Shadows of the Past

The ancient ruins of the Desolate Continent stood like petrified ghosts, their cracked elven walls covered in dry vines that twisted in the howling wind, carrying ash that stung the skin like cold needles. The ground trembled slightly, echoing the weight of centuries of abandonment, while bones of ancestral creatures lay scattered, illuminated by the diffuse light of a blood-red sky that seemed to bleed over the horizon. Thick fog enveloped everything, creating shadows that danced like restless specters, and the air laden with sulfur and metallic dust made each breath an effort. Here, in the heart of Elyndrael’s exile, the silence was broken only by the distant crack of moving stones, as if the continent itself breathed ancient rage.Drakonath, in her form of stunning beauty, materialized suddenly before Elyndrael, her obsidian-black hair cascading like liquid obsidian and her golden eyes glowing like living embers. Her armor of black scales molded to her lithe and powerful body, exuding an aura of primal menace mixed with draconic grace. “What does an ancient elf seek here?” Drakonath asked, her voice melodic but laced with a muffled roar, like contained thunder.Elyndrael, with her silver hair like a full moon and violet eyes emanating a cold, arcane energy, remained motionless, her shadow-woven cloak fluttering slightly. Her expression was stoic, almost robotic, as if centuries of isolation had erased any human emotion. She raised her hand, and a wave of primordial energy pulsed from her, making the reality around tremble—the stones cracked further, the air grew heavier, and gravity responded, becoming dense as if space itself folded. “What do you desire, remnant?” said Elyndrael, her voice formal and monotone, without inflection, like a mechanical echo from a lost era.Drakonath crossed her arms, her presence making the air heat up. “You lurk around my master. Answer, or face the consequences.”Elyndrael tilted her head slightly, her energy intensifying, the gravity bending the dry vines to the ground. “I have no reason to answer the dragon that turned its back on us that day.” With a sharp gesture, she ruptured the dense gravity she had created, the air snapping like breaking glass. She turned to leave, her form beginning to merge with the ruin’s shadows, as if reality’s veil swallowed her.“Do you really think I’d let an unknown like you leave just like that?” Drakonath growled, extending her hand. A wave of primordial fire surged, blocking Elyndrael’s path, forcing her to stop. The elf spun, her energy colliding with the dragon’s fire in an explosion of violet light and golden flames, shaking the ruins around them.The fight was fierce, a clash of ancestral forces. Elyndrael, cold and calculated, conjured shields of arcane energy, violet barriers that absorbed Drakonath’s blows by a hair, cracking under the pressure of the dragon’s flaming claws. She counterattacked with gravity pulses that bent space, forcing Drakonath to recoil momentarily, the air trembling as if reality tore. But Drakonath was slightly stronger, her human form hiding draconic power: she moved with supernatural speed, her ethereal wings emerging to beat gales of fire that corroded Elyndrael’s shields, forcing her to defend with increasing effort. Drakonath’s claws slashed the air, creating rifts of flames that burned the elf’s shadow cloak, leaving Elyndrael gasping, her shields weakening.Elyndrael, injured with flaming cuts on her arms and eyes slightly drooping from exhaustion, raised a final barrier, but Drakonath advanced, her hand glowing with primordial energy, ready for the decisive blow. “Your journey ends here,” the dragon said, her voice echoing with authority.Before the blow could fall, a voice cut through the air: “Stop, Drakonath.” Athos emerged from the shadows, his presence calm and dominant, holding the dragon’s hand with firmness. He directed his gaze to Elyndrael, who was injured, with slightly drooping eyes, her body trembling slightly under the weight of dissipated energy.