"Cerven."
A crimson lightning bolt lanced from the earth into the cloud‑sea above, bleaching color, choking scent, and swallowing sound in its wake. An instant later thunder split the heavens, and scarlet branches blossomed through the roiling white expanse.
The woman who had gathered those clouds lowered her sword and bowed, sheltered by the crimson canopy as she paid silent homage to her master's might.
Each peal of thunder hammered the hearts of the dragons above, draining their resolve. They scanned the sky for the caster of that power, yet his voice seemed to echo from within their own chests, and terror took root.
Humans and their dragon‑slayer companions could only stare, too awed to cheer, instinctively certain the storm favored them. A handful of knights fixed on a single figure beneath the crimson veil—silver hair, a sword, and a peculiar mix of suit jacket and maid skirt. Even the one‑armed Duke Stormcloud gaped, slack‑jawed.
