The clearing stayed silent for a long time.
None of them moved. The dragon's faint breathing filled the air like thunder slowed down.
Rowen was the first to speak. "It's old. That's what keeps it dangerous. It doesn't act unless it must."
Elian glanced at him, whispering, "Then what does it want?"
Rowen's eyes stayed on the massive ribs that rose and fell. "Everything that breathes."
Lyra crouched beside a blackened root. "So we're just waiting?"
Harkon sighed, lowering his axe beside him. "Waiting or dying — both sound the same when you whisper them."
Rowen ignored him. He traced a mark in the ash with his sword tip, drawing the shape of the dragon's head. "We can't fight it with strength. Its bones are stronger than steel, its breath melts stone. If we go near the mouth, we're gone."
Elian leaned closer, his tone tense but calm. "There has to be something. You've seen its work before, right?"
Rowen hesitated, his jaw tightening. "A long time ago. My home was near a cliffside. It came at dusk — the air turned to fire before it even arrived. The elders tried everything. Blades, arrows, even prayers." He looked up, his eyes cold. "Nothing worked."
Lyra hugged her knees, her voice small. "Then why are we here?"
"Because," Rowen said softly, "if we don't stop it, it'll burn the lands until there's nothing left to float on."
The words hung in the air like smoke.
Elian finally broke the silence. "If its breath can burn stone, maybe distance is the key. We lure it away. Make it follow one of us while the others—"
"Suicide," Harkon cut in. "You can't outrun wings that big."
Lyra glanced at them both, frowning. "Then maybe—"
But her words never finished.
The ground trembled.
It was faint at first, like a heartbeat echoing beneath the soil. Then the ash lifted — first in small clouds, then in waves, rolling like ripples on water.
Elian froze. "Rowen…"
He didn't answer. His hand slowly reached for his blade.
Lyra's breath caught when she heard it — the low, hollow sound of bones grinding against stone.
A shadow passed over them.
Slowly, every one of them turned. Behind them, at the edge of the clearing, the darkness moved. It rose — taller, heavier, endless.
The dragon's skull lifted from the ground.
For a moment, the world was utterly still. Then its single hollow eye flared — a faint ember deep within its socket.
And it roared.
The sound tore through the forest, through the clouds, through the air itself. The lands shook. Even the floating castle miles away trembled, its windows rattling as the king rose from his throne in horror.
Back in the clearing, trees snapped like twigs. The ash lifted into storms. The four were thrown backward, clutching their ears as the roar consumed everything.
"Move!" Elian shouted.
Rowen grabbed Lyra's arm and pulled her behind a fallen trunk just as the dragon's tail crashed down, shattering the ground where they'd stood.
Harkon rolled across the ash, coughing. "It's awake! It's awake!"
"Stay low!" Elian yelled, drawing his sword.
The dragon's bones cracked and shifted as it stood fully. Wings stretched out, huge enough to block the light. Fire glimmered faintly inside its ribs, like a furnace waiting to burst.
It looked down at them — no emotion, no thought, just hunger that had learned patience.
Rowen's voice trembled, "It remembers me."
Lyra blinked through the smoke. "What do we do!?"
Elian pointed. "Spread out! Make it choose a target!"
They ran. The ground heaved beneath them as the dragon swung its tail again, the shockwave sending waves of ash into the air. Lyra ducked under a broken branch, sprinting across a narrow stretch of land that cracked under her feet.
Harkon climbed onto a fallen trunk and hurled his axe. It struck the dragon's rib — sparks flew, but the bone didn't even scratch. The creature turned, its jaw opening.
"Down!" Rowen shouted.
Flames erupted. Not red — but blue, pure, and silent. The fire washed over the clearing like light itself, melting rock and air.
The warriors dove behind cover, barely escaping. The heat alone scorched their clothes and skin.
When the fire faded, the forest was gone — only ash and shards of glowing bone remained.
Lyra coughed, clutching her chest. "How—how do we kill that?"
Rowen stared at the beast, his mind racing. The glow inside its body pulsed with every movement — light flickering between its ribs, crawling up its spine.
Elian stood beside him, panting. "We don't. We survive."
The dragon lowered its head, jaws spreading wide. Its eye flared again — brighter this time, burning gold instead of ember.