The world returned in a wave of blinding, agonizing pain. I lay in a broken heap at the base of the chasm wall, the last, explosive wave of necrotic energy from the Bone Dragon's shattered heart having thrown me like a discarded doll. My vision was a swimming, nauseating blur, and every breath was a fresh torment. The battle was over. The dragon was wounded, its heart shattered, its power broken.
But it was not yet dead.
A low, guttural groan, a sound of pure, unadulterated agony, echoed through the now-silent graveyard. The Bone Dragon, its massive, skeletal form a ruin of shattered, broken bones, began to stir. The brilliant, pulsating green light of its heart was gone, replaced by a gaping, empty cavity in its chest. But the necrotic energy, the raw, untamed power of a thousand dead souls, still clung to it, a final, desperate act of defiance.
