The wind carried the stench of charred earth and the faint tang of salt from the distant sea. Darian stood at the edge of the glassy crater, his shadow stretching long in the dying light. Sumner lay behind him, his massive form heaving with labored breaths, the once-gleaming scales now dull and ashen. The dragon's golden eyes flickered with a faint, dying light, and Darian could feel the weight of his companion's exhaustion—and something darker—through their bond.
The Warrior Queen of Valtor dismounted her steed with a grace that belied the heavy armor she wore. Her silver-plated armor gleamed in the fading sunlight, etched with intricate patterns of phoenixes rising from flames. Her crimson cloak billowed behind her, and her piercing gaze swept over the devastation before settling on Darian.
"You are the one they call the Dragon King," she said, her voice sharp and commanding. It was not a question.
Darian straightened, though every muscle in his body screamed in protest. "I am Darian," he replied, his voice steady despite the weariness that clung to him like a second skin. "And you are?"
"Queen Seraphine of Valtor," she said, her tone leaving no room for doubt about her authority. She stepped closer, her boots crunching on the brittle, glass-like ground. "I have heard tales of your dragon's wrath. I see now that they did not do it justice."
Her words were not a compliment. Darian could hear the edge in her voice, the unspoken accusation. He glanced back at Sumner, whose massive head rested on the ground, his eyes half-closed. The dragon's breath came in shallow, uneven gasps, and Darian felt a pang of guilt twist in his chest.
"We did what we had to do," Darian said, turning back to Seraphine. "Stormreach was falling. The darkfire would have consumed everything."
"And now?" Seraphine asked, her gaze sweeping over the desolate landscape. "What will you do now that you've unleashed such power? Do you even understand what you've done?"
Darian's jaw tightened. "I understand that we stopped the enemy. That we saved lives."
"At what cost?" Seraphine's voice was like a whip, cutting through the air. She stepped closer, her eyes narrowing. "Your dragon is corrupted. I can see it in his eyes. The darkfire has left its mark, and it will spread. You've traded one disaster for another."
Darian's hands clenched into fists at his sides. He wanted to argue, to defend Sumner, but the truth of her words struck a chord deep within him. He had felt it too—the darkness creeping into their bond, the way Sumner's fire now left frost in its wake.
"What would you have done?" Darian asked, his voice low. "Would you have let Stormreach fall? Let the darkfire consume everything?"
Seraphine's expression softened, but only slightly. "I would have found another way. Power like yours—like his—is not to be wielded lightly. It is a double-edged sword, and you've just cut yourself with it."
Darian looked away, his gaze falling on Sumner once more. The dragon's eyes met his, and in that moment, Darian felt the weight of their bond more than ever. Sumner had sacrificed so much for him, for this world, and now he was paying the price.
"What do you want from us?" Darian asked, turning back to Seraphine.
The queen's lips curved into a faint, humorless smile. "I want to ensure that your dragon's corruption does not spread. I want to prevent another catastrophe. And I want your help to do it."
Darian frowned. "My help?"
"Valtor has long been a bastion of knowledge and magic," Seraphine explained. "We have archives that date back to the time of the Ancients. If there is a way to cleanse your dragon of this corruption, we will find it there."
Darian's heart leapt at the possibility, but he forced himself to remain cautious. "And what do you get out of this?"
Seraphine's smile widened, though it did not reach her eyes. "A world not consumed by darkness. And, perhaps, an ally in the wars to come."
Darian studied her for a long moment, weighing her words. He didn't trust her—not fully—but he couldn't deny the opportunity she was offering. If there was a chance to save Sumner, he had to take it.
"Very well," he said at last. "We'll go to Valtor. But if this is some kind of trick—"
"It's not," Seraphine interrupted, her tone firm. "I have no love for dragons, but I have even less for the darkness that seeks to consume us all. We are on the same side, Darian, whether you believe it or not."
Darian nodded, though his unease remained. He turned back to Sumner, placing a hand on the dragon's massive snout. The scales were cold beneath his touch, a stark contrast to the warmth they had once radiated.
"We're going to fix this," Darian said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "I promise."
Sumner's eyes flickered, and a low rumble emanated from his chest. It was not the powerful roar Darian was used to, but it was enough.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the world in shades of crimson and gold, Darian mounted Sumner once more. The dragon rose unsteadily to his feet, his wings stretching wide despite their weariness. Seraphine watched them from below, her expression unreadable.
"To Valtor," Darian said, his voice carrying on the wind.
And with a mighty beat of his wings, Sumner took to the skies, the Warrior Queen of Valtor following close behind.