now. Seek no more blood against the realm of Voryx. If you send another sword… another soul… we will not merely return them broken."
Her wings spread slightly, eclipsing the sun once more, before she added with finality, "We will return for your crown." Then Caelum rose, soundless and swift, leaving behind a city cloaked in silence and a king lying pale and utterly alone in the sudden cold of his chambers.
(Dialogs will be done in Italics.)
King Valerian Aurelian lay propped on silk pillows, his body bandaged and broken, but his pride still burning like a fever in his eyes. As Caelum's voice faded from his mind, a slow, bitter smile stretched across his pale lips. "Dragons… warnings… empty threats," he whispered to the silent, lavish room. "I am a king. My will is law. My vengeance… is eternal." He refused to tremble. Refused to doubt. Instead, rage fortified him, clean, bright and blinding.
Within the hour, he summoned his new captain of the guard, a hardened and ambitious man named Cassian, whose loyalty was only outweighed by his hunger for glory. "The beast thinks we are frightened," Valerian spat, his voice thin but venomous. "It believes we will cower behind our walls. It does not know the heart of Corampus." Cassian knelt, helm under arm, eyes alight with fervor. "Your command, my king?"
"Take the Shadow Vanguard. Our fastest horses. Our sharpest blades. Ride now to that accursed fortress. Burn what remains. Slay whatever still breathes, dragon, spirit, or ghost." the king's hand clenched into a fist. "Bring me the head of Voryx… or do not return at all." Cassian's grin was fierce. He bowed deeply. "It will be done, Your Grace."
And so, under a sky still humming with the memory of wings, another company of warriors thundered through the gates of Corampus, their shouts bold, their banners flying, their hearts blazing with misplaced courage. They did not look back to see the king smiling coldly in his chamber; they did not see the shadow high above clinging to the clouds, Caelum, watching. Waiting. And they certainly did not hear her soft, sorrowful thought, a whisper lost to the wind, "So be it."