I retreated into the shadows, my heart a frantic, panicked drum against my ribs. The first part of my plan—a chaotic, costly, but ultimately successful gambit—was complete. The Bone Dragon's army of skeletal minions was a pile of crushed, forgotten dust, and I had successfully baited the ancient beast into unleashing its ultimate attack. But the second, and far more dangerous, part was about to begin. The build-up was over. The real battle, the one that would decide my fate, and the fate of this entire, cursed land, was about to begin.
The necrotic energy gathered in the Bone Dragon's maw was not like any magic I had ever witnessed. It was a swirling, chaotic vortex of sickly green and absolute black, a sphere of pure, unadulterated death that seemed to suck the very light and warmth from the air. The ground around the beast began to decay, the ancient, fossilized stones turning to a fine, gray dust. The very air grew thin, toxic, making my lungs burn with every ragged breath.
