The world had turned into fire.
Every sound was swallowed by the dragon's roar — a constant, living thunder that rattled the air itself.
Lyra's arrows burned before they reached the beast. Harkon's axe split in half when it struck its ribs. Even Elian's enchanted blade left nothing but sparks against the dragon's spine.
Nothing worked.
"Keep it moving!" Elian shouted over the chaos. "Don't let it fix on one of us!"
The dragon's wings unfolded again, scattering storms of ash that turned the air to smoke. Every beat of its wings sent shockwaves across the clearing, toppling what few blackened trees still stood.
Lyra rolled behind a fallen trunk, gasping. "This thing doesn't tire!"
"It doesn't need to!" Harkon bellowed, swinging his broken weapon like a hammer. He hit the dragon's foreleg with all his strength — the sound was like metal striking stone. The blow didn't even make it flinch.
Elian darted forward, slashing across one of the dragon's joints, hoping for a crack between the bones. His sword bounced back, the shock numbing his arm. "Rowen! Anything! You've fought its kind before!"
Rowen didn't answer. His eyes followed the creature's movements — the rise and fall of its head, the curve of its wings, the way its chest glowed brighter each time it exhaled that blue flame.
The ground beneath them was melting. The air itself shimmered from the heat.
Lyra screamed as the dragon's tail swung across the clearing. She dove aside, just in time for it to smash through a cluster of floating rocks. Fragments rained down, glowing red from the heat.
Rowen's heart pounded in rhythm with the dragon's steps. The noise faded — not around him, but inside him. He could only hear the crunch of ash underfoot, the deep rumble echoing through his bones.
It turned its head toward him.
For the first time, it looked directly at him.
Its hollow eye socket flared — that eerie golden flame staring right into him.
Then the beast inhaled.
Rowen's instincts screamed. He dove aside, the world erupting in light where he'd stood. The blast tore through the ground, carving a crater of glass.
Elian rushed forward, pulling him to his feet. "We can't win this! We have to retreat!"
Rowen didn't respond. His gaze stayed fixed on the dragon. His chest burned, every breath filled with ash and heat — but his mind sharpened.
Something about the way it breathed, the faint pulse that ran through its skull just before it roared—
The eye.
He didn't know how he knew. Maybe the same force that made him come here, the same whisper that had led them through the storms, was speaking again. He couldn't explain it, didn't need to.
"Elian!" he shouted. "Get Lyra and Harkon clear of the cliff!"
"What? Why—"
"Do it!"
The dragon lowered its head again, preparing another breath. Flames gathered deep in its ribs, light crawling upward through its neck.
Elian didn't argue. He grabbed Lyra's arm and pushed her back toward the broken ridge. Harkon followed, limping but ready to swing again if needed.
Rowen tightened his grip on his sword. The heat warped the air around it, but his hands stayed steady.
He ran.
The dragon noticed. It turned, the glow in its throat building, but Rowen didn't stop. He sprinted across the crumbling land, past the melted stones, straight toward the cliff's edge.
Lyra screamed his name.
The dragon's eye flickered — a moment of pure focus. Its jaw opened wide.
Rowen jumped.
For one suspended second, the world went silent. No roar, no flame, no wind — just the faint hum of his heartbeat and the flash of gold ahead.
He brought his sword down.
The blade struck the dragon's eye — and for a heartbeat, nothing happened. Then light exploded.
White, blinding, endless light.
The dragon's roar turned from fury to agony, echoing through the sky. The entire forest below vanished in the glow, and every floating land trembled as the sound reached them.
The blast hurled Rowen backward into the air — but the light swallowed him before anyone could see where he fell.
And then, for the first time in ages, the dragon's voice broke into silence.