The silence that followed the Bone Dragon's final, dusty dissolution was a profound and heavy thing. For a moment, the Dragon's Graveyard, a place defined by a millennium of death, felt truly, peacefully empty. I stood in the center of the chasm, the last echoes of the cataclysmic Soul Forge fading from my senses, and simply breathed.
The air, which had been thick with the cloying, corrosive scent of necrotic energy, was now clean, crisp, and cool. The oppressive, sickly green light that had bathed the valley in its malevolent glow was gone, replaced by the soft, gentle light of the twin moons filtering down from above, painting the bone-white landscape in shades of silver and ethereal blue.
